#that’s 5+ months of nothing in my head by supernatural!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dawnagustd · 2 years

Text

thirst trap || jjk

main masterlist | listen while you read | mailbox | bangtan seven deadly sins collab

Invincible.

That’s how you feel as the warm breeze whips your arm hanging out of the driver’s side door. Nothing but open road and miles of dirt terrains surround your tiny sports car. The smell of your hair products fills the air as the wind sends your curls flying in every direction. A glance in the rearview mirror through your dark lens-covered eyes reveals that your previous style has become wild and blown out. However, there is nothing a brush and a hair tie can’t fix.

There are far more important things on your mind.

The message came through around 3 AM and by 5 AM, you were on the road, headed nearly 2000 miles outside of your hometown to see the biggest rockstar this world has ever seen.

Not to see him live or anything like that; you could never afford that on a barista’s salary, but you can use your allowance to visit a church retreat. That’s exactly where you told your parents you were going when you withdrew $3300 from your savings.

Of course, you can never go back to your life there now that you’ve lied to go “see the devil” as they would put it, but the thing is. You don’t want to.

All you want to do is travel and see the world they speak so poorly of. Everything you’ve ever been taught came through the mouths of bigots who held themselves higher than anyone who did not worship their God.

From the start of life, you walked the path they’d beaten for you. But once you turned 18, all of hell broke loose. For three years, you’ve lived a double life—spending Sunday through Friday as a well-mannered young lady while you partied on the weekends.

Even though you hate university, it’s also the best thing that ever happened to you. You met friends, learned how to lie—and discovered sexual desires you never thought you had.

However, all that wasn’t enough for a caged bird like yourself even. You started hanging out with a group of people who didn't attend college and spent most of their time idolizing their favorite rock gods. That’s how it happened.

That’s how you found him.

Jungkook’s hair was long, he wore leather pants with his shirt ripped open, chest and abs exposed—he was the definition of a deity because he owned every piece of the stage and the crowd surrounding him. His eyes were pitched black and made out to be soulless, but somehow you still found a spark in them. A passion for the music that you felt you shared with him.

It’s like you read his emotions that no one else could see. As delusional as it sounds, you felt connected.

So, you found his Instagram, you liked his pictures, and you flooded his comments. You even became brave enough to DM him every day.

You’ve always said that you’d stop if he asked you to, but the thing is, he never did. He hasn’t replied either. Well, up until yesterday.

You were on his account looking at his photos, when suddenly you received a direct message. You don’t have many real friends, and you figured it was just one of them sending you a link or something. It didn’t click in your mind until you opened your messages and saw his profile icon and username.

For the first ten minutes, you screamed into your pillow, but then you realized it could be a bot or maybe his account could be hacked. However after opening the message, you discovered a picture of a note.

Written in his handwriting were coordinates to an unknown location. Your first reaction was to look them up, but it only provided an empty piece of land. Because you were skeptical, you asked him about the location but received no reply.

After a while, you concluded that maybe his home is located there, and the global satellite hasn’t picked it up yet. That’s what you wanted to believe, at least. And that is what persuaded you to pack a bag and abandon your life.

If you were being honest with yourself, you knew it was on your mind anyway. You’re a thrill seeker; every day you thought about packing your shit and leaving just because you were bored.

You aren’t afraid of not knowing the future or taking a leap, so that’s why despite knowing this is a bad idea, you said, “fuck it.”

Fuck what your religious parents have to say, to hell with your studies, and goodbye to that boring ass town. You’re thirty miles away from meeting the lead singer of Deadly Svn, and your heart is racing with adrenaline.

You spent the night at a hotel and left to meet him at the location about two hours ago. Every few hours, you try to update him, but now you have no signal to contact him. You hope he’s home and security doesn’t call the cops.

The optimism you had before leaving your hometown slowly fades as you get closer and closer, but no sign of life of residency comes into view. You start to believe this was just a joke to get back at you for being so thirsty.

All of your plans to tell him how much you love his music and how you adore his courage to be different seem to be a waste of all the time you practiced in the mirror, so you don’t stammer and trip over yourself. You start to think you’ll never be able to tell him how much he’s changed your life for the better or how you’ll save up enough to see him live one day.

