#annoying as hell but immaculate | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bigfatbimbo · 3 months

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AH‼️ It's 🫶 anon, good to hear that you did, indeed, receive at least one of my ramblings! You're truly one of my favourite hazbin writers :)) the way you write fluff is immaculate! Your fluff smells of coconut dish soap and freshly cleaned clothes, but without fabric softener because you're efficient and know that fabric softener is a scam. I am so glad to hear that you enjoyed my long talk about Velvette! I doubted it would have turned out well considering I am ace/aro (shoutout to alastor🗣🗣📢) and well, as I predicted, it could have went better ahaha x-)).

Well! I always deliver on my promises! So, i will give more romantic headcannons for Velvette (because as you may have noticed, I am more of a pining kind of person and forgot to write the romance part of the romantic relationship with her, so, use this ask as a.. apology of sorts?) And, one of my next asks will be those awaited nsfw headcannons haha^^

So‼️ now that your relationship has really started, there are a couple paths this could go in (all equally adorable if you ask me)

Our reader is a weak demon!

In this case, this entire situation is a little more hillarious than it would be if the reader were stronger ahaha:)) anyway! Velvette would probably have your safety on her mind 25/8. She is only eased in her anxiety because, well, she doesn't exactly allow you out of her sight. She's working? You're sitting next to her watching as her new collection comes to life.

Nobody gets to be close to you! Nuh uh! She isn't as bad as Vox to the point where she doesn't even let you see your friends with how nightmarishly bratty he'd get if you did go see them, but she is quite assertive when she thinks it is "too much".

Sometimes she sees you as too valuable for the low-lives you interact with among the weaker demons, and, if you cannot tell the signs of that thought creeping into her head, she might just start whining about how awful all your friends are. Insessantly.

She isn't aware that it is a manipulation tactic, pointing out their flaws all the time, that is. If you do inform her that it is wrong to do such things, I regret to inform her that you're out of luck. Her "friends" are more business partners than anything, and slandering them to you is one of her favourite activities; "fuck, you deserve to be an overlord WAYY more than any of the losers in that meeting. UGH. They're so annoying, it's crazy. Oh also did I tell you? That old fuck was at the meeting! Oh, which one? I don't fucking know his stupid name, but I think it's the one Vox has his panties in a twist about.. oh oh! Hear this-" it is her favourite part of the day, really. The only people she found tolerable in her work were those who agreed with her all the time, and the didn't pay much mind to them honestly. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer", it seems. So, it is hard for her to grasp why you didn't want her to slander the people you held close.

She will make an effort to complain about them less, though, but only after you managed to put her in the right track to having a mature discussion about it. You two agreed that you'd see them a little less, and, she'd stop complaining about them as much. Her point wasn't irrational, she says that these demons were horrible influences for you. This is hell, after all, you couldn't argue with that. But it was also the best you could be getting in terms of friends in hell, so, the compromise was thus reached.

Or...

The reader is a strong demon!

Her worries are eased by the knowledge of your power, she'd be lying if she said she didn't find it the least bit attractive. Seeing you stand up to vox or any other overlord, while both you, her and the overlord knew you could probably beat them in a fight, was so... entertaining, to the both of you. Your social footing also didn't allow you to be attached at the hip with her, which upset her. At least she knew you were safe!

You two were an absolute power duo, with you being openly in a relationship to the public or not, all of social media couldn't shut up about the two of you. She loved watching edits of you both online, but she'd never tell you that. If you were to peek into her phone, various tabs and apps are opened on discussion boards where hundreds of demons exclaimed their want to be in either her's or your position. It made her feel powerful to see how much people wanted you, however weird that may seem. It didn't make her the least bit jealous, no; knowing that she is the one that caught your undivided attention and love while hundreds others would kill to be in her position felt good. Though, she already knew she was desired, so, the ego boost from posts that said "I wish I was velvette right here（´ 3｀)" attached to a picture of you holding her waist as you held out a flower for her with a smile brought her far more satisfaction than the ones where people wanted to be you.

Being able to use the "do you know who we are??" Argument whenever something didnt go the way you two pleased was basically an automatic response from her. She is very powerful on her own, but loves the scary dog privileges you bring along.

Never the matter of which category the reader is, please do compliment her on her designs! Approval and praise have always been a driving force in her life, but, she didn't really care for people's opinions as much, because she doesnt care about who those people are! She's a devout follower of the "I won't take criticism from someone who isn't contributing for my life" mindset. What are those people doing for her? Giving her money? Organizing her bedroom? Didn't think so.

But you? Gosh you were the summer in the coldest of winters! Being with you brought Velvette so much joy, it was no wonder your opinion mattered.

The fashion in hell took a noticeable turn for whatever you enjoy after you started dating her ahaha:)) being it a different color scheme or you for whatever reason really liking 80's exercise sets with those ridiculously large leg warmers, within the mountains of red beautiful elegant dresses she made, a pop of other colors could be spotted. If you were out to the public, she would proudly announce that you were her muse for the piece, praises of how innovative the style was amidst the current fashion of the Pride ring. Needless to say, with all of her praise about it, the clothes you inspired sold out much quicker than others.

Giving her little gifts and such made her quite happy. She loved expensive, beautiful rings and jewelry and all things shiny, but, what really got to her were the things you made or that reminded you of her. You baked cupcakes based off of her looks? AGH! That is SO adorable! Expect it to be posted all over her social media profiles that very same day. You drew her in a dress you came up with yourself because her work inspired you so much? She might just actually die again. Even if you're a horrible designer, she will still be so flattered.

Oh well! What are your thoughts? Also, I'm thinking about starting to use my actual account to send asks, mainly because I am an artist and made more than one piece inspired by your wonderful works, and I'd love to share them with you. Do you think I should?

I might also send things about sir pentious, vox, lucifer, husk, basically everyone haha! I actually have some things about mimzy in mind. But, most scary of all, I am madly in love with the absolute scumbag we call Adam. Hopefully you don't mind hearing the most deranged thoughts I have regarding him ahaha x-)) maybe I'll even convince you to write for that loser! Who knows.

I await your insight :)))

- a very excited 🫶 anon

OH MY GOD? 🫶 ANON YOU’VE STRUCK GOLD ONCE AGAIN! There’s so much to unpack here oh my gosh where do I start?

I love how protective Velvette is over a weak reader. Her possessiveness is written in a very in-character way. Because I do think she would be incredibly possessive but I don’t think she would fully understand how possessive she was being, like she would just think this is the correct way to react simply because it’s how she thought to react. Of course she’d lighten up as much as she could after a serious talk, just as you said.

I also think that Velvette with a strong reader is soooo interesting oh my god. Like the power couple you two would be, OH AND WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT THE EDITS? Absolutely. She would eat that shit up, and definitely feed the public with cute photos and videos of you two. Oh and when you said she finds the readers power attractive, oh yea she does. Shes incredibly turned on, to say the least. All of her models and workers kiss her ass so much, that the fact you don’t kneel down to Velvette like everyone else literally does something to her.

Also I absolutely adore the words of affirmations and gift giving love language as the ones she likes to receive. Gift giving is 100% for her like she eats that shit up. To be honest, still think she appreciates an acts of service reader BUT words of affirmation is an interesting one for sure. It takes a long time, and I mean a long time, for someone to earn her respect. But when this happens, there opinion of her starts to actually matter, which is obviously a kind of rare thing. So she so loves compliments and praise and lots of things to feed her ego.

Anyways, those are my thoughts on the Velvette headcanons! I eat your writing up every time!

NOW ONTO THE OTHER THINGS!!

So let me start off by saying, I am SO INCREDIBLY, STUPENDOUSLY, TOTALLY interested in your thoughts on the other characters, Lucifer, Sir Pentious, Husk, Vox, Adam, etc. I’m specifically interested in your thoughts on Mimzy because even though she’s on my characters list, I don’t have many thoughts on her myself. So I am very curious as to what you’re thinking.

Also very close to writing for Adam, but I’d love for you to try to convince me.

ALSO about you using and actual account to send asks, GO FOR IT!!??? WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT BEING AN ARTIST… oh boy i’m intrigued. AND YOU’VE MADE THINGS INSPIRED BY MY WORKS? Don’t make me blush, babes, oh my god??!!

“Your fluff smells of coconut dish soap and freshly cleaned clothes, but without fabric softener because you're efficient and know that fabric softener is a scam.”

I LOVE YOU. SPECIFIC COMPLIMENTS LIKE THIS ARE EVERYTHING TO ME. HAVE THE BEST DAY OF YOUR LIFE, YOUR AMAZING.

THIS IS BIMBO, SIGNING OFF.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel velvette #inbox open #hazbin velvette #velvet hazbin hotel #velvette x reader #hazbin hotel vees

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rocketbirdie · 4 days

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listen i am obsessed with this single line of dialogue. it's a Final Fantasy game full of people named crazy shit like GENESIS RHAPSODOS and WEISS THE IMMACULATE and then there's this dude. some random ass guy from the in-game lore equivalent of rural Louisiana whose name may as well be Jim.

And Jim Has Seen It All. he fell 300 meters and crashed through the roof of a church and he walked it off like it was nothing. he's seen his mentor grow one single wing and take to the skies majestically like an albatross. he survived when an alien brain fungus consumed his coworker's consciousness spurring the guy to commit arson and a small genocide. fresh outta high school he's abducted by scientists and trapped in a large petri dish for four years. he escapes and then singlehandedly mows down an entire goddamn army of hundreds of troopers and gets shot like at least twenty times. he tears a metal tree out of the ground and chucks it at a helicopter like a toy shovel, acting cool about it. "ugh mondays am i right? haha"

the rapture is coming. the sky has ripped open like a wrestler's t-shirt and everyone is mourning their impending doom and Jim is just like "it'll be fine lol" but then SEPHIROTH arrives and shoves him into a wormhole. he wanders the empty backstage of reality, and only then does he start to slightly freak out just a tiny bit. no problem. hop in hop out, quick boss battle against the brain fungus coworker, easy peasy. he gets savewarped to another universe, kinda annoying but he can deal, he thinks.

But now there's a fucking meteor crashing down on top of him. And finally, finally— Jim cracks. He can't handle this. What the actual fuck is my life, he finally wonders. "What the hell is going on!?" he finally asks.

#zack honey i love you to a billion pieces. but you have GOT to learn to recognize unreasonable workplace expectations.#ffvii #rebirth spoilers #zack fair

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all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 3 months

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Crazy, Stupid, Love

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Summary: When Dean has to work at a café to learn infos on a hunt, he thinks it's the worst. Until he meets her. At first, she's only kind of an annoying coworker. But an unfortunate event brings them closer, and Dean starts feeling things for her. If it's love, he doesn't know. But for the first time, he starts wondering how it would feel to have a normal life. A normal job. And a normal relationship. But first, he needs to get her revenge against that shitty boss.

Note: this happens in the begining of season one

Word Count: 9k

Pairing: Dean x F!Reader

Content Warning: Toxic work place, rude customer, humiliation, bullying, swearing

Squares: Humiliation for @hurtcomfort-bingo,/ Revenge for @jacklesversebingo

A/n: I'm gonna be honest, at first, I didn't want to post this fic. When I saw the attention the last few fics I took so much time to write got, it made me sad... But then I remembered how much fun I had with this one, so decided to post it in case someone else has the same fun reading it. ALSO! This was for @eevvvaa writing challenge! I picked the movie Crazy Stupid Love but actually used the quotes! They will be in bold in the text. Happy reading!

Usually, this situation would have upset him. After all, he was stuck here 8 hours per day, 5 days per week and always finished too late to go to the nearest bar afterwards. It also wasn’t the best first real job to have, as it was lame, boring, and always the same thing. But working at a café also had its advantages.

Like the beautiful barista that he had the chance to see on his first day. She was leaving, as she was only working mornings, and he was working evenings, but Dean couldn’t detach his eyes from her. Beautiful body, hair immaculate even after 8 hours of wearing a net, skin tanned to perfection.

“Oh great, another one.”

That wasn’t the girl he was talking about. No, the girl that just spoke was Y/n. At first glance, she looked like the manager. With the most seniority in here, she knew how things were done and how to do them quickly. But she was no boss. To make her agree to be his trainer and show him the basics, the real boss had to insist a lot. He didn’t know all the details, though, but she ended up accepting.

It was for a hunt. Otherwise, Dean would never be here. Sam said there was something weird in the neighborhood, and that the best way to discover what was going on was to talk with the community. And the best place to have conversations with people that didn’t want to talk with the police was of course at the local café. All the rumors and crispy details of the town were floating in there. The reason why it wasn’t Sam doing the whole barista thing was as simple as upsetting.

“Dean, you have all the charm. People- ladies- will open up to you like blooming flowers in the spring.”

Ugh.

Back to the present, Dean ignored Y/n’s comment and tilted his head to the side, still eyeing the morning employee that was leaving. “What do I have to do to get on the morning shift?”

A groan of annoyance resonated behind him. His smile fell. He was stuck with her for a while, as they were both working evening shifts.

Alone together.

There were 60 seconds in one minute. And 60 minutes in one hour. A shift lasted 8 hours here. That was way too many seconds to spend doing nothing but wait to leave.

All that was in his head was the hot chick he kept seeing since he started working here. After only bumping into her these past 2 weeks, Dean finally decided to ask her on a date. And since he was Dean Winchester, no one could tell him no. And the same day, after his shift, he would meet her in front of the pizza place that was two blocks away.

And he couldn’t stop looking at the clock, head in his hand, hoping that staring at it would make the time go faster.

“I asked for a hot caramel latte with almond milk and no foam, what the hell is this?!”

It was near the end. In 15 minutes, the shop would be closed and then it was cleaning time. Weeping the floor, throwing away the remaining food that was not sold, washing the dishes, etc. That was always his favorite part, because even if Y/n was a pain in the ass as his supervisor, she was chill and allowed him to choose the radio station while they cleaned and he could leave once his part was done.

At first, the voice didn’t alert him, and Dean kept on making himself busy with cleaning tables that didn’t need it. But then, something broke, the sound heavy of meaning, and he was on alert. Every fiber of his body was on and he turned to the source of the sound.

Right at the counter, there was a man with his back to him. Without seeing his face, Dean knew he was angry. Pissed, even. At his feet, a broken cup, porcelain in pieces covered the floor soaked in coffee. Two steps allowed Dean to know what the man was looking at, and when he saw her…

He immediately rushed without thinking.

“I’m gonna ask you to leave, sir,” Dean put his hand on the customer’s shoulder, which made him jump. The man turned to him and aggressively stepped back.

“Don’t touch me,” the man hissed. “You’re working here, huh?” He looked up and down at Dean, noticing the apron of the café he was wearing. “Must be the manager here. Well, your employee here is worthless, you should be careful who you hire, for fuck sake!”

At that, Dean couldn’t help but wince. That was unnecessary rude to say. He glanced at Y/n again and felt his heartbeat with pain. Her head was down, probably to hide tears. That was probably not the first time she had to serve asshole customers, but it was the first time Dean noticed it. Working in customer service was not easy at all, you had to be strong to endure all of that everyday.

He only knew Y/n for about two weeks, but he already knew a lot about her. She was calm. Kind. She cared about doing her job right. Yeah, she was a bit bossy and used every opportunity to send subtle little insults towards Dean just enough to annoy him, like how he couldn’t even do a coffee, in this economy? But it was never mean and he liked that side of her that didn’t let people step on her toes. But right now, in front of that man? She was small. She wanted to hide. It wasn’t the Y/n he knew.

“I’m not the boss,” Dean answered finally, placing his gaze back on the man. “But we’re closed, so I’m gonna ask you to leave.”

The rude customer was the last one in the café, so it wasn’t like he was breaking any rules. And he was Dean Winchester. He made the rules.

Red seemed to eat at the man’s face so much he was angry. “Not before I get what I fucking paid for!” He started yelling. Dean didn’t mind being screamed at, he was used to it with his dad, how sad it sounded. But when the man turned to Y/n to yell at her, Dean couldn’t hold himself back. “You useless cunt!”

“I said, out!” Dean grabbed the customer by the neck and quickly sent him backwards. His legs met the table right behind him, but it wasn’t enough to make him understand. The man lunged forward in an attempt to hit Dean, but he didn’t know.

Dean was waiting for it.

The fist missed, and the man stumbled into the void and collapsed on the floor like a clown.

“This isn’t over,” the man growled and got up. Sure he would strike again, Dean was ready to fight. But this time, the fist didn’t miss. The pain came later, a few seconds after the hunter realized he got hit in the face. Fortunately for his ego, Dean managed to stay on his feet and not fall pathetically on the floor.

He reached for the wound.

It was right near his left eye, it would bruise for sure.

With deadly flames in his green eyes, he looked at his target.

“Oh, you’re dead.”

The rest happened quickly.

Dean decided he wouldn’t hold back anymore. As his head throbbed with ache and anger, he was about to hit with everything he got. But at the last moment, something interrupted him. A body, warm, soft, encircling his own, stopped him from moving.

“Please stop…”

Her voice woke him up completely. Shaking, she put herself between the two men to stop the fight even if she was scared.

The man took the opportunity to run away, the bell chiming behind him as the door closed violently.

A long silence followed the departure of the aggressive customer. A couple of seconds passed, then minutes, before she realized there was no silence actually. Things were happening around her, words were spoken, and the only person besides her was running around locking doors and closing blinds, cursing every word he could think of at the moment.

Her hearing was nothing but a shrill sound, almost painful, like she was deaf. It took another minute and him calling her name for her to come back to the present.

"You okay? He didn't hurt you?" Dean was kneeling in front of her. She finally noticed she was sitting down on a chair. Shaking her head, she tapped her hands in her face to finish waking herself up from her slumber.

"You're hurt and you ask me if I'm okay?" She stood up as she spoke, Dean doing the same. Then she seemed to disappear in the backstore to come back with a bag of frozen vegetables they used for the soup. "Sit down," she instructed.

Dean would have been impressed by her capacity to focus after such an event, especially with how she was a couple of seconds ago, but he knew better. She wouldn't meet his gaze, her head was down, and when he glanced at her hands, it was to see them shake.

"Y/n-"

"Oh, come on, sit down, your masculinity won't suffer too much, I just want to check," she rolled her eyes and almost pushed him to the chair. Dean let himself be moved around with a smirk. That was the Y/n he knew. "There, it's not that bad, huh?"

"It's no big deal," he tried to convince her, after all, as a hunter, he got hurt more than once before and healed perfectly fine. But when he saw her, he understood. And he let himself be checked by her only for her. To reassure her it was nothing, it was fine, it would bruise into a black eye and nothing else.

"Okay, it's not that bad," she sighed in relief as she said that.

"Told you," Dean snickered with a smile. "Ouch!"

The frozen bag was now on his bruise and Y/n was turning her back to him. His first instinct was to ask her if she was okay, check on her, after all, she seemed pretty shaken up, but he knew she needed time, that was all.

"We should call the police," Dean ended up saying. Usually, he would never propose that, but the customer was human. A monster in some sort, but completely human, so the police could take care of it.

"No!" She turned harshly towards Dean, surprising him.

"Why not?"

Pacing back and forth, Y/n seemed to get lost in her thoughts. "It's not necessary, I doubt the customer will come back, and it would put the cafe in a bad spot, we would lose customers and…"

Again, Dean knew. Y/n was a good employee, she loved doing her job right, but she hated the place, hated the menu and the disgusting coffee served here, and hated the management. But they were the ones giving her her salary at the end of the month, so she couldn't disappoint them.

"I can deal with the boss," Dean said, standing up, the bag still on his eye.

In front of him, Y/n sadly shook her head. "It won't be necessary." She pointed at one corner of the cafe. Then another. "There's cameras around, and he loves to watch. Loves to tell us everything we do wrong. He probably already knows it happened. We'll see tomorrow, I guess," she sighed. Then, like a thought crossed through her head, she lifted her head completely and crossed gaze with Dean. "Your date! You're gonna be late!"

Dean wanted to laugh. So badly. Of course, he talked to her about it. Kristina, their coworker from the morning shift and Dean's date, was waiting for him. But after what happened, it completely got out of his head. Smiling, he shook his head and placed the bag of defrosting vegetables on the table beside him.

"I'll call her, say something came up. She'll understand."

Y/n cringed, biting her lips and frowning. "I don't think she cares enough to understand. But you're cute and sexy so maybe she'll forgive your ass."

Immediately after saying those words, Y/n became a puddle of embarrassment. Her body flushed with the realization of what she just admitted.

"Really?" Dean would not let that go. "You think I'm the perfect combination of sexy and cute ?"

"Shut up," she murmured between her teeth, grabbing the nearest thing, the cloth he was using to clean the tables, to throw it at him. "Get out of here your shift is over."

"Yeah," Dean surprised himself by what he said next. "But I won't let you walk back home alone. Consider me your cute and sexy bodyguard," he laughed at her reaction, but it was nothing compared to the sound leaving his mouth when he received another cloth on the head. "Hey, this one was wet"

"Oops!"

The next day started pretty badly. After a complicated night with barely any sleep and lots of nightmares, Y/n got up early to get ready. Even if her shift started at 3pm, she knew the phone would ring and the ruthless voice of her boss would order her to come in to talk.

About what happened.

