#bunker bastard (affectionate) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marshmallowprotection · 2 years

Note

How would SE Saeran react if Mammon was clearly enamoured with him? 👀👀👀

Saeran had been through hell on earth in his life, but he never once thought that he would find himself walking through Hell. As in, literal Hell, not a metaphorical state of suffering that made him want to grind his teeth and rip his hair out of his skull time and time again.

It felt like a twisted joke. He already went through a hard time trying to get out of bed every day in his brother’s damned bunker, living in the world that had tried to snuff out his life more times than he could count, and now he had to deal with going to the middle of the Hell where he was going to school for the first time in his life. He never thought that he would attend a school... but now he spent most of his day learning about magic and other preposterous things.

If he had to compare to Mint Eye, though, it wasn’t that bad. If he had to pick his choice between the Devildom and Mint Eye, he’d probably choose the prior. The fact was that his life was always in danger by someone or something. What even changed when the threat shifted from a human source to a demonic one? It was no different in Saeran’s eyes. If someone was going to threaten his life, that was just a Tuesday for him.

He wasn’t frightened of the Devildom.

He used to be a monster that stalked people in the dead of night, and frankly, he still felt as though he was that way. He wouldn’t be plagued by nightmares if he’d proven that he was something more than a guy with blood on his hands from the choices he’d made. He wasn’t dead, though. He didn’t die in the middle of those nightmares and wind up in Hell. He was dragged here by the future Demon King himself to take part in some kind of project to unite realms.

It sounded like a load of shit to Saeran. Was he truly supposed to believe there was a God, a Devil, Demons, and Angels? Was he supposed to think that they were worth his time after he was forced to suffer on Earth? This kind of task felt like it was better suited to his brother that actually cared about his faith and the effect it had on people. Yet, nobody seemed to listen to his protests. They just plopped him in the center of Hell and assumed that he would learn how to live with it.

Yeah, as if that went well the first time someone forced him into doing something that he didn’t want to do.

He was constantly gritting his teeth and ignoring an urges to scream at everyone in the House of Lamentation. Lucifer reminded him of Saeyoung. He thought that he knew everything and that he could take control of everything. It made Saeran want to crawl at his skin until he forgot about that damned idiot. The one good thing about being in the Devildom was that he didn’t have to deal with Saeyoung trying to “fix” things.

But, being subjected to Lucifer made Saeran feel like that he would never able to escape Saeyoung’s shadow. There was always something to annoy him and that was just enough to make Saeran give up. But, the fact remained, the one reason why he was staying in the Devildom was to avoid going back to the bunker. This was the only way to get some space from his brother’s suffocating paranoia for a change. He could stomach Lucifer since the bastard was always working himself to death, and was nowhere to be seen most of the time.

The Avatars of Sin tested his patience often. He could stomach Satan who knew seemingly understood the festering anger bubbling underneath Saeran’s skin all day, every day. He could handle the God-awful sounds of Beel chewing all night and day if he could just focus on his assignment first. Levi hated being around a lot of people, and sometimes Saeran could use the Otaku’s locked room to have a moment to peace. Asmo was far too flippant and affectionate for his taste, so it was better to avoid him entirely.

However, there was one brother who would seemingly never leave Saeran alone for a second. Mammon claimed that he couldn’t leave Saeran’s side. He was his first, or whatever he claimed, and that meant that the demon had to hover most of the time. Saeran didn’t like the fact that he hovered, but at least, he knew that Mammon wasn’t doing it to judge him or force him to do something. In fact, that idiot would never make Saeran do anything he didn’t want to do. It was, frankly, something they had in common.

Mammon was loud and never knew how to stop talking, but... Saeran figured out quickly that they... weren’t different in some ways. Mammon was constantly told what to do by witches and ordered to hand over everything he had, without any question or hesitation. He had no choice since it was a pact. Saeran had seen it happen many times. Mammon would sneak in and out of the place to grab some Grimm and pay off his debts to people, and those witches. He was pretty much a glorified wallet instead of a person.

Now, Saeran couldn’t care about most people, but he knew what that felt like. It was why when he was more or less forced into making a pact with the guy, he’d decided that he wouldn’t use the damn thing. He didn’t need pacts, and he really didn’t need to order some guy around. He had been there and done that over a hundred times. He knew the feeling. He wouldn’t bother the guy, and he thought that meant that Mammon wouldn’t bother him since it was a dead-end.

Nope.

The fact that he was willing to do something that nobody else would made the Avatar of Greed follow him everywhere like a puppy since Saeran was probably the first person to kick him in the side. It was... weird. No, what was weird about that demon was the fact that he would kick himself in the side and stutter like an idiot around Saeran over nothing.

The guy was thousands of years old and he acted like some guy barely into college. Saeran figured it was because Saeran looked like a punk with resting bitch face, but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know if he was the issue since he knew nothing about interacting with people like this or if Mammon was simply weird and didn’t know how to talk to people. It was hard to say. Saeran knew, however, that Mammon wouldn’t stop watching over him. It was weird. Saeran had done a lot of cruel things in his life... but this idiot still wanted to protect him.

Saeran couldn’t turn it down completely. He was the “helpless” human everyone kept hissing about. He didn’t care if he lived or died, but the precious program in the Devildom had to keep him alive. Mammon seemed committed to doing that job now. If he wasn’t around, his damned crows would be nearby, watching and dropping little items into Saeran’s hands. The trinkets were odd. They’d bring a bunch of coins, shiny things, and sometimes... they even dropped a stray petal into Saeran’s hands.

Now, he couldn’t tell if that was because Mammon told them to do it, or if that was just what crows did. Either way, Saeran would fiddle with those so-called gifts with a confused look on his face. It was just... trash most of the time. Why did they bother bringing him things like that? It didn’t make any sense to him in the slightest. Today, a crow had brought him a discarded bud from a flower that never blossomed. It wasn’t one he knew, but many of the plants in the Devildom weren’t like what he knew on Earth.

“Oi, human,” he heard a voice call out from behind him. Saeran glanced over his shoulder and looked beyond the bench that was sitting on in the garden of the House of Lamentation. “If yer’ gonna sit out here, ya’ gotta bring me so none of the plants wind up eatin’ ya! You should be glad that The Great Mammon had a moment of realization that ya’ came out here!”

An annoyed looked crossed Saeran’s face. “That’s absurd. You know, the plants won’t try to eat you if you talk to them a bit and get to know them for once, or I’m not sure, you could try to not rip them out of the garden to sell for cheap amount of Grimm.”

“Ya’ gotta do what ya’ gotta do,” Mammon shrugged. He hopped over the back of the bench and took a spot next to the redhead. Saeran knew that his moment of peace was over now. “What said I was even low-balling the numbers for Grimm, anyway? How would you know?”

“I’ve done the research,” Saeran said, matter-of-factly. He gestured over to the plants on their left that were seemingly harmless. A bed of red and white buds that were closed at the moment. “Those are priceless and clippings of them in the Devildom would be well above the amount of Grimm you were selling them for. If you still used souls as a currency, that’d be worth roughly ten thousand of them.”

Mammon was quiet for a moment. He looked down at his lap, “Ya’ know, human, ya’ know an awful lot about plants n’ stuff. Is that why you’re always trying to get your hands on Satan’s encyclopedias? I guess the human world ain’t got nothin’ like we got.”

Saeran felt stiff. He didn’t like to talk about himself and he avoided it as much as he could with these idiots. But, Mammon was someone who never stopped that act of his. He would push and push, trying to learn things about Saeran so that he could say he knew the human better than anyone in the house. Was that just a game to him? Did he genuinely want to know?

He couldn’t say that he felt like Mammon was doing it because he liked knowing things, or if he wanted to sell off information.

“It’s nothing like Earth,” Saeran muttered.

There was no sun in the Devildom.

There were no clouds in the Devildom.

It was always nighttime in the Devildom.

He missed the garden he had made for himself back at the bunker. This was the only place in the Devildom where he felt like he could breathe. He couldn’t see a spec of light in the sky... but he could make friends with the flowers again and at least, this time, some of the plants could talk back to him and tell him stories that made him feel less lonely. Saeran always felt safe with the flowers... even if that memory of being in the sunlight at the cathedral hurt to look back on.

“It ain’t no Earth, yer’ right,” Mammon nodded. Saeran looked up just in time to see the demon looking over at him. “But, ya’ know, I ain’t never seen any of the demon-eating plants not try to attack someone before. They even try to bite me and my brothers when we come to grab vegetables and fruits. But, ain’t none of them tried to eat you. You must be some kind of human, then. But, I knew that, I’m your first! I can see that shiny soul of yers’!”

Saeran snorted. “Shiny? Yeah, right. I belong down here just as much as any of those other bastards do.” He froze almost as soon as the words came out of his mouth. Saeran had said too much. He looked back down at the ground where the roots had started to grow between the stone in the path. He knew that it was okay to talk to the flowers. He didn’t want to talk about the human world with the demons.

They couldn’t know about him.

A hand came to rest against the one that Saeran had at his side. He didn’t try to yank his arm away, but he didn’t try to stop him, either. “Yer’ the first human that didn’t tell me to do somethin’ for them. If anything, that’s a shiny soul to me. But, don’t get me wrong, human. You’re kind of a pain in the ass! You just don’t push other people around and order them to be your dog. Most humans would jump at the chance to use our sins for their wishes.”

I used to is what Saeran wanted to say.

“Even if you’re sort of a weirdo that only talks to the flowers, you should be glad that you’ve got The Great Mammon to look after ya’. After all, where would I be if I didn’t have someone to tell me I need to raise my prices? Ya know... you and I could have a lot of fun working together to pull off a job together, and I wouldn’t even rob someone blind. I’d give ‘em the real price so you would know that yer’ friends are going to a good place.”

“...”

“Yeah, I know they’re yer’ friends. I don’t think it’s weird, human! After all, I talk to Goldie all the time! Guess we’re just two peas in a pod, eh, Saeran? You seem a lot happier when you’re out here instead of the classroom... I guess... I think this sort of thing suits ya’. Not that gardening makes to someone like me.... I just ain’t never seen someone care so much about... well, somethin’ that most demons think is... insignificant and worthless. You act like they are meaning without even doin’ somethin’. It’s... different. It’s kind of... I dunno. I like seein’ ya’ like that. I do like ya’.”

Mammon was clearly talking about himself.

Saeran’s hand twitched underneath his. He opened his mouth as he thought about what he wanted to say, but Mammon quickly sputtered and tried to cover his tracks. “I mean! I like when ya’ always try to be nice to the little things! Y’ain’t gotta think The Great Mammon meant something else! Yeah! I was talkin’ about the flowers n’ stuff!”

Saeran didn’t know how to handle these feelings. It felt weird and different and... it wasn’t something he was used to. He wasn’t trying to be nice. He was trying to survive and... he sighed. The Devildom was confusing. But, he liked being in this particular spot for some reason. He decided he would humor Mammon for just a few more minutes... nothing more.

37 notes · View notes

princesssarcastia · 2 years

Note

if you’re still up for ship bingo: batman and john constantine?

(i am ALWAYS still up to do an ask game) batman/john constantine is frankly an incredible ship, it's so fun to contemplate

i know more about john constantine than the average person, and I've read some stuff with him in it but never *his* stuff, if that makes sense. regardless, my understanding is that he is an utter selfish self-serving bastard who will stab you in the back at the worst possible moment. but also...he does some good stuff sometimes (as a precursor to stabbing you in the back, but it's not the destination it's the journey etc etc).

batman is also often an utter bastard but I generally lean toward more generous interpretations of his character.

i would throw john constantine off a cliff for sure (affectionate)

so my thoughts about batman/john constantine are *incoherent muttering*

do they fuck? absolutely. is it good? it is spectacular, in fact, they both have the time of their lives. they are also so poorly matched for any kind of romantic entanglement. I think there are circumstances where bruce wayne and john constantine could genuinely, relentlessly flirt with and charm each other, and even at times enjoy each other's company.

certainly, they have similar vibes, and similar experiences with humanity, and both have a knack for making ridiculously convoluted plans that make them seem like assholes.

i think they would also both get a kick out of how other people responded to their being together/sleeping together.

but the second they start to catch feelings it would also implode spectacularly. like, the kind of spectacular you either sell front row seats to or hide away from in a bunker. batman is too paranoid to trust a man like constantine and too emotionally inept to handle constantine's issues on top of his own. constantine is too emotionally closed off to enjoy being in romantic love with batman, and also, he's like, the worst, he would be such a dick about it.

there would be no italicized “oh” moment with them, they would go directly to “oh FUCK no.”

they could never hate-fuck, because that would be too dangerous of a depth of emotion, but they could definitely fuck out of spite or irritation or as part of some game of chicken.

they're AWFUL for each other and it's fascinating. i could go on but i won't.

send me a ship and i'll play bingo!

#ask meme #ship bingo #bruce wayne #john constantine #batman #batman/john constantine #bruce wayne/john constantine #your honor they would kill each other #I Would Like To See It #meta #dc

8 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Title: Lasting Rivalries.

Word Count: 4.0k

Written for an anonymous commissioner.

Synopsis: Izuku loves you, but he doesn’t like Katsuki very much. It’s just a shame he can’t separate one feeling from the other.

TW: Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Mentions of Past Assult, Violence, Non-Graphic Injury, Mentions of Drug Use, Implied Death, Unhealthy Relationships, and Delusional Mindsets.

[Part Two]

Within the day, Izuku’s base was abandoned.

It was a temporary measure, he’d explained, just a precaution to make sure Katsuki and all his nasty little friends couldn’t find their way back to his hide-out, which turned out to be a bunker tucked away underneath one of the many discarded office buildings on the edge of the city. It was almost impressive, how with only a wave of his hand, all of his lackeys uprooted themselves from the home they seemed so accustomed to with little more than an exasperated sigh or a remorseful shake of their head. If Izuku had been disappointed, you weren’t able to tell. Despite the rush, the anxiety that came with releasing a scorned hostage, he was all smiles, all gentle touches and soft tones and sentiments so patronizing, you began to think you’d almost prefer his anger.

He knew you were quirkless, now, and there wasn’t an observant civilian in the city who didn’t know about Izuku’s troubled past, of his fondness of those born without a gift. You couldn’t say you blamed him, not if you approached it objectively. It hadn’t been an easy burden to carry, growing up, but you weren’t growing up anymore, you weren’t a kid waiting for a quirk that’d never come or a teenager, balancing the embarrassment of daily life with the humiliation that came with being so undeniably different than your peers, and in such an unhidable way, too. You weren’t over it, but you were past it. You still remembered all those awful, disgusting things people said to you, but you didn’t let them keep you awake at night. You were dealing with it. You were moving forward.

Izuku wasn’t.

He wasn’t even trying to.

But, it wasn’t your place to call him out, not when it came to that, not when you were stuck inside your new prison - someplace just as confining, but only half as tolerable. Technically, it was an improvement. After abandoning his bunker, Izuku’s followers had dispersed, and along with a handful of his closest companions, you’d been taken to a seedy bar on the worse side of town, locked inside of a small, windowless room on the second story and forced to watch as Izuku threw away the key. There were no cards, this time, no unbais locks with a dozen different work-around, just a deadbolt on your door and four-digit code you’d never get the chance to guess at. He wasn’t taking any risks, this time, he wasn’t giving you the smallest opportunity to jump at. It was a new sense of determination that’d come in the form of a shackle around your ankle and a bottle of white, circular pills Izuku forced down your throat every time he took you beyond the confines beyond your four walls. Ones that made you dizzy, weak, sedated. A measure that couldn’t be for your own safety, despite Izuku’s attempts to insist otherwise.

He seemed busier, too, than he was before your abduction. It might just be because you didn’t have anything else to focus on. As far as you could tell, Izuku only let his inner circle know where you were being held, and they still seemed hesitant to do more than deliver your meals or offer a few passive niceties when they were forced to interact with you. Saying your company was limited would’ve been an understatement. He tried to make it up to you with books and gifts and outfits that were more for his enjoyment than yours, but you were lucky if his visits lasted longer than an hour. His wasn’t the face you’d prefer to see on a daily basis, but it was still worrying to have your captor be too preoccupied to serve as a real threat. And when he did make time for you…

Izuku liked to have something to hold on to. He liked to be able to squeeze, and pull, and bruise, even if the pain he caused was more of a byproduct than a goal. His intentions didn’t matter, though, not when his fingertips dug into your thighs, not when his teeth sank into your neck, not when he got a little too excited and only stopped because your complaints had gotten frantic enough to be annoying. You’d learned quickly that Izuku was an affectionate man, but you’d learned even faster that you never wanted to be the one that affection was directed towards. Having him go days at a time without checking in with you was concerning, but having him next to you was unbearable. You tried not to think about it, when you could help it.

Luckily, today was a case of the former, when Izuku had too much on his mind and too little time to sort it out to bother convincing you to love him back. He’d let himself into your room an hour ago, and yet, he hadn’t been able to do more than kiss your forehead and offer a muttered greeting before loosening his tie and setting to pacing, wandering back and forth through the cramped confines of your homey cage. It was starting to scare you. No, it was starting to terrify you. You’d passed the point of just being scared days ago.

You doubted he could say anything to comfort you, but you found yourself talking regardless. If only to fill the silence with something that wasn’t his constant, incoherent mumbling, really. “Something’s going on,” You started, trying to sound more confident than you’d ever be, around him. “Something’s going on, and you’re not telling me about it.”