Your expectations sink lower as your GPS takes you off the highway and into the wilderness.

A dirt storm begins to form, prompting you to roll up your windows so that the particles don’t travel into your interior. You can barely see five feet ahead, but you keep going until you hear,

“Your destination is up ahead. You have arrived.”

You sit waiting and holding your breath until the dirt settles. Whirlwinds cover your car in a tan gritted coat of dry soil, but it doesn’t matter to you when your feelings are on the line.

You brace yourself for the worst, and once it’s clear, you know you’ve done right. Absolutely nothing lies in front of you, and your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. You pull out your phone and try to send a message over and over, but ultimately realize that you can’t.

It dawns on you that he’s not coming after several minutes of waiting. You’re hurt, heartbroken if you’re being honest with yourself. There’s no denying how high your hopes were despite the probability being highly unlikely, so you don’t even bother holding back the scream that erupts in your throat.

Your fists punch the steering wheel multiple times, releasing your frustrations on your beloved car. Your hands still tremble long after your outburst is over.

Sighing, you grab your bag off the floor and look for something to tie your hair up so that it doesn’t blow in your face once you step outside for a smoke. You find your brush and a scrunchie then get to work.

The process lasts about a minute, and once you have a ponytail secured, you throw the brush on the seat and grab your cigarette pack and lighter.

A gust of air hits your cunt when the door opens, and you place a foot on the ground. You push down your little black dress to shield your fishnet and panty-covered center from the elements.

Once you’re out of the cramped space and soothed with the first inhale of nicotine, your body slowly starts to cool down. You take in the scenery as you exhale—observing all the dry land and dehydrated vegetation around you.

It’s eerily quiet as the sun enters the beginning stages of setting into the horizon. There’s so much silence that you become uncomfortable with being the only person out here, so exposed and vulnerable to whatever ominous presence that your mind thinks is watching you.

Your breathing is as shaky as your limbs. You’re barely able to hold the cigarette between your fingers due to your lack of stability.

With another slow drag from the stick, you close your eyes and let your head loll back as your car supports your weight. You breathe out and are momentarily taken away to a place in your mind that holds your peace. You channel it and allow it to lead you to your next move.

Maybe a minute or so goes by and you’re completely lost within your thoughts, going over “where to” next or what you’re going to do about living arrangements and money. It’s something you planned on figuring out after your meeting, but since you’ve been played it’s all you have left to think about.

While in your trance, you don’t notice that there’s a car speeding towards you, stirring up dust and dirt, until the loud music fills your ears. You open your eyes and turn in the direction of the highway. That’s when you see the black old school with the tinted windows, classic rock blasting through the speakers. You don’t know for sure, but your immediate guess is that it’s him.

The vehicle pulls alongside yours and comes to a stop behind the engine dies. You stand frozen, waiting for someone to climb out of the driver or passenger seat. But nothing happens, and more minutes pass.

You narrow your eyes to look inside while taking a hit from your cigarette, but you can’t see anything because the windows are too dark. A part of you wants to approach it, but you never get the opportunity.

“You shouldn’t play with those, love.”

A man’s voice breaks the thick silence, and the cigarette is snatched from your hand. Your head whips in the direction of the source. The world stops when you lay eyes on the person.

“They’re bad for you,” the man adds as he brings the cigarette to his lips. There’s no mistaking his black-painted nails or multiple piercings and tattoos.

It’s him. Jungkook is standing beside you.

Your mouth is open as you watch him inhale the entire thing in one breath until only the butt remains. He plucks it and sends it flying out of his hand then turns toward you. His body leans against your car while he takes a moment for his eyes to drink you in.

You do the same. However, the expressions on your faces differ. Jungkook’s face remains expressionless while he’s checking you out, but you, on the other hand, are nearly drooling in awe.

He’s even more breathtaking in person. He stands tall and broad, shoulders wide, and a dominance that can captivate you from miles away. He claims it all without a word spoken and that makes him even hotter, more desirable.

His features only add to your attraction to him. This new look of his has been your favorite from the start. Jungkook set standards for rock that many were too afraid to try. He ditched the dark and mysterious look and went with what he wanted.