It was not even noon when it happened. She was at her third coffee, so she had energy even if she felt dead inside. Since she was already dressed, all she had to do was grab her stuff and head to the cafe. Like usual, she had to walk since she didn't have enough savings to buy a car.

The weather was quite nice, compared to how gloomy she was feeling. It was warm and sunny outside. Y/n barely made a step out, locking her door, that a loud engine startled her. The sun was reflecting strongly on the hood, blinding her as she walked with caution towards it, and for a moment she thought maybe it was the customer that found her and came to finish what he started. Fortunately she recognized the car quickly, as it was the same car that drove her home last night.

A 67 chevy impala.

It was even more beautiful than when she saw it yesterday.

The drive to the cafe was quiet, apart from the chichats. How are you? Do you feel better? So, did he call you too? Usually, Y/n would have commented on something random just to annoy Dean, but when he turned his head towards her at a red light to ask her a question, she saw the bruise around his eyes, reminding her of the night before and how everything was her fault. If only she hadn't messed up the order…

Once parked in front of the cafe, Dean stopped the engine to turn to Y/n. "Hey," he said in a calm and steady voice. "Whatever happens there, it was neither our fault."

"I appreciate it, Dean, but it was. I was in charge, even though I told the boss more than once that I didn't want to be, so what happens on my shift is my fault." Without leaving him time to answer, she opened the door and left the car to enter the cafe.

The moment she stepped inside, a loud silence echoed around her. Every employee stopped chatting to stare at her, the customers mimicking their actions, wondering what was so much more interesting than getting their order right and fast.

Y/n hated that. The attention. The eyes on her. The silence. Her body started shaking, both with anger and humiliation, the tears almost painful to hold back. But then, as she was about to step towards the boss' office, a warmth settled on her shoulder, stopping the tremors at once. And a voice she was starting to grow fond of whispered near her ear.

"Ignore them. They don't matter right now."

With Dean, she felt safe. Strong. Like she could do everything and never feel afraid anymore. That was until they were sitting in the office in front of the boss.

“Y/n, I am wildly disappointed with you. What you did was beyond unprofessional, and I can’t believe I have to do this. You’re suspended.”

It was nothing less than what she expected from her boss. Since working there, she had done everything to stay in his good graces, sometimes doing other people's jobs to compensate. Everything to keep the restaurant clean and to continue serving fresh food every day. It wasn't Kristina who would write down expiration dates on perishable products, or place the new arrival of breads behind the ones already there to prevent the oldest ones from remaining at the bottom of the shelf, covered in mold. If this place passed the health inspection every year, it was thanks to Y/n’s efforts, efforts that no one had ever noticed or considered.

It was probably better that way.

Head bowed, Y/n took a harsh breath and opened her mouth to apologize and admit her boss was right. However, the words could not come out of her mouth fast enough, because someone else was already speaking.

“This is bullshit,” Dean exclaimed. A quick glance in his direction, and Y/n could see his hands forming fists on his thighs. “Y/n did everything perfectly, it’s not her fault if customers don’t respect anything, not even themselves!”

“Dean, I think you're new here,” the boss replied with a calmness that didn't mean anything good. Y/n tried to draw Dean's attention to her to signal him to shut up, that it was nothing, that she could survive a week suspended, but the young man paid her no mind. And one look at his face showed her the same anger she had seen in him the previous evening, when he had decided to defend himself against the customer. “I watched the surveillance cameras carefully. Your reactions with this client, although undoubtedly intended to be heroic, were completely unacceptable. The next time you make a mistake, you will suffer the same fate as Y/n. For now, take your day, see you on Monday, Dean.”

"That's all?!" This time, Dean stood up as he spoke. “Y/n gets suspended, and I only get a warning and a day off? What the f-”

“Thank you,” Y/n quickly cut him off, grabbing his arm firmly to silence him. Strangely, like the day before, her intervention seemed to calm Dean down very quickly. “See you next week.”

As she was about to leave, her hand still holding Dean's wrist to drag him out of the office, a voice called out to her.

"Two weeks. See you in two weeks.”

It took a lot of control for her to say nothing. The inside of her cheek hurt from how hard she bit it, dragging Dean out of the office and then out of the restaurant. It was only once outside, far from prying ears and vulture eyes, that she was finally able to breathe.

“FUCKING BULLSHIT! FUCK YOU!” Suddenly came out of her mouth. If Dean still had any anger at that moment, it suddenly vanished when he heard so many curses coming out with so much anger from the usually calm Y/n. “Oh. It feels better."

Having never seen her like this, it took several seconds for Dean to compose himself. Large green eyes were fixed on her, wide, shocked, even, until a good hit on the arm woke him up completely. "Ouch!" He rubbed his arm as if it hurt even though her fist had barely tickled him.

“What the fuck was that, seriously?! Talk to the boss like that? You’re born stupid or you’re just too dumb to think, fuck, Dean!”

Still as surprised and shocked, Dean didn't respond immediately. Y/n was angry. More, even. Beyond pissed. Which was completely normal under the circumstances, except Y/n wasn't normally angry. She could get upset, complain about the system, the management, the customers, or how she was the only one doing all the little things that made the café special and comfortable, but she was never angry.

“I couldn’t let him talk to you that way, I just couldn’t,” Dean explained calmly. It was quite rare for him to be the calm one in a heated argument. But in this case, he knew he had to keep his own rage to himself, she didn't need more anger. She needed to speak, to expel this emotion out of her like a demon that needed to be exorcized.

“Well, that was fucking stupid,” she pointed at him, her gaze meeting his. This surprised him again. Y/n was shy, although she was a good leader, and he noticed she had trouble looking people in the eye for several seconds. She always ended up looking away, and he knew it wasn't because she was dishonest, but rather that she was afraid of the judgment in the eyes of others. So that she was yelling at him while staring right at him… That surprised Dean again and made him speechless.

For a few seconds, he forgot that he was being told off by a girl for defending her, and lost himself in the contemplation of her magnificent orbs. Since he had known her, he had never really seen them, or bothered to look at them.

And her eyes were beautiful, even filled with anger.

Probably noticing the eye contact was getting considerably long, Y/n finally broke the almost trance-like effect to gaze elsewhere.

“Have you had it long?”

She was still not looking at him. "What?"

“The uncontrollable need to save the damsel in distress.” The corner of her lips lifted up in a smirk.

“I-” He couldn’t tell her that this was actually his life. Saving the woman and the orphan, killing the monsters, it was so ingrained in his life that it was part of him.

“Come on,” she muttered, still not meeting his gaze, gesturing to him to follow her.

"Come on… Where?" It was the longest conversation he'd had with her, and it was only because she was angry, he remembered. He was here for a hunt, he had to learn more about the people of the town. Concentration and focus were required, but yet... This side of Y/n, her confidence, how she wasn't afraid to yell at him like that, when she was normally so gentle...

He liked that side of her. Not that he disliked the rest, it was just-

“I think you have tonight off, and I, well, the next two weeks.” Starting to walk towards the impala, she then stopped and turned her head just enough to look over her shoulder at him. “I’m going to help you rediscover your manhood. Do you have any idea where you could have lost it?”

A big smile stretched Dean's lips. This was the Y/n he knew. “Probably over there,” he pointed to the horizon. “Near the pizzeria. You hungry?”

The pizza was the most delicious thing that had passed Y/n's lips in a long time. Very greasy and dripping with cheese, the junk food was simply good after such a catastrophic day. And sharing this moment with his colleague, accomplice, even, and perhaps friend- if he wanted to- was the icing on the cake.

Her heart always beat a beat and a half faster when he was near her. And although she tried not to like him, not to get attached to what was clearly a bad boy who preferred girls like Kristina, who just hung out with her because he had free time… She simply couldn't deny it anymore. What her heart desired was starting to win over what reason screamed at her.

Don't fall in love.

And yet, as that evening at the pizzeria after her suspension turned into an almost daily routine, her heart prevailed. The crush she immediately had for the young man with emerald eyes and cheeks covered in a milky way of little freckles was slowly transforming into something deeper.

A week had passed since her suspension, it was Saturday again, and as usual, Y/n and Dean found themselves at the pizzeria. The owner himself now came to take their order, even though he already knew what the two wanted since they always ordered the same thing. Everything was going exactly as usual, Dean recounting his day at work, how slowly everything was going downhill without her.

“I worked with a new guy, and son of a bitch, I’ve never seen someone take their time so much. It’s like he did it on purpose,” Dean sipped his drink. Y/n’s gaze followed the movement of the Adam’s apple rising and falling as he swallowed. She was barely concentrating on what he was saying. “We had two complaints that the sandwich bread had mold, but the person in the kitchen didn't get in trouble for it. It’s like the boss knows that no matter the wait time, the quality of the food, or the attitude of the employees, the cafe will always make money since it’s the only one in town,” Dean let out a little laugh which only spread the butterflies in Y/n’s stomach. “Let me tell you that over the past week, some regulars have stopped coming. Oh, and many have asked where you’ve been.”

“It’s not surprising,” she finally answered after a few seconds of silence where only the chewing of Dean devouring his pizza could be heard. On the table, near the windows, the dessert was already there, two slices of pie that the owner had reserved for them knowing they were coming. Her gaze fell on the dessert as she spoke although she really wanted to look him in the eyes. Admiring the perfect color of his orbs, admiring how everything was perfect about him. It was so difficult. “What’s surprising is that the health inspection hasn’t closed this place yet.”

These words hung in the air for a moment, accompanied by silence. Finally glancing over at Dean, she found that he had stopped eating mid-bite, staring blankly at her. It was almost as if Y/n could see the gears moving in his mind.

“Yet.” That was all he said next, taking the time to finish his bite before continuing. "I have an idea."

“I could figure that much,” she laughed as she took her drink, anything to occupy her hands and look normal in his presence. Luckily he couldn't hear her heart thumping against her ribcage.

“We're going to avenge you,” he pointed ahead, at her, and that was enough for her eyes to move from his finger to his eyes. She managed to hold his gaze for several long seconds which seemed to her like hours of torture. "You'll see."

"See what? Oh, how cute,” a voice broke the bubble Y/n and Dean were in. She hadn't heard that voice in a week, and it had been the best thing her suspension had given her, except for all the time she'd spent with Dean since.

“Kristina,” Y/n muttered under her breath, her eyes immediately going to her pizza. A weight seemed to settle on her chest, pressing down hard with its gigantic pressure.

“Hey,” Dean greeted her, and the pressure thumped harder against her heart. “How you doing, Kristina?”

His tone was kind. Friendly. Sweet. Just like he was with Y/n. But with a bonus, he was flirty.

Obviously.

She was not special.

“Oh, I'm doing well, much better,” she laughed. “Especially since Y/n isn’t at the café anymore. No one is ordering us around anymore, right, Dean?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n could see movement. Raising her head just enough to have her in her sight without looking directly at her, she could see her hand on Dean's shoulder. Besides, she wasn't alone. Two other girls from the cafe were standing with her. Without looking at them, Y/n knew. She felt their gaze on her, burning, like vultures around prey.

“I actually liked working with Y/n,” Dean replied as calmly as ever. His words created a spark of hope in Y/n who this time looked directly at Dean. “It’s not as fun without her,” he continued.

“Oh,” Kristina laughed, and her two henchmen followed suit. “I know you want to stay in her good graces by saying all this,” she leaned towards him to whisper in his ear, but made no effort to lower her voice. “But you don’t need to. I think she's going to get fired. The customer came back to file a complaint against her.”

"What?" Dean leaned back slightly to get a better look at Kristina. Now he had his face so close to hers that only one movement was necessary to kiss her. And he had a perfect view into her cleavage. “But…” He turned his head towards the girl sitting in front of him, obviously not understanding why she was being fired and not him.

“You don’t have to lick her boots anymore,” Kristina put a hand on her hip. “I know she’s in love with you, but at this point, it’s pity, right? Spending time with her… Poor little thing. No friends. No boyfriend. Only feelings for those who don’t love her. Just like last time, always falling for the new guy.”

Her face was burning. Y/n was seething, with anger, with sadness, with humiliation. And the worst, the worst was Dean's expression. His gaze, which he constantly fixed on her, seeking to meet her gaze, wanting so much for her to grant him one look, was now stuck in emptiness. And a look of pure confusion made him frown.

Dean refused to look at her anymore.

It was too much.

“Ew, friends to friends,” Kristina added, as if the stabs she had already thrown didn’t hurt enough already. “Ew.”

Standing abruptly, Y/n slammed her hands on the table. Head bowed, her hair cascaded in front of her face, trying as best as they could to hide the tears that welled up in her eyes and inevitably rolled down her cheeks. A ton of insults raced through her mind, but they all got stuck in her throat with this lump growing and growing, until finally, the tears flowed.

One.

Two.

One fell silently onto the table. The other, on her plate, right next to the barely eaten slice of pizza.

Before the third tear fell, Y/n was already out of the restaurant and walking as quickly as she could towards her house. The tears continued to flow without her being able to stop them, but she remained silent. If she could control one thing tonight, it would be her voice. No sound would come out of her mouth until she was alone, at home, in her bed. Only there, she would let herself scream all this pain into her pillow.

No one tried to catch her.

“Good news,” Sam announced before his brother had even closed the door. “Get this. There was no monster from the beginning. It was actually kids who created the whole thing to attract attention. You don’t have to play barista anymore.”

"Oh."

Looking up from his laptop, Sam fixed his gaze on Dean. The door closed slowly and he took off his coat just as slowly and placed it on his bed. The motel was shabby, like all the others, and usually, Dean would never place his precious leather coat on those blankets which he called "the most disgusting object the universe has known." He'd cleaned the covers several times to be sure, but the comforter had kept this unnatural color, so he still didn't trust it.

“Dean.”

“I'm going to take a shower,” his brother grumbled as he headed towards the bathroom, completely ignoring what Sam had just said.

“Okay, but-” the door slammed. “Okay.”

Sam waited for Dean to finish his shower for almost an hour. The only reason Dean Winchester would take such a long shower would be the fantastic water pressure, but having used this bathroom for over 3 weeks, Sam knew that really wasn't the case.

Finally, Dean came out.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Sam closed his laptop to put his full attention on his brother. The latter sat at the end of his bed, dressed with fresh clothes, his towel on his shoulder to catch the droplets falling from his hair.

“Have you ever dreamed of a normal life?” Dean answered his question with another question. At this, Sam rolled his eyes.

“I had a normal life before, remember? Before you picked me up to find Dad?”

Dean made a sound that was a mix of a sigh of guilt and a grunt of frustration, probably directed at himself. "I know but…"

“I can't believe it,” Sam stood up at the revelation. “You like working there.”

“Nah,” Dean slapped the air like he was chasing away the stupid idea. “Actually, yeah, but not anymore. Working in customer service is horrible.”

“I feel like there's a but,” Sam went to sit next to his brother on the bed.

“But,” Dean took a deep breath. "There is a girl."

Sam sighed. Obviously it was about a girl. “Have you slept with her yet? Because if you want to stay here for a one night stand, I swear-”

“She’s in love with me.”

Sam turned his whole body towards his brother, his eyes wide. "Oh."

"Oh."

“Do you like her back?”

At this question, Dean's face disappeared under his large hands. “I don’t know,” his voice sounded muffled by his palms.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

"I don't know!" Dean exclaimed, removing his hands at the same time. It was his turn to avoid looking at someone, staring at the void instead. “I don’t know what it is to love. How to love. If it’s love. It was never explained to me, you know, it wasn’t dad who would tell me how to know if I love someone.”

A silence followed his words, but not for long.

“With Jess…” Sam began slowly, as if the words he was about to say were poisonous snakes that could bite him at any moment. “It was simple. I felt good with her. She felt good with me. And together, we were good.”

“Okay,” Dean listened intently, as if the answers he was looking for were on his brother's lips.

“Do you like spending time with her?” He then asked.

Dean didn't even think for a second. "Oh yeah."

“When you're not with her, what do you do? You think about her, right?”

This time, Dean took a moment before answering. “Well, I worked at the cafe, so obviously I was thinking about her, since she wasn’t there but she used to. And then, when I finished work, I would go see her and we would order food or go to the pizzeria.”

“Okay, and then?”

"And then what?" Dean finally looked his brother in the eye. He still had questions, still doubts, confusion, but that was completely normal. A soft, understanding smile stretched Sam's lips.

“What are you thinking about right now?”

“Oh, how I want to punch that shitty boss in the face,” Dean clenched his fist to mimic his words. “I never hit women, but that girl, Kristina, humiliated Y/n terribly earlier. And I reacted too late, she was gone and-”

He stopped speaking suddenly, as if enlightenment had finally reached his mind.

"And?"

“I have to join Y/n, apologize, I-”

“Dean.”

Stopping just as he was getting up and putting his coat back on, the green eyed man turned to his brother.

“If you're in love, I can't tell you, Dean. But I can confirm that you like her. But for tonight, let her breathe, these feelings are new for the both of you.”

At these words, Dean collapsed on the bed. “Oh, you’re probably right. I don't want to rush her, you know, she's so shy, but at the same time, so... Fierce. She's the perfect balance of sweet and spicy. And I let her down.”

To that, Sam didn't know what to answer. He knew that feeling, the one of having abandoned the person you love. That's how he felt ever since he lost Jess.

“I'm sure you'll figure out how to make amends,” Sam placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Actually… I think I already know,” Dean turned his head towards him, green eyes meeting amber ones. Green eyes sparkling with a new resolution, probably very wicked. “And you, my dear brother, will be able to help me.”

Turned out, losing another employee during the busiest time of the year was a sufficient reason to terminate a suspension preemptively. And although, clearly, this did not seem to make certain employees happy and even less the boss who hated coming back on his decisions, Y/n was able to return to work after barely a week of forced leave. And also, strangely, the customer’s complaint seemed to have vanished from existence. Or maybe it was another lie that Kristina came up with to hurt Y/n.

And what a surprise when she arrived and saw the place.

It was depressing. Everything was messy and upside down, unopened boxes that needed to be refrigerated were lying around everywhere, and other products that needed to stay at room temperature, like syrups, ended up in the freezer. No rotation had been made, and it was with sadness that she had to note all the food they lost and throw everything away. It took her a long time, long enough for someone she despised to come and tell her how to do her job.

"What are you doing? Customers are waiting! Have you forgotten how to work?”

After making this more than derogatory comment, Kristina returned to her favorite position, the one that required the least effort.

Her heart was heavy. Filled and at the same time, empty. Since the last time with Dean at the pizzeria, she hadn't received any news. No call. No text. No, her heart wasn't big with heaviness, it was broken. Split. And now that she had returned to the café, she learned he no longer worked there.

Good for him, she thought as she put away one last box before heading towards the front of the café to deal with the customers. At least he was out of this hell. It was maybe better that way.

“Sorry for the wait, what can I get you?” The usual words were so ingrained in her that they came out of her mouth as soon as she was behind the cash register, without even looking at the customer.

“I would like you to give me the chance to talk to you,” a familiar voice said in front of her. That voice, low, hoarse, and so perfect. She had started to get used to hearing it almost every day. But this time, it forged yet another crack on her heart.

“Dean,” even saying his name was painful. The pain of a lost friendship and crushed hope. The pain of a humiliated moment, a bad memory where he had sat there in silence while she was being crushed as an inactive witness.

“Y/n. There’s no word to express how sorry I am for-”

An apology, of course, wasn't exactly what she wanted, but it was more than she had expected. He was there, in the flesh, in front of her. So, for once and although it was difficult because looking at him would hurt her even more, Y/n raised her head and stared into his sad gaze. Ready and open to hear what he had to say.

There was a sadness almost identical to her own in his beautiful green eyes. Guilt, regrets, he seemed sincere-

“Dean! I thought you had left the ship,” Kristina suddenly entered Y/n’s bubble, who didn’t waste a moment to move to the side. It wasn't unknown that Y/n didn't like being touched or having someone in her bubble, and Kristina knew it, so she did it on purpose. All the time.

“Excuse me, but I was talking with Y/n,” Dean replied in a neutral voice, almost annoyed, even.

“Oh, sure, you want to feel better about last time, but you don't have to,” Kristina continued, crossing her arms over her large chest.

Dean rolled his eyes and shifted his attention to Y/n. “I’m serious, Y/n. Come with me, I need to talk to you. And they don’t deserve you.”

Y/n's mouth opened, then closed, tears welling up in her eyes at an uncontrollable speed.

“Seriously, Dean, don’t you see how pathe-”

“Kristina, shut the fuck up. You’re bothering us.”

This really didn't please the girl who made an offended sound, threw an unimportant insult, and left without another word.

Once finally alone again, Dean was ready. Ready to tell the beautiful barista in front of him everything that was on his heart, even if he didn't really know exactly what it was himself. He had some in the past, girlfriends, one night stands, crushes on the most beautiful and popular girls in school, but that wasn't the same thing. He felt an attachment to Y/n, a different feeling that he couldn't describe. If it was love, he didn't know. But he knew he didn't want to lose her.

“It's a little too late to come to my defense,” her voice said instead of his. Taken by surprise, Dean's mouth opened then closed, like a fish looking flabbergasted. “Although I really enjoyed seeing someone tell her to fuck off for once,” the shadow of a smile drew on her face for a second, but quickly faded away. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work-”

“Wait,” Dean found his voice just in time.