His answer was automatic, the one he’d given you a thousand times over. “I’m taking care of it, darling.”

“Midoriya, please.” It was more of a plea than a request, an appeal to whatever love he might’ve had for you, whatever trust he might’ve had in you. You weren’t blind, you knew he didn’t think you were strong or capable or of any particular use beyond serving as a particularly high-maintenance ornament, but if he thought you were endearing enough to keep as a companion, he should’ve been able to treat you like a companion, too. “Right now, your safety is my safety. If someone’s going to break down that door and kill both of us…” You trailed off, forcing yourself to let out an airy, humorless laugh. “I should get to know who it’s going to be.”

For a moment, Izuku hesitated, but it was only for a moment. With a small sigh, the tension in his shoulder dissolved, and he took to rubbing the back of his neck, one in a never-ending line of nervous ticks. “It’s really nothing either of us can help,” He insisted, making a half-hearted attempt to break his concerned frown into a small smile. “A lot of my recruits were training to be heroes when I picked them up, did I ever tell you that? I got to most of them too early on for it to be useful, but a few have some experience. It makes it easier to tell with the other side’s planning something, not that they’d ever miss a chance to put on a good show.”

“And it’s been getting worse?” The sentiment left a bitter taste on your tongue. You never thought you’d speak a word against the hero industry, not so generally, but Izuku had a way of rubbing off on you, or the way you spoke, at least.

“It’s certainly busier than it should be,” He admitted, the words grumbled through grit teeth. “I’ve had to lie low, but that makes things difficult. There’s a hierarchy in this city, and people don’t tend to react well when the one on the throne goes into hiding. Weapon distributors aren’t getting their shipments on time, gangs aren’t keeping to their own territory, it’s all devolving into chaos, and all because those bastards can’t take a step back and let me tend to things.”

His hands were curling at his sides, now, his nails driving themselves into his bare palms with so much repressed ferocity, it almost looked painful. It was an impulsive thing to do, an act that’d play right into his delusional little fantasy, but that didn’t stop you from reaching out and taking him by the sleeve, pulling him towards your cot. Your chain rattled as you swung your legs over the side of your bed, but you tried to ignore it, biting the inside of your cheek and letting Izuku fall into place next to you. He didn’t try to resist, only going slack as his head lolled onto your shoulder.

Your next question came reluctantly, guiltily. You couldn’t be sure how long it’d been since you’d last seen Katsuki, but after a month came and went without the slightest hint of your boyfriend, your hopes had dampened, dimmed, turned into something much darker than you’d ever thought they would be. You still knew he’d come back for you. He had to come back, but you couldn’t know when he would. You couldn’t know how he might’ve changed, by the time he did.

You couldn’t know if he’d still be your Katsuki, by then.

“What about Bakugo?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Have you heard anything about him?”

With that, an almost sympathetic aire found its way to his tired expression. Somehow, he found just enough energy to reach up, running his finger through your hair as he drew you closer, his face soon buried in the crook of your neck. You went stiff, but you didn’t shove him away. You knew better than to reject Izuku so blatantly, by now. “You don’t have to worry about Kacchan. I let him get away, but I made sure he didn’t leave unscathed.” There was a pause, a hand finding its way to your hip. You fought not to recoil, and Izuku pretended not to notice. “He only picked up his patrol routes last week, and I’ve been keeping an eye on him. If he wants to get to you, he’ll have to pry you from my cold, dead hands.”

You wanted to ask again. You wanted to ask again, and again, and again until you ran out of breath and Izuku had to decide whether to gag you, starve you, or find a way to combine the two. It was a common choice to get stuck on, whether to quell your paranoia or side with your common sense, but ultimately, Izuku was the one to make the decision for you. It was soft, at first, the feeling of his lips ghosting over your skin, but things with Izuku rarely stayed innocent. Your body was rigid by the time you felt his tongue run over your jugular, your hands on his shoulder as his teeth ghosted over your neck, but by the time you moved to shove him away, he was already clinging to you, snaking an arm around your waist as his teeth sunk in, as he drew blood.

“I don’t--” You tried to complain, but you were cut off by a low hum from Izuku, a half-hearted sign of dismissal as he moved on to his next target, just above the dip of your collarbone. “Midoriya,” You tried, trying to shove him away. “This really isn’t the time, I’m really not in the mood. You were just talking how screwed we’d be if--”

“I was worried about it, and then, my angel comforted me. That’s wonderful, isn’t it?” He pulled you closer, nuzzling into your chest. “I’m just repaying the favor. It’d be unfair if I didn’t show my (Y/n) how much I appreciate them.”

He moved to go on, but suddenly, his eyes opened, his posture going stiff before he could say something to make you squirm and do something to make you hate him even more. You heard it a moment after he did, and felt it a second after that - voices, louder than they should’ve been, coming from the floor below, and then a crash that couldn’t have been accidental. There was a subtle tremors, a reverberation that left you locking your jaw into place. Izuku didn’t let go of you, but his grip loosened, his attention suddenly elsewhere.

And then, without warning, the floor caved in.

It happened in the blink of an eye, in the space between one second and another. One moment, you were sitting on a cot, and the next, you were lying on your back, every part of your body aching, a dozen things sprained and another hundred bruised, or cut, or ripped open and left to bleed. You forced yourself to open your eyes, but it was pointless - the world around you was grey and brown and nothing. Dust and debris polluted the air, clouding it beyond recognition, and if there was anything salvageable left of the first floor, you wouldn’t have been able to tell, much less do something with whatever you found. The fall couldn’t have been very far, but the ground was unforgiving, and everything hurt. It was all you could do to push yourself to your feet, your legs threatening to buckle under your own weight. You pulled yourself through a step, then another before you realized what was wrong.

You could stand.

You could walk.

Blearily, you focused on the shackle around your ankle, the thing that should’ve been keeping you bound to the cot now buried under a pile of rubble twice as tall as you were. The metallic circlet was still there, only slightly scoffed, but when you followed the short chain, the only thing it led back to was a pole, one leg of the makeshift bed you’d become so acquainted with. You almost left it there. Right now, you were more focused on finding an exit and getting out than celebrating such a convenient victory, but a low moaning tore your attention towards another mangled form before you could stagger away. A mass of black fabric, a white shirt soaked through with something dark and rusty. Hair, darker than it should’ve been, and just as tangled as it usually was.

Izuku. Injured and beaten, but unquestionably Izuku. For a moment, you thought he was dead, but a guttural cough tore you away from that daydream. He didn’t move, but his eyes flickered open, finding you among the ruins. It almost seemed like he would smile, like he would laugh and call his henchmen and you’d be recaptured before you could get so much as a breath of fresh air. You could hear fighting in the distance, yelling from heroes and villains alike, but they weren’t here, not yet. Izuku could still do something crafty and clever and evil, and you’d have to pay for it.

You’d be the victim again, and he’d come out on top.

By the time you made up your mind, your hand was already closing around the pole, the metal heavy in your fist. Izuku watched you silently, only forcing something out as you came to stand over him.

“You’d be better off with me,” He spat, his voice raspy, feeble. “If you go running back into his arms, into his world, you’ll regret it.”

You were tempted to listen. You might’ve, but you couldn’t. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself, if you did.

It wasn’t like he’d ever stopped to listen to you, after all.

You were only returning the favor.

You didn’t remember passing out.

You didn’t remember it, but you must’ve, because the next time you woke up, you weren’t in the debris of Izuku’s hideout, anymore - you didn’t seem to be anywhere. The lights were blinding for a second, fospheresent and white and searing, but the onslaught retreated as quickly as it attacked, disappearing completely as you remembered how to blink. If your body hurt before, it was even worse now, but the pain was at a distance, forced back by a translucent liquid and a handful of needles pumping the substance into your bloodstream, one drop at a time. You were tempted to rip them out, if only as a learned instinct, but a glance around the room revealed that you were in a medical bed, not on a cot, that the walls around you were white and speckled with dark blues and greens, rather that the dull grey you’d grown used to. It was a silent relief, not unexpected but certainly not unappreciated, the type that made you want to fall into the stiff mattress and sleep until you got used to the feeling of being able to, but you had a reason to stay awake. You had a reason to want to be awake.

Because someone was holding your hand.

Because Katsuki was holding your hand.

He was slumped against the arm of a sterile, poorly cushioned chair, his eyes nearly closed. He must’ve been here for a while - he was still wearing the essentials of his costume, but his mask had been discarded, as had his belt and his gauntlets, anything he didn’t need to sit by your bedside and fret over you. He looked exhausted, but he perked up as your fingers intertwined with his, a small smile spreading across his lips as he scanned over you.

His voice was raspy, obscure by sleep, but his tone was light, affectionate. You were thankful. That was all you needed him to be. “You took your fucking time.”

“So did you.” You might hold it against him, later on, but right now, you just wanted to settle onto your side and grin as Katsuki’s expression softened into something apologetic. “How long was I--”

“A little more than a day.” He must’ve gone over that a thousand times before you woke up. He wasn’t eager, but the speech was rehearsed, practiced, just bordering on scripted. “It’s just a minor concussion and a few fractures. Taking out Deku’s hideout was riskier than it should’ve been, but we couldn’t think of another way to separate him from his lackeys without putting civilians at risk. By the time we handled his lap dogs, you’d already collapsed.”

You hesitated, but you forced yourself to ask. You needed to know he wouldn’t come crawling back. You needed to know you hadn’t fallen to his level for nothing. “And Midoriya?”

“Died in the crash, as far as anyone can tell.” Katsuki took a deep breath, just a hint of regret finding its way into his disposition. It didn’t last long, though, dispelled with an heavy sigh. “It’s for the best. The sooner that motherfucker’s wiped off the face of the planet, the better. I was just hoping it wouldn’t be so…” He trailed off, running his free hand through his hair. “Would you believe me if I said I still thought he might not be so… fucked up, once we got him back?”

You wouldn’t. You’d spent weeks under Izuku’s thumb, tripping over yourself to keep him happy with you, spending every waking moment trying to please a sociopath, but that didn’t change the fact that he used to be Katsuki’s friend, that they’d grown up together, and that it’d been Katsuki’s fault they grew apart. You couldn’t answer, not in a way that would soothe his lingering doubts, But, he didn’t seem to need you to. Before you could think of something to say, he was already shrugging it off, shaking his head as he turned towards you. “I can’t keep focusing on shit like that, though. You’re back, and you’re safe, and that’s all that matters to me.”

You let yourself relax, melting into your pillow as Katsuki bent over the side of your bed, pushing a light, delicate kiss into your temple. “I’m just glad I got out of there,” You admitted. Katsuki only nodded in acknowledgement, nimble fingers beginning to comb through your disheveled hair. “I can’t wait to see everyone again, it feels like years since I’ve talked to someone besides Midoriya. Mina’s going to smother me, and Denki -- Wait, do you think I still have a job? They can’t fire me for getting abducted, right?”

You felt Katsuki stiffen. It took him a second to respond, just long enough to let you know something was wrong. “I… I don’t think you should head back to work, just yet.”

“Well, yeah, I’m still in a hospital gown,” You laughed, attempting to ignore his sudden seriousness. “But eventually, I’ll have to--”

“I don’t think you should go back at all.” If he was reluctant before, he’d gotten over it. Reflexively, you pushed yourself up, your arms shaking under the strain, but Katsuki was quick to backtrack, to flinch away and curse under his breath, cupping your cheek as he urged you to hear him out. “I know you’re probably dyin’ for things to go back to the way they used to be, and I know I’m being selfish, but… You were kidnapped, (Y/n), by a villain. Deku was the worst ‘em, but he wasn’t the only one. There’s probably hundreds of-- thousands of people out there who’d be willing to rip your heart out, if it means getting back to me. I don’t know if it’d be able to take it, if you wanted to risk that. I don’t know if it’d be able to let you risk that. I...” He forced himself to stop, to take a steading breath. “I just want to keep you safe. I need you to let me keep you safe.”

Huh.

It hurt a lot less than you thought it would.

It was the numbing sort of shock, a cold wave of a scenario you’d imagined (albeit, one you’d never liked) plenty of times coming to fruition. Part of you thought Katsuki might burst out laughing, that he might be joking, but Katsuki didn’t move to back down, didn’t move to do anything but stare. It made sense. He hadn’t known if you were dead or alive for a month, and Katsuki was the type to get nervous when you went more than a day without seeing him in person. He’d probably been worried sick. He’d probably been pulling his own hair out. He’d probably been… What was it Izuku said, when he was first warning you about Katsuki?

He’d probably been ready to lock you away somewhere so deep and somewhere so dark, you’d be lucky to ever see sunlight again. As long as it meant you were protected.

That didn’t mean you wanted to be locked away, though.

It was all you could do to keep your voice from shaking. You didn’t want Katsuki to lie to you just because he thought you might start crying, if he didn’t. “What happens if I don’t let you?”

He could only frown, the calloused pad of his thumb rubbing over your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you, angel.”

He didn’t want to. He’d never want to. Even if he did, even if he didn’t regret it, he’d never want to.

That already made him better than Izuku.

The slow, muted beat of the heart-monitor began to race as you leaped towards Katsuki, nearly falling off of your bed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him against you burying your face in his chest, allowing Katsuki to tentatively pull you closer, too. You could’ve called for a nurse. You could’ve screamed. You could’ve done something to put yourself at arm’s length from anyone who wanted to keep you cornered and caged, but you didn’t want to do something, you couldn’t want that. You loved Katsuki. You loved him, and you’d missed him, and the only thing you wanted to do was fall into his arms and let him take care of you, regardless of how paranoid he’d gotten. You just wanted to know he’d be there, if someone like Izuku ever came after you again.

Everything else was a small price to pay, if he could just give you that.

“Please.” You didn’t try to hide your vulnerability, anymore, you didn’t try to hide anything. Tears were already clouding your vision, something jagged and tight burrowing into the back of your throat with every word, every painful thought. Katsuki moved to speak, to comfort you, but you didn’t let him. You didn’t want to be comforted.

You just wanted to feel safe.

"I just want to go home.”

273 notes · View notes

sevilemar · 2 years

Note

Just wondering, do you know any examples of storage-bunker snakes in media?

Those cheating bastards [affectionate]? Wouldn't give them the time of day even if I knew some 😉.

Seriously, I have thought about this for a few weeks now, and I haven't found one. I think it's difficult enough to find one in the wild, or diagnose yourself as one; in fiction, you'd probably call them snake secs with bird models, or outright birds.

I am probably also the last person to ask the kind of questions that rely on having watched a lot (or even a normal amount) of movies or tv, and retained enough of the few I did watch to sort them retrospectively. I have only watched very few movies or tv when I was growing up, didn't even get into it as a teenager, and have only had a tv for about two years of my adult life. I don't like movies, I prefer the tv series storytelling format. From the few movies and tv series I have seen, I have forgotten most relevant details that would help me sort characters from memory.

I'm sorry nonny; maybe someone else can help out?

#sortinghatchats #snake secondary #storage bunker snake #ask answers

4 notes · View notes

swift--fox · 3 years

Text

top-secret beans

A/N: I am absolutely UNHINGED right now. I don’t know what’s going on. I took my meds with an energy drink so maybe that’s why. Anyway! Have this piece of incoherent fluff and pining. I pulled this out of my ass in about an hour and 10 minutes so, uh, keep that in mind.

P/N: @pissbabydean wrote me a thing, and I HATE HER (affectionate). THIS IS A MASTERPEICE. I had to take breaks every few sentences because I could feel Dean second hand. The poor boy forced to come to terms with his feelings. He’s so in denial that he doesn’t even THINK about it until it slips out, I love him, and I love YOU.

“‘I’m Dean Winchester, and I’m looking for the Devil’s son’? Seriously, Dean, what the hell was all that about?” Sam hissed. Dean was gazing dumbfounded at the tiled floor

Truth be told, Dean wanted to stay silent. Or maybe spit out some sarcastic remark. But, a weird tingly pressure began building behind his chest and spread to his head. He was blurting the words before he processed them.

“No friggin’ clue,” He answered, and it was the truth. Oh.

The truth.

Shit.

Sam was just as quick on the uptake, seemingly, and he regarded Dean carefully. The hint of a smile was tugging at his upper lip and a smug expression settled on his face.

“Uh-huh…tell me, Dean; what’s your favorite Disney movie?”

Sam was enjoying this, the little shit. Dean glared at him and opened his mouth to tell him to cram it, but when his mouth started forming the title of what was, indeed, his favorite Disney movie, he clamped his traitorous lips shut.

“Sorry, what was that?” Sam was positively giddy.

There was that pressure again, increasing tenfold with every breath he took.

“Rapunzel! It’s Rapunzel, but I like Brave too, Merida’s a badass.” He blurted, stuffing a fist into his mouth a little too late. Sam threw his head back and laughed.

“I knew it! I knew you loved Disney princess movies, dude.”

Dean glared and removed the bony appendage from his mouth. Two could play at this game.

“Oh, yeah? Who’s your favorite singer, Sammy?” Dean waggled his eyebrows. Sam pursed his lips and struggled for a moment before choking out his answer, the answer Dean actually believed - not Elvis.

“C-Celine Dion.”

Dean cackled and slapped his little brother on the shoulder.

“Keep bein’ you, Sam!” He chuckled. Sam pulled a bitchface and shuffled where he stood, fixing Dean in a look that made his stomach churn nervously. It meant that he was about to have Dean beat.