The icy blue paired with the dark roots of his undercut is something you’d expect to clash, but he pulls it off well. His low cut allows you to see the piercings that adorn his ears, something you’d have to strain to make out on camera, but now it is presented to you up close and personal. You’d be stuck on the silver jewelry forever if there weren’t other parts of him you weren’t dying to check out.

Like the way his tongue absentmindedly pokes at his lip piercing. Or how he lifts his eyebrow slightly while he stares at you. You can’t ignore how defined his pecs are, even in his loose-fitting sweater. Or the way his jeans hug his sculpted thighs.

Immediately, your mouth starts to babble.

“Oh, fuck. It’s you… I’m your biggest fan. I love all of your music… Every song. And I—”

“Enough of that.” He waves his hand and shushes you. Your lips don’t utter another word after he’s asserted his dominance. “I came to talk about you.”

You nod and swallow back whatever it is you were going to say. It can wait, you figure. If he wants to talk about boring you, then so be it.

“So, love.” He approaches you with his hands linked behind his back. His long lashes cover most of his eyes. However, the glossiness of his orbs still give off a small glint that makes them as dreamy as they are hazy. “What’s the problem?”

Your pulse quickens as he inches closer, heart nearly bursting through your skin when his chest touches your arm. Jungkook’s body presses against you as he interrogates you. Though the weather is nice, your palms still sweat profusely. However, your composure doesn’t falter, and you look him in the eye as you speak.

“There isn’t a problem. I really do love your music and—”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” he interrupts.

Well, fuck.

Somehow, your reason for being here slips your mind. You were so excited to actually see him standing next to you, the fact that you’d have to take accountability for your actions got put on the back burner.

Nevertheless, you put on a brave face and confess your sins. Jungkook patiently waits for an answer from you.

“Well,” you start, sighing before you continue to eliminate the shakiness in your voice. “There’s still not a problem or anything on my end but I can understand you must be frustrated with my spamming.”

“I’m not tired, I’m curious, actually.”

You frown. “Why so?”

“Because…” Jungkook’s eyes roll with wonder as he pretends to be in thought. His gaze is directed toward you once he’s done. “I just wanna know how far you’ll go for attention.”

“Attention?” you repeat.

Jungkook nods.

“Yeah. It’s obvious that’s what you want. Am I right?”

“No, you’re not. That’s not why,” you reply, a bit defensive. Maybe that’s partially true, but the way he says it doesn’t sit right with you. “I just—”

“Wanted me to notice you?”

A coy smile threatens to form on Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah,” you confess. “But it’s not what you think.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“Well—”

“Well…”

You sigh and admit defeat.

“You’re right, I guess.”

“I am,” Jungkook scoffs. “I’m always right.”

You look straight ahead. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach because this isn’t going as planned. You spent hours practicing and perfecting each syllable only to be sideswiped by Jungkook’s wit.

He’s reading you so hard you’re scared to think too loud.

“I bet…” He shifts and positions himself in front of you, blocking your view with his body. “I bet there’s even a reason behind this.”

Jungkook gestures toward your figure with his hands, but you’re still clueless.

“My outfit?”

He agrees with a nod.

“But not just that. Everything about you… Including that recycled persona you’re rocking is nowhere near who you really are, is it?”

“No, this is me,” you deny. “I’m not sure who you expected.”

Jungkook reaches out, startling you so you jerk away. He chuckles and then proceeds to take the tiny silver crucifix hanging from your chain between his fingertips. Then he looks at you with a smirk.

“This girl,” he whispers. “That’s who I wanna meet.”

He abandons the jewelry and steps away from you. You release the breath you were holding while his back is turned. His enticing smell still lingers in the evening air, traveling through your nostrils as you inhale it deeply for remembrance.

“You bring her out, and you might get what you want,” he proposes.

Copying his phrase, you continue the banter.

“How do you know what I want?”

Jungkook turns around swiftly, creating a gust of wind as his body turns. He returns to his spot in front of you and leans down so that he’s eye level with you.

“Because I can see everything… Right down to your righteous little soul,” he informs. Jungkook’s voice drops octaves lower, giving you chills and goosebumps along your arm. “You think this is a gimmick, don’t you?”