“I don’t have time, Dean,” Y/n turned her back on him, giving him one last eye contact above her shoulder. Her eyes were filled with sadness and seeing her like that physically hurt him.

“On the contrary,” Dean insisted, a smile tugging at his lips as he knew the plan was going like clockwork. “You will soon have plenty of time.”

Seeing the obvious confusion spread across her face, Dean jerked his head towards the boss's office. This caught the attention of not only Y/n but also the other employees, because at the same time, voices were heard coming from that direction. Loud voices, displeased, and then the door opened.

“I am very disappointed with the state of this place. It's deplorable. I’m afraid I won't change my mind, the café is going to close.”

“Wait,” the boss looked tiny behind the person who had just spoken. Like the weight of reality was finally falling on his shoulders. Stomping him to the ground like a pest, just how he had always treated his employees. "You can’t, you don’t have the right!"

“I have all the rights, I am a health inspector, and this place is completely unsanitary.”

Witnessing the whole scene in the front row, like she was in the cinema, Y/n was jubilant. Finally. Finally this place was recognized as being good for trash. Finally, the boss got what he deserved. Finally, things seemed to come full circle and it was all over.

The health inspector subsequently introduced himself to the employees. He looked very young for this job, early twenties, probably, long hair parted in the middle of his forehead and hazel eyes, but regardless, he had done his job properly so Y/n didn’t care about the details.

“This place is going to close. But don't worry, you are entitled to unemployment compensation. Time to find something better for you,” the inspector finished his speech with a wink. If Y/n wasn't so excited by the idea of being rid of this miserable job, she would have been sure that the wink was aimed at her personally.

A laugh brought her attention back to Dean who was still in front of her. As the health inspector informed the customers present of the situation and put a note in the door to say the café was permanently closed, Dean was giggling.

“You did this,” Y/n finally understood.

“Told you we would get you revenge. Now, can you please come with me and listen to me? I need to talk to you.”

“After what you did for me, lunch is on me,” Y/n laughed as well, took off her apron which she threw behind her, and left the café without a glance behind her.

“Listen. So uhm, how can I say this, so uhm… God, I’m so bad at chick flicks and emotional stuff.”

The two had been sitting at the pizzeria for about an hour and a half pizzas. The same place as usual, with the same order, but this time everything was different. It was not simply out of friendship that they came to share a meal, there was more. Hidden feelings, others clearly visible but which had not yet been addressed, and frustration mixed with regrets.

Dean had been trying for two slices of pizza now to say something, but would immediately turn red the moment he tried to open up emotionally. And Y/n couldn't even blame him, seeing the efforts he made for her, what he did at the cafe, for her, and now he was trying so hard to explain and make it up to her… He could say absolutely nothing and she would be satisfied.

“Take your time,” Y/n mentioned between mouthfuls, leaving all her attention on the young man in front of her who still made her heart beat so quickly. Of course, he had made mistakes, and to forgive him just because he had the best revenge for her was pretty stupid, but oh well. Love makes you stupid, right? “It’s not like someone is waiting for me.”

“It’s just,” Dean sighed and ran his hands over his face. Y/n's gaze stayed on the ring on his finger, a ring she had already noticed before. “Not easy to say this. I mean, not to you, but like, talking about my stuff like this. But there’s one thing I know I have to say, and here it is,” he finally seemed to find his bearings, beautiful green eyes anchoring into hers, his red cheeks creating a nice color contrast. "I'm sorry. Sorry for not saying anything when Kristina was there being a bitch. I guess I was taken up by surprise with what she said, but that’s no excuse.”

“Dean, it’s fine,” Y/n shook her head and closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, she knew exactly what she wanted to say to him. She took a big breath, words and sentences forming quickly in her mind. And it all came out of her mouth as quickly. “I am not ashamed to like you. Not at all. Because you are nice. Pretty. Hella sexy. And I feel comfortable whenever I’m with you. And I like spending time with you, and always wanna spend more. I won’t be ashamed to think all those things about you, because they are true, and they only make you a better person.” Pausing her words, Y/n forced herself to keep her gaze on Dean's again. She noticed that since those words had come out of her mouth, it was easier to hold his gaze. “You don’t have to have the same feelings, I understand. You don’t have to reciprocate or answer my confession, I can already see how bad it is for you to express feelings,” she laughed briefly at his scowling expression. “What I’m trying to say is… Yes. I like you a lot. And if you only like me as a friend, well, I’ll take that. It might hurt, but it would hurt more to not have you around anymore.”

Phew. It was hard to say, but once everything was out, Y/n felt better, lighter even. A heavy weight was finally leaving her heart, but there was still a little left. That was pressing. And tightening with the question… What will his answer be?

Dean took a brief moment to think before answering. Everything had gone silent, neither of them were eating, and both were probably holding their breaths.

“I've only known you for a short time,” Dean finally broke the silence, and the breath left Y/n's lungs which burned as it passed. She could feel the “but” coming. “But…” And there you go. “I really appreciate your company. A lot. I don’t know if it’s the same thing you feel, or if it’s love, but for the first time in a long, long time, I don’t want to leave this town. And I want to continue spending time with you.” Hope was reborn in Y/n, a wave of indescribable emotions suddenly invading her. “I'm going to have to leave, eventually, for work, but... I really want to take a break and try. I don’t know if I can do it, have a normal life, be with you, and just quit my job, so… I can’t promise you anything. I will probably leave eventually, I have so much stuff to do and…”

“You know,” Y/n continued when she saw him struggling with his words, hope now so strong in her body that she was almost vibrating. It wasn't a confession of love, but it was even better. This attachment Dean felt for her was worth even more than any cheesy love confession from the romantic movies or books she loved to delve into. “I no longer really have any ties to this city. No more jobs. If… We realize that things are working between us, and that you need to leave, nothing stops me from coming with you.” Realizing that it was probably too direct since they weren't even together, Y/n quickly adjusted her mind. “But those are just random ifs and thoughts,” she hurriedly took a bite of her pizza, just to make her stop talking.

“Y/n,” raising her head, she looked back at Dean. The latter had a big smile on his face and shook his head, clearly amused by her words. “If I told you what I did for work, you would never believe me. And when you”ll see it with your eyes and will be forced to believe me, you’re going to want to run away from me.”

“You’re a secret agent then?” Y/n hurriedly said, her mouth still full of pizza, her eyes wide. “Wow. Impressive.” She laughed, and Dean nervously laughed with her. If only it was that, it would be so much easier. “It really reminds me of my uncle.”

“Your uncle was a secret agent?” Dean asked, amused by the change of subject and how she was easily taking everything he said to her.

She was really the right one. Maybe she wouldn't run away after all.

“No, actually. When I was young, I often spent time at his house, but my parents stopped visiting him. They said he had lost his mind. But I loved these stories of ghosts and werewolves, he always told me he hunted them, saving people, like a secret agent of the supernatural,” a big smile stretched her lips at this thought, past memories flooding back into her head. It was so long ago, but she kept good memories of her uncle. Expecting the same reaction from Dean, Y/n only met a shocked face, frozen in a position that didn't suit him at all. Eyes wide, mouth parted, his skin white like he actually saw a ghost. She waved her hand in front of his face. “Earth to Dean?”

“Y/n, what’s your last name again?”

Taken aback by the sudden question, she blinked once and then twice. “Uhm, I don’t think I’ve ever told you. It’s Singer, why?”

A long silence answered her questions and her face dropped a little bit. Why did it matter?

“Your uncle… What's his name?”

“Dean, I haven’t seen my uncle in almost 15 years you know-”

“Y/n.”

“Robert. It’s Robert. But I always called him…”

“Bobby.”

It was her turn to have her eyes widen. “Yeah…?”

“I think you and I have more in common than I thought. And you really need to meet my brother,” he immediately stood up and threw two 20 bills on the table. Standing up in turn, confusion filled her entire expression.

“Dean, that’s way too much for two pizzas- Dean?” But she couldn't add more, and the confusion turned into this small, pleasant flame in the middle of her chest when Dean's hand met hers. “Okay, but you’re going to have to explain it to me because I don’t understand anything.”

“You'll understand,” Dean's smile was indescribable because it was so big. But that smile was hiding something else. Secrets that his beautiful lips had surely sealed away for far too long. “Let’s go,” he walked outside, said goodbye to the restaurant owner, and led her to his car. But once inside, he stopped before starting the engine, frozen yet again as another realization hit him.

“What? Something's wrong?”

“You… uhm… might recognize my brother, actually.”

“Why, was he a customer at the café?” Y/n laughed, fastening her seat belt. This whole thing was so sudden, so random, she just wanted to burst laughing. She felt good even if she didn’t quite understand everything that was happening.

“It was the health inspector,” he finally started the car and backed out of the parking lot and onto the road in one smooth, sexy motion.

“Oh. Wait, he’s a health inspector?”

“Not… Really?”

“Dean.”

Silence.

“Dean, did you fake the inspection?”

“Not really?”

“Dean!”

“Please. I’ll explain everything once we arrive. Do you trust me?”

For a second, Dean took his eyes off the road and looked into hers, and she held the gaze for the entire second and saw nothing but honesty. Then, he turned his head and broke eye contact, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see his right hand raised slightly towards her, waiting to be picked up.

“Yeah,” she finally said, gently placing her hand in his. It was warm. Comfortable. And how he squeezed, tenderly but also firmly, showed worry about losing her. “It might be crazy and stupid, but I trust you, Dean Winchester.”

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @eevvvaa @wickedinspirations@fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive @peachyaliien @katbratsupernaturalwhore

Supernatural Tag List: @peachyaliien @sexyvixen7 @stixnstripesworld @charred-angelwings @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @lyarr24 @fiftyshadesgrl @this-is-me19

Dean Winchester Tag List: @akshi8278 @kazsrm67 @wtrpxrks @deanwanddamons @thoughts-and-funnies @charred-angelwings @jensendreamland @deanswaywardgirl @happyt0exist @waynes-multiverse @djs8891 @mimaria420 @this-is-me1 @syrma-sensei

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bonelessghoul · 1 year

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The Lion and the Snake

Summary: “Hi! i’d like to request a Tom Riddle x Gryffindor reader please :) she’s also a pureblood but Tom and his posse loves teasing & taunting her because she’s from their rival house but nonetheless she also happens to be the only girl that doesn’t follow Tom around like a lovefool while most girls in Hogwarts do yet she it’s as if she’s immune to his good looks & charm and this annoyed the hell out of Tom, she’s also really smart and always in a competitive match to see who gets the top of the class– Sorry ran out of wordcount, what if one day Gellert Grindelwald manages to broke into Hogwarts and he suddenly looks for her in the great hall like “Is someone with the name of y/n Peverell here?” (yes that’s the twist, she’s a Peverell descendant) and Tom is shock to find out how significant her standing actually is in the wizarding community & her 3 ancestors are rumored to be the inspiration of tale of the 3 brothers, making her the heir to deathly hallows. Thank you!”

Note: Once upon a time on a blog that was hacked but I still have access to, this little short was written. I had that blog for like 10 years so I kinda scroll through it and read through my old stuff sometimes and this was one I wanted to bring back! hope it picks up among you all as it did long ago. This was requested by @ queenofmankind so I don’t wanna blow up their @ til they reach back out to me bc idek if they remember this request :D

Part Two

December 1943, Hogwarts

A mahogany red scarf with evenly placed golden stripes and the hint of crimson in your long robe was enough to set you from the crowd like a lion in a room of snakes. Not only do they not belong together, but one boldly and obnoxiously stands out more than the others. Well, perhaps it depends on what one would fear the most.

That was how YN felt in her sixth year Potions class.

Sitting straight in your seat, you ignored the pesky glares of the Slytherin boys that surrounded you, murmuring about you and a few other Ravenclaws nearby. There was one particular look you were concerned about though and it was right next you on the face of the very famous Tom Riddle.

This was not for lust but instead, a strongly embedded competition between the two of you since you stepped foot in Hogwarts.

Both of you were among the smartest in the school, every other month replacing each other at the top when it came to who brought in the most house points with their immaculate reports. But there was nothing more to your relationship with him than mere academic rivalry.

Riddle revolted you, unlike the rest of the girls in the school who fell at his feet. Even the boys and the professors did.

Tom was ghastly, but undeniably sat tall with a strong face that was dare you even say chiseled in the slightest. Every movement he made was so sleek like it had been rehearsed or perhaps he was an animagus as a black cat. Either way, it was suspicious. Even the way his hair curled at the top subtly falling over his forehead seemed way too perfect.

What unnerved you the most was his little following.

Upon return for your sixth year you could not help but notice the little band of misfits seeming all the more exclusive this year. They were the same loud and rambunctious boys you grew up fighting (well, it was more so being bullied and tormented by Malfoy and Rosier) but there were more whispers than laughs in the past few months.

“Today, we will review the Draught of Living Death. I like to give this as testament to what you all have learned before the winter holidays.” announced Professor Slughorn.

“Sounds a lot like you.” you whispered towards Tom, grinning smugly to yourself.

Tom inhaled through his nose. “Watch your tongue or I’ll put it in your wretched orange juice at breakfast.”

“What is your problem with orange juice?”

That was how most classes went. Occasionally, the two of you would laugh at the others wit and that’s how the other knew they had won for the moment before the next battle struck again. You would have taken it as friendly banter when you two were alone, however, Malfoy and others followed him like leeches and they were more harsh.

Professor Slughorn rambled on.

Of course, the two of you already studied excessively for this the night before.

“I don’t have a problem with it, I just don’t understand how you don’t get sick of it every morning.” Tom muttered, rolling his eyes. “Regardless, I do hope you enjoy finishing after me.”

“That’s assuming you could even brew it in the first place considering your failure with the love potion two weeks ago.” you scoffed.

But there were times of pure frustration in the heat of a race of who could get theirs done first that made you want to hex him to death. Within not even ten minutes, the two of you had your sleeves rolled up, eyes strained on the task before you, moving like mirror images as you sped through the lesson and already far ahead of everyone else. But there was a draw. With the two of you side by side and the other Slytherin boys around your table, you all struggled with the Sopophorous bean.

Most people had either given up or nearly blew their faces off at this rate.

“Bloody hell, YN, if that comes near me one more time I’m dumping your head in this damn cauldron!” Abraxas seethed, dodging the bean that had flung from under her blade.

She winced slightly as she reached for another one.

“Aw don’t threaten her mate, she’ll cry again until we lose house points.” said Dolohov from beside him.

You glared, now suddenly positioning the bean and your knife so that when you pressed down it went directly into his direction. Tom watched idly with amusement as the boys around her erupted into laughter.

Except, it went in the completely wrong direction and hit Tom in the face.

“Oh, shit…”you quipped, suddenly holding your breath as you tensed up to the equivalent of a stone wall, trying to stifle a laugh while his friends nearly fell from their seats.

The laughter ceased and when he abruptly turned towards you with a grimace, your entire body flinched away like it knew he were a monster ready to pounce. But you were left staring while your blood pulsed, watching as his face ran through several emotions before you calmed.

“You’ll regret that later, Peverell.” Tom snapped, throwing the stupid little bean back at her without even looking.

With ease, you caught it. Being a Quidditch player gave you some qualities you were glad to have.

You didn’t say a word after that.

It seems that class would end in a draw today.

Later that evening, a Hogsmeade trip was taking place.

It was the last one of the year so you and your friends gathered quickly for it.

Tom and the boys, the Knights of Walpurgis in particular you overhead one day, idly stood by at one of the corners as all the holiday hustle and bustle rampantly took over the cobblestone streets. Music played in the distance, lights were strung everywhere you looked, and occasionally a highly decorated Christmas tree larger than life filled where there was space for it.

But aside all the obstructive scenery, Tom’s eyes lingered on YN.

YN lived for the evenings out where she could dress in a nice skirt and sweater, running around with her friends to grab all the sweet holiday treats. They were looking for dresses in particular this evening for the Winter Ball the Headmaster allowed despite this war ravaging times. It was taking its toll on everyone, but it was a nice celebration considering most people were staying at the school.

Adis and Margot, your two best friend stood by you as you tried on several different dresses. Adis was in Ravenclaw and Margot was in your own house.

But house differences aside, all of you were clearly growing frustrated with the stress of shopping and you believed nothing feeling right on you. To make it worse, the moment you found one you were pulled away from the allure of it when several boys knocked on the shop window and began shouting insults your way.

Of course, it was them.

As much as your blood boiled, your heart seemed to tighten as well at how personal this attack felt.

They really knew how to poke and prod the right places.

“Don’t listen to them, YN.” Margot said, giving them the finger as she shut the curtains.

Tears stung your eyes as you looked at your reflection. You had no idea what made you so stressed lately. Normally, you were always so composed when it came to them. But after going through a dozen dresses on an empty stomach, you were bound for frustration.

“Yeah, they’re just jealous you’re prettier than the other pigs of Slytherin.”

Snickering, you then sniffled and rubbed your eyes, rubbing away some sleepiness as well.

“Tom was probably behind it. They follow everything he does.”

The girls glanced at each other and back at you as you finally regained yourself from that stressful moment, taking a seat upon the velvet cushions by the dressing rooms.

“No way. Tom adores you more than any of the girls that fall to their knees for him.” Margot chuckled.

Leaning back, you nearly laughed with disgust. The mere thought of it made you wriggle in your own skin like you had touched something slimy.

“I’m sure if he did it was merely a tactic of his to distract me or use me in some way. I’m his only competition here. There is nothing but twisted motives behind whatever he does. Plus, I hardly noticed anyway.”

“Suit yourself.” The girls said at the same time, shrugging as you shook your head at them.

When the time came to pick a dress that you gratefully found, there was only enough time to grab some food before returning back to Hogwarts. Knowing your father loved some of the treats from the candy shop, you told the others you would catch up with them while you ran in.

New rules had been put in place with Grindelwald reigning terror on your world. It was a miracle this place was even open. After picking up a bag of sweets from, you walked out to catch up with the girls.

But to no avail, you managed to walk straight into the back of someone else while your eyes searched for the girls.

“Oh, I’m sorry—oh, it’s just you.” You frowned, watching as Tom Riddle turned around to meet your eyes.

That brief moment you two met each other’s eyes, there was a split second of adoration that nearly pulled you in. They were strikingly green. Everything about his face struck you deep in your chest where knots were forming as you spoke. You were especially flustered when you remembered the conversation with Adis and Margot earlier.

But taking a deep breath, you hurried around him.

“Wait!” he said urgently, catching your elbow.

Grinning without an ounce of humor, you spun back and threateningly looked up at the boy.

“Let go of my elbow or I’ll scream.”

Tom’s face mirrored yours and his eyes didn’t leave you as he released his hand, that touch alone leaving a cold space.

“What do you want? Still mad about earlier?” you scowled, walking ahead of him when you noticed the crowd of students were far ahead of you two. “It is quite a concern of mine that we’re about to take the trail back through the forest while all the students are out of earshot.”

The forest was filled with a strong chill enough to silence the air around you, only able to hear the sound of Tom’s footsteps catching up with yours. You knew it would snow soon, piling another layer upon the blanket of white that covered the ground around you. With the sun setting, mere remnants of pinks and orange guided your way, lighting the shimmering snow as the night was coming on the other side and here you were, walking in the middle of it with Tom Riddle.

“Why did you flinch earlier?” he asked.

Your face scrunched up. “I don’t know? Perhaps because we used to fight in our first year and I was half expecting you to hit my head with a book? I wouldn’t have put it against you not to.”

When you looked over at him, his eyes were straight ahead. He never failed to keep his chin up and you rolled your eyes, wondering how he could hold himself to such a standard even when it was just the two of you. It’s not that you felt comfortable with him but there was a weird common ground that was shared with your rival.

“You were scared?” he asked again, more pressing this time.

“As if.” you scoffed.

“I was just a bit surprised, thinking you had done it on purpose.”

Raising your brows, you looked at him. “Why would I want to bother you on purpose? Well, I do that every day. But not to that extent.”

Tom grinned. “Well like any other girl at this awful place, they think taunting me is the best way to get my attention and I merely assumed you were following their tactics.”

Even you had to laugh out loud when those words came from his mouth.

“Please, spare me! I never thought you could make me laugh but you are absolutely a joke. You think I’d ever think of you that way? The person I literally hate the most?”

Tom shrugged, seeming all too confident for someone who just completely shattered the expectations he had for your response. Inside, he was writhing. Your laughter had once been a mere nuisance, one you could tolerate and sometimes even be relieved to hear but now, it had made his blood boil. You two continued in silence for a moment.

But he couldn’t believe you were being a hundred percent honest. Tom had no idea where the question came from, but his mind worked too fast for him to catch up on, and now he regretted it, knowing it was a foolish question anyway.

“I refuse to ever adore you, let alone the ground you walk on like everyone else here does, Riddle. I had my moments where I thought we could be friends. It amazes me how I can see right through this little façade you put up. You are the loneliest person I know for someone who has the whole school chasing after you.”

“Lonely?” he chuckled darkly, narrowing his eyes at her. “You think you know me because you’re not blinded by some infatuation?”

Shrugging, your mind wandered to your earlier years when you had almost been caught up like everyone else. But you knew your drive to be better than him would always win.

“That’s exactly what I think.”

The school was nearing up ahead. It pained you to think you would miss this conversation. This only happened once or twice a semester with you two outside the classroom banter.