“Okay, Dean. What’s your favorite thing?”

Dean was taken aback by this question. Well, that was easy. Pie, sex, porn, burgers; take your pick. This was nothing new, so he opened his mouth to let whatever…hex, curse that was making people tell the truth to take its pick. His money was on pie.

“When Cas tickles me,”

Wait. That was a few words too many for any of those options.

WAIT.

Dean froze and squeezed his eyes shut, his insides felt like there was an electric mixer going mashing them to pulp. He swallowed and didn’t dare look over at Sam, and then there was a shriek - a war cry.

Suddenly, office supplies were being chucked across the room, people screaming and shouting at each other while they hurled debris at each other - some people even started going at it toe-to-toe. Their previous awkwardness forgotten - Sam and Dean exchanged a look and booked it through the building, slipping into the first empty room with a door they could find. They slammed said door shut and barricaded themselves inside with a chair, the warfare going on in the main building still painfully audible.

—

Well, that day had been a trip - to say the least. Chuck showed up with Cas and Jack in the conference room Dean and Sam had been holed up in - explaining to Jack that people needed to lie to keep the peace. Unnerving coming from God, but what else was new.

Now, they were back at the bunker, things were sorted out. Well, for the most part.

In the chaos of things, Dean had blissfully forgotten about his little Freudian slip to his brother. Sam, on the other hand, had not.

“So…Dean. Back there, uh-”

“No idea what you’re talkin’ about,” Dean interrupted forcefully, casting Sam a warning look. Sam - the bastard - ignored him. He let out a long suffering-sigh and sat on the table beside Dean, running a hand through his hair.

“You gonna tell him, or do I have to?” He asked tiredly, as if this was his chore to carry out. Dean pushed away from the war table with an obnoxious and abrupt scraping sound.

“You’re imagining things, Sammy, maybe Jack’s spell had some side-effects.” He shrugged.

“You can’t just not tell him, dude. It’s not even…I mean, not that it’s any of my-I wish I didn’t know about this, but-”

“So, butt-out, Sam. I’m not gonna tell you again.”

He spun around and planned to retreat to his room and break into his shitty liquor stash. Then, there was a warm hand on his shoulder and he was facing Sam again.

“Cas deserves to know, both of you deserve to- shit, I don’t know! Be happy, something.” Sam practically begged, exasperated. But, this was Dean. He knew him better than anyone - maybe with the exception of Cas - Dean did not do the whole spill-your-guts-and-hope-for-the-best spiel. But Sam couldn’t take any more of this stupid fucking pining and bickering, from either of them.

“Know…what, exactly?” A deep voice inquired from behind them.

Dean tensed up under his hand, and Sam stilled. He almost felt guilty, inadvertently putting Dean on the spot like this. Then again, how else could he get Dean to confess?

“I’ll let you guys talk. Jack and I will go get…dinner,” Sam offered in lieu of an awkward wave and a half walk/half jog back to his room. He motioned for the fawny, floppy-haired kid to follow after him as they did that same half-walk/half-jog up the stairs and out the bunker door.

Castiel approached Dean slowly, doing his stupid adorable little head tilt.

“Dean?” He asked, eyes wide with concern and curiosity. Dean swore under his breath and turned to Cas. His friend. His best friend, and he thought - how could he tell him? How could he risk ruining what they had by weirding him out?

And then he remembered that this was Cas. Cas wouldn’t judge him for something like this. The tinny voice of logic that tingled in the back of his mind told him, Cas probably already knew. He did ‘grip him tight and raise him from perdition’ (Chuck help him, he couldn’t say the phrase without doing it in Cas’s voice) which included, essentially, letting Dean’s soul hitch a ride in Cas’s grace. AKA that pretty, glowy-blue stuff that lets Castiel read minds and thoughts.

And shit, Dean was an idiot, because of course Cas fucking knows. Of course, he knows, and that’s why he does it so much. Not because he thinks it’s fascinating, not because he’s still grappling with humanity and all of its nuances and quirks. He knows and he still does it.

He loves Cas so fucking much.

“I. Um. Truth spell…spilled some pretty top-secret beans to Sammy. The-It, uh, involves you.” He muttered, scuffing his boots against the hardwood floor. Castiel squinted and got a closer - just a step forward, barely anything at all, but it felt like he could feel Cas’s warmth radiating from him.

“What were these ‘beans’?” He asked, deadly serious - he was so sincere, Dean didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He ended up doing a little bit of both.

He was wiping at his damp eyes with a self-deprecating chuckle when he finally looked up to meet Cas’s probing gaze. Probing, yeah, but it was okay. It wasn’t…invasive. Just curious. Just Cas.

“I…like it. When you, uh…t’ck’e m’.” Dean murmured the last part into his hand, pretending to wipe at his face.

“What?”

Cas had heard. Dean knew he’d heard - he was an angel, for fuck’s sake.

“I like it when you tickle me, okay?! I know-I know i-it’s weird…or whatever…but…”

Dean trailed off, because suddenly Cas was in his personal space, warm breath puffing onto his chin. The look on Castiel’s face made his heart melt. The fondness, the warmth, the love; it was tangible. It settled like a warm pull of good whiskey in his belly and made him tingly from his fingertips to his toes.

“I know,” Cas murmured, a smile ghosting his lips. Then, there were hands on his waist and he was folding himself over in laughter, smushing his face into the fabric swathed shoulder infront of him, giggling into the beige fabric while he was taken apart methodically, gently, and lovingly.

Lovingly. Because maybe this was what love felt like. And he was scared of it, just like he was scared of telling Cas.

He decided not to worry about it, for now, giving himself over to the zinging electricity that flitted under his skin, losing himself to laughter and fingers that knew just how to reduce him to a puddle of bubbly laughter.

From then on, the bunker was seldom quiet - lit up by Dean’s bright and shrieking fits of giggles and cackles. Sam couldn’t even find it in himself to be annoyed - at least they weren’t pining anymore.

#submission #Destiel #dean being a dumbass #deancas #sam stuck in the cross fire #again #the poor man #tickling #ticklish!dean #soft!dean #cas knows #dean knows cas knows #this is amazing #and im crying #theyre so sweet #they love eachother #and you kill me

28 notes · View notes

1000roughdrafts · 4 years

Text

Downtime

Square filled: Sex Pollen

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Explicit 18+ / Warnings: language (y/n in this is quite crude and has a mouth on her lol), self-stimulation/masturbation/fingering, smut, vaginal penetration, fluff,

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: incorporating a card from Kink Poker Poker Card: A♠ (Masturbation, “Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”) from KinkPoker

Created for @spnkinkbingo

Hunting witches drug you and Dean across eight different states in a matter of three weeks. Three fucking weeks. No hunt had ever taken so long, and it left you feeling incredibly frustrated, drained, and even incompetent. The bitch was leaving bread crumbs that lead absolutely nowhere, and that was no mistake. No, she knew exactly what she was doing.

You affectionately nicknamed the first location ‘Ghost Town Fucking Georgia’. You stormed into an abandoned building, guns loaded with witch killing bullets and ready for a fight, only to find a deserted altar with the candles still burning. This last location, Miserable Motherfucking Missouri, you walked into a greenhouse; no witches, just a shit ton of flowers.

Sam stayed at the bunker with Eileen, with the promise that he’d look further into the case and keep you posted, and you wouldn’t call him after midnight unless it was an emergency. After working non-stop, you needed a break, so Dean and you decided to take two days and one night off; get some drinks, relax, and get right back to it in the morning.

Right now, you couldn’t even fucking think straight. Not with this - out of nowhere - evocative feeling breathing down your neck. And with the exhaustion that plagues you, you can’t bring yourself to give a shit about the mix up with the motel’s front desk about the bed situation.

“Looks like we’re finally gonna sleep together,” jokes Dean, but you find no humor in it. Not when you’re feeling the way you have been since stumbling upon the witch’s science experiment.

“God, I wish Sam were here right now,” you mutter under your breath, kicking off your shoes and leaving them by the door. He would definitely know what to do about this mystery plant.

“What, don’t like me anymore, Y/N?” Dean says, lips curled up to one side in an intoxicating smirk. Wait, you think, intoxicating? What the fuck is wrong with me?

You turn your body away from him, trying to place your attention on anything but Dean’s allure. He drops onto the bed, letting his bag fall to the side as he lay back. When you don’t offer a reply, he sits up, rolling his eyes at seeing you at the desk, papers spread out in front of you.

Even as you’re facing away from him you can somehow still feel his every move as he stands from the bed. From his calloused, yet gentle hands setting down next to him as they lift the rest of his enticing, muscular body , to the way his musk of a long day’s work wafts from him.

“I thought we were gonna take some time off,” he criticizes, setting his hands on your shoulders and squeezing them tenderly.

Your eyes shut involuntarily, and you accidentally let out a soft, and thankfully unnoticed, moan. Clearing your throat, you roll your shoulders back to knock his hands from them.

“Don’t... don’t do that,” you plead. “I’m just trying to figure out what this plant is.”

“Why?” he asks, moving back to sit on the bed, seemingly indifferent to your rejection. Right. Why does that even bother you?

“Why what?” you ask, distracted by his smell.

“Jeeze, Y/N, I know it’s been a while since you’ve had some shut eye, but it’s like your brain is shutting down,” he chuckles, “why are you looking into that plant? There were hundreds,” he says with a shrug. “It was a distraction, another ploy, a wild fucking goose chase.”

Wiping a bead of sweat from your brow, you stutter, “I just... I find this one interesting, that’s all.”

“Come on, it’s one in the morning. I don’t need you wakin’ me up getting into bed at six when you can’t figure it out.”

Without removing your eyes from the picture on your phone, you mutter, “you wouldn’t wake up if the room caught fire, Dean. You’ll survive.”

Coming to stand next to you, his presence feels magnetizing, like you’re full of static electricity, hair standing on end and needy for him to touch you, to release the built up energy.

“Dean, could you not-” you sigh, shoulders dropping as you let out the breath. “Could you please not stand so close? You’re making me feel... uncomfortable,” you squeak, shifting in your seat when you feel that intimate slick of arousal in your underwear. ‘Uncomfortable’ is a good way to put the way you feel, but not for the reasons he might think.

“You’ve never felt that way around me before,” he says, almost insulted. Ugh, I can’t help it! God, why can’t I help it?

“I know, I know, it’s just,” you force yourself to look at him, “I just-”

“Y/N, you’re sweating,” he interrupts, placing a hand on your forehead, “and you’re hot as hell. Are you okay?”

“Can you just go to bed, Dean?” you grumble, jerking your body away from his touch and extending your arm straight to point at the bed. “I’m fine, and you’re kind of annoying me right now.”

“I’m not even doing anything!” he retorts, arms thrown in the air, “fuck. What’s your problem?” he growls. “When was the last time you got some? ‘Cause you’re being a real bitch tonight.”

The two of you had been in many fights over your five years of friendship, but him raising his voice like this has never given you the feeling it does right now. The gruffness in his quiet shouts only makes you crave more, to have him degrade you while you ride his dick for hours.

You shake your head, trying to send the thoughts away. It’s not happening.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Puts you on edge, leaves you keyed up, jumpy,” the gruff has dropped from his voice, and he stands to grab a beer from the small fridge. “Besides, we’ve been glued to the fucking hip since we started this lost cause of a case, so Lord knows I need it, too,” he says, bringing the neck of the bottle to his lips.

You groan, “ugh, can we not talk about sex right now, Dean?” I need to open a window, or take a walk.

Dean grips onto the arms of the chair from behind you, whirling it around to face him. He has you cornered with his arms on either side of you as he stares you down with squinted eyes. You would do anything to avoid this rousing eye contact, but you can’t pull away.

“What’s goin’ on with you? Did something happen back there that you’re not telling me?”

You open your mouth to, yes, feed him a lie, but the sharp bastard catches it before it comes out.

With a tsk and a quick tilt of his head, he brings a finger up, just inches away from your nose. “Ah ah, no ma’am,” he says, dropping to a crouch in front of you. “I want the truth. Now.”

Feeling yourself get even wetter than before, you bring your eyes into your lap. Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you throw your hands onto your cheeks in hopes of cooling them down.

“Is it hot in here? It’s pretty hot in here, right?” you say, dropping your hands and quickly standing to rush past him for the window.

You allow the crisp breeze to hit the fire you feel on your face and close your eyes as you revel in the short, but sweet, release from this ravenous and almost uncontrollable desire to fuck your best friend.

At first it’s his finger that you feel, wrapping around your elbow, and then his palm as he closes his grip on your arm, and why is everything seemingly moving in slow motion?

He flips you around and grips onto both of your arms tightly, and you’ll be damned if you didn’t at least try to hold in that moan.

His lips pursed, head tilted curiously. He drops his hands and takes a step back, letting your arms drop to your sides as he lets go.

“Did you just... did you just moan?” Oh God, oh God, he looks disgusted. Or is that intrigue??

Covering your face again, you let out a groan and push your knees together, trying to release some of this tension.

“Yes,” you sheepishly admit, letting out a whine in frustration. “I don’t know what happened! Like, an hour after we left the greenhouse, I started to feel...” you trail off.

“Horny?” he asks with a faint smirk. You can only nod, keeping your eyes on the floor. “Well, there’s ways to take care of that, but I’ll tell you right now, it’s not by doing homework.”

“Yeah, except I’m pretty sure the fucking plant is to blame.” You think for a moment, “you know who would know what to do? Sam. And I know what I promised him, but I think this qualifies as an emergency. Don’t you? Yeah, this is definitely an emergency. I can not be stuck in this room, feeling this way, with you loo-” you throw an arm at him in gesture, accidentally meeting eyes with him as the last word nearly slipped from your lips.

Hoping he wouldn’t press the matter, you grab your phone off of the desk and search for Sam’s contact.

Dean’s presence even more alluring now, he grips onto your arm and runs his hand down to your wrist, grabbing the phone and setting it back on the desk.

“’Loo-’ what?”

“No, nothing, Winchester. We’ve been friends for way too long, I’m not about to do anything to jeopardize that.”

“Well, that’s both of our decision to make, don’t you think?” he says, “how are you feeling right now, anyway?” he asks like he already knows the answer, but is just waiting to hear you say it out loud.

You sigh heavily. Just give it up. “I feel like if I don’t fuck someone soon, I’m gonna die.”

He laughs, softly but heartily. “It’s not funny, asshole,” you say, trying to lighten the mood with a chuckle, but your dripping pussy clenches at the vibration, and you’re right back to square one.

“It’s been a while for both of us, you know,” he says, trailing off.

“I’m listening,” you urge.

“And... obviously you’re a little bit more in need than I am,” he chuckles, “but we both need this, right?” You nod quickly, “and we both... want this, right?” he asks, an eyebrow raised.

Ah, there it is, you think, my knight in shining fucking armor, asking for consent.

“I’ve never anted anything more, Dean,” you say in a whisper, taking a slow step towards him.

“For how long?” he questions, face scrunched up in intrigue.

“For about six hours. Clothes off. Now,” you snap your fingers and point to the bed.

“Woah, woah,” he chuckles, “slow your roll baby cakes. I’m not doing anything unless I get your permission. I don’t want you regretting all this in the morni-”

“This isn’t a fucking contract, Dean,” you shout. “It’s sex. You down? Cause I might just go to that bar we passed and-”

“Get on the bed,” he demands.

Smiling, you waste no time in removing all of your clothes and lay on the bed. Running your hands across your breasts and down your stomach, you focus on keeping them above your belly button.

“Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch,” he says, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, drawing back the sleeves.

“Excuse me?” you say, springing up to sit straight, your hands planted behind you on the bed to hold you up.

He casually walks to sit in the chair. Resting his forearms on the arms of the chair, he leans back slightly. “I’m serious, Y/N.” You stay silent, mouth agape at the surprise, “look, you want this? Prove it.”

Scoffing, you scoot down to the edge of the bed. “I won’t lie to you, Dean, I kind of like it when you boss me around,” you say setting your fingertips on his cheek, caressing his face as you bring your hand around to the back of his neck.

He grips onto your wrist, but leaves it. Without moving his head, his darkening eyes turn to yours, “then prove it.”

“Fine,” you chirp. Leaning back and supporting your upper body with one elbow, you pull your feet as close to your ass as you can, exposing all of you to his viewing pleasure.

Eyes glued to his, you place two fingers on top of your clit, walking them back and forth and moving slowly down to your entrance. As you flick that sweet spot just below your clit, you watch as Dean’s eyes trail down from yours. They slowly roll down your naked chest, soaking up every detail of you and stopping to watch your fingers as the thrust inside of you.

The way his eyes widen in lust only intensifies your libido. You throw your head back, arching your back as you continue to fuck yourself, needing for your fingers to go deeper. You feel a stir in your core as you’re slowly climbing towards your orgasm, but as soon as you feel that rise it escapes you.

You growl in frustration bringing your head back to face Dean. Pulling your hand from yourself, you smile when Dean tilts his head.

Without saying a word, you scoot to the edge of the bed and let your legs fall between Dean’s. You work his belt, quickly unbuttoning it before unzipping his pants. He lets out a sigh, moaning as you pad his growing dick over his boxers.

His hands fly on top of you breasts, massaging them gently before bringing his fingers to your nipples. You let out a moan when he pinches them, temporarily stalled in your attempt to undress him.