His eyes begin to bleed black and eventually become saturated with dark ink. Your reflexes cause you to gasp, but you aren’t surprised. You know. You’ve always known.

“No, I don’t,” you answer truthfully. “I know what you are. That’s why I’m not afraid.”

You watch as his face transforms from the handsome features of a man to the characteristics of a monster. However, despite the flare of his nostrils or his clenched jaw, there’s still the same twinkle in those dark eyes, and you fall deeper for the rawness of his true identity.

“So why are you clutching that?” he questions, eyes shifting to your necklace. You didn’t realize you’d grabbed it in your state of shock. “An obedient one, you are.”

His smile grows, revealing his sharp fangs. The heat that radiates from his body has you tempted to move closer, but you hang onto your self-control. Your breath hitches as you’re suddenly met with his thick black talons, coming forward to tap your cheek.

“I like it, baby. I really do, but the thing is…” He gently drags his nail down your skin, and your eyelids flutter shut. One would naturally be afraid of such a creature, but you can’t help but find yourself intrigued by the things your parents begged you not to let in. “You can’t play for both teams.”

The warmth vanishes as he retracts, and you miss it almost immediately. You open your eyes and find him creating some distance.

“What do you think I am, love?”

You only catch the ending of what he says, entirely caught up in the way he touched you or the way his stare penetrated your soul.

“Huh?”

He laughs. “You say you know. Well, what do you know?... Who do you think I am?”

You stare at the broadness of his shoulders, getting lost again until he looks back with a raised brow.

“If you aren’t going to talk, I can leave—”

“You’re one of the fallen. A damned soul,” you quickly reply.

“Very close. But not exactly true, sweetheart.” Jungkook turns around but stays rooted to his spot. Instead, you step closer, feeling braver than before. Your hand abandons your necklace and returns to your side. Jungkook looks down at you as you approach him, his lips forming a lopsided grin.

“Really?” you ask, and he nods.

“Mhm. Bet you don’t even know why you’re here, do you?”

“No,” you answer. “I have no idea. But I’m still glad you invited me.”

“You think you’re the only pretty girl I invited?”

You bite your tongue just in time after almost throwing out an insult in retaliation for your hurt feelings. You’re not gullible; you knew, but he still didn’t have to say it.

You exhale through your nose when he begins to circle you like a shark stalking its prey. You don’t want Jungkook to know it upsets you, but something tells you he already knows it.

“Jealous little thing, huh?” he teases, his hand brushing against the bottom of your dress, gently grazing your ass. Who cares if it was intentional or not; it felt fucking great. “You want it all to yourself. I know the feeling, love.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie.

Jungkook doesn’t believe it, of course.

“Sure you do.” His hands find your shoulders, and he levels his lips with your ear. You shudder, and he feels it. The reaction brings a smirk to his face. He whispers, “You can stop me, you know?”

“I don’t want to,” you answer truthfully.

“Hm, that’s interesting.”

Jungkook’s nose finds its way to your neck. He inhales deeply and hums while his large hands run up and down your arms. Every part of his is hot to the touch so your feverish flesh is scorching due to the friction. Your knees buckle when he starts using his lips to caress you instead of his nose.

He breathes out his words, making everything he says sound vulgar and sweet.

“You think you can handle me, love?” Jungkook asks, teeth grazing your skin in the midst of his trail of open-mouth kisses.

Jungkook sways, and his crotch rubs against your lower back. You can feel his desire growing as time ticks by.

You make sure your answer is as confident as the boner in his jeans. “I know I can.”

However, Jungkook isn’t as convinced as you are.

“Well, if that’s the case… Why don’t you prove it?” he insists, amusement finding its way back into his smile.

Your body tenses when he grabs your face and forces you to look at him, knowing the effect he has on you. But no matter how sexy he looks with wet lips and lust-filled eyes, your ego doesn’t shrink.

“I can do that too,” you boast.

“Oh, I hope so, baby,” Jungkook chuckles. “You know why?”

“Why, Jungkook?”

Your stomach flips when his laughter fills your ears, his pitch lowering until it reaches a level no human is capable of forming.

“Because I’ve been waiting for you to fuck up for too long.”