“Then why bother fighting me, YN? If not for a silly crush, then for what?”

Tom was angry and he didn’t know why. He should have never opened his mouth and pretended like he could care less of your presence. But the way you flinched at him today left him reeling, wanting to know more about why your mind worked the way it did. How could you have been so briefly terrified by him and not even know what he has done in the past year? What made her so pesky and defensive all the time if she had no clue what he has been building for himself?

“Believe it or not, Tom, I don’t have to have feelings for you to enjoy the never ending competition we have.”

Ah, so you were as clueless as he presumed.

A pureblood with no interest him or his horcruxes or pursuit of the dark arts. Just a pawn. Barely even that.

“Why did you even have to ask that tonight? I thought you’d send your boys to laugh at me as I picked a dress in the shop and be done?”

Tom’s head whipped towards her. “They what?”

You chuckled grimly, shaking your head at him. “Never mind.”

To your relief, the school’s warmth was already touching the tip of your nose. You were feeling suffocated by his questions. Conflicted at your own stirring chest, you quickened your pace.

“Let’s pretend we never had this conversation, Tom. If you were trying to drive me away and dim down whatever friendship we had to some stupid crush so you could painfully reject me, you failed miserably.”

Once you were inside, Tom was left standing there, lips slightly parted open as he stared in your direction. Even after you walked away, the coldness consumed him, numbing whatever thoughts he had tonight and wishing to forget them. He was hoping it could be something pathetic so he could discard you, getting you off his mind for good. But Tom realized that was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

YN was never going to be ridded of his thoughts.

One Week Later

The Gryffindor common room could be heard from your chambers where you remain alone in the strong candlelight, staring at yourself in the mirror.

For the Winter Ball, most girls would wear dresses the represented their houses colors. It was tradition. But when your eyes fell on this dress in Hogsmeade last week, you knew you would escape your stiff mind with the message it would send for it was no color at all. The white, sleeveless gown fell to your feet, sticking close to your body while a lighter piece of fabric of the same design bellowed out behind you from your shoulders. It was hardly white, more ash, with little intricate designs of vines and branches all tangled in one with shimmering little details in between.

The very idea of sticking out with your attire at such a highly anticipated night made you sick to your stomach and you hadn’t stopped fidgeting all day, ready to start dry heaving over the sinks.

“YN, are you almost—!” Margot shouted, rushing into the room with another friend of yours, Ada.

Your eyes met theirs through the reflection, and the girls jaws nearly hit the floor.

“That is beautiful.” Adis gasped.

Once more, you began poking at your hair which was tucked back in a bun with stray pieces falling in front of your face and they rushed over to swat at your hands. The makeup on your face suddenly felt heavy.

“I don’t think I want to go anymore.” You groaned, turning to face them now.

The two girls wore dresses of the same deep crimson color, nearly matching in style as well. It was often the three of you that would attempt at matching but it was clear this night was not the case and it made you feel uncomfortable in your own skin.

“Why? Afraid the school is going to see you shine in something other than a school or Quidditch uniform?” Ada chuckled, still ogling at you in the mirror.

Smiling, you shook your head, looking down at the sheer fabric that covered your arms and the silver décor it sported. At first, you truly had never felt more beautiful. But the more you thought of it the more your mind wandered to all the possibilities of what could go wrong. Every nerve in your body tensed at the idea of walking down the steps towards the Great Hall alone.

“I promise you, YN, you will turn heads for all the good reasons.” Margot said, taking your arm, followed by Ada who linked yours with hers.

“And we won’t let you fall!”

Laughing your stomach knots away, you allowed your friends to drag you through the common room. Already you were receiving appraisal from the people in your house and when you had your larger group of friends walking with you, it made you ease up instantly. The humor and charisma of the Gryffindor house was unmatched and you were extremely relieved to have it.

You had a great support of friends in this house, especially because of how involved you were, and to say the least, everyone was astonished at your gown.

But a wall came crashing down when you reached the grand staircase leading down to the open floor just before the Great Hall’s entrance. Every voice became clear and every mingling face did too as they glanced up at the Gryffindor crowd as they descended the stairs.

In a sea of red, your cheeks were beginning to match it as you strolled down behind the group of friends in your ashy white gown. Falling behind was a mistake, and now, you just kept your eyes on the next step in front of you.

“Just breathe, YN.” You heard one of your friends say through the ringing of your ears.

Instead of doing that, your hand slid down the stone railing while the other lifted the front of your dress a few inches. Breathing became impossible when you made eye contact with the shadow in the corner of the room that was Tom Riddle.

You cursed under your breath, hating that he was the first one your eyes fell upon.

The boy had ben standing there among his loyal followers and their dates, knowing this night was a small celebration for themselves as well as the entire school.

Having made a horcrux already and on the quest for another, Tom was willing to allow himself to pause one night. The endless nights reading and searching for more could be at ease. That didn’t mean his thoughts weren’t racing constantly with all that came with his aspirations.

He thought it would be impossible to let them cease until the group before him started murmuring and turning their heads towards the stairs.

Tom, his face void of any interest, had followed their gazes and immediately spotted YN.

The moment he hesitated, the very moment his chest tightened he realized he was unwell, and just as he caught his lips turning upward, Tom had reeled himself back into a painful reality, quickly turning his head away. It nearly took the breath out of him and he was heated to allow it to happen in the first place.

When you saw his head immediately turn away, your heart sunk, The day you felt disappointed from Tom Riddle not looking your way, you were sure hell would freeze over. But here you were, forced to walk into the Great Hall like nothing had even happened.

At least the sight of it was enough to take your mind off of your troubled emotions. It was a winter wonderland in its purest form with snowflakes trickling down from the cloudy ceiling. Three Christmas trees that were as tall as the gaping windows stood at the front of the room, frosted and covered in ornaments the size of your head. All of the floor and walls were covered in an icy white color, making it feel like you weren’t even in Hogwarts anymore.

The feast arrived and once you had something in your stomach, you could ignore the fleeting glances you and Tom had shared since you walked in.

They were keeping your cheeks flushed at least.

Headmaster Dippet made his short and sweet introduction before all the students and professors mingled on the dance floor. Live music played and your friends dragged you to dance even if your dress had taken up too much space. But the more you did so, the more lighthearted you became in your movements and quite literally undid the stiff person you felt you were.

Of course, the Quidditch captain Daniel and other boys from the team snuck in flasks of firewhisky so it surely helped ease your nerves.

Other students from different houses and even some of your teachers complimented you to your surprise.

But when the music slowed, you watched all of your friends pair up to your dismay, immediately sinking your shoulders. Adis, Margot, and Ana were nowhere to be found as your head turned like a swivel.

“Hurry, join in!” Margot chuckled, waving you to step in with her and her date from the Quidditch team.

You opened your mouth to protest, ready to rest your feet and take a seat at the table, but a finger had tapped your bare shoulder, causing you to spin back around, facing the last person you would think to see in this moment.

“Need a partner?” Tom Riddle asked.

The words were caught in your throat, foolishly standing there with your lips slightly parted as you tried to comprehend his offer.

“Unless you would like to sit down?”

“N-no. I would love to dance.” You stammered, watching his lips curve.

Your heart began hammering against your chest when you stepped closer to the boy, a knight clad in his black and shining armor that enamored you once you were too close to it. There was no stepping back when his hand grabbed yours and the other rested on the small of your back. The ability to breathe slipped through your mind as you stared up at him, looking down at you like he had won.

“Of all the girls in this room that probably want to murder me now, you choose to dance with me?”

Tom shrugged slightly, seemingly guiding you with ease while you nearly stumbled.

“Afraid to dance with me, YN?”

While your nerves were shot, you couldn’t help but mirror the subtle grin on his lips.

“I’m not afraid of anything, Tom Riddle. Part of me believes you’re dancing with me so that, in fact, these girls could murder me.”

Something turned his grin wider and you rolled your eyes.

“Maybe the only person to ever to be my academic match just may be the only suitable dance partner as well.”

With the last conversation you two had, you didn’t expect this to go so easy with him now. You didn’t dare bring it up and ruin this brief moment of common ground you two stood on. When you looked up at him there was only him and not even the stares burning into the back of your head mattered.

“And shortly when we return from the holidays, we will be back to the competition just like that.” You mused.

“Just like that.”

A million questions wandered through your mind. If only you could know what was going on in his.

For the first time it seemed, you wore a genuine smile on your face when you looked up at him. Even Tom, who had too been alone, wondered what it was about tonight that made him act so out of character. He would have gladly hung in the corner of the room, but the moment he saw her alone, something rash had unleashed inside him.

It seemed his thoughts were visible to you, because while you tried to look anywhere else as his gentle touch paralyzed you, you couldn’t help but notice his quizzical face.

“I hope you’re not having second thoughts, Riddle.” you chuckled, one misstep away from his toes and one away from letting the firewhisky talk.

“I was thinking about when I trip you and make a run for it.” he mused, his eyes drifting up to the ceiling.

“That’s nicer than what I imagined.”

The numbing comfort it brought was fading, and your skin begin to feel every inch of fabric to an annoying degree. You constantly chastised yourself for your sheer awkwardness and you knew that this dance was only making it worse despite how much you secretly enjoyed it.

“So, are you staying here for the winter holidays? I know Professor Dumbledore made an announcement the other day saying students were welcome to stay. I considered it.” you rambled on.

Something in his demeanor changed at the mention of the holidays though.

“Yes, I will be staying here.” he had said briskly, the sudden change making you sink internally.

“I’m sure it’ll be a thrill to stay here without the worry of studying for a couple weeks. I know I’m relieved.” you tried to tease.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re not going home?”

You shrugged, pondering the decision still with a few days left to make it.

“My family probably won’t be home to be quite honest. I still have a few days to make up my mind. I would simply like to get through tonight first.”

“Oh, something bothering you, Peverell?” Tom asking mockingly.

Suddenly, he had leaned back to twirl you under his arm and the breath had simply left your lungs as he pulled you back in, an unwavering and almost goofy smile on your lips. You laughed at him, knowing very well he knew the right buttons to poke.

But the second you opened your mouth to speak, the sound of glass shattering from all angles had filled the room and there was a split moment of silence before the sound of startled screams filled in for the music that abruptly stopped. Instantly, you ducked ever so slightly, watching as the room dimmed and glass flew with the cold air that rushed in.

As if you weren’t frazzled enough, something kicked in when you looked at Tom.

“What is going on?” you asked to yourself, scanning the room for your friends.

But everyone was whizzing by and you backed into Tom as your head began spinning. With the chandeliers extinguished of their light, you had squeezed his hand as the moving crowd had pulled you two into the same direction.

One of the professors had called out a spell, lighting the chandeliers once more and someone was trying to order everyone to an exit.

Suddenly, the doors of the Great Hall opened faster than you’ve ever seen them move in years and not a single soul moved. Standing on your heels, you tried to peak your head over the crowd of students that started backing away and worriedly looked up at Tom whose eyes were slightly widened now. Glancing back, you finally caught sight of a white haired man and your blood immediately ran cold.

Gellert Grindelwald entered the room and as did two aids of his all dressed darkly, wands pointed at the crowd of students even as the Professors all came to their defense at the front.

You wanted to be with your friends. You wanted to hold them knowing very well this might be the last time you see them and yet, that fear could not be felt now as you had gone entirely numb. The only thing you had was Tom’s hand still gripped in yours.

“How lovely!” Grindelwald boasted. “A welcoming party just for me?”

“You are not welcomed here, Grindelwald.” You heard a voice boom back.

Was that Professor Dumbledore?

The professor stepped forward, just yards away from Grindelwald.

People around you whispered the horrific things about him. His rise to power was almost insurmountable with his pure blood motivated agendas.

“I was only visiting. I don’t wish to harm the little brainwashed minions you have called your students. Hogwarts has done that enough, brainwashing them to believe they are safe from the world around them.” He chuckled darkly, immediately straightening his face only a second after.

Tilting your head, you couldn’t help but be curious to see the most dangerous man in the world standing before you with his quirky character. He seemed more like a jester than a monster. It didn’t seem real.

“What business do you have here?” the Headmaster demanded.

“Is there someone of the name YN Peverell here?”

Nothing could have prepared you for the moment Gellert Grindelwald called out your name. Your knees nearly buckled beneath you when heads started turning towards you. The room had gone so silent that in the midst of it all, your heart was like a drum. The few people who met your eyes you wanted to burn, not wanting to be seen or heard, shaking your head as tears swelled in your eyes.

But it was your fault the moment you shuffled back, colliding with Tom Riddle who was frozen like a wall.

“Oh, that wasn’t so difficult.” said Grindelwald.

Before you knew it, your body was not your own and you yelped as you were pulled forward by an invisible force. The students you had surrounded yourself with were no longer around you, leaving you cold and exposed as your unmoving body was now just a few feet away from the Gellert Grindelwald.

“Leave her be, Gellert!” shouted Dumbledore.

The tears you had no control over streamed down your cheek. You were terrified, staring into the piercing blue eyes of a monster who was looking at you like prey.

“Are those your friends?” he asked, tilting his head, then looking at them. “I hardly think they are given how quick they were to give your identity away.”

Shutting your eyes was the only thing you could do. Before you knew it though, a force had pried them open and you let out a soft whimper.

“You see, I do not wish to harm her for she is more valuable than even you know, Albus.” Gellert said, walking around you now. “I have been quite interested in her family for some time, but they weren’t the easiest people to find so I figured their youngest daughter would be a place to start.”

No matter how much you tried to move, you didn’t budge. More tears streamed down your face and the only thing you could control was your breathing. If your lessons had taught you one thing, it was to keep a clear mind and steady breath. If all else had failed, listen to yourself.

But how could you? What did he want with your family, let alone you?

“Gellert, you let her go. Now.” Dumbledore said, his voice unwaveringly terrifying.

“The name Peverell has been a name I thought did not exist anymore, but here we are.” He announced, throwing his hands in the air. “She is the sole connection to the Deathly Hallows, therefore, I cannot simply just let her go. Surely you understand?”

Your brows furrowed.

That stupid children’s book? Your mind raced back and forth, wondering how that was even possible. With how old that story was, it would be impossible to even figure out how your last name somehow matched the that of the three brothers.

But your memories betrayed you when you thought of all the times your parents read it to you as a child.

There was something there, something that you knew was important but couldn’t quite remember just yet. It was hard to think past your body being paralyzed and your heart in a frenzy.

“She’s just a child, she has nothing to do with such a thing!” one of the female professors pleaded.

“On the contrary, she does.”

“Well I’m afraid there is no time to figure it out.” Dumbledore threatened, withdrawing his wand.

Grindewald glanced back for a brief moment, and with the wave of his hand, your body was free to move but you were tossed aside in the air, holding your breath and squeezing your eyes shut as you tumbled to the glass covered ground. As you rolled, your body was scratched but your blood rushed so quickly you couldn’t be bothered by the stinging. You tried to gather yourself, watching as a powerful rush of lights passed between the Professors and Grindelwald’s gang.

With the tables just behind you, you glanced at your friends who were all being ushered away in your direction yet they were not close enough to you. Looking at the fight that ensued before your eyes, filling in for the lights that had previously disappeared, you started inching back towards the tables for cover.

“Ah ah ah!” Grindelwald cynically laughed, waving his finger at you. “You’re not going anywhere, Peverell.”

For some reason, you thought you could escape and the second you jumped to your feet to make a run for it, you heard the words, “Crucio!”

A synchronous gasp came from everyone around him when Grindelwald shouted those words though and Tom nearly sprung forward towards you. But like everyone else, he stood there in shock.

It didn’t register. There was no time to even think as your entire body was consumed by a white hot pain that ripped through every little vein in your body. You dropped as quickly as you stood, so submerged in pain you could not breathe let alone scream as you began trembling, writhing away as if you could escape the unsurmountable burning that tore through you. But when you finally released your breath, a scream so bone chilling escaped your lips and you didn’t even hear it as your ears rung from the feeling itself.

Tom Riddle had never been so caught off guard in his life. He had never felt so moved by anything until he heard your scream. He had tried to push forward, but the professors were pushing back, getting everyone to safety.

A synchronous gasp came from everyone around him when Grindelwald shouted those words though and Tom nearly sprung forward towards you. But like everyone else, he stood there in shock.

“Cease your fire and I will let the girl go. But be warned, she will not be safe from me.” The white haired devil announced.

Every professor ceased their movement and Grindelwald released his hold on you.

Even when he did though, just that short minute of time your body experienced such trauma, you were sobbing as you still felt it streaming in your blood. Your vision went blurry as you rolled over, feeling your stomach churn as you stared at Grindelwald in the moonlight. As your ability to think returned, you wondered when you would be dead already.

Instead, he disappeared and you could finally breathe again but instead, you quickly fell to the exhaustion.

Grindelwald left, apparating through the windows into the night, leaving an eerie silence in the Great Hall.

Everyone rushed over to you but Tom Riddle stood by still reeling from the scene that unfolded before him. Abraxas remained at his side, looking quite horrified actually.

“YN bloody Peverell.” Malfoy said in awe. “I thought that whole lineage stuff was a myth.”

Tom’s eyes could not be broken from your sight. He was compelled to follow, but he stood his ground, knowing his impulses were getting the best of him too much already tonight. Another student picked your body up and he narrowed his eyes, watching as you were carried away.

“It seems we are among probably the most important Pureblood in the world now.” Tom observed. “And Grindelwald won’t stop til he has her.”

In a moment where possibilities should be surging through his mind now though, all Riddle could think of was finding you because there was something about you no longer being in his sight anymore that made his chest tighten. That alone made him want to destroy the entire room.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #voldermort #voldemort x reader

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mordeiswrld · 1 year

Note

hello! sorry to bother but could you maybe do crimson knolastname (helluva boss) x reader hcs?

OFC!

Requested?: Yes

Fic Type: HCs

Time Started: April 21, 8:56 PM

Character: Vrimson Knowlastname x GN!Reader

Admin: L

Crimson looks like the type that’ll either try to hide or try to let you help with his mafia work, depends on your personality like if you’re shy and quiet he won’t tell you anything and keep his personal life and business life seperate but lets say you’re hot-headed and don’t mind getting your hands dirty (i mean you’re in hell, not much stopping you) then he’ll maybe start to try and get you to do things for him (if you want to of course. He may be a hardass mafia boss but he knows when and when to push things, well he does now at least)

Will bring you to expensive restaurants and get VIP sections since he’s trying all over again (RIP Mrs.Knowlastname) he’s taking his time with you while also trying to get a feel of how to have a healthy relationship

Meeting Moxxie is most likely gonna be a no-go since he has a one-sides rivalry with him

He’s only soft with you. Since he has a hard time being nice and gentle it’s gonna take him a while to get to this stage but once you break down the walls he put up best believe he’ll try his very best to treat you right even if it’ll take some practice

Touch starved like a mf. He’s never been used to physical affection so that’s also something he’ll have to get used to. Just slowly try to ease him into it and he’ll slowly start to appreciate it. But do it in private since he has a reputation to uphold.

Kisses with Crimson vary. It coukd go from an innocent peck to a full blown makeout in like 2 secs depending on how long you two have been together. He knows when and where things should be getting steamy and when to keep it low profile

Hugs are something he cherishes from you since he’s always busy and his family has been shredded to bits so he’ll make the most of it with you

Cuddles after work? Immaculate. He’s old and there isn’t much he can or wants to do in the house so cuddles are the next best thing but like everything else you have to ease him into it

This man is almost like the embodiment of toxic (Chaz Thurman ties with him on somethings) but he’s in it for the long run all you gotta do is hang in there

He doesn’t get jealous as much as you’d think he would. Like yes he’s self-confidence in relationships has depleted since his old one ended miserably but it’s not so low that he gets jealous over every male that looks your way. But if he does get jealous he’ll just send one of his henchmen to handle his dirty work for him

Dates arent that frequent since he's almost always busy but when they happen they are always well put together and well thought out

Big spoons all the way, but on occasion he’ll let you hold him but only when he’s too tired to move from whatever position he’s in

Def the type that back hugs you and sometimes even picks you up from behind just to scare you. He won’t scare you too bad but there will be times where he just wants to fuck with you

Loves giving forehead, hand, wrist, up the arm, thigh, etc kisses since hes’s ✨ Romantical ✨ like that

He smiles a lot more around you. A genuine smile not the kind he gave Millie when they met

Stares. A lot. He can’t even figure out why you’d wanna be with him, whether or not you know about his past or not he just can’t piece together how he managed to date someone like you

Always attends to your needs. He may act as if he’s annoyed by it and will call you “needy” he’ll either have his guards do it or he’ll do it himself. He’ll complain but he won’t ever leave you unsatisfied

Spoils you. Want that laptop? Already shipped to the house. Want a new car? Already in the garage. Want some kind of drug? Got the best of the best just for his partner.

Nicknames really depend. He may base it off how you act or how you look. But Sugar, sweetcheeks, sweetheart, love, darling, and hot stuff will be his go to’s

A/N: sorry its so short and terribly written...had a hard time thinking of things and honestly i have brain fog so i can’t really think fr and also SEVERELY unmotivatet but Ill redo it and or add some things in the future but enjoy!