With his fingers gripping onto the elastic of his pants, he stands and pushes them, along with his boxers, down to his feet. He leans to press his lips against yours in an intense kiss, surprising the both of you at the jolt of it. You stall for a moment, your lips frozen against his as your mind catches up to what you’re doing.

When you feel that stir once again, you drop your thoughts and leave them behind as you fiercely kiss him back. With his palms against your chest, he starts to gently push you back onto the bed, but you pull away.

He looks at you curiously, but before he can question if you want to go further, you place your hands on the bottom of his shirt and pull it over his head. Putting your hands on his chest, you push him back into the chair. A smile forms on his lips as it rolls back and hits the desk, causing you both to giggle before you place a knee to one side of him.

You keep your eyes on his as you bring your other leg up. Dropping down onto him, you use your hand to guide his cock inside of you. Both of you let out a voiceless moan as his thickening member fills you. Your eyes shut as you let out another lust filled moan, and your head tilts back as you lift yourself just a bit.

Using the arm chairs to hold yourself up, your back arches as you get him to hit your sweet spot. He puts his hands to the small of your back, pulling your chest against his as you ride him. With your hands now on his shoulders, you grip onto him, using them to add more power to your grind.

Both of you now breathless, the moans come out as croaking pleas for more. His legs straighten out to give you more room to work, so his hands tighten around your shoulder blades to hold you up. He pulls you up and down on top of him, and heat swarms your back where his fingers dig into you, but it only serves to excite you more.

“Fuck,” you groan, and in hearing your voice, he lets out a low growl, letting his head fall back against the desk. “Oh my god,” you cry, dropping your lips onto his neck.

You only mean to leave pleasurable kisses in a trail to his mouth, but the harder he pounds into you, the more vocal he is, the more your teeth dig into his skin. He hisses at the pain, but doesn’t ask you to stop. Rather, he lowers his hands to get a better grip of you and starts to pull you down onto him as he pumps inside of you.

His name escapes your lips in multiple syllables as you bounce on him. Your legs begin to shake as the earth shattering orgasm hits you. Your mouth freezes on his neck, open but no longer baring any teeth as you squeak out an airy moan. Thrusting into you a few more times he lets out his own deep moan, filling you with hot cum as you collapse on top of him.

A few silent moments pass, and to you it feels like hours. You keep your face in the crook of his neck as the both of you catch your breath. With wide eyes you stare at the floor, wondering what the hell you’ve just gotten yourself into.

This doesn’t have to change anything, right? You think, trying to convince yourself that things can easily go back to normal. This doesn’t mean things are different, you affirm.

You presume Dean feels a similar confusion, as his hands haven’t moved from your back, nor has he spoken a word. Fear of facing him is overpowered by the numbness that fills your thighs from the position, so you slowly lift your upper body to take a peak at his face.

His eyes are closed, and a slight smile rests on his lips. Before you can think about anything else, you draw your face closer to his, and plant a soft, affectionate kiss on his lips. When you pull away, his eyes open and oscillate between yours.

“What’cha thinking about?” you ask him.

He keeps his eyes on yours, carefully calculating a response. “About how absolutely amazing you are,” he chuckles, lightly blushing.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re just saying that cause I fucked you,” you laugh, lifting your body up to stand down from the chair. You suddenly feel embarrassed to be naked around him. A heat fills your cheeks, and you turn your body away from him to walk towards the bathroom.

Grabbing a hand towel you clean yourself up and look into the mirror at your sweaty face, the way your hair frizzed up and flies to and fro. Chuckling at the appearance you straighten your hair out just a bit and walk back into the room.

Dean, still naked, lies on the bed on his chest. His arms rest under the pillow as his head is turned in your direction. Smiling when he sees you, he lifts his head up just a bit.

“Should we-” you start, pausing to clear your throat. “Should we talk about what just happened?” you sheepishly ask.

He pushes himself up with a soft groan, sitting on the edge of the bed as you walk over to him. “What’s there to talk about?” he shrugs with a smile, “you were sick and I cured you,” he jokes, but with the thoughts that circle in your mind, you find no humor in it. The smile drops from his lips when you don’t respond. He grips onto your wrists, causing you to look down at him. “See, this is what I was talking about,” he starts, and you detect a shakiness in his voice that you can’t help but to latch onto.

Is that... hurt?

Your eyebrows furrow, and you shake your head, “no, Dean, it’s not that,” you say, pulling yourself from his hands to sit next to him on the bed. He rotates his body to face you. “I don’t regret it. I just-” you stop, letting your eyes fall onto the floor. “What if we-” you sigh, reminding yourself that this is your best friend. He’s the only person you’ve ever felt comfortable sharing every intimate detail of yourself, even prior to tonight. He’s been there for you through thick and thin, and if you could get through everything you have been, surely you can overcome telling him how you feel.

You turn your body to face him, grabbing onto his hands. “I just need to get something off of my chest, and I’m sure we could talk more about this later. I don’t want to spring anything on you, especially with everything that’s going on, and the fact that with the life we live we don’t get to make these kinds of decisions often. I mean, you’ve said so yourself, we don’t get a happy ending-”

“Y/N, what are you saying?” he interrupts with wide eyes. You haven’t a clue how long he’s been rubbing your finger against your thumb, but you zone into it. Does he even know that he’s doing that? Is it on purpose? Does this just come with sex with a Winchester?

Your mind reels, heart pounding in your chest as you remind yourself that he’s always been a safe space for you, someone you could talk to about anything, so you take a deep breath.

“Dean, I felt something when you kissed me,” you say, letting out a breath of relief as the words finally spill out. “I know we’ve been friends for a long time, and I really truly meant what I said about not wanting to ruin that, and I don’t know if you felt it, too, but what if?” you leave it open to let him decide what should come after the ‘if’.

His hand slips from under yours and he cups your chin, bringing your face to level with his. A smile dances on his lips as if he can’t decide whether he should keep it or not. His opposite hand finds a spot on your cheek and he uses his thumb to rub a soft circle on your face before letting his hand trail to your ear.

He puts a stray hair behind your ear and brings his face closer to yours. Your breath hitches in your throat and you keep your eyes on him, anticipating his every move, but wondering if this is one of his sick, practical jokes. But he doesn’t stop. The hand under your chin cups around your throat as his lips clash against yours. You open your mouth to the kiss, scooting closer as his hand slides down your throat and onto your chest.

When he pulls away, he plants his eyes on yours, smiling brightly.

“Is that a... yes?” you say, holding back your smile until he can say the words aloud.

He nods, and you let out a breath, the smile forming on your lips as you pull him in for another kiss.

“We can talk about it more in the morning,” he says, scooting back to fluff his pillow. Motioning for you to lay next to him, he says, “for now, lets get some sleep.”

Still wearing a smile, you lean over to shut the lamp off before cuddling up next to him. Your heart pounds in your chest as you rest your head against his. As the excitement fades out, sleep fades in, and you find yourself falling asleep in each other’s arms for the first time, wondering what the future holds for the two of you.

PermaTags<3 @waywardblueshun @81mysteriouslyme @drakelover78 @soab1967 @shutupandfeedmethings @pollywantacracker666 @sonnierae26 @obsessed5sosfreak @tlovescoffee @flamencodiva

Dean Queens<3 @akshi8278 @squirrelnotsam @laxe-from-outer-space

(if your tag is in bold, tumblr won’t let me link your profile, sorry :( )

468 notes · View notes

geekthefreakout · 3 years

Text

Miracle

Dean never thought he’d get a dog.

Hell, there had been a time after Hell when the sound of barking sent him into panic attacks. But now, here he was, with one sweet, shaggy pooch. Miracle.

Miracle was a good dog. Affectionate, playful, discerning in his tastes (he liked Dean’s memory foam mattress as well as his bacon). He had deep, soulful eyes and a steady presence. And, of course, he didn’t hunt. He stayed safely behind at the bunker for hunts, checked in on by Eileen, or Charlie when Eileen wasn’t available, while he and Sam went to take out whatever monster they’d tracked down that week. He greeted them enthusiastically when they returned. He stayed.

And the hunts were coming in less often-- Dean often wondered if that was Jack’s doing, or if hunts only seemed less prevalent in comparison to the insanity that had been their lives for the last decade or so. It made Dean edgy, even as Sam had begun to relax and spend more time canoodling with Eileen while pretending they were doing research. So Dean spent a lot of time with Miracle, who stayed faithfully at his side as he searched for hunts or worked on Baby or even turned on a show in the Dean Cave.

Miracle was there when Dean lurched awake from a dream about his angel being engulfed in black ooze. He was there when Dean paced the length and width of the bunker, looking for either the ooze or for Cas or both. He was there when Dean drank until he couldn’t feel the desperate ache in his chest where Cas was supposed to be. Miracle was there to lick Dean’s face until he woke up when he passed out.

Sam tried to be there too, of course he did. Dean’s little brother didn’t have to be told the details of Cas’ death to know Dean was suffering his loss. He tried to be encouraging.

“I’m sure Jack is gonna get him out of it, Dean. He’ll come back. Cas always comes back to us- to you.” Sam squeezed his shoulder.

“You should pray to him.” Eileen signed before following Sam to bed.

Dean prayed, once. There was no answer. Miracle pressed his soft, wet nose into his hand, and Dean ran his fingers through the shaggy fur. Miracle stayed. Dean didn’t drink.

Miracle listened to the whispered mutterings about Cas, about how that stupid bastard had dared to tell Dean he loved him and then just left. How he had somehow, stupidly thought that Dean didn’t love him back. How Dean hadn’t said anything back, *how could he have not said anything back* and--

Sometimes Dean would start hyperventilating. Sometimes in bed, sometimes at the computer. Once halfway back to his room from the bathroom, he slid down to sit against the wall as he gasped sobs into his hands. Every time, Miracle would find him and press his warm, furry body against Dean’s side, his snout finding his way under Dean’s arms to press against his face.

“Good boy.” He’d whisper hoarsely. “Good boy, Miracle.”

They fell into a routine. Miracle would bound onto Dean’s bed in the morning, demanding to be walked. Dean would get up. Sam would make breakfast, and always burn the toast. Eileen would make the coffee, because according to her only she could do it properly. Dean would drink water when he set some out for the dog, would eat when the others did.

Miracle was not overly fond of the smell of alcohol. He licked one of Dean’s beer bottles once and had been whining and passing his paws over his nose for several minutes after. Dean tried to curb his drinking around the dog after that.

Sam and Eileen went on increasingly long runs that Dean was growing increasingly convinced were more for romance than for wellness. Dean went outside to walk Miracle four times a day when there were no hunts. Sometimes they jogged. Sometimes they sat on a hill near the bunker and looked at the sky and the grass, and Dean’s eyes would trace the path of a honey bee going from flower to flower and tell Miracle about that time Cas had shown up naked and covered in the insects.

He doesn’t let himself hope that Cas will come home to him. But the first time Miracle digs up some weeds, Dean gently pulls him away and plants flowers in their place. Cas would like them, he knows. Before long, between Miracle’s (targeted) digging and Dean’s planting, there is a respectable garden going. Dean thinks about how Cas would harvest some of the vegetables for “sandwiches of solidarity” if (when) he came back, and he smiles.

Five months after Jack became God, the boy materializes in the bunker. Castiel is at his side, and they both have identical smiles.

“Sorry it took so long,” Jack says after Sam has hugged them both. “The Empty is, um... a difficult customer. But we worked something out.”

“Jack did wonderfully. Has been doing wonderfully.” Cas’ voice is full of pride for his son. Then his too-blue eyes find Dean’s. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean stares.

Miracle barks once, and nudges Dean’s hand with his nose.

And then Dean is running the short distance up to Cas and throwing his arms around him, chanting his name like a prayer.

“You came back.” He murmurs, his hands passing over Cas’s shoulders and cupping his face. “You came back to me.”

Cas covered Dean’s hands with his own. “I always do, Dean. As long as you want me.” His face grew serious. “Do you want--”

“I want you to stay.” Dean said immediately. “You better fucking stay, Cas, I swear to God--”

“I think I’d prefer people didn’t swear to me either.” Jack says thoughtfully, and then Dean is wrapping his arms around him too.

“This is your home.” He says firmly. “You can be God and have a home here too.”

Jack smiles again, and Miracle is dancing around this big, reunited family, his tail wagging like it would never stop, barking happily.

“This is Miracle.” Dean informs Cas, remembering with a pang that Cas had never met him.

“Yes, he is.” Cas agrees. Then he holds his hand out to Dean. “I understand that he helped you plant a garden. Will you show me?”

Dean takes Cas’ hand, and he does.

#miracle the dog #spn spoilers #destiel #sam writes stuff #sam drops a fluff bomb #not sure i like this one much #but i love that dog

15 notes · View notes

neerasrealm · 4 years

Text

All of my unpublished Slenjack fics

All of them. Since I began writing about these two in May. This is four months of drabbles. I tried to put them in chronological order and some of them have iffy canonicity. Please enjoy. If there’s typos pls ignore them thanks.

Thunder

Slender wished his bunker was deeper underground. They were safe down there, yes, but he could still hear things from above ground loud and clear. Specifically the irritating whistling noise made by falling bombs before the loud rumbling boom that seemed to shake the ground above him.

He looked up at the ceiling once the shaking had died down. He briefly glanced at the only other person in the bunker, Laughing Jack, then back down at his book. Then he looked back at Jack.

He was sat on thei- Slender, Slender's bed, staring at the ceiling. He looked to be breathing shakily, eyes glued to the concrete above their heads as he gripped the bed's blanket tightly in his bony black fingers. Slender heard another whistling noise, and saw Jack tense. There was another rumbling boom and the monochrome clown let out a quiet whine of fear. He quickly hugged himself, screwing his eyes shut.

He watched, taken aback. He'd never known Jack to get so scared- save for when he had nightmares. He heard another telltale whistle, and before he could think about it, he crossed the bunker and sat down next to Jack. He wrapped an arm around the clown and pulled him close. Jack's eyes opened in surprise. He looked up at Slender for a moment before the inevitable boom came from above them. Jack made a small yelp of surprise and quickly wrapped his arms around Slender, burying his face in his chest.

Slender tensed for a moment. He heard Jack inhale shakily and he relented, rubbing his back slowly.

"...'m scared've thunder." Jack said after a long, long silence. Slender looked down in surprise. "Dunno why. I's jus' always freaked me ou'."

"I see." Slender rubbed circles into Jack's back. He responded by slowly running his sharp nails down Slender's hips. Goosebumps broke out beneath his touch. He could feel Jack's warm breath against his chest as he slowed his breathing.

"...I think they've stopped." Slender said after a few minutes- or maybe it was only moments. He wasn't sure of how long a second was anymore. Not with Jack happily snuggled against him.

"Yeah?" Jack didn't seem to be planning on moving from his position. Slender hesitated, then wrapped his other arm around him.

Housing

Another book finished.

Slender closed what he was reading and sighed- somehow, despite his lack of mouth and nose. He glanced at his...companion. Friend? Roommate? He wasn't sure. From where he sat on his bed, he could only see the back of Laughing Jack's head. The monochrome clown was sitting against the bed, his knees arched up as he used them to write something. Slender craned his neck to see over his shoulder, and realised he wasn't writing. He was drawing. Jack did that often, pulling out pieces of paper and a box of crayons. His drawings weren't great, and childish in nature and style but Slender didn't criticise him. After all, Jack was basically a giant toy. It was fitting he drew like a child would.

Slender looked at the ground next to where Jack sat and looked at the drawings he'd discarded. He picked one up with a tendril and looked at it curiously.

The drawing was of a house, with a long garden and trees. He glanced at the ground again. More houses.

"Was yer book good?" Jack broke the silence. Slender looked over at him.

"Well considering it's the third time I've read it," Slender replied. "I suppose it was."

Jack let out a single "heh." of amusement and set down his next drawing. Slender leaned forward to look at it. This one had stick figures standing next to the house. One labelled "Isaac" and one labelled "me". Slender curiously took in what little details the stick figures had. Isaac had brown spiky hair, and was pretty short. Of course, Slender knew very well who Isaac was. He glanced at Jack.

"Is that where he lived?" Slender asked. Jack shook his head. "Nah. Isaac always said 'e wanted ta live in a big ol' house," the clown chuckled a bit. "Wiv a wife an' all." A grin grew on Jack's face and he looked at Slender. "'E said 'e wanted kids too, ya know tha'?" His glassy eyes seemed to shine with excited joy. "Two li'le lads, an' 'e said I could play wiv em too."

Slender tilted his head. He would've smiled, had he a mouth. "That sounds nice."

Jack nodded and turned back to his next piece of paper. He paused for a moment, then began to draw. Slender stayed quiet, letting him work. Finally, Jack held up his picture. It was of himself, dropping candies over smaller figures, probably children. He held a balloon in his free hand. "Looks nice." Slender complimented. Jack smiled. "Yeh! I's like- part o' th' ol' stree' shows I'd do back in London! I'd throw swee's a' th' kiddos," Jack chuckled. "They'd love i'."

Jack placed aside the drawings and sighed happily. "I miss those days..." He said with a smile. Slender paused for a moment.

"After the war you could become a performer again," Slender suggested. "I'm sure kids would love you."

Jack shrugged. "Eh. I don' fink America'd like me. Think I was up t' somethin'."