All you feel is his arm snake around your waist before he spins you and pins you against his car. You hiss as your breasts are being pressed against the scolding glass of his vintage masterpiece. His hips keep your lower half pinned to the vehicle while his hands grab your arms and place them on the roof.

Your thighs and chest burn from the blistering heat, but you grit through it because the way his body feels on yours takes your mind off of the pain.

Jungkook’s nose audibly inhales your flesh while his hands move down your body, lifting your dress so he can grind against your ass. They move up again and find your boobs, and he kneads both mounds in his hands.

“Fuck, you’ve been a bad girl, love,” he states. “So, so bad.”

“No I haven’t,” you smirk, rubbing your ass against his dick. “I’m an angel.”

Jungkook scoffs.

“You wish.”

He abandons your tits to give your ass some attention. You bite your lip when he separates and squeezes your folds, complimenting you on how soft it feels in his grasp.

“My, my, my…” he sighs. “Baby, this piece of ass is the only thing I’d ever thank God for.”

His praise makes you smile proudly.

“You’re so fucking soft, and so damn beautiful… I can’t wait to ruin this body. You’ve got no idea, love,” Jungkook continues.

“Show me, then. Teach me a lesson,” you challenge.

Jungkook’s menacing laugh fills your ears, and chills go through your body. Your burning skin has adapted to the searing exterior at this point.

“Sweetheart, do you know what I do to pretty girls like you out here?” One hand slips between your thighs and the other grabs your face. He lifts your head and angles it toward his dark eyes. You instantly get lost in them. “You wanna know what I do to them?”

Jungkook’s middle finger slides back and forth against your tights and lace panties, the sharpness of his nails threatening to rip the fabric strand by strand. Your lips quiver and beg for him to kiss you, but you keep focus on the conversation.

“Tell me.”

He smiles and reveals his fangs. However, it doesn’t startle you for one second. He intrigues you as much as he attracts you. You want to see more. You want to learn about who he really is.

“Well,” he starts, gently turning your head and laying it against the surface. Your shadow has blocked the sun and cooled down that portion of the vehicle so your cheek doesn’t burn like your arms and thighs did.

“It starts with desperation. No matter how hard you try, I’ll never give you a response,” he informs. “I wait. I’ll wait years if I have to.”

While he speaks, his digit teases your clit. A smirk forms on his lips when he draws a small moan from your throat. He moves to your opening and applies a small amount of pressure, threatening to break the material and enter your pussy.

“Then, whenever I feel like you’re ripe enough for me to devour, I call… And they always come running.”

“Jungkook,” you gasp when his talon pierces your clothing and tears a hole, thinking he’s going to give you what you desire. But he doesn’t, and he shushes you to silence.

“Shh. Let me finish talking, love.”

“Okay,” you whimper, trying your best to keep it together.

He whispers in your ear. “Good girl.”

You shudder when his bare fingertips actually come in contact with your heat. Your hips move for friction, but it’s not nearly enough.

Jungkook’s lips return to your neck so he can litter your skin with his teeth. The sting that comes with his bite leaves your flesh tingling and radiating with a sharp pain.

“You know what happens when I get them out here?... All alone,” he asks you, and you shake your head.

“No. I don’t.”

That’s when he admits his true intentions of messaging you back.

“First, I fuck them.”

His finger dips into your wetness and he collects your arousal. He uses it to easily glide the pad of his digit over your throbbing bundle of nerves and you instantly become mush in his arms.

“Then…”

Jungkook’s other hand grabs your throat, and his sharp black nails tap against your jugular. It’s like his vision is trained on the veins that store the blood pumping through your body. It’s impossible for you to focus on how he’s taunting you with the sharpness of his talon when he’s providing pleasure between your legs.

It gives you a rush, the thought of him tearing your skin with those dagger-like nails makes you shiver with anticipation. Your heart rate speeds up and Jungkook chuckles as if he can hear it racing. The longer his eyes watch you in this position, the more you forget about his pending statement until he reminds you.

“...I devour them.”

A shriek escapes you as his nail drags across your skin, creating a shallow cut on the left side of your neck. It isn’t deep but blood drips down your chest, nearly disappearing underneath your dress. However, Jungkook spins you around before it can reach that far.