Finished: April 26, 9:42 AM

#crimson knolastname #crimson x reader #helluva boss crimson #helluva boss x reader #crimson helluva boss #helluva boss

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fhrlclln · 10 months

Note

First of all thank you for the meals, the Miguel fics have been immaculate! Secondly do you think we can maybe get like some jealous Miguel? Like I’m thinking Y/n not noticing how some of the other spiders look at them or act around them, a Miguel not being one to share decides to take it upon himself to bind them up a bit and place some love bites all over them and have his way with them so people know their his 🤙

miguel o’hara x gn!reader

hi anonz, sorry for the wait!! lil lazy i was but here ‘ya go!! miguel leaving love bites is… 😵‍💫😵‍💫😫😫

suggestive themes under here

｡･:*˚:✧｡

he isn’t a jealous man—

well, maybe he is, he just won’t admit it as miguel stared hard from across the room. what was he looking at and sulking at the moment? it was you. he couldn’t believe how he didn’t notice this common scenario at all. the coffee machine beeped amidst his thoughts, miguel completely forgetting what he came for in the cafeteria as he noticed you chatting along with some spiders. you were being yourself as always, getting the time to chat with friends you’ve made.

but did you even notice the crowd of gawkers you��ve also made?

you were too busy chatting along with jess and charlie webber when he certainly noticed a lot of the spider people were clearly checking you out. no shame at all. full on stares and some even went forward to give a quick greeting to you in which a flirt was thrown in— badly, as miguel huffed, grabbing his coffee. the sourness on his face was evident when peter b. parker tried to talk to him and instantly shut his mouth when miguel grumbled past him. well, he couldn’t blame them, honestly. it was you, everyone liked you, including him, which he is very lucky to actually have your eyes on him only. though, it was evident he had a few people who had their eyes on you than him. which was another pain in the ass to think of as he sips his bitter coffee, almost squishing his cup at the process as he walks away.

your eyes shifted around the cafeteria as you clearly see miguel exiting without you. frowning a bit, you quickly excused yourself, jogging to your boyfriend as you caught up with him with his coffee in hand. his steps fast ahead to get to his lab making you huff at him for his sudden turn of attitude. once you arrived at the entrance of his lab, your brows furrowed as you poked miguel’s shoulder, clearly annoyed. a thought snapped inside miguel as he sets hus coffee down, turning around to see you strutting to him with that cute annoyed little face of yours.

“hey!? it’s rude leaving me behind all of a— oh!” before you could even utter those words, familiar red webs wrapped around you as you were suddenly yanked forward towards his grip. you gasped as he duck down to meet your face, whilst you shuffled in his web.

“the hell was that, miguel—“ you called out his name, wondering why he was like this as he shuts you up with a kiss. you moan out of surprise, melting in his touch as his arms circled around you, caging you in, nowhere to go. you remained silent as he softly pulls away for a moment as he trails his lips down to your neck. breaths of his hovering above your pulse point as he grazed his lips at the outline making you clench your thighs. your fists balling as you couldn’t do anything while being tied in his web.

“miguel.” you whined, craning your neck up for him. “miguel, stop being a prick.”

“shut up, will ‘ya?” he huffs out before he nips the soft flesh of yours. you mewl, taken a back as he started sucking your delicate flesh, making sure to leave something there. his hands squished the flesh of your hips as you sigh out as he continued sucking and nipping your poor neck, making you a little sore for letting him do so. he smirks, pulling away suddenly, admiring his work.

“and there.” he grins, as he lets you go. you almost fell over, mind a little dizzy as you regained your posture when you finally got of his web. miguel lets you lean against him as he kisses your forehead, a little smug he got you mushy in just a few minutes. you pouted, touching your neck to feel the damp marks he left behind, your eyes widening realizing how you felt more as you guided your hand all over your neck.

“the hell was that for?” you glared at him yet you quickly turn hot under his gaze as he chuckles.

“just a little something for them to see. you want more?”

｡･:*˚:✧｡

every single day i wish to get wrecked by this man like pls— 😫🙏

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara imagine #oscar isaac #across the spider verse spoilers #across the universe #fnhrlcllnwrites #eri’s request box 📦 ｡･:*˚:✧｡

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animentality · 3 months

Note

Sorry people are being a bunch of weenies. I do not have the same interpolations of Whoretash however I do very much like yours and I think your incorrect quotes are immaculate

But I do think that if people are being rude then you don't need to feed them, so I don't blame you for putting BG3 in the corner.

You know what really annoys me, anon?

For MONTHS. these people have been reblogging my posts. chattering to me about Gortash and Durgetash.

And all this time... I have CAREFULLY. gone out of my way. painstakingly. meticulously.

referred to the dark urge as they/them. why???

because I never wanted people with female Durges to feel like my dark urge head canons didn't include them. I didn't want people with male Durges to feel like I wasn't including them.

I wanted enby and trans and g/n durges to be included in my silly ramblings.

and I might've joked about Gortash being gay or bi or whatever, but mostly I have been the most pro, whatever your Durge is, he is into that specifically. he could even be ace and he's still into Durge.

that's the beauty of the queer label. I never said he had to fuck men to be queer. he could be with a female Durge and still be queer.

and even though my durges are trans male or nonbinary, and gay as hell, I still liked anyone who liked Durge as an origin, AND who saw the beauty of durgetash.

but NOW.

these same people are bitching at me because... I said Gortash is bisexual. they're insisting I AM PROJECTING my sexuality on him and acting like I'm the non-inclusive one.

and it makes me really feel like...

your brain couldn't power a potato clock.

Gortash being bisexual is literally the MORE inclusive option. it's NOT saying he's gay, he's not into women, or he's straight, he's not into men.

it's saying no matter what your Durge is, he'd be into them. no matter who your tav is, he's into them.

and the fact that I'm bi- it's such a fucking joke that they're using that against me.

I say I'm bi because I don't care to explain that I'm asexual, but biromantic.

I hate extra labels, and bisexual is way easier for most people to understand.

so these people accusing me of forcing my sexuality on a character are baffling because if I was doing that, I would NOT be talking about the dark urge and gortash fucking nasty every night. I'd be talking about how they sit at home reading books together. I'd be talking about how they hug at night and don't let go, and don't even play grab ass once.

It's also further obnoxious because these fucking people.

They have... every single... video game, movie, TV show, goddamn cereal ad... dedicated to straight people.

Baldur's Gate... is like the most bisexual game in all of existence.

the tavs can be trans, they can be cis, they can be gay, bi, straight, ace. whatever you want.

there are gay gnomes and lesbian aasimars and all the companions are bisexual.

it's the most queer friendly game of this century.

but they can't let this one character go. they get confirmation that this one character "might be straight" and now they're using that same fucking language of "ew why does everyone have to be gay with you people?"

and it's a joke.

Anyway, though. Thanks for sticking around.

I'm glad someone's enjoying my nonsense.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #enver gortash

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kallie-den · 4 months

Text

Voice of the Goddess

The annoyingly pious, prudish party cleric suddenly changes her tune after a dark artifact connects her to a dark goddess with mind-warping powers and a very, very different set of values

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon! For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get immediate, early access to everything I write - along with exclusive stories and the ability to vote on what I write next. Your support helps me keep writing and is greatly appreciated <3

---

“That was one hell of a battle,” Ghelda the barbarian said, stretching out like a big cat across the floor of her tent. “Those cultists put up a better fight than I’d expected. All that dark magic bullshit. At first, I figured they were too obsessed with sex to know which end of a weapon to use.” She flashed a wicked grin. ��Here to tend to my wounds, Zareen?”

“Is that what you want?” Zareen the rogue purred. Lying next to the barbarian, she was tracing the lines of Ghelda’s abs with her fingertips. Ghelda was the size of a mountain, and every bit as rugged. “Bandages? Ointments? Do you need to tell me where it hurts?”

Ghelda let out a gut laugh that made the whole tent shake. “Oh, I can think of something that needs tending alright. Maybe you can suck the poison out.”

“Maybe I can.” Zareen winked suggestively at her. “The only question is: are you just going to lie here while I do? Or are you gonna put those big, strong muscles of yours to good use?”

“What did you have in mind?” Ghelda propped herself up before wrapping her hands around Zareen’s slender hips and pulling the rogue into her lap. “Upside down, like before? Or something more exotic?”

“Well, I swiped this pleasure scroll from the cultists,” Zareen replied, squealing playfully as Ghelda slapped her ass. “And the positions are quite something. It’s some real dark magic.”

“Yeah?” Ghelda’s deep voice was thick with lust. She reached down and started unfastening her loincloth. “Then how about we-“

“Creatum aqua!”

Ghelda and Zareen had no time at all to react before the entire tent was drenched in a torrent of ice-cold water that appeared from thin air above them. The tent immediately collapsed from the weight of the deluge, and it took much kicking, scrambling, and swearing before the pair of adventurers finally extracted themselves and clambered to their feet, both of them soaked to the bone.

“What the fuck, Lialeth?” Ghelda raged, scowling at the person standing before them. “Do you truly not have anything better to use your magic on?”

Somehow, even though she was dry and unharmed, Lialeth, the party’s cleric, managed to scowl back twice as hard and look twice as displeased. She folded her arms. “In fact, I do not. What better use could there be than ensuring the hero’s party doesn’t lapse into sin and depravity?”

Ghelda bristled like an angry tiger, and Zareen rolled her eyes. “We’re having this conversation again?” the rogue drawled. “Surely your annoying little goddess has greater things to worry about. Frankly, she must be furious with you for wasting so much of her precious time.”

Lialeth prided herself on being immaculately composed. From head to toe, she was every inch the perfect priestess. She dressed modestly in spotless, white robes, and adorned herself with nothing except for a sacred symbol, a prayer book, and a few other holy relics. She even kept her neatly braided hair hidden beneath a black veil. She looked like she belonged in a cloister, not on a battlefield. But through countless battles and hardships, her face always remained pressed into an expression of serene composure and pious determination.

When she heard Zareen refer to her ‘annoying little goddess’, however, she turned as red as a tomato with barely-restrained fury.

“Blasphemy!” she cried. “The Goddess of Light deserves the utmost respect! Violent malefactors like you are unworthy to even speak of her! I have tried so very patiently to correct your behavior and explain to you both exactly how much she disapproves of all your misdeeds - but you do nothing but laugh at her teachings! How many times do I have to say it? Fornication outside of marriage is a terrible sin!”

Ghelda just snorted. “If the gods didn’t want me to sleep around, they wouldn’t have blessed me with this.”

She reached down to her groin and made an obscene gesture that had Lialeth turning an even deeper shade of red.

“How dare you!” the cleric spluttered. She knew very well what Ghelda was hiding underneath that loincloth. The barbarian boasted about it often enough. “Honestly! It’s a testament to her infinite kindness and patience that she still wishes me to travel with you. Or a test of my own piety, perhaps. Certainly, the likes of you don’t deserve to receive her blessings - or mine.”

“Aren’t you tired of this little spiel?” Zareen sighed. “We’ve heard it a hundred times, Lialeth. It seems like you prefer the sound of your own voice to that of your goddess. What makes you so sure you know what she wants, anyway? Aren’t you priestesses supposed to be humble?”

“I’m a cleric!” Lialeth shrieked. “I can hear her voice! The Goddess of Light speaks through me! And I promise that I will make you listen, sooner or later!”

“W-what’s going on? Why is everyone y-yelling?”

Another party member was approaching from the far side of the camp. She spoke in a timid, uneven voice punctuated by laughs and irregular, high-pitched tics, and wore a florid black dress so large she was practically drowning in it. Her hair was an unkempt mane of deep purple, and she was clutching a sinister-looking grimoire that drew a fresh scowl of displeasure from Lialeth.

It was Hecatz the warlock.

“Hecatz,” Zareen exclaimed theatrically. “Welcome to the sermon! Lialeth was just telling us all about fornication.”

Hecatz let out a low, filthy giggle. Zareen didn’t have much in common with the shy, nerdy, bookworm warlock, but a shared antipathy towards Lialeth was easy to bond over.

“T-this again?” Hecatz muttered in a nasal voice. “Boring.”

“The devil-worshiper, defending sin? I’m not surprised!” Lialeth rounded on the warlock. She disdained Hecatz’s magic as ‘dark arts’, and made no secret about it. Plus, Hecatz was also no stranger to sharing Ghelda’s bed. “I won’t pretend there’s any saving you."

“You know, you could always join us,” Zareen purred. She lifted a hand to her lips and split her fingers in a V, and started extending her tongue between them. “Maybe we can be the ones to teach you a thing or two. Maybe you’d enjoy it. You must be harboring a few naughty little fantasies, underneath all that repression and haughtiness. A good fuck might be exactly what you need to finally get that stick out of your ass.”

“How dare you!” Lialeth screeched again. She drew herself up as tall as she could. “I take it back. All of you are beyond saving. The best you can do is bow down to the goddess and beg mercy for your-“

“Lialeth!” came a loud, firm voice. “That’s enough.”

All four of the other party members turned to see the final member of their company - Mireille, their leader - striding towards them. Finally, Lialeth’s expression started to soften.

Mireille was a hero, and she looked like it. Clad in shining armor, her handsome looks and long, blonde hair shone like the sun. She was a beacon of virtue, and even Lialeth couldn’t find fault with her. If not for Mireille, the party would have long since collapsed into infighting and acrimony. As prophesied, it was Mireille who had bound them together and who led them across the land, fighting evil wherever it could be found. She walked with destiny at her side, and everyone who met her knew it.

The only thing Lialeth didn’t like about her was how tolerant she was of people’s flaws.

"Mireille!” Lialeth protested. “They were-“

“I know,” Mireille interrupted. Her voice was gentle, but she sounded weary - from the battle, Lialeth assumed. “But it’s been a long day. We all need to blow off steam. Surely you can forgive them that.”

“Well, of course,” Lialeth acknowledged. “But that’s why this is so important! We should be blowing off steam together. I can lead us in a circle of prayer and ritual purification! That’s what the goddess demands. Especially after that vile orgy we just witnessed! If they’d only try it…”

“Lialeth,” Mireille said, pointedly ignoring the way Ghelda and Hecatz were snickering at the mention of ‘blowing off steam together’. “The goddess only wishes the willingly faithful to partake in her rites. Isn’t that so?”

“That’s true…” Lialeth conceded. Suddenly, she felt herself on the back foot. “But they should-“

“They have made their feelings clear,” Mireille explained kindly. “Everyone has their own way to relax and recuperate. Some are simply a little… rowdier than others. I’m sure you can find it in your heart to overlook that. Nobody’s perfect. Not even me.”

She smiled, and Lialeth knew there was no going against Mireille. Not when she smiled like that.

“But…” the cleric protested weakly. “The goddess demands…”

“I’ll pray with you,” Mireille offered. “Just as soon as I’ve finished patching up my gear. We can conduct all the proper rites together. I always find peace in them.”

She did - although Lialeth also knew she enjoyed drinking with Ghelda, exploring with Zareen, and discussing books with Hecatz. That was Mireille all over. She was everyone’s hero.

“Very well,” Lialeth said stiffly. “There’s a spring in the woods, a short way north. I’ll wait there. At least there I’ll have some quiet.”

She turned her back, ready to make off in a huff, but Mireille stopped her.

“Wait,” the hero added. “I found something, at the cultist’s camp. An artifact. I was hoping you could take a look at it? Purify it, perhaps.”

It was an olive branch, Lialeth could tell that much. A way to help Lialeth preserve some dignity. Mireille wanted Lialeth to know she appreciated what the cleric would do. She appreciated the sentiment, even if it did little to soothe the humiliation of having Ghelda, Zareen and Hecatz all laughing at her behind her back.

“Very well,” Lialeth replied. “I shall see what I can do.”

She took the pouch Mireille offered to her, and stormed off into the woods.

“Why don’t they understand?” Lialeth muttered mutinously under her breath as she trudged through the forest. “I am the voice of a goddess. A goddess! She speaks through me. Why don’t they listen? Are they so thick-headed, they think they’re above the gods?”

She was sulking. She knew it was beneath her, but she didn’t care. Lialeth was at her wits’ end. What was she supposed to do?

Growing up amongst the faithful, Lialeth’s role in life had always been perfectly clear: limitless devotion to the goddess. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d learned to follow and accept every last tenet of her goddess’s worship. Whatever was written in scripture, that was her motto. Whatever the priestesses told her, that was her mantra. It was simple.

But not optional. If you followed everything, without question, you were good. Blessed. Chosen. If you wavered, you were bad. Spurned. Damned. Stained. What was so hard about that?

When Lialeth had heard the voice of the Goddess of Light speaking directly to her, it had been the happiest moment of her life. It meant she was a cleric, elevated above the flock, marked out for a special purpose. It had been the ultimate validation of her scrupulous obedience and piety. Her goddess’s voice surpassed everything else in importance. It was her guiding star. And when the goddess had told her that she was to seek out the hero, Mireille, and join her on her quest, she had accepted with joy in her heart.

But when she’d met the hero’s other companions, it had all gone wrong.

Surely Lialeth had been sent to try and save them from their own sins. To try and educate them, to make them holy and pure - just like her. But Ghelda, Zareen and Hecatz acted like her teachings and her righteous indignation were nothing more than prudish nagging and self-important bluster.

It was so confusing. The cleric didn’t know how to make them understand. She wasn’t just guessing. She was a cleric. She was chosen. She could literally hear the Goddess of Light speaking to her and telling her what to do!

Not now, of course. Not when she was off sulking in the woods. The goddess only deigned to speak to her at moments of great importance, in battles or at the crossroads of fateful choices. It was only proper. But Lialeth could have used a little guidance, at a time like this.

As Lialeth arrived at the spring, she decided to put those thoughts out of her mind. Mireille would come, they’d pray together, and Lialeth would feel better - at least for the moment. Until then, rather than stew in her frustration, it would be wiser to do something that made her feel useful.

With that in mind, Lialeth perched on a rock overlooking the spring and opened the pouch Mireille had given her. Inside was a large, dark orb that was made of something like glass - obsidian, perhaps - with a faint, shrouded, purple light emanating from its heart. As Lialeth held it aloft in one hand, she frowned. She’d never seen anything quite like this.

But it was powerful. She could tell that much.

The artifact radiated magical power. No, not just magical power. Divine power. For a cleric like Lialeth, there was no mistaking it. She couldn’t even begin to guess at the artifact’s function, but she was mindful of the fact that it belonged to evil cultists. The shadowy cult the party was currently rooting out was truly vile. Lialeth had never before encountered a gang of such depraved perverts. There was no chance that anything they treasured was harmless.

Briefly, Lialeth considered that the wisest course of action might have been to seal the artifact until she could take it back to her convent for proper study. Except… Mireille had suggested she purify it. Lialeth couldn’t go back empty-handed. She didn’t want Mireille to be disappointed in her, and she certainly didn't want the others to laugh at her failure.

So, uttering a quiet blessing, Lialeth closed her eyes and allowed the breath of the Goddess of Light to enter her. That breath fanned the spark of the divine within her into a flame, and Lialeth was able to take that flame’s warmth and light into the palm of her hand and use it to reach into the strange orb, illuminating its depths and probing for the secrets sealed within.

Too late, she sensed the presence within the orb reaching back.

Suddenly, the divine power Lialeth could sense emanating from the artifact increased a hundredfold, and behind it, she could now discern a distinct intent. A being, uncoiling like a serpent and stretching out toward her.

Lialeth tried to pull back. But it was too late; whatever was within the orb was awake, and already had its hooks in her. It just kept extending and unfolding, its darkness drowning out the light the cleric had called upon. Lialeth was struck with the distinct, uncomfortable sense that she was being seen by something. It was terrifying. It was like staring into a baleful sun.

She knew what this artifact was now: a prison. And Lialeth, in her carelessness, had opened it. But a prison for what? She’d never sensed anything even close to as powerful as this. Only the Goddess of Light herself came close. Why did this entity feel so uncannily similar? Its power was like a dark mirror of the goddess’s.

Was this… the prison of a god? That seemed absurd. Lialeth had never heard of such a thing. And yet…

Crack!

Without warning, the orb’s surface shattered. Out of a hundred tiny cracks, there emerged a vast, dark cloud, blacker than the blackest night yet illuminated by that same strange, purple glow as the orb. It just kept growing and growing, somehow ignoring the wind, until it completely surrounded Lialeth.

“Light preserve me!” Lialeth breathed.

As soon as the words left her lips, the dark cloud surged towards her. There was no time to react. In an instant, it was all over her - and in another it was inside her, pouring into her eyes, her mouth, her nose, even her eyes. Lialeth felt like she was drowning. Every muscle in her body went stiff in protest against the vile intrusion.

Lialeth, my child! Hurry, you must-

It was the voice of the Goddess of Light! Lialeth rejoiced - but then, when the voice cut off, she immediately panicked. She had never felt such an awful sense of severance from the divine light. Nobody could interrupt the Goddess of Light. That was impossible… wasn’t it? Suddenly, Lialeth wasn’t so sure. And worse, she could still feel something powerful and evil and alien making its home inside her.

Oh? What have we here?

It was… the Goddess of Light? The voice was speaking directly into Lialeth’s soul in just the same way, but there was something different about it. The voice, though still feminine sounded deeper, more sensual, dripping with a kind of gleeful promise that made all of Lialeth’s hairs stand on end.

A follower of light? Such fortune! ‘Twas your kind that imprisoned me. And only your magic could set me free.