"To be fair, you are a living toy." Jack laughed at that. He laughed a lot, which made sense. It was in his name. Still, Slender enjoyed the noise. It made him feel like everything was okay in the world. Which was nice, since they were going through a war right now.

The clown leaned back, resting his head and arms against the side of the bed. He looked up at Slender and smiled softly. "I miss th' kiddos..." He murmured, a little sadly. Slender hesitated, then ruffled the clown's messy hair. He'd found that Jack liked being patted, or just- being touched affectionately. Probably due to being a toy. Jack gave him a toothy grin and closed his eyes happily, pushing his head against Slender's hand slightly. He reminded Slender of a cat, oddly.

"I'm sure this war can't last much longer," Slender said. "The humans have been fighting for what? Three years now? Surely they can't keep going?" Jack shrugged. "I dunno, slen. They're hardy bastards when they feel like i'."

"Mmm." Slender usually scolded the clown for his language, but he was too distracted by how fluffy his hair felt. How Jack kept it like that he'd never know.

"...I wish I could 'ave kids." Jack said randomly after a few moments of silence. Slender's eyes, if he had any, would've shot wide open.

"E-Excuse me?" Slender asked. Jack looked up at him, confused.

"Y'know like- a dustbin lid runnin' round. Maybe two, like Isaac said." Jack smiled to himself. "I'd like tha'."

Slender withdrew his hand, regaining his composure a bit. "Ah." He said. "I suppose that would be nice..." He would've smiled if he had a mouth. "I've- actually always been good with children. I did a lot of work raising Splendor, so I suppose I...picked it up."

Jack was quiet for a few moments. "Would ye want kids?" He asked.

Slender looked down at him for a moment. "...yes. I...I actually like that idea," he glanced down. "I suppose I just- assumed it was out of the question."

Jack grinned and rolled over onto his knees rather than sitting. He grinned up at his faceless friend. "We should 'ave kids!" He chirped.

"E-Excuse me?!" Slender yelped. Jack looked up at his friend, confused. "Ya know like- ah..." The clown furrowed his brows.

"Adoption! Tha'! Tha's a thin', yeah?"

"O-Oh-" Slender relaxed. He thought Jack meant- nevermind. "What do you mean 'we'?" He asked slowly.

"Th' two of us raisin' a kiddo togetha." Jack replied. "Wha'd ye fink I mean'?" He asked with a curious blink. Slender looked away from the clown as his face turned a dark grey colour.

"Nothing." He looked down. "I don't know how we'd be able to do such a thing...I don't even have a home- unless this bunker counts." Slender rested his head in his hand. "And we're not even human, I don't know how we'd be able to adopt a child and give them a good life." He heard Jack moving around, and a weight on the bed next to him. "They'd probably fear me..."

Jack's thin, black fingers curled around Slender's hand. The faceless creature craned his face towards him. "Slen', don' say tha'." He said softly. "I'm sure we'll work somefink ou'- we could ge' a 'ome after this." The clown smiled at him. "doesn' hafta be a big'un like Isaac said."

Slender would've smiled if he had a mouth. "You say that like building houses is easy, Jack." He said, a strange fondness leaking into his voice. "And what about the children?"

"...there migh' be some like us." Jack replied. He looked down at Slender's hand, running his boney thumb over the knuckles. "No' 'uman. Needin' a 'ome." There was a pause. "I've me' a fair share of ghosts in me time..."

Slender stared at his friend for a few moments. It was odd, how Jack, despite being over a century old, could still look like a child sometimes. Slender reached over and patted Jack's head. The clown looked up at him quickly.

"Why don't you tell me about that big house Isaac spoke of?"

Cuddles

"Hssk-"

He jolted up.

"Gfff-"

He hugged himself tight and rocked himself, trying to calm down.

"Hh- hhnk-"

His breathing was ragged and shaky with panic. He could feel a chill running up his spine- if he had one. He was pretty sure he did, beneath the layers of stuffing. His right hand stopped hugging and instead cupped his face. He stared at his knees, at his patchy black slacks as he tried to calm down.

It wasn't real. He knew that. Just a nightmare, like anyone else would get. They were normal. He screwed his eyes shut as his breathing began to slow. He'd learned how to calm himself over the years. His left arm, still at his side, snaked around and rubbed circles into his back as he continued to rock himself.

As he calmed himself down he hummed to himself. The first song that came to his mind was London Bridge Is Falling Down, so he hummed that. Once he was finally calm he looked up slowly, taking in his surroundings. Bleak gray walls, a few posters, shelves and assorted furniture- Slender's bunker. He glanced up at the ceiling for a few moments, wondering if the bomber planes were flying overhead right now. It was funny, that the humans decided they needed to start another giant war only 23 years after the last one.

Because of them he was stuck in this tiny cramped shelter again. It was more spacious and homey than- the box but- he still found it too cramped sometimes.

He looked over at the bed in the corner of the room where Slender lay, sleeping peacefully. He then realized he wasn't in the armchair he'd fallen asleep in. He'd somehow moved over to the opposite side of the floor while sleeping. That sometimes happened, especially when he had bad dreams.

He hesitated, then crawled across the floor to Slender's bed. He sat down quietly beside it, his back to the faceless cryptid. He stared at the wall, listening to his breathing. How long had they known each other? 29 years? Possibly more. He wasn't sure, and math wasn't exactly his strong point.

It was long enough for him to catch feelings, he sure as hell knew that. He wouldn't dare say a word though. He knew Slender needed time to work his feelings out, come to terms with himself. Society didn't exactly like their kind of relationship, not that he could care. They were both creatures made from angels for one, and he was fairly sure they were both immortal, so hell didn't concern him, and humans sure as hell didn't.

"Jack?" His thoughts were interrupted by Slender's voice. He looked over his shoulder at him. "Why are you awake?"

"Why do ye think?" He responded. He looked away again. "I'm 'right, slen- jus' like bein' near ya." There was silence for a few moments, and he heard Slender shifting in the bed. Probably rolling over to sleep.

"Would you like to get in the bed?" Slender asked. He perked up and looked at him curiously. Oh, this was unusual. He had no idea what this could lead to but-

"Sure."

He climbed up into the bed and they stared at each other for a few moments before Slender tentatively reached out and tugged the blanket up. He seemed to hesitate, like he wanted to do more- but neither were willing to push it. He could tell Slender was far out of his comfort zone here, lying in the same bed alone in a bunker underground. Anything that happened here, in this secret spot, was between them and only them.

He hesitated, then scooted forward slowly. Slender made no move to stop him, so he guessed it was okay. He stopped, waiting to see if Slender would make the first move. The faceless cryptid's long, slender arms wrapped around him gently. God it felt nice being hugged- it came naturally to him, being a sentient toy and all. Slender's fingers rubbed circles into his back, a touch so tender it made him melt right into his arms.

He wound his puffy arms around Slender, hugging him back. He gently pressed his face against his chest and stayed still. He didn't dare move, knowing he was on thin ice here. He wouldn't even think about pushing his companion's limits. He'd be slow, if that's what it took him.

He could hear Slender's heart beating loudly. It was an odd sound- his heart beat far, far slower than a person's, and he'd been surprised to find Slender even had one. The noise was usually hard to notice because of its speed, but now it beat just a bit faster than a human's. He closed his eyes and faked a yawn. His way of saying this was as far as he'd go. Slender seemed to relax. He could feel a head resting on his, and the circles being rubbed into his back came slower and slower until the hand went still.

Laughing Jack allowed himself to drift asleep in Slender's bed.

Confessions

Over the years he’d known him, he’d realised he had no one way of being drunk. He could become sad and mournful for people long lost, he could be serious, his accent would thicken to an almost incomprehensible degree, or he’d become bubbly and giggly, affectionate and loud about it.

But right now was the...oddest of his drunk moods. Quiet. It was so unlike him to be quiet and reserved. He was always humming, smiling, joking- doing something that would remind him that he was there. Alive. Breathing.

Their legs hung off the edge of the dock, the sea breeze chilling their faces and blowing his hair. He sighed. He was tired. Not from the long night, but the effort of keeping up his human form.

‘’I honestly thought I’d like you more when you were quiet.’’ Slender said.

‘’Ye don’ like me when I shu’ me gob?’’

‘’Not particularly.’’ he leaned back, pale blue eyes flicking over to Jack. ‘’Maybe I’ve become too accustomed to always hearing you make noise.’’

‘’Heh.’’

They fell silent again. It felt odd. Being outside. At night. They didn’t need to worry about air raids or a war going on around the entire globe. Because it had ended. Everyone had celebrated, and they were getting back on their feet. Hell, the two of them were planning to build a home for themselves. They would live together.

‘’Wha’s goin’ on in tha’ loaf ‘f bread, Slen?’’ Jack asked. Slender looked over at him, taking a moment to realise what he was asking.

‘’Oh...I was thinking about how odd it feels being outside now that the war is over.’’ He looked down at the water below them. ‘’Not that I’m complaining. I know you hated the bunker. And it means I can see my brothers more often,’’ a soft smile crossed his face. ‘’And we can have nights like these, together.’’ he turned to Jack again, smiling.

‘’Heh.’’ Jack said again. ‘’...Yeh, I enjoy our li’le da’es togeth’r too, china pla’e.’’

Slender blinked. ‘’Dates?’’

‘’Tha’s wha’ I call ‘em.’’ Jack murmured back as he pulled a box of cigarettes and a lighter from his sleeve. Slender watched him light one up and begin smoking. Slender only stared at him, Jack’s pale blue, almost white, eyes flicked over to him. ‘’Somefin’ wrong, china pla’e?’’

‘’Jack…’’ he gulped and looked away. ‘’I-’’ he pursed his lips then sighed. ‘’Nevermind.’’

‘’Slen.’’ Jack scooted closer to him. ‘’..I know. I’s awrigh’.’’

Slender looked at him for a few silent moments then away again. ‘’...I…’’ he took a deep breath. ‘’I have feelings for you, Jack. And I accept if you fear that these relationships will negatively impact our relationship.’’

‘’Slen.’’ Jack sounded annoyed now. ‘’I’ve kissed ye. A fair few times. No’ ta mention we’ve shared a bluddy bed an’ I’ve told ye I luv ye.’’

Slender tensed. ‘’I know.’’ He mumbled.

‘’An’ fock, I’ve known ye fer- god i’s been donkey’s ears, ain’ i’?’’

‘’Thirty three years.’’ Slender said.

‘’Exac’ly!’’ Jack raised his arms as he spoke with such force his body almost fell back for a second. Slender managed to steady him. ‘’An’ ye fink I’m gonna turn roun’ ta ya an’ say tha’ I don’ fink of ye as all me trouble an’ strife?!’’

‘’...I’m a man.’’

Jack blinked and looked at him. ‘’So I can’ call ye tha’?’’

Slender pondered it for a moment then shook his head. ‘’No, go ahead. I don’t mind.’’

‘’Awrigh’ well-’’ Jack blinked a couple times, like he was trying to bring himself out of his drunken haze. ‘’I luv ye too Slen. An’ I’ve made i’ very clear tha’ I luv ya.’’ He looked down at Slender, a serious look on his face. ‘’I’ve been wai’in fer ya ta tell me tha’ ye luv me too. Y’know tha’ righ’?’’

‘’...I know…’’ Slender looked away. ‘’I’m sorry it’s taken so long, Jack. I just- wasn’t ready I suppose.’’ he fiddled with his hands. ‘’I never really thought of myself as capable of falling in love I mean- I’m old, and humans have such short lifespans so I didn’t try to get attached to any but then you came along and of course you’re-’’

His rambling was cut off by Jack’s large hand covering his mouth. ‘’Slen, shu’ up wiv tha’.’’ he grunted. ‘’If all ye fink abou’ is ou’livin’ ‘umans ye’ll neve’ make any ma’es, will ye?’’

Slender looked up at him and softened. He sighed and pulled Jack’s arm away. It instead wrapped around him. ‘’No...I suppose not…’’ Slender glanced aside. ‘’Still I...I’m sorry I took so long to say I love you.’’

‘’I’s awrigh’ Slen.’’ Jack softened and smiled down at him. It was unlike his usual smiles. It was genuine, loving, caring. The look made Slender feel...safe. ‘’No’ like I’m ge’in older er anyfin’.’’

Slender chuckled. ‘’No, neither of us really are, are we?’’

Jack laughed next to him and leaned down, planting a kiss on the top of his head. ‘’I luv ye. Ye ol’ bastard.’’

‘’Rude.’’

Zalgo is a BITCH ASS MOTHERFUCKER

"So 'ow is 'e?" Laughing Jack asked as he looked over at Slender.

Slender sighed. "Still mad at me." He said, sadness leaking into his voice. He closed the door to the sunroom and leaned sideways against the wall. He watched the monochrome clown flick his lighter on and light the cigarette clenched between his teeth.

"E'll come aroun'." He replied. He took a puff of the cigarette and breathed out, blowing hoops with the smoke like it was the easiest thing in the world. Slender, if he had a mouth, would've smiled. The smell of smoke reminded him of times long gone.

"I know...it's just-" Slender fiddled with his tie. "I give him all the attention he could want, support, I teach him that it's okay to be himself and tell me when something is wrong but...then he runs off without a word and-" he paused for a moment. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong…"

"Ye're no' doin' a fing wrong, Slen. I's no' yer faul' tha' 'e's no' be'er ye'." Jack looked at him. Despite how carefree and jokey he was all the time...these moments, when Slender showed the smallest signs of anxiety and doubt, his gaze became stern, his voice firm and wise. "Jeff- well I don' know 'is whole tale bu' I can only assume i's seven kindsa focked. Ye cant fix a broken down jam jar wiv jus' new par's, ye go'a take th' ol' ones ou' firs'."

"...Your analogies are as creative as ever." Slender replied. Jack gave him an agitated look.

"Shuddup, I'm knackered. Spent all day wiv th' li'le missus." He nodded at the wooden pirate ship across the yard from them. Something Jack had built with a bit of help from Slender's brothers. It was big, big enough for him and Sally to run around on while they travelled the high seas together. There was even a slide.

Slender laughed a bit. He sighed, looking up at the sky. It was quiet for a few moments before something nudged him. He looked down to see LJ's arm stretched out, holding the box of cigarettes in offering. Slender didn't smoke, at all. He hadn't when it was fashionable, and he especially didn't now that he knew about the health risks. Even though they probably wouldn't affect him, he wasn't willing to try.

"No thank you."

The hand retracted and the cigarettes were put into the pocket of LJ's trousers. It was quiet again for a little bit. "Jack?"

"Mmm?"

"How do you always know what to say?" Slender asked. LJ took a long drag of his cigarette.

"'Ow do you always see th' bes' in every'un?" He retorted. Slender looked at him, surprised. "In Jeff, in Toby, in me." Jack stared at him. "Ye never give up on 'em. Every'un is capable 'f bein' a good person ta ye. Why?"

Slender looked down. "...I just don't believe anyone is truly evil. The worst of the worst can redeem themselves. Toby has, you have- I mean- you do nothing but make children happy, both here and among the world...and- I believe Jeff can too."

A small smile spread up Jack's face. "Even tha' gobshite Zalgo?"

"...don't say the bastard's name here." Slender replied with a smile in his voice. Jack threw his head back and cackled.

Slender you dumb bitch look after yourself

"Jack? What are you doing up?"

Jack looked over his shoulder, black hair blowing softly in the wind. "Ye mean up 'ere or why am I awake?"

Slender sighed and walked down the roof using his tendrils to keep himself from falling. He sat down next to the black and white clown. The moonlight glinted off his pale white skin. "Why are you awake?"

Jack shrugged. "Couldn' sleep." He replied. "Why're ye up, Slen? Ye need res'."

"I'm fine."

"Well I know ye're no'. Ye're g'nna be up a' seven or eigh' makin' breakfas' fer every'n an' then ye're g'nna clean th' entire bluddy gaf, then make lunch fer every'n." Jack looked at him. "Ye work too 'ard."

The faceless man looked away from him and instead out at the forest past their backyard. "I'm fine, honestly. I do that every day, I can handle it."

"Tha's me feckin' point! Ye work yerself ta th' bone every day an' act like ye're no' bluddy knackered!" Despite his yelling, Jack didn't sound angry. More frustrated and worried.

Slender rested a hand on Jack's shoulder, squeezing it softly. "You don't need to worry about me." He said softly.

"If I don' then who will?" Jack asked softly. "Ye work so 'ard fer us all an' never complain...we all owe ye so much ye' ye never ask fer anyfin'." He looked up at Slender. He looked- sad. And worried. "I don' want ye ta 'ide yer problems fer our sake. Th' kiddos- they care abou' ye. A lo'."

Slender was silent for a few moments. His hand moved off of Jack's shoulder, and for a moment the clown was worried he'd stepped too far but- instead the hand curled around his own bony, bandaged hand.

"I know my limits Jack, don't worry." Slender shifted closer to him and looked down, faded blue eyes meeting a featureless face. "I don't mind working hard for all of you. You all make it worth it. I appreciate your concern, but you don't have to worry so much."

Jack was silent for a moment. "Ye know I worry abou' ye because I love ye, yeh?"

Slender blushed, his cheeks turning a dark grey colour. "I know." He responded softly. Jack moved closer and hugged Slender semi-tightly.

"Then le' me a' leas' look after ye while ye look after th' bin lids, yeh?" His voice was soft and loving. Slender couldn't possibly bring himself to say no to Jack- not when he was curled up against him like this.