His thick forked tongue darts out of his mouth, ready to taste whatever it can access. Your skin sizzles with heat as he drags it over your blood-stained body.

“I fucking knew it,” he groans, lifting his head to look at you. Jungkook grabs you by the neck and gives you a disapproving look, steam rising from his body and black horns casually growing from his head.

Your wide eyes watch without a single blink, too afraid you’ll miss a part of the transformation. You’re mesmerized when you should be terrified.

“I can smell everyone you’ve whored around with,” he explains, growling his words out. “And… I can taste them. This won’t do, love.”

Jungkook takes a breath and dives back in, attacking your wound with the desire to consume your blood and cleanse you of whatever he feels is bad for you. Your eyes roll, and the more he takes the more lightheaded you become. You feel as if you’re floating, and nothing can bring you down but the man that’s holding you close and robbing you of your need for survival.

It’s easy to let yourself slip away, but you’ve been high before. You know your limits, so you tap Jungkook’s shoulder to get his attention. He’s also hit with the realization of how long he’s been drinking from you and extracts himself immediately.

His face is painted red when he pulls away, but he still looks amazing. Maybe even hotter. His swollen lips are so enticing. You want to taste them so bad.

“If only you knew how good you taste now,” he whispers, licking his lips while he stares at you.

You don’t respond with words. Instead, you reach and grab his face, stealing the moment you’ve been anticipating forever. Your eyes close naturally and you don’t stop yourself from getting lost in the moment.

The first taste that lands on your tongue is the bittersweet essence of your blood. You moan into his mouth, letting him know you understand what he meant now that you’re experiencing it as well.

Jungkook’s arms pull you closer to his body. You’re enveloped in his warmth and enjoying the way his hand gives your ass squeezes of appreciation. When he smoothly slips his long-wet muscle into your crevice, you finally get the opportunity to taste him like you wanted and he literally takes your breath away.

Eventually, you both become tempted to tear each other’s clothes off, but Jungkook stops everything before it can go there.

“Hold on, love,” he requests. “Before this can happen, you need to settle this.”

Your confused expression prompts him to tap the crucifix chain around your neck. He gives you a look, and you can tell where this is going.

“You can’t be mine if you’re wearing that, baby.”

Looking down at your necklace, you contemplate whether or not you want to get rid of the jewelry you’ve had since the tenth grade. Then your attention is redirected to Jungkook’s face, and he stands there waiting for your answer.

He lifts a brow, and without another thought, you snatch the chain from your neck and allow it to fall to the ground. The flash in Jungkook’s eyes gives away his thrill. However, he still isn’t satisfied with your decision.

“You hesitated,” he comments. “I don’t like that.”

“I just wanted to be sure,” you reply in a soft voice.

“You should have known by now, love… I want you, and there’s no doubt about it.”

Jungkook’s gentle touch grazes your cheek, and you want to melt right there. Your lashes flutter as he caresses your skin, but you open your eyes once he stops and lifts your chin.

“If you want my dick inside that box of yours, you gotta redeem yourself,” Jungkook informs.

“Anything you want,” you answer right away. You don’t even recognize your voice because of its raspiness. You can barely get out your words because it keeps fading out.

“Really?” he hums, and you respond with a nod.

“Anything.”

“Well, get on your knees and pray for it then,” he requests.

You don’t hesitate this time, and you don’t bat an eye as you drop to your knees.

Your entire body feels like it’s on fire, but the desire to please is stronger than anything you’re feeling. You want to do your best for him. You want to be the one he chooses, the one he calls his.

“Please, Jungkook.” Your hands come together in front of you as if you’re saying a prayer. You never take your eyes off of his face and Jungkook peers down at you with a look of approval. “I know I don’t deserve it, but please forgive me.”

He says nothing so you figure he isn’t convinced.

“I can be good, I promise. Let me prove it to you,” you beg, and you can see his features soften with interest.

“I hope you’re right,” he sighs, pulling his sweater over his head.

You’re greeted with his sculpted abs before anything, and it takes self-control not to lunge for him. You have to recover quickly from the shock of how defined they are because the next thing he removes is his pants and his boxers do nothing to hide what’s resting against his thigh.

“Don’t get scared now,” he jokes when he sees your wide eyes.