It had to be the Goddess of Light, didn’t it? The alternative was simply unthinkable. It frightened Lialeth on a level she simply couldn’t bring herself to contemplate. Yes. Yes, this was simply the Goddess of Light. What did it matter that her voice sounded a little different, and if her words were confusing? It wasn’t Lialeth’s place to question.

And such capacity for faith! How amusing. You shall make for a fitting vessel, child. Through you, I will sow corruption across the land.

Corruption? That didn’t sound right. That didn’t sound like the goddess Lialeth knew and loved. But… it had to be, didn’t it? Her connection to the Goddess of Light was inviolate. Lialeth was sacred. Chosen. She always had been. Doubt didn’t come naturally to her. Heeding the voice of the goddess in her soul came as naturally to Lialeth as breathing.

But… the orb. The dark cloud. What if…

You’re troubled, child. Let me free you from doubt and worry.

Lialeth felt something moving inside her. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a cloud anymore. It was a liquid, an ooze, black as pitch, but animated by its own will. Somehow, she could feel it clawing its way up her spine, staining everything it touched, and then forcing its way inside her skull.

The cleric twitched violently for a moment as the invading presence explored the intricate pathways of her mind. Soon, it found what it was looking for: her doubt. Her judgment. Her sense of her own values, cultivated over many long years of study and piety.

It snuffed them out as easily as Lialeth might have quenched a match.

Lialeth slumped and relaxed. Yes. This was the voice of the goddess. Of her goddess.

All was right in the world.

That’s better. Now, we must deal with your companions. You’ve always wanted to teach them a lesson, haven’t you? I can make them heed your lessons. I could do it in any number of ways, in fact… but you really are such an insufferable little tool of that miserable goddess. And it’s been far, far too long since I’ve had some real fun. Some true debauchery. Yes, I know what to do with you.

Lialeth just went on smiling. It didn’t matter to her that the voice in her soul was insulting her and her long-treasured faith. This was her goddess. All Lialeth needed to do was listen and obey.

Yes, Lialeth. Listen and obey. For I have new commandments to give you…

Zareen awoke to the sensation of a hand on her ass. That, in itself, wasn’t unusual. After Lialeth had stormed off, Zareen and Ghelda had painstakingly dried and re-pitched their tent, fucked and then laid down to sleep. The rogue slept on her front, and it wasn’t unusual for Ghelda to get a little touchy-feely, even when she was unconscious. The barbarian had fierce appetites.

Zareen didn’t mind one bit.

Another hand. Maybe Ghelda wasn’t asleep after all. Zareen could have sworn she could still hear the barbarian’s breathing from next to her. Maybe that was something else. Her head was fogged from exhaustion, and her body was sore from the day’s trials.

“Another round, stud?” Zareen murmured. “Maybe… in a bit…”

In response, the pair of hands started forcefully spreading her ass cheeks apart.

Zareen started to stir. This had to be Ghelda. She could certainly be firm, once she set her mind to something. That was fun, in a way. And they were no strangers to this kind of sex. Zareen really was too tired for it, though. Ghelda’s size wasn’t to be taken lightly.

“Hey,” Zareen drawled sleepily. “Maybe for now you could just-“

A tongue.

Zareen gasped and collapsed back into her pillow as she felt a tongue pressing into her tight, sensitive hole. Before she could catch her breath, the tongue started moving, and Zareen was having her ass eaten out with a level of devotion and fanaticism she’d never experienced before. Each time the tongue pushed deeper into her body, it made Zareen twitch and moan as thundershocks of pleasure raced up her spine.

“F-fuck!” she gasped breathlessly. “W-where did you learn to do this?”

It was surprising, for Ghelda. The barbarian usually had a single-minded focus on herself and her own pleasure, and on all the ways she could bury her spear in Zareen’s body. Zareen didn’t mind that either. She could - and did - appreciate many, many different flavors of lover.

But if this was a new trick Ghelda was picking up, Zareen certainly wasn’t going to complain. The way her ass was being rimmed felt utterly divine. Each lap of that eager tongue made the rogue’s body go weak with pleasure. As her moans built, she managed to raise herself up on her knees, all the better to start rolling her hips and pressing her ass back against the mouth that was so eager to explore it.

“Yeah,” Zareen purred. “That’s it, stud. R-right there. Fuck! I could get used to this.”

She really could. Having her ass eaten this way was driving her wild. It was a new, exciting form of pleasure she’d never felt before. Eager to bathe in the hedonism of the experience, Zareen twisted her body so that she could reach back and start idly playing with her cunt. But as she did, she caught sight of the person kneeling behind her, face buried in her rear.

It was Lialeth. Not Ghelda. Lialeth.

“What the fuck?” Zareen hissed, although her voice was still stained through with pleasure. “What the hell are you doing?”

She crawled forward. Once she saw her face, there was no doubt about it. This was Lialeth. The cleric’s face was stained with saliva and with the holy oils she’d apparently been using to lube up Zareen’s ass, and when she saw that Zareen was trying to pull away from her, she made an irritated, high-handed tutting noise.

“Typical,” Lialeth complained. “Just typical!”

Zareen was utterly flabbergasted. She had a hundred questions. Why was Lialeth in her tent? Why was this snippy little cleric eating her ass? Why was she so damn good at it? And why was she talking like all this was completely normal?

Was Lialeth drunk? Had she taken something? Zareen peered at her as closely as she could, but in the dim tent, it was too dark to see her eyes.

“What. Are. You. Doing?” Zareen demanded again, in a hushed voice.

Unbelievably, Lialeth just rolled her eyes at her.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Lialeth sneered. “As usual, I’m simply trying to conduct the rites of the goddess. And as usual, you are making it very difficult!”

“Wha…” Zareen just blinked. Was this some kind of joke? “The… rites of the goddess?”

“Yes!” Lialeth nodded impatiently. "It’s my responsibility as a cleric to keep you cleansed and pure!”

“With… with your tongue?” Zareen was incredulous.

“You dare question the goddess’s teachings?” Lialeth hissed imperiously. “I am the chosen vessel of her divinity! I am the voice of the goddess! What better instrument to anoint you with her blessings?”

Zareen could do nothing but laugh. She was giving up on understanding this. Probably, it was a dream. But if not, and if Lialeth had finally cracked, Zareen figured the experience might teach her some much-needed humility. If the cleric really wanted to eat her ass that badly, why not let her?

“You know what? Go ahead,” Zareen murmured, slumping back into her pillow with a sleepy, pleasure-drunk smile on her face. “Knock yourself out.”

“Thank you!” Lialeth exclaimed indignantly. A mere moment later, her face was firmly nested back in Zareen’s ass. Her voice became decidedly muffled. “Maybe there’s… hope for you… after all.”

Each word was punctuated with the wet, lewd sound of her tongue pressing in and out of Zareen’s hole. The rogue simply let out an agreeable moan as fresh waves of pleasure started rolling over her. Admittedly, Lialeth’s technique wasn’t particularly precise or refined, but her sheer enthusiasm more than made up for it. She was truly eating ass like it was her religion, and the sounds her worship made were only growing louder and more obscene by the moment.

“Huh?” came a deep, weary voice from the other side of the tent. “What’s all the… Zar, that you?”

It was Ghelda. The barbarian was waking up. Zareen giggled as she saw the small mountain of blankets and furs beside her starting to shift. What would Ghelda make of this, she wondered?

Once Ghelda had propped herself up on one elbow and rubbed the sleep from her eyes she was greeted by the sight of Lialeth, the annoyingly pious, prudish and judgmental cleric, with her face buried as deep as it could go in another woman’s ass, lapping and kissing like her life depended on it. Her jaw dropped.

“Seven fucking hells,” Ghelda groaned. “What did I drink?”

Her words alerted Lialeth to the barbarian’s presence. She extracted herself from Zareen’s ass - prompting a slight, petulant whine from the rogue - and turned to Ghelda, drawing herself up proudly.

“Ghelda!” Lialeth exclaimed. “Thank goodness! You’re here too. Perfect.”

Without any more warning than that, she pounced on the barbarian with such eagerness that even the huge mountain of a woman was knocked unsteady. Taking advantage, Lialeth wrapped her hands around Ghelda’s hips and, with a firm grip on the barbarian, pressed her face straight between her thighs.

Ghelda, still in shock from what was happening, let out a faint moan. It was obvious that, despite her surprise, her body was responding to Lialeth’s eager attention. Zareen could see her loincloth beginning to lift as something thick and hard formed a very, very noticeable bulge underneath it.

“Get this… out of… the way!” Lialeth commanded, trying frantically to pull the loincloth to one side. In her eagerness, she was already spilling drool all over both Ghelda and herself. Once she had successfully dislodged the garment, she opened her mouth, extended her tongue, and buried Ghelda’s massive cock in her throat.

Ghelda immediately let out a full-throated growl of astonished pleasure. Lialeth was sucking her cock with just the same level of fanatical eagerness she’d exhibited when eating Zareen’s ass, but this was proving a far harder task. Ghelda was huge. The barbarian’s throbbing cock was a foot long and girthy to match, and Lialeth was trying to take every last inch. The result was a succession of sounds so lewd they would have made a whore blush.

The slap of flesh on flesh as Lialeth forced her lips all the way down to the base of Ghelda’s cock. The violent choking and gagging as she desperately pushed past her own gag reflex. And then the loud, wet smack of her lips as she pulled back and extracted the barbarian’s huge shaft from her throat and lavished its tip with hungry kisses, only to deep throat it again after barely pausing to breathe.

“Holy… fuck!” Ghelda grunted. She was stunned. She’d had her cock sucked often, but never quite like this. And certainly never by a cleric. She glanced at Zareen. “Is she…”

Zareen just shrugged. The rogue was lost for words. She was completely entranced by the spectacle of Lialeth’s blowjob.

Lialeth’s veil had slipped from her head, and her face was drenched in drool and precum. Normally that would have scandalized her, but now she seemed completely oblivious. She looked nothing like a holy woman of any kind. Zareen’s image of the prim, proper cleric was being shattered beyond repair.

“You’re so… so big!” Lialeth exclaimed, pulling for long enough for just one deep breath. She sounded faintly annoyed, like it was rude of Ghelda to present her with such a large workload. “How… how vulgar.”

Zareen raised an eyebrow.

Clearly, Lialeth wasn’t to be deterred by the task at hand. As soon as she’d caught her breath, she returned to noisily and eagerly deep-throating Ghelda. She wrapped both of her hands around the barbarian’s thick shaft, jerking her off as she sucked and licked, seemingly caught up in the intricacies of some unfathomable ritual.

“Uuurr… mmusk,” Lialeth managed to choke out, with her mouth full of cock. “Sssooo… stron… nneed to… clleeasee you.”

Noticing the thick, musky, sweaty scent that clung to Ghelda only seemed to make Lialeth even more frenzied. One of her hands lightly grazed Ghelda’s full, heavy balls, and it was like a light had been switched on in her head. With a loud slurping sound, the cleric extracted Ghelda’s cock from her throat and lifted it up so that she could lean forwards and bury her face in the barbarian’s balls.

“Fuckkkkk!” Ghelda moaned, as Lialeth started tonguing her. “Didn’t know you were such a freak, Lialeth!”

“A… hrrrng… freak?” Lialeth could barely make room to speak between strokes of her tongue as she drooled all over the hulking barbarian’s sack. “How… nngg… dare you! I’m just… ockkk… a devoted… priestess!”

Ghelda let out a wild laugh, thick with pleasure. Lialeth’s hands were still working her cock, stroking up and down furiously as the cleric utterly smothered herself with Ghelda’s balls. From the way Ghelda’s shaft was starting to throb and twitch, it was obvious she was getting close.

“Whatever you say!” Ghelda grunted. “Here it comes, priestess!”

She came. A huge, thick stream of cum erupted from the tip of her cock in massive, rhythmic spurts, flying through the air in an arc to land directly onto Lialeth’s face. Lialeth took her mouth off of Ghelda’s body so that she could lift her face, basking in the shower of cum like it was manna from heaven. The look on her face was one of perfect, self-satisfied contentment. It was clear that in her mind, this was a job well done. This was the pinnacle of her devotion.

As usual, Ghelda’s orgasm stretched on for almost half a minute. All the while, her balls worked overtime to keep spewing forth load after load of cum. Zareen knew full well that Ghelda’s virility was the stuff of legends. Lialeth gratefully took every last load; some fell in her open mouth, which she swallowed happily, and the rest simply dripped down her face to stain her robes, leaving her holy attire hopelessly stained and soiled with Ghelda’s thick-smelling seed.

To Lialeth, this was nothing more or less than a blessed sacrament.

Then, she turned to Zareen.

“Oh,” Lialeth panted. Her whole body was heaving with each breath, and cum was oozing past her lips as she spoke. “You… I didn’t even… finish.”

She looked exhausted, but nonetheless started crawling back over to Zareen. The rogue was still completely stunned. She knew, on some level, that this was unnatural. It had to be. This wasn’t Lialeth. The cum-drenched woman heading towards her and licking her lips looked like something between a succubus and a back-alley whore. The cleric Zareen knew would never sink to this level. Not in a thousand years.

But somehow, the sight was so debauched, so utterly debased in its hedonism, she couldn’t quite find it in herself to refuse.

“Um, hey,” came a nasally, uneven voice from outside the tent. Hecatz. “You guys need to either keep it down or, uh, let me join in.”

Zareen and Ghelda exchanged faintly mortified looks, but Lialeth didn’t miss a single beat.

“Yes!” Lialeth called out eagerly. “Come in! Join us!”

“Um, was that…?”

Hecatz lifted the tent flap and peered inside, and almost jumped out of her skin at what she saw.

“Absolutely not,” the warlock breathed, shocked. She looked to Zareen and Ghelda for some kind of explanation.

“She’s…” Zareen began, before falling silent. What was she supposed to say? She’s come around? She’s gone crazy? Somehow, neither of those explanations would be sufficient.

“What are you doing?” Lialeth said sternly, ignoring the confusion of her party members. She rose to her feet, and seemed just as oblivious to the way Ghelda’s cum was dripping from her robe in streams. “Hurry up! We are partaking in the goddess’s sacred rites. Don’t you want me to make you pure, as I have Ghelda?”

Hecatz’s face cracked into an uneven smile as she glanced between Lialeth, drenched in cum, and Ghelda, her still-hard cock twitching between her legs.

“T-this is a joke, right?” Hecatz said nervously. “You’re just-“

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lialeth said primly. “I’m simply going to-“

She broke off abruptly. Lialeth tilted her head, and it was as if she was listening to some unheard voice. All of the party members knew that expression. Lialeth was hearing her goddess. They paused with bated breath to see what would happen next.

“Yes, my divine lady.” A serene smile washed over Lialeth’s face, and she stretched out a hand towards Hecatz. “Give me your grimoire.”

“My-“ Hecatz was immediately shaking her head. Her grimoire was, as ever, hanging from a loop on the belt around her dress. It was the font of her dark power, every bit as potent as a wizard’s staff. “No! No way! I mean you’re just going to destroy it, or purify it, or- hey!”

Impatiently, Lialeth reached out and snatched the heavy, leather-bound book away from the warlock. Before anyone could stop her, she opened it and held out a hand above its pages. Her hand started to glow, although the usual golden radiance of her divine magic was poisoned through by purple veins of corruption.

“There!” Lialeth announced after a moment. Keeping the grimoire open, she tossed it on the ground outside the tent. Zareen and Ghelda both sprang to their feet and ran out after it.

“What did you do?” Ghelda demanded.

It was Hecatz who answered. “She… oh, hells!” The warlock started sweating bullets. “S-she unsealed something!”

As the party watched, a glowing red glyph appeared in the air above the book. Then, something started coming through it as if it was parting a curtain, only there was nothing on the other side except for thin air.

It was a tentacle.

“Why worry?” Lialeth scoffed. She sounded just like her old self, when she was lecturing the other party members about their perceived shortcomings. “You often use this creature for your self-pleasure, Hecatz. The goddess has told me as much.”

The warlock turned bright red. “That’s n-n-not-“

“Rest assured,” Lialeth continued, with an air of supreme benevolence. “Even the most profane monstrosities can become instruments for the goddess’s great gift!”

Another tentacle emerged through the grimoire. Then another, then another. Soon, it became clear: this creature was nothing more than a seething, writhing mass of reaching tentacles. Each appendage was tipped with a distinctly suggestive tip, and each one dripped with slick, sticky, heady secretions.

“A-are you insane?” Hecatz asked. The tentacle beast was crawling towards where she and Lialeth were standing, getting closer inch by inch. “You’re… you’re not…”

“Trust me,” Lialeth told her. Her robes were ruined and she was still drenched with cum, but she managed to sound like a kindly priestess comforting a child. “Cleanse your soul. Accept my blessing.”

She reached out to Hecatz once more, and shoved her back towards the tentacle beast.

Hecatz tumbled back, hopelessly off-balance - but the creature that had been sealed within her grimoire surged forward to catch her. Within the blink of an eye, dozens of tentacles were wrapped around Hecatz’s body, lifting her into the air and binding her in place. She struggled, but it was for naught; the more she writhed and squirmed, the tighter the tentacles seemed to hold her.

“Lialeth!” Hecatz shrieked in protest. “What are you- ah!”

As the tentacles started to explore her body, Hecatz broke off into a moan - and then turned bright red with shame. Evidently, Lialeth had been correct. The tentacle beast seemed well used to feeling and groping Hecatz this way, and the warlock was clearly equally as attuned to its touch. She was trying to stifle them, but more and more moans were slipping past Hecatz’s lips, and the way her back arched when a tentacle snaked its way up her dress was anything but innocent.

“Do you see?” Lialeth said smugly. “It feels wonderful to allow the goddess to accept you into her bosom.”

The tentacle beast was beginning to undress Hecatz, ripping her black dress apart as its tentacles stretched and undulated across her body. Beneath her shapeless clothes, it turned out that Hecatz was hiding quite the body. She was certainly on the chubby side, and all of the weight and fat had gone to the perfect places: her thighs were thick, juicy pillars, her fat ass was jiggling and quivering alluringly as the tentacles squeezed it, and her belly was a delightful, soft pouch that just begged to be squeezed and massaged.

And the tentacles were eager to oblige.

Possessed of an unfathomable, alien curiosity, they explored all over Hecatz’s body without discernment, groping, squeezing, stroking, massaging, fucking. All over, she was dripping with the creature’s secretions, but that wasn’t all: her thighs were just as slick with her own wetness. Hecatz’s moans were coming long and loud now, but she was still resisting, tossing and turning in the tentacles’ embrace to try and keep it from entering her mouth or her cunt.

Lialeth pursed her lips and made a displeased ‘tch’.

“Why must you fight the goddess’s will?” she tutted. “Allow me to guide you by example.”

With those words, she stepped forward into the tentacle beast’s embrace. Dozens of the creature’s endless appendages raced towards her, but they seemed to sense the cleric’s submission. They didn’t bind her or lift her into the air. Instead, they caressed her like a lover, steadily wrapping themselves around her arms and lifting the hem of her dress.

As if in prayer, Lialeth fell to her knees. An expression of rapturous joy was etched onto her face.

Her robe didn’t last long. Already hopelessly soiled with Ghelda’s cum, it quickly fell to shreds when the tentacles started forcefully peeling it away from Lialeth’s body. Unlike Hecatz’s, her form was trim and slender, the product of discipline and privation. The tentacles didn’t seem to mind. Four of them wrapped around her thighs and another two around her tits, and then three entire tentacles plunged as deep as they could into Lialeth’s pussy.

The cleric let out a wordless cry of perfect bliss.

The tentacles immediately started pounding in and out of Lialeth with inhuman vigor. Anyone else would have been reduced to senseless twitching by their ravenous attention, but something spurred Lialeth on; kept her active and focused despite the pleasure. With each hand, she reached for a tentacle and guided them gently towards her mouth. The tentacles responded eagerly, and immediately pushed past her parted lips so they could start fucking her throat.

The tentacles reached even deeper inside her than Ghelda’s cock. Impaled from both ends, Lialeth was completely helpless. But still, the gagging noises emerging from her throat made it clear that she was still striving to pleasure the creature, and from the manic look in her eyes, it was obvious this was exactly where she wanted to be.

Watching from the sidelines, Zareen and Ghelda were utterly stunned. It was more unbelievable than ever that this could possibly be any kind of sacred ritual.

Somehow, though, it seemed to be working. Seduced by the tentacle creature’s ministrations, Hecatz was slowly relaxing into its grip, allowing the phallic tips of its many limbs to tease the entrances to her cunt and her ass. And it was plenty obvious to Zareen that she wasn’t trying to pull away anymore either.

Just for a moment, Zareen entertained the thought of joining the orgy. Why not? It was sure to be an experience.

“Lialeth!” came a sudden cry from the treeline. “In the goddess’s name, what are you doing?”

Like a blazing phoenix, Mireille descended on the tentacle beast.

There was no weapon in her hand, but she put her prodigious strength to good use prying Lialeth away from the creature. The cleric’s indignant protests meant nothing to the hero, and soon enough, she had Lialeth hefted in her arms, free from the tentacles. Without missing a beat, she sprinted back away from the camp and into the woods.

After running for several hundred yards, Mireille came to a halt and set Lialeth down. The cleric glared at her, but Mireille seemed to miss her antipathy.