"..Alright." He combed his hand through the clown's hair. "...Thank you…"

"I's nofink." Jack replied tiredly. Slender held him close, petting his hair lovingly until he dozed off.

Jeff you bitch ass motherfucker

It's so quiet out here by the lake. It's miraculous- the fact that there's a house available to rent just between the sea cliffs, right where nobody can find us, save for people on boats, but we're down away from the mountains and far from any other buildings, so there's no reason to come over here.

Secluded and alone. Perfect for our...odd, little family.

Our children are swimming in the waters in front of us. Sally is swimming after Cody, they're probably talking, while Dina paddles after the two of them. She's gotten rather good at swimming, I've hardly had a chance to teach her thanks to those two. EJ is on a float- oh nevermind Jeff just flipped it over. Even from here on a rock on the shore I can hear him laughing. I watch Jeff swim away to go terrorise Michael, who's just floating peacefully on his back.

We're not the only ones on the shore however. Just below the rock we're on is Ben, headphones on, playing a game. He's scared of water, so he prefers to stay on the land with his games. There's also Helen, sitting a little bit away, painting the sunset. Smile, the family dog, is fast asleep on the sand, lying on his back with his four legs in the air.

And Jack, my- my husband...is lying against me. He isn't one for water either, so he's perfectly happy to lie curled up next to me. I don't mind. He's soft to touch, and I love him. Obviously.

I hear him chuckle a bit. "I fink Jeff go' Mike's glasses." He says softly. I smile a bit. Well- smile as much as I can without an actual face.

"It's because he knows we're not able to go into the water to tell him off." I say. Jack laughs. His voice is soft and raspy but I love it. I watch Jeff throw the glasses. They hit Dina and sink into the water. She whirls around and paddles after Jeff, who swims off quickly. Luckily Sally is quick to dive down and retrieve them for poor Michael. "He's pushing his luck." I add.

"I'll bury 'im in th' sand while 'e's sleepin'. Tha'll teach 'im." Jack responds. I chuckle. "I can ge' Mike ta 'elp. Junior too."

I lean down and press my face against the top of his head. I can't kiss him but he understands the gesture just fine. "I'll pretend I didn't hear you planning this." I say. Jack grins up at me, then grabs my face and leans up, his neck stretching as he plants a kiss on my cheek.

"Yeh, okay." He says softly. My hand combs through his thick black hair. It's silky and soft. I feel a couple of braids in among the locks. Probably Sally's doing. He rests his head against my shoulder and sighs happily. "I luv ya, china pla'e."

"I love you too, Jack."

#creepypasta #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fanfiction #slenderman #laughing jack #slender mansion #slenjack #writing #jeff the killer

13 notes · View notes

daddyfuckinlonglegs · 4 years

Text

On today’s episode of “Why I Love MacCready” ft some small and important headcanons...

1. He is short, and has a bit of a Napoleon complex, but he is also absolutely a badass, don’t doubt it. Maybe he seems like he’s bragging a lot, maybe he’s overly aggressive in some situations, but he backs that up with actual skills, it isn’t just bluster. 2. He’s grumpy sometimes, irritable and snarky, but he will absolutely have your back and be there when the shit hits the fan, emotionally as well as physically. He’s got a tough little heart, he’s not an emotionless merc. 3. He acts like a kid, but he is the most fucking grown ass man - he practically raised himself, took charge of the other kids at lamplight, kept them safe, kept them happy, went out into the world at 16, and made a family, almost lost everything, dealt with his grief alone, left the thing most precious to him behind to be a fucking hero for that person, knowing all the while that it was a tiny, tiny chance that he’d find that cure, and when that’s over he’s playing the most painful waiting game to hear the outcome, and is still able to be there for the sole survivor. 4. He is funny. I was gonna add more here but I don’t need to explain why humour is a likeable trait XD 5. He has a pointy face, and goofy teeth, and is just generally grubby, but he doesn’t give a fuck what you think. 6. He is loyal to Sole in a way that isn’t dogmatic - Sole pays him a bunch of caps, sure, bought his service, but he sticks around long after that arrangement. But he won’t stick by just because you pay him, he doesn’t have that soldier mentality of loyalty to the cause, as such, just an honest, personal connection. His low affinity conversation is one of my favourites in the game (hey, woah, I never got it personally, don’t @ me) because he’s so, genuinely fucking angry and heartbroken that someone he trusted is making decisions that hurt people. 7. He’s a money grubbing little bastard, and he isn’t sorry about it, but it’s because he has had to make it for himself his whole life, and he does what he needs to survive. 8. His no swearing rule is the most useless thing, and he knows it, but it seems to be something of a test for him - the swearing itself doesn’t matter, but if he can stick to this one thing, he can change the other hard, selfish parts of him and actually be the better person he wants to be. Also it is, and I don’t say this lightly, really goddamn cute. In my own personal fic canon, I have several little additions. Some very specific, some NSFW:

Mac leaves to go back to DC just after the battle for Bunker Hill, and doesn’t return until after the Institute is dealt with. He really, really struggles with this decision, because Stahl has done so much for him, and he’s involved in such a dangerous way, but Mac isn’t loyal to the railroad, and is terrified of going up against the Brotherhood and Institute because he has to stay alive for Duncan. And that is such a normal, human thing, he’s not a coward, not a turncoat, not just selfish for his own sake. He’s responsible for another human who needs him alive. He’s new to feeling romantic interest in a man. Stahl is a bit of a Don Juan, sure, a whole bunch of people like him, but Mac never really thought he’d fall for it. But Stahl is affectionate and physical and comfortable with intimacy between them in a way that Mac isn’t used to. And that’s before he, uh... pins Mac against the wall and sucks his dick behind a bar in Sanctuary. And Mac is just sorta... bowled over that Stahl is so trusting and open (and queer, hah). Stahl is really surprisingly sensitive and careful and slow, after that incredibly heated snap decision, and it gives him time to process a little. And boy. When they get down to it. Mac gets to trust Stahl with things he would never have trusted people with, ever, maybe not even Lucy - in part because she couldn’t exactly fulfil some of those things (Stahl is a lot older, and, hey, boy’s got some serious daddy issues), but some of them come through having the shared experience of loss and grief and deciding to carry on. Really brings them close in a different way. Not better, just different. He’s an aaaabsolute brat in bed for Stahl, snarky and challenging and petulant and just begging to be slapped. Sometimes literally. He can be a great top, he can be serious, and notices a lot of little details, he’s good at picking up non-verbal things and really listening to the situation, and he’s pretty strong for his size (and decidedly out of proportion in at least one regard ;] )... but he just loves flaunting Stahl’s “authority” and getting himself into trouble. He likes the trust and comfort of being more submissive, and he likes it when Stahl is mean or makes him work really hard or plays with the idea of paying him for sex. And once it’s out in the open, getting spanked/calling Stahl Daddy is one of those really nasty dirty things that he just fucking melts for. But he would not tell anyone about that because he’s got his hardass ex-gunner merc reputation to keep. He’s also just fucking fun, he doesn’t take life too seriously despite all the huge shit he’s dealt with, he still wants to have a good time and get high and get laid and climb trees and read comics and just live. So in summary. He is a little brat when he wants to be, and an absolute rock when Stahl needs him, and he is just really fucking cool, okay?

#fallout 4 #fo4 #MacCready #Robert Joseph MacCready #headcanons #ratboy forever

50 notes · View notes

pazvizslaplasmathrower · 4 years

Photo

Title: Another Him

Summary: After a harsh and exhausting life, you have settled back on your home planet of Stewjon, establishing a notable force that keeps the planet safe without New Republic interference. While hoping to enjoy a relaxing evening to yourself, one Mandalorian and a small baby see to it that you do not.

With a wave of your gloved hand, the lights of the Symphony Club of the fifth prefecture dimmed, letting the small orchestra know it was time to start playing, and with the ban in full swing, your shoulders untensed, letting relief was over you. After six days, heading the underground effort of ridding the planet of residual Imperials, pirates and other various despicables, it was time for a bit of leisure.

“Jacoban?” You said with a hint of a smile; such a hardened reputation needed to be properly maintained. Who’s that over there?”

Your ever attentive second hand strode next to your side, examining one of the many club attendees. “Hm, I do believe that is…the senator of Bespin?” He turned to you with an ever-disapproving look.

“What? I was just thinking maybe I’d take them to my quarters later; but a politician? Ugh, no.” Sighing, you sauntered to the back of the club, politely asking an attendant for a hard drink. Reclining into the plush luxury of your personal booth, you discarded your favorite satyn cloak, favoring the slight chill allowed by your loose tunic. Half of you wanted to kick off your fine, leather boots, the civilized half was very much against the thought. Such an act would be extremely undignified.

“My, leader, Pax keeps signaling me on my comm, I think-.”

Giving Jacoban an affectionate pat on the cheek, you gave him a tired smile. “How many times have I told you it’s just Y/N. No ‘leader’, ‘master’, or ‘boss’. It makes me sound physically old.” In truth you had seen far more many years than any human, but as you DNA would have it, all of them barely showed.

The Mirialan rolled his eyes, fixing you with a hard stare. “As I was saying, Y/N, Pax is on my comm, asking for you directly. He says he tried you several times but couldn’t get through.”

“I turned it off.” You said simply. “After getting those annoying Empire apologists out of the tenth prefecture, I didn’t want to talk to anyone else.”

“Pax is one of Stewjon’s best guards, I’m sure whatever he has to say is important, so please, just humor him, for maker’s sake…”

Complying with Jacoban would be better than having him guilt you later if you failed to do as he asked. Turning on your comlink, you called out for your captain of the guard, not really caring if he responded or not; unfortunately, he did.

“My Leader!” Came Pax’s desperate voice. “We have a breach at the main bunker! It----I! -----Ch----”

“Pax, you keep cutting out!” Groaning you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“We-----Have---and him! Next orders, My Leader?”

Was one night too much to ask after spending nearly every day ridding your damn home planet from evil and corruption? Sure, you used extremely questionable means and there was no way in hell the New Republic would approve of such means, but it was for the greater good and even people such as yourself needed a bit of respite. Angry and wanting to be rid of the problem as soon as possible, you decided to face the issue directly.

“Pax! Whoever, whatever the hell it is, Bring it into me.”

It had only been a handful of minutes before the main doors of the Symphony Club shot open, revealing five figures in the entryway. The music kept playing and the crowds continued dancing, drinking, and even some of them, fighting. This practice of yours was rare, but nothing remotely showstopping unless the unfortunate guest was someone of extreme notoriety. Nevertheless, some did indeed look on as Pax and his three men, looking rather thrashed, shoved an armor-clad individual to the floor. In Pax’s arms, something wrapped in what appeared to be sackcloth. You raised an eyebrow, recognizing the armor style immediately.

“What are this one’s offenses, Pax?” Though mildly intrigued, you stayed reclined, but a sudden pull at the back of your mind was certainly calling. Something was here, something that hadn’t been before, and if it had, you certainly failed to notice it. Your captain of the guard was speaking, but you weren’t listening, you were feeling. Sitting upright, you reached out, the small bundle gently leaving Pax’s arms and floating over to you. With utmost care you pulled back the rough fabric, revealing one of the cutest, most sublimely adorable faces you had ever seen. Sad, questioning eyes looked into yours desperately, almost luring you into a sense of immediate sympathy. If it only were not for that intense power so plainly clear in the living Force.

“Put…Put him down!” Tearing your attention away from the little one, you glanced down at the floor, that Mandalorian, on their knees, straining to stand up. “He’s…”

“Leader! He tried to break into the storage! The reserves!” Pax cried.

Clenching your jaw, you decided to rise above yourself; leaning down you placed a single hand on the Mandalorian’s shoulder, much to their disdain as they tried to pull away. Still, you remained firm; and soon that shallow, exhausted breathing turned strong. Kriffing hell. Perhaps you had overdone it again. The fact was soon confirmed.

“Give him to me. Now.” The voice was somewhat deep, of the male persuasion, altered by a modulator.

“And if I don’t?” You countered lazily, rocking the baby slightly; strangely, it gave no protest.

In response, you could foresee him reaching for a blaster, aiming it heroically at your chest. Having absolutely none of that, you cast away his weapon, using much more strength than you had intended. As a result, the club went silent, all could hear the clang of the weapon against the floor. Part of you wanted to wipe the floor of the club with this man, to completely blast him into a thousand pieces that no one would ever find, but he was not the sum of his ancestors’ transgressions. And you had forsaken his enemy long ago. Very long ago.

There was no reason to be angry at this Mandalorian, save for disrupting your planned relaxation time. Feeling the pressure in your chest fall away, one problem was dealt with. Two more were left.

“Mandalorian,” taking on a professional air, you lengthened your back. “Given that you have committed a crime against the world of Stewjon, I must take action. Now, I am certainly in no mood to deal with you, but I digress.”

The crowd murmured, with each second, their voices growing louder.

“Take of the helmet!” As soon as the words left the mouth of the regrettable speaker, they were pulled to their feet and thrown outside the nearest window without care.

Scanning the crowd with feigned fury, you absentmindedly fixed the shattered window. “We are people of dignity, are we not? I will never excuse such conduct, as what that bastard did was far more despicable than this Mandalorian trying to get into one of many reserves.”

In all honesty, you could never have cared less. Thanks to his heavy armor, there was no telling of his expression, and using the Force to know seemed too boorish at the moment. If it was the storage Pax was overseeing tonight, then that meant this man was merely looking for something to eat, and your men had clearly crossed arms with him in such a state. Though by the looks of it, either he or the baby had put up quite the fight.

“Everyone! This is a club! As you were!” You barked. In no time, the music ensued, people returning to their heavy drinks and physical endeavors.

Nodding to Pax he guided the Mandalorian forward into your private booth, leaving immediately. The poor man seemed confused, but still remained steadfast.

“What do you want.” Came his even voice.

“What do I want? Tch, nothing.” Sighing you handed the baby out to him, who he grabbed hastily, the tiny one giving a cry of protest. And with another wave of your hand, trays of food and drink were snatched from other tables and placed before your two unexpected guests. “You and that little one need to eat and drink.” Rising from the table, you decided against any late night, personal ventures and started to head for your personal quarters. “My people will give you supplies when you are ready to leave.”

He said nothing, and so you turned, only to stumble backwards slightly thanks to a very surprising pull. Whipping around you saw the baby, now on the table, a small clawed hand cast out. All you could do was stand and stare at the child, lost in thoughts for a moment. Would the Force never let you be?

7 notes · View notes

isa-ghost · 4 years

Note

OH I JUST SAW THE ANNIVERSARY BUNKER QUESTION THING AND I WANNA KNOW MORE ABOUT THE LORE AROUND THE BOSSES!!!!! LIKE WHO ORGANIZED THE RESISTANCE AND HOW ITS ORGANIZED AND HOW THEY FOUND/MADE THESE BUNKERS AND WHAT THE EARLY YEARS OF TRYING TO FIGURE OUT THAT SYSTEM WAS LIKE PLS

Oh god I dunno how in-depth this’ll be but here we go xD

————

The resistance was formed not long after Anti launched his first few days of chaos with his newly cultivated puppet army. His violence made it clear it was gonna be Like That, so naturally opposing parties rose up. Its unclear who officially founded the resistance, but the group all had a common goal: Stay by Jack’s side no matter what, and one day gain the strength to save him, wherever Anti may have him. They affectionately started calling themselves the Bosses after Jack’s “LIKE A BOSS!” line in his outro. But that’s about all that blossomed from the start. Why would a bunch of small rural town people- not all of which even knew what the hell was going on or who Jack or Anti were -know how to fight on a warlike scale? It took a lot of struggle and mass communication throughout the zone but a majority agreed it was only natural to lowkey militarize. Ranks, soldiers, the typical.

They started with the sensible; find a hiding/meeting place, get more numbers, get supplies, get connections. All went smoothly, including the connections. To this day, the ONWR has connections to outside the zone because they managed to establish them before Anti’s (at the time) weak barriers confining what was and wasn’t currently the zone was guarded by stupidly large masses of puppets. Its after he figured out they were receiving outside help that he tried to stop it, but none of his efforts (growing stronger over time, outlining the entire perimeter with numbers from his army, turning the barrier into a harmful thing to touch if you’re trying to go out, just to name a few) stopped the ONWR. It pissed him off then and still pisses him off now, but he’s relented on the issue for now because he’s got better plans for his playground. Besides, he was a hypocrite about outside help anyway; the bastard kidnapped a good handful of puppets straight from their homes outside the zone- some not even in the US.

These outside connections are how the ONWR gets some of their food, communication, and more from outside the zone aside from raiding abandoned buildings in downtown Axel Creek. Social media is obviously another large factor in resistance affairs and it’s one they will never lose because Anti can’t afford to cripple his main source of spreading his influence. The entire zone still has all its resources like power, plumbing etc, because Anti can’t afford to cut it off or just doesn’t see enough gain in blocking it. So luckily for the ONWR, between what they have inside and outside the zone, especially now that Cali’s level and quick-thinking head is in charge, they’re still going strong. Obviously they distribute these supplies and such to the bunkers and whatnot besides amongst themselves. And the bunkers conduct their own raids too. Balance is hard to maintain, but the ONWR makes it work.