You blink a few times to pull yourself together, and what he said finally registers.

“I’m not scared,” you answer.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“We’ll see,” he winks.

Jungkook’s dick stands at attention once his boxers are pulled down. Instantly, your mouth begins to water, and crave his length. You don’t mind asking for it either.

“Can I?”

He nods when he approaches you, so you wrap your hand around his cock and are greeted by thick pulsing veins. You explore it by running your hands along it, arousing him in the process unknowingly. It’s not until you hear the first string of curses leave his lips do you understand how much this turns him on.

“I wanna spit on it,” you state out of nowhere, and when you look up at his shocked expression with a smirk. “And…choke on it.”

You begin jerking him off with a twist and pull motion, adding your other hand for extra coverage. You pause to let your saliva drip onto his shaft. He moans when you start lubricating, and those lewd sounds of wetness fill his ears.

You stare at him with doe eyes, and he almost loses it, still you taunt him some more.

“Can I, Jungkook?”

He growls. “Damn it, open your fucking mouth.”

You stick out your tongue, and Jungkook slides in with a screwed-up face. He’s surprised when you suck him in instead of allowing him to shove his cock inside of you himself. Your warmth invites him in and by the time he reaches the back of your throat his hands are locked behind your head, holding you in place because he wants to be buried inside of you as long as possible.

Your spit drips down your chin and onto your chest but you continue to lubricate his dick even though it’s already saturated with your saliva. While he relishes the feeling, you reach for his scrotum and give him a gentle massage while your mouth occupies his cock.

You moan around his length, letting him know you’re ready for your throat to be fucked.

“Ready?” he asks, and you give him the best audible response you’re capable of giving in this position.

Jungkook pulls out slowly and watches how his cock comes out covered in glistening. When he’s completely out, he grabs it and taps your face, getting his precum all over your nose and mouth. Your tongue chases his arousal, and a delightful hum travels from your throat when you have a taste.

“If you need air, tap my thigh,” are the only instructions he gives you before his cock is back inside your mouth, hitting your uvula repeatedly and triggering your gag reflex. Jungkook seems to enjoy the sound of you choking on his dick, so he intentionally thrusts deeper to hear more of the lewd noises.

Your hands hold onto his thighs for support because your head is spinning from the quickness of his movements. Your knees burn from the hot ground blistering your skin, but as people always say, “no pain, no gain.”

The pain isn’t as nearly as intense as the burning in your lungs or the taste of Jungkook’s warm juices drifting down your throat each time his cock squirts out a bit of his arousal. You swallow unintentionally, and Jungkook’s dick twitches with the need to release.

“Fuck! Take it easy,” he grunts, legs trembling as he struggles to keep it together. Looking up at his face, you see beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, and you know he’s too far gone to hold back. You swallow on purpose this time, and his cum begins to fill up your throat. But even when in his moment of euphoria, Jungkook still isn’t letting you off easy. “I told you to take it easy, slut.”

He pulls out of you abruptly and you start coughing as the air enters your lungs too quickly.

“Hand and knees,” he orders, pushing you towards the ground. You’re thankful your back is turned to hide the smirk on your face because you know it’d piss him off more.

You hear him shuffling behind you, probably removing the rest of his clothes because his belt hits the hard ground after a few seconds. His shadow approaches you from behind and blocks the light.

“And this has to come the fuck off,” he states while ripping off your dress. Your tights and panties are next to go, leaving you bare on the desert floor. His sharp talons crawl up your spine, and your body shivers in response. “Arch your back unless you want me to do it for you, love.”

You follow his orders, and he praises you for your ability to position your body perfectly to his preference. His hands can’t stop themselves from touching your globes. You can hear your arousal when he spreads your folds with his thumbs, looking into your opening with his mouth-watering. You bury your face in your arm because you’re sure he heard it too.

“Don’t be shy. I knew already,” he informs. Jungkook lowers his body, and his nose nuzzles itself in your slit, making you release a surprised gasp. He inhales your arousal and runs the tip of his nose up and down, covering it in your wetness. “I could smell you from down the road, baby.”

Jungkook switches up and uses his tongue to tease you. Your eyes roll back as soon as his muscle touches your sensitive clit.