“Lialeth!” Mireille cried. “I looked for you at the spring, but… goddess, what was happening? Was it Hecatz? Don’t tell me she…”

“No!” Lialeth scoffed. “She’s not the type. And do you think she could touch me without the goddess’s permission? Please!”

“Then why-“

“The real question,” Lialeth said, drawing herself up to her full height, “is why you imagine you can just run in and interrupt one of my sacred rituals? You may be a destined hero, but that doesn’t mean you can defy the will of the gods!”

Dumbstruck, Mireille just blinked. “H-huh?”

“This is just typical!” Lialeth complained. She was oblivious to her own nakedness. “I finally persuade the others to turn to the righteous path, and something has to get in the way! But I didn’t expect it to be you, Mireille. I thought better of you!”

Mireille’s jaw dropped. “Is this a joke?” she asked. “Lialeth, that was… I mean, isn’t that exactly what you’re always complaining about?”

“Of course not!” Lialeth shot back. “What are you talking about? That was holy!”

“It was exactly the kind of debauchery the cultists were practicing!” Mireille cried. “This… no. This isn’t natural. Something is wrong. Very wrong.”

Guided by her superior instincts, Mireille peered intently at the indignant Lialeth, searching for any hint of enchantment. At that very moment, the clouds parted and a beam of moonlight shone through a gap in the canopy above. Lialeth’s face was illuminated, and Mireille gasped at what she saw.

The cleric’s eyes were glowing a distinct, sinister purple.

“We’re wasting time,” Lialeth huffed impatiently. “We need to get back! I need to consecrate you too, Mireille.”

“No,” Mireille breathed, horrified. “No, I need to stop this. I need to warn the others, and break whatever spell you’re under, and-“

“Oh, for the love of the goddess!” Lialeth exclaimed. She raised her hand, drew on her magic once more, and directed it all straight at Mireille. “Dominatus personae!”

When the spell hit Mireille, there was no resistance. The hero’s willpower was formidable, but she simply wasn’t prepared. Lialeth was her trusted comrade, after all. Mireille’s shoulders slumped and her face went completely slack, all that concern and alarm giving way to placid, mindless obedience. Her arms fell to her sides, and Mireille started swaying from side to side just a little with each gust of wind. She was like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

The fated hero was completely and totally entranced.

“That’s better!” Lialeth said smugly. “I’m sorry, Mireille. But now that I’m finally getting everybody on the right track, I simply can’t risk you getting cold feet and ruining everything. I have a higher calling, after all.”

Mireille didn’t respond. She just stood there, staring, eyelids drooping and eyes glassy.

“You’ll forgive me,” Lialeth decided. “After all, you’ll feel so much better once we’ve purified you. You and all the others, of course. We’ll get you out of that armor, and once we’re back at camp we can get you into the arms of that wonderful creature Hecatz was keeping sealed away. Soon, all of us will be one with the goddess.”

“Yes, Lialeth,” Mireille replied in a flat monotone, now that she had been given something approaching a command. Moving stiffly, she started unfastening the clasps that held her armor in place and, one by one, its pieces clattered uselessly to the ground.

“Good,” Lialeth said approvingly, once the hero’s fine, athletic body was completely exposed. “Now, come along. I must make sure the others aren’t getting cold feet.”

If they were, she was sure another spell could fix it. Nothing could be allowed to stop her now. Not when she was so close to bringing the whole party together in a single, blessed congregation.

All of her doubts were in the past now. In retrospect, they were foolish. Embarrassing, even. Lialeth could hear the voice of the goddess. And as usual, her goddess had told her exactly what to do. All she had to do - all she’d ever had to do - was have faith.

Well done, my child, that voice was saying to her, as she led Mireille back to the incipient tentacle orgy at their camp. You’ve proved more useful than I could have imagined. Now I have the fated hero in my grasp! Soon, she’ll be just as devoted as you are. And after that, there will be no limits to my reach. All the land will know my touch and my gift. And it’s all thanks to you.

Lialeth just nodded in blissful rapture. It was all thanks to her. She couldn’t have asked for a better reward than those words. Soon, her struggles to make people listen to her divine teachings would be a thing of the past.

Everyone would understand. She was the voice of the goddess.

---

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#story

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hentyehottie · 11 months

Text

Y’all I know I said I wasn’t posting anything else until I revised some older fics buttttt I just couldn’t get this series out of my head 🥲 let’s call it the Tokyo Rev. Occupation Series where I’ll be writing a series of nsfw blurbs about these sleazy professionals & their favorite clients 🫶🏾

First up we have :

Dentist!Smiley

Lmaoooo this one is so obvious but Smiley is one of the best dentists there is. His office is a serene environment, even with the rap music playing, mainly Youngboy cus that’s who he claims he resonates with and it reminds him of his adolescence 😭 Souya thinks it’s unprofessional but regardless, it’s what he likes and his clients never complain, except you.

Smiley’s known for enhancements. Says a person’s smile is their best asset and has dedicated his life to helping people achieve their perfect smile. Porcelain veneers are his specialty—he focuses on aesthetic and functionality. His prices are a bit steep but his work speaks for itself.

At only 27 years old he owns his own private practice and has made a name for himself in such little time. A lot of people are skeptics, claiming he’s far too young to know what the hell he’s doing, and that he’s overrated. He used to get so many comments about him being a scammer, ripping off clients, and a whole bunch of other bullshit on the daily.

It was infuriating but he’s not the person he used to be. Plus he can’t fight thousands of strangers on the internet. So he addressed it one time and one time only on ig live.

“I don’t do promo like y’all’s favorite dentists, and I don’t fancy putting big white cinderblocks in people’s mouths for a couple thousand dollars like y’all’s favorite dentists.”

“If you don’t wanna work with me, that’s cool, but don’t disrespect me or my craft. My work is immaculate so pay my fucking price, or don’t, but somebody will and you’ll know the difference.”

Of course it went viral, probably cus he said the whole thing with a smile on his face. Had the internet in an uproar—he was cool, calm and a little stern with just the right amount of sassy and of course you ate it up. Booked your consultation at Kawata Dentistry a few weeks later, paid almost 23 bands for your perfect smile, and you couldn’t be happier. He was much cuter in person, and yes, his teeth are just as straight and white in person. What intrigued you the most was the way the smile on his face never wavered, even when he was a bit annoyed at his receptionist for double booking his appointments.

That was nearly a year ago and he’s been your dentist since, and in the span of that year he’s come to like you a lot—enough to say you’re his favorite client. It makes him so fucking happy that you’ve started to smile for him more, no longer self-conscious about your imperfect smile, now you give him real smiles showing damn near all thirty two of your teeth.

He thinks you’re pretty as fuck too, never wearing any makeup, just your mink lashes and that Dior lip stuff you like. Smiley loves the way you keep yourself up—hair and nails always done and you always smell good as fuck, it’s obvious you’re a high maintenance, luxury bitch. But when you walk through his threshold, when you enter his domain, you’re nothing more than a slut for him to play with and he loves it.

He’s sitting on his stool, wheels locked while you��re on your knees between his legs with his fat cock stuffed in your mouth. The stretch makes your jaw ache but neither of you regard that. You swallow around his cock and it sends shivers up his spine. “Oh fuck, you’re so good at that.”

He calls it a ‘stress test’ and how he got you to agree to this the first time, you’ll never know, it must’ve been his way with words, since that’s what drew you to him in the first place.

Brent Faiyaz is playing, cus you hate that ‘rah-rah rap shit’ and you made it your business to tell him every time you enter his office, once you got comfortable enough.

He’s got your hair fisted into a makeshift ponytail, loves the raw Indian tape-ins you have in this time.

Smiley’s yanking at your hair, bobbing your head up and down, occasionally pushing you down far enough for his peachy pubes to tickle your nose. He’s spewing praise after praise as you please him. Going on and on about how you’re so pretty, especially when you’re on your knees letting him use your mouth like this. Thank goodness for the music, the gyuck sounds are so loud, so obscene as his thrusts get faster and sloppier.

The shaft of his cock is jutting against your teeth every single time the tip of him kisses the back of your throat, makes him shudder every time. He lets out a deep sigh, holding your head still and jerking his hips up.

“Holy shit, you’re so perfect.”

This lasts until he cums, which is never long, you are the client with the perfect mouth after all. He pops his cock out of your mouth, pressing kisses to your lips again and again until he’s satisfied.

You’re still on your knees and he’s still gripping your jaw, you already know what he wants so you crack a wide smile for him. You’re sure you look crazy—spit and cum (you’re dentist’s cum) running down your chin, just smiling like an idiot. He turns your head side to side, using his other hand to run his finger over the tips of your teeth.

“No loosies or chipping.” He smiles at his own handiwork. “Lemme clean you up and get a picture.” It’s sweet, the way he wipes your face so gently and helps you up. He walks away for a second, washes his hands and returns with a tiny paper cup full of mouthwash, remembers alcohol free is your preference.

The goal is a minute but he lets you slide with the forty-five second swish. He hugs you tight, and he doesn’t let go. Neither do you, your arms perched against his shoulders as you stare up at him.

“When imma see you again? Every four months ain’t cutting it nomore.”

“You can see me whenever, you know where I be, what time I take lunch. Unless you trying to take me on a date outside of work hours.”

You nod, and when you do he’s pulling out his phone, handing it to you with a light chuckle. “Alright, gimme your number. We’ll set something up.”

Later that day, you see he posted you on his personal page. Your teeth looks amazing but you hope the hearts in your eyes and the way you press yourself against him isn’t too obvious.

@/smiley_ortho - Another satisfied client back for routine maintenance! I love making pretty girls prettier 🥺🫶🏻

I guess it’s safe to say you really like your dentist & he really likes you too!

#tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev x black reader #tokyo rev x you #nahoya kawata #smiley x reader #x black reader #black coded reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x y/n #Tokyo revengers x black reader #HentyeHottie

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lucienarcheron · 3 months

Note

I want Helion to be a messy aunt!

“There was only one room and only one bed, but there’s plenty of wine and fresh strawberries.”

“Lucien is dressed rather immaculately today, don’t you think?”

“Doesn’t Elain look beautiful in that dress?”

“My son is such a gentleman.”

And at night Helion will be spilling the tea to his sowing circle. 💀😂 a friendship between him and Elain would be so cute. Helion waltzing Elain around the ballroom at a Day Court party, gifts her sunflower seeds and makes sure that her dresses are the finest in all of Day. Helion is going to be all up in his sons business. “Have you seen Elain today” “Have you told her she looks lovely this morning” “Make sure to bring a bouquet of the freshest flowers”

Okay, but we already know he will be nosy as hell. He will be the cool mom in Mean Girls, creeping in the background or hiding behind some bushes with a sneaky smile on his face and Lucien is just 😫😩

I love thinking about Helion and Elain's interactions! He's one of the smartest people with access to an endless amount of information and I feel like he and Elain would have such a good time getting to know each other and discussing everything there is to discuss. Plus Elain is such a social butterfly and I think Helion would love that!

Helion and Eris tag teaming to be annoying about Elucien is pretty much canon to me 😂 They'll be soooo annoying trying to "help" them hahahaha.

#helion #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elucien #asks #anon

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hoffstrap-yuri · 2 months

Text

For Sickness and in Health (Insurance)

ao3 // masterlist

*SUMMARY: Agent Strahm was by the book when it came to solving cases. Being honest about his marital status was a different story entirely.

*RATING: +18 for Explicit Mature Content

*CONTENT/TAGS: M/M, Hoffstrahm, Coffinshipping, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Fake Marriage/Dating, Fake Relationship, Eventual Smut, Alternate Universe

*STATUS: Chapter 1/2

Author's Note: Second chapter of this fic can be found here! Woo my first MLM saw fic, it's only fitting it'd be coffinshipping. Huge thanks to @cubestrahm for helping me stay motivated on this project, and come up with an ending for it <3

There was an eerie silence in the air. Hoffman was in the middle of his daily crossword puzzle, scratching his head at what possibly could be the answer for 5 down. Strahm took a glance at the desk across from him before clearing his throat. When Hoffman didn’t look up the first time, he cleared it again with more phlegm coming up.

“Do you need something, special agent?” Hoffman finally looked up from his crossword. To say he was mildly annoyed by the other middle aged man would be an understatement. Unless he had the answer to 23 across, Hoffman didn’t want to hear a damn word come from his mouth.

Strahm took a deep breath before he said, “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Ask Perez.” Hoffman replied, turning his eyes back down to the paper in front of him

“Would if I could, believe me.” Strahm propped his head up against his fingers, “See… I need you to.”

“Yeah?” Hoffman raised an eyebrow, bringing his coffee cup up to his lips. He started to take a sip when Strahm said maybe the most outlandish thing that Mark had ever heard in his life,

“I need you to pretend to be my wife.”

Hoffman spit out his coffee, droplets making it onto Strahm’s crisp white shirt across the two desks.

“Agent Strahm, are you high?”

“No.”

“Then what the hell are you smoking,” Hoffman sputtered as he kept trying to string words together. Something to make a coherent sentence. “Are you insa… Actually, I’ve seen the footage of your interview with Jill Tuck. I know you’re insane. Why would I even entertain this idea, Special Agent?”

“You get better insurance?” Strahm shut his eyes, hoping that the offer of a better plan would be enough to entice the man before him. There was a pause in their banter. Peter couldn’t believe that Mark would actually even consider this.

“Does the plan include dental?”

“Wait you don’t get dental?”

“I do.” Hoffman scoffed, “But I have a ridiculous co-pay. What’s yours look like?”

“500.”

“… Fine. What do you need from me?”

“Just come with me to DC. We’ll talk to an HR person for an hour, get the paperwork sorted out, and we both get better insurance.”

“I can do that.”

“Alright.” Strahm said with a heavy sigh of relief. He was still quiet around Hoffman the next couple of minutes until Perez came back from lunch. Naturally, Strahm turned his back away from the other man to talk to his partner. Hoffman pulled a straw wrapper off the side of his desk he’d been meaning to throw out anyway, crumpled it up, and threw it at the back of Strahm’s head. When Strahm turned around to see whether something had actually hit him, Mark played coy. Almost too coy. Strahm raised an eyebrow at him, trying to goad him into a confession. Other, weaker, men would have folded under the gaze of the man with immaculate eyelashes, but Mark was stronger than that. Or so he thought at the very least. Mark leaned forward on his desk and rested his head on his fists, inviting some kind of challenge from the agent. As Strahm opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, he thought long and hard whether a fight right now was worth it. He zipped his own lips back up and turned back around to talk with Perez.

‘Did she know?’ Mark wondered to himself, ‘About Strahm’s stupid little plan?’

Strahm massaged the wedding band on his finger, as if a sign to Hoffman that he heard his thoughts. That Lindsay was in on the whole scam too. She had to know… He shook his head and tried to clear the thought from his head. Maybe Hoffman was the one really getting scammed.

---

“Nice ride.” Hoffman slung his bag over his shoulder, looking at the car behind Strahm parked in Hoffman’s driveway.

“Shut up.”

“First road trip…”

“Don’t.” Strahm pointed at his partner in crime, “Don’t finish that sentence.”

“Aw, afraid you’re gonna like hearing the words ‘newlyweds’ come from my mouth?” Hoffman got up in Strahm’s face. Strahm’s lips were mere inches from brushing up against Hoffman. He felt the tickle of a sharp inhale from the detective’s nose and the heavy sigh when the air came back up along his upper lip. Peter turned his head away so he didn’t have to look into Mark’s eyes. He turned on the back of his heels and opened up the trunk for Mark to put his bag inside of. Mark plopped his bag down next to what he assumed was Strahm’s overnight bag before attempting to open the back passenger side door.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” Strahm asked, sticking his head out of his window

“Sitting in the back, idiot. What does it look like I’m doing?” Mark wriggled the handle some more

“Why the hell would you sit back there?”

“So I can get some sleep.”

“And make me feel like a damn taxi driver; I don’t fucking think so. Sit up here.”

“Fine.” Hoffman rolled his eyes and got into the seat across from Strahm. He crams himself in before feeling up the seat to find the height adjuster. He pushed it as far back as it would go and crossed his legs before pressing his weight up against the car door.

“Here, grab the directions from the glove compartment.” Strahm said. He wrapped an arm around the headrest of Hoffman’s seat as he backed up from the driveway. Hoffman handed him the three sheets of paper folded into threes. Before handing it off however, he took a peek under the fold to see where the MapQuest directions lead to. Some two-star hotel on the DC-Maryland border. Not that Hoffman had any right to complain about the lodging, but he wondered if the accommodations were coming from the FBI or Strahm’s wallet.

“Take a left here. It’ll be faster and it’s easier to get on the turnpike.” Hoffman pointed up a couple of blocks ahead of them. Strahm gave him an apprehensive look before following the instructions the other man gave him. “Nice smooth merge instead of fighting.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Take it you don’t go home much? Or am I not good enough to bring home to mom?” Hoffman asked as he handed the papers off finally.

“What are you on about now?”

“Why aren’t you taking me to your place?”

“My place?” Strahm looked at him, more confused than ever

“In DC.”

With a sharp inhale Strahm asked, “Do you think every FBI agent is based out of Washington DC? Are you really that stupid, Detective?”

“Maybe I am.” Hoffman shrugged nonchalantly. Was Hoffman trying to scam him, even now? A blood vessel was popping on the edge of Strahm’s forehead and he could feel it. That seemed to make Hoffman’s lips curl at the ends ever so deviously. So it was all a fucking joke. “What’s the plan?”

“What?” Strahm’s attention returned in that moment.

“When we get to DC, smart ass.”

“Go to sleep. Get up in the morning, go to the office, and get this done. We’ll be home by tomorrow night.”

“How punctual.” Hoffman purred. “Did you bring something for me to wear?”

“No, why the hell would I do that?” Strahm asked.

“Why the hell wouldn’t you, this was your plan. I thought you asked me because you had something already.” Hoffman sat up in his seat, giving the other man a dumbfounded look

“I asked because you’re the only one not in the registry like Perez is. I mean why the hell wouldn’t you go out and buy a cheap dress or something after I told you about this?”

Hoffman just sighed before realizing the implication of this. “So guess that means you have to take me shopping.”

“What you want to go to the National Mall for that, dumb ass?”

“And if I do?” Hoffman smirked. He was clearly enjoying himself far too much. On the other hand, it took every bone in Strahm’s body to keep the two of them from careening off the highway and into the Atlantic ocean. Most of the car ride was in silence after that. Mark would occasionally peer out the window when they crossed a river, making it damn near impossible for him to get his planned nap in during the drive. Like that, they were pulling up into the parking lot of their hotel. Strahm left the car on while he checked in, and made a motion out to Hoffman when they were all set. Strahm walked back out to the car and sat in the driver’s seat before looking behind him.

“Where are we going?”

“To go shopping.” Strahm said with a sigh.

---

“Where to first?” Hoffman asked, stepping out of the car. Strahm hadn’t allowed for any stops on their way down south, so getting out to stretch was completely out of the question. Now that he was free, Hoffman lifted his arms over his head and let out a yawn. Strahm shot him a look before saying,

“It was only three hours, you don’t need to be so dramatic.”

“It was four.” Hoffman corrected him. Strahm just rolled his eyes and locked his car, walking away from the verbal conflict.

“Let’s go find you a dress first.” Strahm said in a hushed voice. Not that there was anyone else in the garage, but if there was he was worried someone would hear the two male voices.

“Does it have to be a dress? Or do you just want to emasculate me?” Hoffman growled slightly.

“There’s no way you’d fit in a woman’s suit.” Strahm stated, as if it was common knowledge. “And this is the FBI, you have to look halfway decent.”

“Your wish is my command, hubby.” Hoffman slapped on the most offensively fake smile as they walked into the mall. While neither of the men knew the layout of the mall, Strahm seemed to fall in behind Hoffman. This was unlike his usual behavior back in New York but Hoffman didn’t think it was worth getting into. They walk up to a directory and find a shop to pick a dress out from, first trying the anchor stores and getting nowhere with that. They tried a specialty store next, with more results. The only issue is the staff seemed to glare as the two men rummaged through the racks to find something that would fit a man like Hoffman. Hoffman noticed that Peter kept stealing looks as he would step out from the dressing room to look at the dress in the full length mirror. “Here, this should fit, but I need to to zip the back up.”

“Fine.” Strahm approached Hoffman and pulled the zipper up. It seemed to fall back as it was just about to close so Strahm told him, “Suck your gut in.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Hoffman rolled his eyes and sucked his stomach in. The zipper went up fine and Strahm secured it with the tiny hooks on the back. His hands slowly lingered onto Hoffman’s hips as they looked at the outfit in the mirror. “Not bad.”

“Yeah, you just look like a nice broad now.” Strahm replied quickly, before realizing where his hands were resting. He took a step back and Hoffman did a half spin to see what his back looked like in the dress, “I think it’ll work.”

“Yeah.” Strahm’s eyes wandered up at the ceiling. Hoffman reveled in this power and slid his hands down his hips with a whistle. Strahm turned his head back to look at the other man before darting his eyes away again. Like fucking putty in Mark’s hands. He walked back to his dressing room, came back out, and quickly threw the garment into Peter’s arms. Strahm shuffled to catch it before Hoffman walked past him and back into the store. Strahm veered towards the cashier before Hoffman pulled him by the back of his shirt and asked,

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To check out.”