Interestingly enough, the other creators of the AU and I discovered (can’t remember how BUT one of our friends lives in TN so might’ve been them xD) there were already bunkers in Tennessee from nuclear scares back in the day. These bunkers were cleaned up by the ONWR and other non-puppets in the zone and taken refuge in. Many have expanded and even decorated these bunkers to feel more homey. And more bunkers aside from the ones that already exist have been built. Some are underground, some aren’t, some are both. However not everyone lives in a bunker- some fortified their homes, took shelter in downtown apartments, and live other places too.

As for the rest of the history of the ONWR, they didn’t start calling themselves the Overnight Watch until of course, Anti conducted that fun little night. It was a massive night for recruiting puppets for him as well as a learning opportunity for the ONWR. After that night, the Bosses finally had a good name to unite their side. Boss became a general term for “good guy” and “Overnight Watch Resistance” became the term for “actively fighting against Anti.” There’s not really a difference, but most of the ONWR has some sort of job at the headquarters even if they don’t live near or even in HQ, whereas Bosses might not.

Over time after December 2017, things started getting.. messy. The kind of messy you don’t pick up on until it’s too late. Best described as neutrals, a bunch of idiot (surprise surprise) middle-aged men thinking they could use the ONWR for a position of power for themselves squeezed their way into the upper ranks under A Lot of Somehow Successful Bullshitting despite it being painfully obvious that they didn’t know a lick of shit’s worth about Jack or anything else going on, and their pretending to care about saving him was mediocre at best. A lot of the present resistance is still wondering why and how the hell anyone let them get to where they did. Their meddling completely fucked up the ONWR and its reputation. Just to name a few things- They permitted completely unethical scientific experiments to be conducted on other people to “help the fight” (psst that’s bullshit!) if they even revealed any of what they were doing at all. Many, many people in the zone were fucked over and up by these experiments and Cali is trying her best to turn the damage into something useful and less traumatic. Besides these inhumane activities, these fakers also wrongfully arrested and punished the lieutenant general of all fucking people just for trying to defect and get away from their monstrous behavior, and sentenced her to DEATH (though that didn’t happen). Not to mention they were KILLING puppets, yknow, UNWILLINGLY BRAINWASHED AND ENSLAVED TEENAGERS AND ADULTS, instead of detoxing them and turning them against Anti! MORONS. OH, AND they threatened the EGOS THEMSELVES countless times!

Lets not even get started with the ONWR members like Markos Allen who defected from the ONWR to start a group JUST FOR KILLING PUPPETS, Markos ya dead sack of shit. TLDR; after the Puppet Breakers ran for a good while (some might not be dead even still), before Markos was murdered rightfully by Lieutenant General Dawn for trying to use her daughter AKA Patient Zero (Isa), Anti’s first puppet, for some more enabling of the fucked up secret ONWR experiments before trying to kill her for his own personal revenge reasons. His dying body was then reanimated by Anti and used to infiltrate HQ, where he planted bombs and proceeded to blow the entire place to shit. And Anti had a whooole nightmare of plans with that involving Jackieboy Man, but that’s not really relevant to the ONWR.

After scraping up as much surviving resource as they could, the ONWR rebuilt itself in a new location and that’s where it operates present day. But the bad eggs weren’t wiped out in the explosion unfortunately, and the unethical secret bullshit and fucked up power system continued. That is, until One Very Fucking Angry Henrik von Scheeplestein broke into HQ with Jackieboy and some of their Bunker #88720 family members and proceeded to destroy EVERYTHING they had with some homemade viruses and do some other much-needed attitude adjusting.

This enabled Cali to rise up from the ranks, expose all of the horrific things the fakers had been doing, and promptly plant their stupid asses in the HQ’s prison block, where they currently rot until Cali decides on something to do with them. Its taken a lot of work and will still take a lot more, but Cali has done absolute wonders to restore the ONWR to what it was when it was born and has gotten the ethics of the resistance back on track. She’s given the entire Boss side of the zone transparent communication about all affairs; publicly explained anything and everything she found in all of the ONWR’s records, databases and whatever was discovered in the secret operations places. She’s strictly enforced that NO puppets be killed- they are to be taken one way or another to HQ and detoxed in what WAS the secret labs but is now a MASSIVE detox department. She also appointed the five egos as the highest authority and keeps close and constant communication with them. Besides all of that, she’s also gradually remaking each department bigger and better than before and contacting defected ONWR members and soldiers to try and bring them back to the resistance now that it’s under new leadership. She’s currently going through records and such again to track, locate and imprison all of the doctors and other staff involved in the unethical activities that have been going on over the last few years. She’s doing everything she can to cleanse and rehabilitate the ONWR and repair relationships with anyone that was victimized by the fakers. So far so good!

#bunker 88720 #Cali #ONW Resistance Lore #2 year jse anniversary 2019

7 notes · View notes

ellariahmorningstar · 5 years

Text

Kidnapped by Satan? (Part Three of Letters to Satan Series)

“Jack! It’s time to go!” Dean called from the other side of the door. Jack sat up, blinking his eyes at the bright morning light. Remembering last night’s events, he looked around for his father, but he was no where to be found. Jack got up with a stretch, feeling better rested than…well, since he’d been born.

A few hours later, he was riding in the backseat of the Impala with Castiel while the Winchesters argued about where to stop for lunch. They were on their way back to the bunker. Jack met Dean’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Jack…Are you okay? I know it’s got to be rough running into Lucifer like that. I can’t pretend to know what you’re feeling right now, but if you need to talk, we’re all here for you.” Dean said, tapping his fingers against the wheel. Sam grunted his agreement, while Castiel reached over and wrapped an arm around Jack’s shoulders.

“It’ll be okay, Jack. We won’t let him hurt you again.” Castiel said, rubbing the back of Jack’s neck affectionately.

“I’m alright. I… I don’t think he wants to hurt me. I’m not sure what exactly he wants, but I don’t think he’ll ever hurt me again.” Jack mumbled, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. How could he explain that he wanted to be around his father, after everything he’s done to the Winchesters, Castiel, and countless others?

“Well, don’t worry. He won’t ever get the chance.” Sam said confidently, focused intently on his phone.

…

“I like him; he’s adorable.” Nick said as Lucifer surfed the web. They were sitting in a quaint little coffee shop with free-to-use computers for public access. He was searching for any leads on Michael and what he could be planning next. Lucifer smiled warmly, remembering Jack curling up into his side as he slept. They had stayed with him most of the night, keeping watch over the little Nephilim.

“Yeah, he’s a little cutie. Kinda reminds me of my brother Gabriel when he was a fledgling.” Lucifer mumbled, still focused on the task at hand. Now that he had seen with his own eyes that Jack was fine, he could focus on getting rid of Michael.

“So what will we do after we take out Michael?” Nick asked, sounding bored. “Grab Jack and settle down in the mountains somewhere?”

“Something like that.” Lucifer sighed, closing down the computer. Nothing. “I won’t force him to go with me. I want him to choose me on his own.” Lucifer eyed Nick warily. “I already made the mistake of trying to tear him away; I won’t do it twice.” Lucifer rose from his seat, nodding his thanks to the coffee shop clerks on the way out. “Besides, I have some other things to attend to first.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“I’m going to free my brother from Hell. Then we’re going to take out the other Michael together.”

…

“Home sweet home!” Dean sang as the Impala pulled up in the bunker. “You okay back there, kid?” Jack looked up and smiled. He had been rather quiet on the trip back to Lebanon, but Dean let it go. The kid had been through a lot, after all.

“I’m fine, Dean.” Jack said, sliding out of the car.

“Jack!” Mary entered the bunker, embracing the boy. She then turned and hugged her sons in turn. “How was the trip?” Jack looked down at his feet, while Mary met Sam and Dean’s eyes.

“I’m kinda tired. I’ll be in my room.” Jack said, grabbing his bag and retreating to his bedroom. Mary watched him, then turned to her sons and Castiel.

“What happened?”

“Lucifer happened.” Sam spoke up. “He’s back.”

Mary covered her mouth, then replied, “Did he do something to Jack?”

“No.” Castiel answered. “He said he just wanted to check on Jack. He was the one who caused the string of murders. He claims they were demons.”

“Why would he go after demons?”

…

“Ugh…” Jack groaned, laying down on his bed. His head was pounding. He wasn’t sure what to do about his father. He wanted to be with him, but he also didn’t want to upset Dean, Cas, or Sam. They were his family too. Jack grabbed his Chewbacca next to his pillow, a sad smile gracing his lips.

“Don’t worry, little Nephilim. It’ll all work out.” Jack looked up to see a dark-featured woman sitting in a chair on the other side of his room. Michael. The archangel smiled, a malicious glint in his eye. “Happy to see me?”

“How did you get in here?” Jack said, rising slowly from the bed. With a snap of his fingers, Michael had him pinned down with his grace.

“Same way I got in last time. I remembered to sever the alarms before I came in this time, though.” Michael shook his head. “I’ve been waiting for you to get back. Did you have a nice time with your daddy?”

“What?” Jack croaked out, the pressure on his body increasing. The bastard had been following him in New Orleans. “What do you want?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Michael smiled. “I’ve asked many here that same question, and have yet to get an intelligent response.” He crossed the room and stroked the side of Jack’s face with one hand. Jack cringed, trying to pull away as much as he could. “What I want right now is you. I want to remake this world, but first I have to destroy it. Then from the ashes, we’ll make this world anew, the way I want it.”

“Why me? Why not have a child of your own? I hate you.”

“But, Jack, we’re family.” Michael smiled, then continued. “You may hate me now, but with enough time, that will fade. Your loyalty to the Winchesters, to Castiel, that will also fade. You’ll become more like me.” Jack started thrashing, desperate to get away.

“I won’t help you! I’ll never be like you!”

“We’ll see about that.” Michael said, pressing two fingers to Jack’s forehead, knocking him out. Humming, the archangel scooped up the boy, then spread his wings.

…

“Jack?” Castiel knocked on the boy’s door, wanting to check on him. He had been locked away in his room since yesterday. He paused, listening for any sound. When he didn’t hear any signs of movement, he opened the door, revealing an empty room. “DEAN!!!” Turning on his heel, he raced through the bunker to the war room.

“Jack’s missing!” Castiel screeched, finding Sam and Dean chatting with Mary.

“Missing? Are you sure he’s not in the bathroom again?” Sam inquired nonchalantly. “Remember last time?”

“He’s not there this time! I swear!”

“Lucifer.” Dean muttered. “He must have waited until we got back to the bunker to throw us off.”

“So much for just wanting to check on his son.” Sam snorted. “Cas, can you track them?” Cas shook his head. The group froze as they heard a loud banging from the bunker door. Sam slowly headed up the stairs, pausing by the door. The rest of the group held their breath, waiting in silence as Sam unlocked the door. “What the Hell are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see my son. Well, that, and introduce his Uncle Mikey.” Lucifer popped through the door, followed by the Michael from this world. “Now, where is he?” He asked, lacing his fingers together.

“You took him!” Dean screamed, slamming his fist down.

“Um, no… I didn’t.” Lucifer looked confused, then his face twisted in rage. “Did you morons lose my son? Again?”

…

“So, let me get this straight. You rejected me, but said yes to that dick?” Michael hissed, throwing a fit. “And for what? For him to try to kill my brother and then take you for a joyride?” He put his hands on his hips, staring Dean down.

“No, he tricked me. And isn’t that what you wanted to do, anyway?” Dean glared back, leaning over the table. Mary and Sam tried to intervene, but Castiel and Lucifer walked back in at the perfect time.

“Look what I found!” Lucifer commented drily, holding up a long feather. Michael stared at it, then looked at his own wings. “It seems the bunker’s warding isn’t up to date. Other-world Michael came right in.” Lucifer snarled, eyes flashing red. “You idiots let him get taken. Now, you’re going to help me get him back.”

“Where would he even take him? And why? Jack doesn’t have his full power back.” Mary commented, face twisted with worry.

“Give me a minute.” Michael murmured, eye closed in concentration. “I should be able to trace him since his grace is so much like my own.” He freezes, then opens his eyes. “He’s in Lawrence, Kansas.”

…

“Let me go!” Jack struggled against his bonds futilely. He falls off the couch he was laid on, landing face first. “I will kill you!”

“Pretty words.” The other Michael twisted a wineglass in his hand, gingerly taking a sip. “Unfortunately, you won’t get the chance. Your family is on their way to get you back as we speak.”

Jack stopped struggling, shifting his eyes towards the door. If he could just get out, maybe he’d have a chance. “Then they’ll kill you.”

“No.” He placed the glass on the table, bored. “They won’t kill me. Not when I take Dean’s body back.” Jack looks up at him, horrified. “Everything is going according to plan.” Michael smiled, looking out over the stormy sky from inside the penthouse suite. “Perfect. Just perfect.”

Thank you for reading! All my stuff is on my AO3 account if you want to read more (or can’t find the older posts). Have a great day! -E.Morningstar

#supernatural lucifer #lucifer x jack #Jack Kline #slight angst #fluff #notporn

10 notes · View notes

attanos · 5 years

Note

4, 11, 20, 35 for riley and 22, 25, 31, 44 for flynn because i love both of them

💖💞💖💗💖💞💖💗💖💞💖💗

RILEY 🔫

4. Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

hmmm. she saw her parents fight a Lot when she was growing up. and it got real nasty towards the end, they said terrible things to each other and riley heard near all of it. it did kind of fuck up her perception of functioning relationships. she’s only ever talked about it in very vague terms with a friend or two out in boston. just like ‘what kid with divorced parents isn’t fucked up?’ the most she talks about it is honestly in no cult au with cata and santi.

also being captured by jacob fucked her up beyond belief. everything she saw and everything she did while held in st. francis’ changed her for the worse. she never breathes a word of it to anyone.

11. In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?

that moment when she wakes up in the bunker with joseph and realises he was right. she’s all alone and everyone she ever cared about is dead. she’s never felt fear like those few minutes of overwhelming panic before she manages to get something of a grip on herself.

20. In what ways does your character compare themselves to others? Do they do this for the sake of self-validation, or self-criticism?

hm, probably in terms of personal relationships? she’s quite envious of people who can just be open and expressive with how they’re feeling and don’t hesitate to be loud about their emotions. she’s quite self critical in that regard.

35. How does your character behave around people they like?

she’s still an asshole but its in a way more playful way. you can tell riley likes you because she’ll go out of her way to fuck with you. like gentle bullying and she’ll check in on you a lot. random texts and snaps throughout the day. if she really likes you she’ll call you a lot. she’s way more into phone calls than texts.

also she’s actually very physically affectionate. she would just literally never initiate it, ever. but once someone else breaks that barrier she shows affection through small casual touches.

FLYNN 🤠

22. What does your character like in other people?

flynn’s got stupid bastard disease and is always drawn towards people who are a. kindhearted and compassionate, b. chaotic and reckless and c. both of these, which is a KO. he’s such a prickly shit and thrives on playing the protector because it’s what he was brought up to do so if u fulfil these characteristics flynn has already sworn himself to you. though you would think otherwise because of how his entire person is just resting bitch face syndrome.

25. How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person?

flynn’s dad runs a gang and flynn was brought up smack in the middle of that so it’s fair to say he doesn’t trust quick or easy. even if he likes you, in his life he’s learned you always have to keep your eyes wide open because you never know what a person really wants.

however, as previously mentioned, he’s got stupid bastard disease, so i think someone who took the time and effort to really get close to him and weasel their way into his little rock of a heart would be free from his ongoing and general suspicion.

31. Describe a scenario in which your character feels most comfortable.

uhhhhh, god this is actually really hard. probably just roamin’ the mojave with someone he trusts at his side. he left home because he craved adventure and he doesn’t like being in one place for too long so he’s at his most comfortable when he’s on the move.

44. How easy or difficult is it for your character to say “I love you?” Can they say it without meaning it?

it’d take a lot to get him to the point where he feels like he should say it. he’s quick to become infatuated with someone but real slow to actually fall in love and saying that isn’t something he’d ever take lightly. he’d never say it without meaning it because for him it holds so much promise and weight and it should be meaningful.

#oc: riley #oc: flynn #two absolute bastards!#maria i love u thank u for the questions!!!#oc tag #under a cut bc i cannot stop running my mouth #highoverseer

3 notes · View notes

borahebangtan · 6 years

Text

Best Part of My Reality

Summary:- Both Sam and (Y/N) are in desperate need of comfort after a scary day.

Pairings:- Sam x Fem!Reader

Warnings:- None (Except Desperate Fluff)

Word Count:- 757

My Masterlist

AN:- PS - THIS IS SUCH TRASH I CAN’T EVEN LOOK AT IT ANYMORE BUT HERE YA GO.

Sam was aware that staring at his unconscious girlfriend classified him as a proper, ‘Edward Cullen’ level creep, but he still found himself doing it that night. After he had set (Y/N)’s limp body down on their bed, he couldn’t help but take a moment to look at her and remind himself that she was alive, and safe in the bunker.

After the nightmare that had been the past day, Sam could definitely use the reassurance. (Y/N) had been on a solo case, despite Sam’s insistence that she should stick with him and Dean, when she fell into the clutches of a djinn.

Sam shuddered, even thinking about it- about how drained (Y/N) had looked already when he and Dean finally reached to her. Sam was so deep in thought, knowing it was his fault (Y/N) was hurt and that he shouldn’t have let her go that he didn’t notice (Y/N) waking up.