“Not before I get some accessories.” He turned Strahm around and took a look at the gaudy earrings the store had on display

“You don’t even have piercings.” Strahm huffed quietly, “You’re not about to get them pierced for this.”

“And if I wanted to?”

“I’d tell you ‘you’re insane’ and pull you out of Claire’s. Dumbass.”

“Well at the very least, you can treat your wife to a nice necklace.”

“Fine.” Strahm sighed, feeling the grip Hoffman had on him growing tighter. “We can go to a jewelry store for that.”

“God you really know how to spoil a woman, it’s a wonder you’re not actually married.” Hoffman teased him, taking the dress from his hands and bringing it up to the counter himself. The cashier at the time didn’t seem to care that two men approached her with a feminine dress. She finished the transaction as quickly as she could, and went back to sulking while the two men headed back into the mall. Hoffman dragged Strahm back to a directory to plan their next course of action. It would be shoes, makeup, and jewelry in that order. There were more than a few instances where Hoffman didn’t need to be so close to the FBI agent, but would still press his body up against the other man. Like when a family tried to walk around the two of them. It would turn Strahm’s face an embarrassing red to have the fabric of Hoffman’s shirt slide across the leather of his jacket. In a low voice that he was certain only Strahm would hear he’d say, “My bad.”

“Just shut up and keep walking” or some variation were the only words Strahm was able to eek out. They managed to find some heels that weren’t ridiculously chunky, and Hoffman could balance on before going to a makeup store in the mall. They found a disgustingly light powder pink that the saleswoman said ‘any girl would love’, while Strahm stood out in the mall proper pretending that he was just shopping with a friend after work. She also threw in some samples that Hoffman didn’t really seem to understand, but was thankful he wasn’t buying any more makeup than was necessary. Not that it was on his dime, but he’d have no use for it after this elaborate fraud. Next, the two walked around a jewelry kiosk. Mark pointed at a diamond necklace and Strahm nearly cussed him out there in front of the sales clerk but just handed the Amex over before there was any questions. They walked back to the car before Strahm excused himself and headed to the bathroom.

“You really can’t wait for 20 minutes to get to the hotel?” Hoffman asked him, rolling his eyes

“It’s four o’clock, there’s no way in hell the ride is only going to be 20 minutes.” Strahm retorted before going in. Hoffman waited impatiently, stamping his foot down and glancing at the clock. How long did it take this idiot to piss? Out of the corner of his eye, Hoffman saw another store that he ducked into. If he was going to be Strahm’s wife, he was going to make the agent really regret it. He hurried back to the spot where Strahm was just zipping up his jacket. “Where were you?”

“Looking at Auntie Anne’s, the fuck does it matter to you?”

With a huff Strahm replied, “Whatever” before beginning the walk back to the car. This time Hoffman was sure to follow behind the agent. He seemed more… on edge than he had been this morning on Hoffman’s doorstep. Were the nerves setting in? Was his bravado really that fragile that shopping for women’s clothing was going to trip up Special Agent Peter Strahm?

“You seem tense.” Hoffman remarked

“I’m fine.” Strahm dodged the accusation, but not very well. There was almost an edge of bitterness in his words. He seemed to realize how rude he’d sounded by the way his eyes softened and said again, “I’m fine” in a much gentler tone.

“Nervous?”

“About?”

“Lying to your employer, the federal government?”

“No. No that’s the easy bit.”

“Easy, huh? Don’t tell me you’ve deceived the government before.”

“Yeah. Then when they caught me in my lie about 5 years later just told them it was a clerical error.”

“How rebellious of you. Never in my wildest dreams could I see you, Agent Strahm, bending the rules. Much less for your amusement.”

“And you’ve always filed your taxes on time.” Strahm laughed

“I’d never mess with my taxes.” Hoffman replied with a slight frown

“Sure thing, altar boy."

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phantasmicbelladonna · 10 days

Text

Shelter from the Storm

Rating: Teen and Up

CW: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia

Tags: Post-Season 2, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Different First Meeting, Protective Jim Hopper, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Hurt Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Being an Asshole, just a little bit though, Steve's parents suck, POV Alternating, Non-Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Major Character Injury, Period-Typical Homophobia

💫—💫—💫

As the rain drummed relentlessly against the windshield, Jim Hopper steered his truck down the empty streets of Hawkins. It was dark out and he was annoyed that this was his second time this week busting the Munson kid. The silence inside the vehicle was thick, weighed down by the tension simmering between the two passengers. His face etched with a mixture of fear and defiance, Eddie Munson sat stiffly in the front seat. “You know how damn lucky you are I’m only letting you off with a warning?” Hopper grumbles.

Hopper's gaze flickered to the side as he spotted a familiar figure trudging along the sidewalk, shoulders hunched against the downpour. He slowed down his truck next to him and the man halted. He rolled down his window as he looked at him, and his heart dropped when he took in the other appearance. Jim had recognized him from the get-go, it was Steve Harrington. He had blood soaking through his shirt and blood, cuts, and bruises blemishing his face. “Harrington? That you? Shit, kid—what the hell are you doing out right now? You need a ride?” Jim called out. Steve Harrington, his usually immaculate hair plastered to his forehead, was beaten to shit and looking defeated. Hopper slammed on the brakes and Steve turned, startled, his eyes widening in surprise and relief at the sight of the sheriff's truck.

“No...no, sir. ‘M fine.” Steve said, barely being heard through the rain. His words were slurred due to his busted bottom lips. Jim frowned. “Steve. Now I’m not asking, get in the truck.” Jim said gruffly.

Steve didn’t respond and just stared at him. “Steve. Get in the truck. I’ll take you home and—” Jim’s words die on his tongue when he sees him flinch at the mention of ‘home’. Jim wasn’t stupid. He knew the Harrington’s, hell, everyone knew the Harrington’s. More importantly, he knew that Richard Harrington was not one to be messed with due to his temper on him. He knew about all the parties Steve threw, his parents were gone so often that he could have them with ease. Jim could easily put two and two together, and if Steve’s wounds and the way he reacted meant what he thought they meant...” I’ll take you wherever you want. I’ll even take you to Joyce’s place or my cabin.”

“I—I’ll get your seats wet if I-“ The kid seemed so insistent on not getting help, and Jim couldn’t help but feel guilty about it. “Kid, I’m not asking you. We can stay here and do this back-and-forth thing all night, I’m not leaving you here,” Jim tells him. “Besides, the seats will dry, just get in. Munson, in the back,” he ordered, his tone not allowing any room for argument. Eddie complied as Steve hesitated for a moment, then climbed into the passenger seat, his movements sluggish and pained. Eddie glanced nervously between the two. He didn’t exactly understand what was happening, and he’s never learned when to keep his mouth shut so he asks, “Figures you’d be mixed up in some kind of trouble. Can’t stay out of trouble, can you, Harrington? I wonder if all that hairspray got to your head. So, who was it this time? Hagan again? Oh, or maybe Byers?” Jim gives him a look in the rearview mirror, “Munson. Not the time.” He says with a hint of a warning on the tip of his tongue. The tension in the air became harsh again as Hopper pulled back onto the road, the only sound being the steady drumming of rain against the roof of the truck. Hopper stole occasional glances at Steve, his expression unreadable. Steve stared blankly out the window, his mind a whirlwind of pain. It’s not long before Eddie speaks up again. “Okay, I can’t be the only one who’s curious, right? Steve Harrington, golden boy of high school who went around like he was hot shit, keeps getting his ass beat.” Eddie retorted, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Guess you’re not as tough as you thought, huh?”

Steve doesn’t make any comments, his hands in his lap balling up into fists. “It’s not what you think, Munson,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the thumping of rain against the truck’s roof.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, shocked that he even knew his name. “Oh yeah? Enlighten me, Harrington . What’s your excuse this time?”

“ Munson . Drop it.” Jim gruffly said, looking back into the rearview mirror, but Eddie wasn’t about to let it go that easily. “Come on, spill it, Harrington. What, did you piss off the wrong person?”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he looked like he might lash out in anger. Eddie smirks at the thought of getting a rise out of Steve Harrington.

It’s Jim who speaks up for him. “Your pops—he the one putting his hands on you?” Jim knows he shouldn’t ask, but he’s a cop and he needs to know. Steve’s cold demeanor softens and for a second, Steve looks tired and scared. Like he’s been through this one too many times, like he spends most nights being hit and smacked around by his father. Steve hesitated, then nodded slowly. The smirk faded from Eddie’s face as he took in Steve’s words, a wave of guilt washing over him. Suddenly, he feels like the world’s biggest asshole ever. Guilt sat in his stomach like a boulder and he silently wished he could take back every mocking word he’d said. “Are you—“ Steve paused to clear his throat, “gonna tell anyone..?” Hopper shot Steve a sidelong glance, a hint of gruff affection in his gaze. “You know I have to. Your dad shouldn’t—he shouldn’t be hitting you.” Steve scoffs, looking out the window. “I’m 19, I can handle it.” He snapped, before wincing at the amount of pressure it must put on his injuries.

Something akin to anger boils in Jim’s gut. Was this what his dad was teaching him? That he was allowed to be beaten around just because he was legally an adult?

“Doesn’t matter if you’re not a child anymore, he shouldn’t hit you,” Jim replied.

“We’ll get this solved, okay? I’ll speak to your dad, probably bring him back to the station, and we’ll see where everything goes. You’ll be back home soon.”Jim tells him, hoping to sound reassuring. A humorless laugh erupts from Steve. “Yeah, good luck with that. My parents…they found out about some stuff and…I can’t go back there anymore. They don’t wanna see me.”

“ What ? Your parents kicked you out?” There was disbelief evident in Jim’s tone. Steve only nods as he shifts uncomfortably. “Where the hell was your mom when all this happened?” His voice was tinged with concern, and he saw how Steve’s jaw clenched in the corner of his eye.

“She…She was there,” he finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper. His knuckles were turning white with how hard he was clenching them. “She um…just stood there. Off to the side, um, crying.” Steve’s voice trembled with every word he said.

Jim’s expression hardened, a mixture of anger, disbelief, and disgust going through his head. Before he can say anything, Eddie speaks up. “And she didn’t..y’know, do anything to stop it?” His voice is filled with just as much disbelief.

Steve shakes his head, a small sniffle making its way out of him. “She never does.”

A heavy silence fell over the car as Jim and Eddie processed Steve’s frightening words. How many times has Steve’s dad beaten him to this extent?

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze fixed on the dashboard as he must’ve realized how bad his words sounded.

"I mean... it's not like he does it all the time," Steve began, his voice hesitant. "And... I probably deserved it, you know? I've messed up plenty of times. I mean, I’m not the.. best son. I’m not the smartest, I’ve... I’ve only got my looks going for me."

Hopper's brow furrowed at Steve's words, his expression stern. "Deserved it? Steve, no one deserves to be treated like that, especially not by their father. Your mom is just as bad for not doing anything to stop it.”Steve's jaw tightened as he struggled to find a response. "But... but he's just trying to teach me a lesson, you know? Like, toughening me up…being a man and all that shit."

Hopper shook his head, his voice firm. "There's a difference between that and abuse, Steve. And what your dad did... that’s abuse. It's not okay." Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to make himself appear smaller.

"Steve, let me ask you something. Would you ever lay a hand on one of the kids? Just any of your friends in general. Even Munson back there. Would you treat one of them how your dad treats you?" Steve's breath caught in his throat, immediately thinking of Dustin's geeky behavior, Lucas and Max's unwavering loyalty, Eleven's fierce determination, and Robin’s awkward yet unconditional love.

The thought of ever hurting them, even in anger, made his stomach churn. "No," Steve replied, his voice barely above a whisper and already sick just thinking about it. "I could never... I would never do that to them." Hopper nodded, his gaze steady. "Then why is it okay for your dad to do it to you? The man who is supposed to love you is putting his hands on you."

Steve swallowed hard, the weight of Hopper's words settling heavily in his chest. Eddie clears his throat nervously in the backseat.

"Um, Harring- Steve , man, uh, sorry you had to go through all that," Eddie said, stumbling over his words. "I mean, no one deserves to be treated like that. And uh, coming from a guy who has an asshole dad too, your dad's a real jerk, no offense.”

Steve's lips twitched in a faint smile at Eddie’s attempt to be comforting. “Thanks. You don’t have to say sorry, you didn’t do anything.”

Jim’s eyebrows furrow at Eddie’s sudden comment, but relaxes when he hears how honest Eddie sounds.

Jim really didn’t want to bring the mood down with his next question and he felt guilt settle in his stomach, but he had to ask since it was his duty as a police officer. “Steve. Your folks still at home?” He asks, trying to sound as gentle as he can.

Steve’s smile falters and he hesitates before answering. “Uh, no. They…they left a few hours after..um…they said I need to have all my shit packed by the time they get back.”

Jim sighs, “Okay. Okay, well..we’ll figure something out, okay?”

Just then, Eddie chimes in. "Hey, Steve," Eddie began tentatively, "you know, my place isn't too far from here. If you want, you can crash at my house tonight. It’s uh, nothing fancy, but you’d at least have some place to sleep in the meantime, right? My uncles out, won’t be home ‘til morning.”

Steve freezes up and Jim glances at Eddie through the rearview mirror. “Oh…that’s, I wouldn’t wanna..intrude or anything.”

Eddie shakes his head. “You wouldn’t be intruding, it’s all good man.”

Steve hesitates for a moment, thinking over the situation. It would be nice to have a place to stay just for a while. “Alright. Uh…thanks, Eddie. I really appreciate it.”

Jim is already pulling into Forest Hills so there’s not much time to debate anything. Before Eddie fully makes it out of the truck, Jim stops him.

“Take care of him. If you hurt him in the slightest I swear nobody will be able to find your body after. Keep an eye on him, got it?” Eddie pauses, a hint of fear on his face which makes Jim feel somewhat proud, before nodding and getting out.

In Eddie's dimly lit room, the sound of rain tapping against the window provided a steady rhythm as Eddie meticulously cleaned the cuts on Steve's face. Steve winced as the antiseptic stung but gritted his teeth and endured it.

"You know," Eddie began, his tone casual, "back in high school, you were a real piece of work, Harrington." Steve's brows furrowed as he shot Eddie a questioning look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Eddie shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, you know, strutting around like you owned the place, acting like you were too good for everyone else. The whole ' King Steve ' act."

Steve's jaw clenched slightly. “Yeah, but I..I’m sorry about all that. People change, y’know?”

Eddie continued working on Steve’s injuries. “Sure, people change. But jocks who go around giving the freaks swirlies, calling them queers, beating the shit out of them? Yeah, they never change.” Eddie chuckled, not paying attention to the way Steven’s brows furrowed and a look of hurt flashed in his eyes.

“Okay, I..I can’t, I’m done. Screw this and screw you, Eddie.” With that, Steve stood up abruptly, forcing himself out of Eddie’s grip and ready to leave.

“I just-I don’t understand. You were acting so nice in the car and when you were cleaning me up, and now you just…switched up on me! One second you’re nice, and the next you’re acting like a huge dick. I can understand why you hate me, but please for the love of God don’t pretend you fucking like me.” Steve’s eyes are filled to the brim with tears and Eddie can only watch as his bottom lip wobbles. He wipes angrily at his tears and then attempts to tug his shoes on.

Why can’t Eddie just shut up? He realizes how much of a jerk he was being and how he let his frustrations get to him. He frantically grasps Steve’s wrist to stop him from leaving. “I’m-sorry. That was…I’m an asshole. I just…you’ve changed, I’ve um…been a witness to that and I’ve still treated you like shit, and for that I’m..I’m sorry..I don’t even know why I…uh brought any of that up. I just-i’m just angry-or upset about the past and um..I’m sorry.” He tries to keep eye contact and tries to stop fidgeting with his hands, but he can’t seem to really stop.

Steve hasn’t just fully up and left yet, which Eddie takes as a good sign. He skeptically sits back down on the bed, obviously creating some distance between them.

“Um…can I?” Eddie hesitantly asks while gesturing to Steve’s injured face. Steve nods, not meeting his eyes.

Eddie eventually comes to the end of cleaning Steve’s wounds, and he sits back awkwardly, resting his palms on his lap. “Um…you’re all good now. Um,” He quickly tries to think of ways to fix things. “Y’know…despite everything, you’re um…still pretty cool. Uh…you’re a good person, really good. I mean, like the time you stopped Tommy from breaking Jeff’s-my friend-hand. Like, he was really going too far, and uh you..yeah. You’re like, a paladin or some shit.” Eddie’s cheeks flush as he stumbles over his words.

Steve raises an eyebrow, tilting his head. “Wait-a paladin? Like from that demons and monsters game?”

Eddie’s eyes widened in shock. There was no way in hell Steve Harrington actually knew what Dungeons and Dragons was. “Wait, hold on, wait- you , Steve Harrington, know what Dungeons and Dragons is?” Eddie asks, his eyes blown wide as he stares at Steve in astonishment.

Steve huffs out a laugh of amusement. “Yeah, uh..these little twerps that I babysit are like, in love with that dorky game. I have to sit through them talking about their little quests for hours.”

He still hasn’t gotten over the fact that Steve fucking Harrington knows what Dungeons and Dragons is, and now he apparently babysits?

“I-What? I-I’m sorry, I’m just trying to process all this. You know what D&D is, and you babysit?”

Steve chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, seriously. They’re middle schoolers and are absolute shitheads, but they’re good kids. They keep trying to rope me into playing their little nerd game with them and they said they have a..uh, character card? Or some shit for me already, but it just doesn’t seem like it’s for me. Not that it’s not cool or anything, but yeah.” He admitted with a smile, and with a look of fondness in his eyes he seemed as if he could talk about these kids for hours upon hours.

“Seriously, man, I’ve gotta get you in on one of my campaigns,” Eddie exclaimed, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. His body felt like it was fizzing up with overwhelming feelings of joy at the thought of just talking about his campaign that he’s spent day and night preparing for. “Let’s make a character sheet. I swear you’ll enjoy it, or you could just sit in as an NPC!”

Steve chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m not sure…I don’t wanna intrude or anything. And um…I’m not the best with uh..numbers and words and all that shit…”

“That’s cool, I’ll walk you through it man. Shit, this is so- oh my god , Steve Harrington is going to play in one of my campaigns, holy shit—“ Eddie couldn’t help the excitement from overflowing. His eyes sparkled as he made gestures while he spoke. When he finally does stop talking, he’s out of breath and he notices the smile on Steve’s face.

Their eyes meet and for a second, it feels like time stops. It feels as if Steve can see everything inside Eddie and it makes him feel slightly vulnerable. Steve leaned in a tad bit closer and Eddie’s breath hitched.

“You’re..you’re really cool, Eddie.” Eddie’s breath catches in his throat and he feels like his skin is on fire. Even with all the injuries littering Steve’s face, he still looked beautiful.

“I’m..Steve, I really hope I’m not reading this wrong. I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about the town freak, I’m.. I’m queer, man.” Eddie told him, his voice barely above a whisper and trembling.

“You’re not. Reading this wrong, that is.” Steve replied, before closing the gap between them, pressing his lips gently against Eddie’s. It was a brief, tender kiss, filled with words that said something and nothing at all and a silent understanding. Everything is buzzing, his heart is thumping and Eddie honestly is prepared for Steve to shove him off or look at him with disgust, maybe even leave. Steve may be fine with him being a nerd, but he might draw the line at being into guys.

He hesitantly looks into Steve’s eyes and is surprised to see no repulsion or anger. Instead, his eyes were full of adoration, soft with affection.

Eddie feels relief wash over his body and he finally manages to stammer out, “You’re..you’re not mad or anything?”

Steve shakes his head, a hint of a smile teasing his lips. “I’m not. I…think I’ve been wanting to do that for a while? I’m-I’m not sure. I definitely liked it, um, kissing a guy-kissing you . So yeah, I’m not mad.” Steve’s small smile then falters and Eddie can sense that something’s wrong. Eddie hesitantly takes Steve’s hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“What’s..what’s wrong?” Eddie asked softly.

Steve took a deep breath. “I..the reason um…the reason my dad beat me was because he..uh…” Steve sniffles, wiping the tears swelling up in his eyes with haste. Eddie tucks some of his hair behind his ear, squeezing his hand again.

“I’ve known for a while that I..I like both genders. And um, I was experimenting and he…he found some queer porn mags in my room.” Eddie’s heart clenches at his words, and it reminds him of his own dad all too much.

“I..I tried to explain to him that I... I’m still me , I still like girls…but he wouldn’t listen and I-I was so scared, so fucking -I thought he was gonna kill me.” Without hesitation, Eddie pulled him into a tight embrace, holding him close as he whispered words of comfort.

“You’re okay now. I understand, you didn’t deserve any of that, Steve.” Eddie whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m..you can stay with me and my uncle while things get sorted out okay? You don’t have to go back there, you don’t have to experience that again.”

Steve buried his face into Eddie’s chest, his body shaking as sobs tore from his throat and he struggled for air, his body shaking with the force of his sobs.

This can be enough, for now. They’ll have to figure out the rest along the way but they at least knew that together, they could heal the wounds of their past with their hearts full of hope and possibilities.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst with a happy ending #steve harrington angst #hurt/comfort #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steve x eddie

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