Upon seeing Sam by her bedside, (Y/N) jumped and tackled him into a huge bear hug without a second thought. “I missed you!” (Y/N) breathed out against Sam’s neck as he wrapped his arms around (Y/N), gladly accepting the embrace.

Sam tried to gently coax (Y/N) out of his neck because he knew her stitches had got to be hurting, but his girlfriend refused to let go. (Y/N) just wanted to stay in Sam’s arms, her safe place, surrounded by his scent a little while longer.

When Sam gently tugged at her hair to get her attention though, (Y/N) sighed and leaned back just enough to look at him. “Hi baby,” Sam laughed at that despite the mountains of guilt weighing down on him.

“Hello, Angel. You feel better now?” (Y/N) smiled wider at the familiar affectionate pet name, and nodded simply in reply. (Y/N) put a lot of walls around her and acted tough, even with Sam- though it was with him that she was most herself.

Talking about the past day would include thinking about it, and that was something she was not willing to do. As (Y/N) settled into Sam’s chest once again, he sighed at her persistence and how cute she was being, before accepting defeat and going to sit on the bed with his needy girlfriend in his arms.

Sam might not have been the one imitating the warm embraces that day, but he needed them just as much as (Y/N) did. “Hey (Y/N), I was thinking about something. When we got to you, you were already out of the hallucination. How’d you snap out of it so quickly?” Sam spoke after a long while of silence.

(Y/N) sighed lightly at the question, but answered nonetheless. “Djinn are supposed to grant your ultimate wish, right? Well, that bastard didn’t. I don’t know why, or how, but it sent me into the wrong twilight zone.”

“Why, what happened?” Sam asked, clearly confused. “It was the Apple Pie life, sure. I wasn’t a hunter, had a house with a lawn and everything, was married to a Winchester . . . but that’s just it. It was the wrong Winchester.” (Y/N) explained with a small shrug. “You . . . you mean you- Dean?” Sam managed to get out.

“Yeah, I was married to Dean. Sam, even though being with Dean was all I remembered, it felt so wrong. Even though he was the one there, I knew he was the wrong height, and his hands weren’t right, and that his hair was supposed to be longer. God, all I could feel the whole time was that it was wrong. Eventually, I remembered the hunt, and the djinn, and put a gun in my mouth.” (Y/N) finished, closing her eyes and taking a breath.

“So the djinn couldn’t figure out what your wish was? I’ve never heard of that happening,” Sam said, eyebrows furrowed. “I guess I’m so closed off even the djinn couldn’t crack through my walls.” A small laugh bubbled out of (Y/N).

“Whatever it was, I wouldn’t have broken out of the fantasy if you were there. I’ll admit my real life totally sucks, but hey, at least it’s real. And you know what, Sam? You’re the best part of my reality.” As the pads of (Y/N)’s thumbs ran across Sam’s jaw, he closed his eyes, a brilliant smile breaking out.

“I love you,” was Sam’s simple reply, because he was tired, and sleepy and just wanted to curl up with his Angel in their bed. “I love you,” (Y/N) responded, because she wanted to do the exact same.

AN:- Feedback would be awesome, even though I know it’s crap. Honestly, I just wanted to finish this one and move on, ya know? Hope you have an amazing day!

2DreamCatcher8

36 notes · View notes

owlaholic68 · 6 years

Text

You weren’t like this yesterday- Chapter Two Good Ending

The alternate “Good” ending for Chapter Two. Read the canon “Bad” version here.

Lenny nervously looks around, his grip tightening on the shovel. Carla looks over at him and smiles, her right hand pointing a gun at a thin man walking in front of them. The man, Pretty Boy Lloyd stops in front of a grave.

“Here.”

A crow perched on one of the decaying corpses loudly caws. Across the graveyard, one of the half-dead bodies strung to a pole groans.

“Good.” Carla nudges Lenny to give him the shovel, watching Pretty Boyd Lloyd with narrowed eyes. “Dig.”

“But-” The thief tries to protest.

Carla raises the gun. “There's two kinds of people in the world, Lloyd. Those with loaded guns, and those who dig.” She gestures with the pistol. “Now get started. We don’t have all day.”

Lenny jumps as a crow lands a little too close. He looks up at Carla, who is watching Lloyd dig with a slight smirk on her face. She always points guns at people with a smile. She has a pretty smile. I just wish she wouldn’t grin like this when she’s about to kill someone. Lenny knows that there’s no chance of her letting Lloyd go free. Even if the Salvatores hadn’t specified that they wanted Lloyd punished for the theft, Carla would have killed him anyway.

He silently wraps an arm around her waist and buries his head in her shoulder. She’d do it for me. She’s done worse. She’d say that it was to tie off loose ends, she’d brush it off, but it’d be to protect us. I wish she wouldn’t. He doesn’t look when Lloyd finishes digging and opens the hatch to his bunker. He tries not to listen when Carla shoots him in the head without hesitation, Lloyd’s corpse falling with a heavy thud.

“You stay here,” Carla says, disentangling herself from him. “I’ll be just down and back.” He nods and watches her climb down the ladder and out of sight. Only then does he wrap his arms around himself and close his eyes, trying to ignore where he was. I wish she wouldn’t bring me with her. Golgotha is the last place I ever wanted to go. Couldn’t she have left me back on Virgin Street with the Highwayman? Lenny takes a deep breath and quickly straightens when he hears the thunk of Carla’s boots coming back up the ladder.

She waves a thick stack of bills and smiles wide. There’s a speck of blood on her cheek. “We’re good to go. Let’s get back to Salvatore and tell him the news, okay?”

“Sound-sounds good,” Lenny says. He stops her with a gentle hand on her shoulder, reaching out with his thumb to wipe the blood off her face. She takes his hand and kisses it, lips brushing over his knuckles. He quietly gasps. Carla gets like this sometimes, after she’s killed someone in cold blood. It happens more often than not these days.

She gets affectionate and sweet with him, even more than usual. She’s always holding his hand, but after committing murder, she clings to him and kisses him all over, whispering things that make him blush in embarrassment. She tells him how much she loves him, how she would do anything to make him happy, how she would buy him anything he asked, how pretty his pale eyes are when he smiles.

So Lenny ignores their surroundings and shakes the still-cooling corpse behind them from his mind, kissing Carla on the cheek and shyly murmuring that he loves her. And I do. Not every day, not always. But even when she does these awful things, she’s still Carla. And that’s enough for me.

Lenny remembers their first kiss.

It was a while ago, before Carla had really showed her true colors. After all, if John Cassidy knew how she really was, he never would have come with us. He would still be alive. If I had known, would I have joined her? Maybe I still would have. It’s no use dwelling on what-ifs, though.

They are in the Sierra Army Base, scouting out the heavily-guarded fortress for the Wright family in New Reno. Along the way, however, an artificial intelligence has started communicating to them via computer terminal. Cassidy had argued against activating a robot body for Skynet, but Lenny had taken Carla’s side with the argument that a robot companion would be incredibly useful in combat. Cassidy had grunted his disapproval, wrinkled his nose, and turned his back.

Carla squeezes his hand, shooting Cassidy a dark look. The grizzled fighter had not stopped complaining about Lenny, refusing to stand next to him, and quietly grumbling about his smell. They stand in an elevator slowly heading down to the fourth and bottom level: Organ Extraction and Storage. Carla has the biomed gel and robot motivator, but Skynet still needs a physical brain to occupy.

The elevator dings and the doors open, the hallway leading further into the complex blocked by a yellow force field. Another bright barrier blocks the passage for the stairs. Carla kneels and pulls off a panel, fiddling with some wires. They’ve done this a dozen times in order to get through the base’s complex security system. Cassidy stands to the side and crosses his arms.

The force field dissipates and Carla stands and quickly passes through it, Cassidy next to her and Lenny just a step behind. Then Cassidy turns and shoves Lenny. His back hits the other force field, the surface sparking and hissing. He loses a second to surprise, and moves too late to catch up. The yellow force field re-activates in front of his face, Carla and Cassidy on the other side.

“What the fuck?” Carla whirls on Cassidy. He holds up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Sorry, just needed a break from his stench.” Cassidy doesn’t see Carla reach for her gun, her posture still aggressive and danger.

“C-Carla,” Lenny whispers, his fingers hovering over the electric field. “I- I’m okay, I’m not hurt or anything, C-Carla, it- it’s-” I’m worried about what she’ll do.

Looking back, Lenny is impressed with her control. She could have killed him right there. Nowadays, that’s what she’d do. She’d punch him until he was nothing but blood and bits on the floor. And then she’d kiss me and tell me she loves me.

Carla looks over at him and confirms his safety, then forces herself to relax. “Len, you’ll be safe there. Just stay until,” she smiles and his stomach drops. Uh oh. That’s not the good smile. “Until we come back, okay? I won’t be long.” She waves to Cassidy. “Let’s go.”

They disappear down the hallway, and Lenny sits down to wait, back against the elevator doors.

Five minutes pass, then ten. Then Carla turns the corner. She’s alone, carrying a jar under one arm. She sets down the jar, a brain gently floating in the gel. In a few seconds, she has the force field back open, and quickly scoots through before it closes.

Lenny glances at the jar when they enter the elevator. “What- where’s-”

“Don’t worry about Cassidy anymore,” Carla says, holding an eyeball up to the elevator controls. The car starts to slowly raise. “You know all you have to do is ask, Len, and I’ll get rid of someone for you. Anyone, any reason, you just say the word and I’ll rip them apart. You’re too sweet sometimes, and that’s fine with me. I don’t want you getting your hands dirty with some bastard’s blood. But I’ll do anything for you, I’ll kill any fucking idiot that you want. You know that, right?” She puts a hand on his waist and she’s so close, he can’t hardly breathe. She killed him. Oh my God, that’s- is that his brain? She tore out his brain because he pushed me and called me names. What would she do if someone actually hurt me?

Carla traces the gaunt line of his jaw with her fingers, then leans in and kisses him. It’s soft and sweet, and he loses himself in it without a second thought. She pulls away when the elevator doors open. Lenny takes her hand without a second thought, though a nagging worry sticks in the back of his mind: How far would she go if pushed?

He doesn’t dare ask about the brain, but Carla answers his question when they leave the elevator. “He might have a bad heart,” she murmurs, smirking. “But he sure had a fine brain.”

Carla sits in the back of the car and counts money, lips moving silently as she stacks wrinkled bills on the seat. Lenny holds a fist-sized gadget covered in grease.

“I’ve only got 500 dollars,” Carla mutters. “And at least half of that has to go towards ammunition and food. We’re dangerously low on both.”

“Smitty said- he said he wants 750 dollars to install the- the part?” Lenny confirms.

Carla sighs and shoves the money back into a bag before tucking it into her armor. They’re sitting in the Highwayman, which is parked on the edge of the Den. Carla had recently found a part for the car that Smitty had claimed would make it more fuel efficient. They had been burning through fuel cells recently, and Carla was worried about being able to make it back down to San Francisco with what they had left.

“Let’s look around and try to find some work.” They exit the car and start walking through the downtown, Carla warily keeping an eye on strangers that pass too close. Her shoulders are tense, shackles raised in preparation for a fight. She’s worried about the money. And everything else too. Lenny squeezes her hand. Things go bad real fast when she’s like this. The slightest thing sets her off. That, or she’ll jump at every opportunity without thinking about the moral consequences. Not that she does much of that anyways. The job doesn’t matter, long as it pays.

Person after person rejects them, or ducks into doorways as she approaches to ask. Carla’s gained a reputation, and even complete strangers know her penchant for murder. Normally, it opens more doors than it closes. But today, even the seedy parts of the Den, all of the doors seem to be closed.

Except one. Next to Mom’s Diner, a fading sign advertises the Slaver’s Guild. Lenny abruptly stops, but Carla continues, jerking his arm by accident. “Come on,” she insists, “they won’t hurt us. I’m only going to stop in and ask Metzger for some work. It’ll only take a second.”

He shakes his head, stomach dropping to his feet. She can’t be serious… Joining the Slavers? “C-Carla, this isn’t- it’s not a good, really not- not a good idea, C-Carla-”

“It’ll be fine. Don’t you trust me?” She fully turns to him in the middle of the street.

He hesitates. Uh oh.

“Len,” her voice lowers, and she leans in close. His shoulders hunch and he tries to shrink away. “I said, don’t you trust me, Len?”

“Of course I do, it- it’s just,” he takes a deep breath and tries to wriggle his hand out of her grasp. “This is- it’s too far, C-Carla. The Slavers-”

She tightens her grip on his hand. “I told you not to worry about it. We need-”

“No we don’t!” Lenny surprises himself by interrupting. Carla’s brows come together. “We- it’s not like it’s urgent, we don’t- we can last until New Reno at least.” He wrests his hand away with a wince. “We can- we could sell my armor, or even- we have some extra chems we don’t use, C-Carla, you don’t have to-”

She cuts him off with a glare. “This is my decision, not yours. And I say we do it. That’s final.” She grabs his arm and starts to drag him towards the building. “Let’s go.”

Lenny digs his heels in, his breathing picking up in panic. She’s never forced me like this. This is too far, even for her. I can’t- I can’t do this anymore. I won’t. I can’t keep letting her do these things and just silently accepting it. There has to be a line in the sand. And I think she’s just crossed it.

He tries to struggle, but she’s the one who fights, not him, and has her superior strength on her side. With a pang of guilt, he remembers the knife at his hip. I don’t want to. But this has to stop now. He draws the blade and points it at her with a shaking hand. “Carla, no. Stop.”

She whirls at the glint of metal and grabs his wrist, twisting it roughly. Lenny yelps and drops the knife, flinching as she looms over him. Carla lets go of him and he rubs his wrist, stumbling backwards as fast he can.

“What the fuck, Len?” Carla snarls, fingers twitching towards the gun at her side.

Lenny instinctively shrinks. She could kill me without a second thought. Maybe she would. “C-Carla,” he pleads her name. I love her, but I can’t do this anymore. He straightens and blinks back tears. “It’s this or me, C-Carla. You do this,” he swallows hard, “you go- you walk in that door, I’ll leave.”

“No!” She shouts, startling him. A few tears slide down his cheeks. What if she just lets me go? What if she doesn’t? “No, Len, I won’t let you. You can’t leave, not after all we’ve gone through together. I’m going to walk in there and get us some money, then we’re going to walk away. Together.” Carla takes a step forward and he flinches backwards.

“You heard it – you heard what I said, and I-I mean it, C-Carla.” Lenny sniffles. She doesn’t like to see me cry. Maybe then she’ll know I’m serious about this. “You walk in there, I walk away. I could – I can take the rest of it, everything- all of the things you do, but not-not this, this is where I won’t follow.” He takes a step backwards, then another.

She stares at him in disbelief and fury. Carla slowly reaches down and unholsters her pistol, holding it loosely in her hand. She extends her other hand towards him, but it feels less inviting and more demanding. “Len, come here. I’m not arguing with you about this. I’ve made my decision, and that’s it.” She notices Lenny’s eyes tracking the gun and tucks it behind her back. “Len, you don’t need to worry about this shit. You just stick with me and you’ll always be safe, I promise. Just forget about this, okay?” Her tone turns pleading at the end, sickeningly sweet in a way that turns his stomach.

“No, C-Carla.” He takes a deep breath and picks up his foot to step backwards. She can’t manipulate me that easily. Carla sees the movement of his leg and raises the gun. He freezes. “You- you’d what, shoot me, C-Carla? You- you wouldn’t,” he starts to lower his foot and Carla moves the barrel to point at his leg.

Tears well up in her eyes. “Len, don’t make me. Don’t test that. You take another step away from me, you’re going to regret it.”

His heart hurts, his head feels disconnected from the rest of his body. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her cry. He distantly realizes he’s sobbing, loud gasps shaking his chest. I have to believe that she’d never hurt me. She loves me. She’d never- I don’t think she’d ever go that far. There’s only one way to find out, though.

Lenny takes a step back.

Carla growls in frustration and throws her gun to the side. It slides on the ground, far out of her reach. “Len, why? You could have- I could have hurt you.” She reaches for him and he skitters away. At this point, could anyone blame him? “I’m sorry, Len. I shouldn’t have done that.” She swipes a hand under her eyes.

Lenny gasps and sinks to his knees. The adrenaline from having a gun pointed at him is starting to fade. I was ready to face the consequences. But I’m glad she didn’t follow through. “I’m sorry, C-Carla. I- I had to do it. It was- I couldn’t stand by anymore.” He covers his face and lets her approach and kneel at his side.

“Let’s go,” she whispers. “We’ll talk about this later. For now,” she glances over at the Slaver’s Guild and grimaces. “For now, could you forgive me?”

“Yes,” he answers. I’ll always forgive her. No matter what heinous acts she thoughtlessly performs, as long as she lets me say “no” when I need to, as long as she doesn’t cross that line again, I’ll always forgive her.

She helps him to his feet and hugs him tightly. “I love you, Len. I hope you know that,” she whispers.

“Of course I know that.” He doesn’t look up at her, not yet. She’s turned into something I can’t face head-on anymore. But she needs me, and I need her. If things stay okay, I’ll stay with her. “I love you too.”

And when he says that, he’s not lying.

#fallout #fallout 2 #fallout stuff i've written #fun fact folks #this was actually the original version #and I wrote an alternate 'bad' version for funsies #just wondered what would have happened if Carla had shot him #and i actually thought that would be more true to character

6 notes · View notes