“Jungkook,” you whine, but he’s too engaged with your pussy to hear.

“You taste as good as you smell. How can I not drink you dry?”

A cry gets caught in your throat. Jungkook begins to lick your pussy with no warning, emitting more lust-filled sobs from your mouth. As the sensitivity ebbs away, so does your shame, and eventually, you start grinding your cunt in Jungkook’s face. He doesn’t stop you, so your movements become more confident.

“That’s what you like, sweetheart?... You wanna fuck my tongue too?” Jungkook slurps up more of your juices before he spreads you open and taunts you with his forked tongue.

“Jungkook, please,” you beg.

He chuckles. “Well, since you asked nicely…”

When he enters your cunt, your mind goes blank. Whatever words you manage to utter are a mystery to you because your mind can only focus on the thick flexible muscle dragging against your walls.

Jungkook laughs when you clench, making it nearly impossible for him to move in your tight crevice. He squeezes your ass while his tongue squirms inside of you, making you scream his name over and over.

“Fuck! You feel good, Jungkook. I’m gonna—”

Suddenly, he withdraws.

“On my dick you will,” he says, and you groan as the disappointment sets in.

He straightens his back and inches closer while you continue to pout and mourn your robbed orgasm.

“If you thought that felt good…” he laughs. “Look, I’m just getting started, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a moment to be concerned. The tip of his cock pops in and your eyes widen. You become more alert and aware of how huge he actually is now that your pussy is slowly being stretched open by him. You’re tense, but his touch soothes you.

“Relax. Just relax,” he instructs.

He fills you inch by inch and the whole time your mouth is hanging wide open. You have a handful of dirt in each hand because you’ve been clawing to cope with the stretch. Nothing hurts but taking all of him in takes more effort than you anticipated.

Jungkook grunts as your walls squeeze around him. He’s also struggling, but he puts his eagerness aside and waits for you to adjust and mold to his girth.

“You can move,” you tell him, wanting to just get it over with.

“Are you sure—”

“Jungkook, you’re in my guts, please.”

“Okay, my bad.” He laughs but as soon as he begins to move his smile fades, and his concentration sets in.

Jungkook is gentle for as long as he can stand it, but even you grow desperate eventually. He senses that your body is craving more, and his pace quickens. His shallow thrusts travel deeper and become more powerful the longer he’s buried in your heat.

He grips your waist and starts fucking you like you’re a ragdoll. You’re taken aback but impressed by his strength. You stop trying to maintain your position because Jungkook has no problem bending you whichever way he wants you.

Soon his hand finds your ponytail. Your head jerks each time his hips crash into you. Your scalp begins to burn, but it doesn’t stop you from chasing your pleasure.

You cry Jungkook’s name when you feel a harsh slap against your ass.

“Fuck,” you sob.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” is all he replies as he delivers another blow. Your flesh prickles and stings from the impact, but the feeling of his hand palm delicately moving over the affected area feels pleasant. “Come here.”

Jungkook pulls you up with his clutch on your hair, and your back crashes against his firm chest. His cock travels deeper from this angle, leaving you babbling and sobbing as Jungkook watches with a smirk.

“I thought you were a bad girl. Now, look at you… Being a good little whore for me,” he teases. “Give me a kiss.”

You reach behind you and grab one of his horns, bringing him in for a sloppy kiss. You taste your arousal on his lips and greedily try to savor the leftover juices in his mouth. Your eyes are closed, but you can feel his furrowed brows against your forehead as he concentrates on delivering accurate thrusts. Jungkook whispers permission for you to come into your mouth, and your mind shifts to chasing your release.

He leaves your lips and moves to your neck while his hands glide over your body, stopping to feel his dick piercing your lower abdomen. Your other hand interlocks with his for a bit so that you can feel it as well, but soon you have to grab his arm, so he doesn’t pound you out of his grasp.

Jungkook slaps your tit once he’s made his journey up your body, and your pleased reaction causes him to do it again. The tension building up in your core starts to become unbearable, so you warn him in advance about your orgasm threatening to sweep you off your feet.

“I’m so close, Jungkook,” you rasp. His fingers pinch your nipples to push you closer while his arm keeps you up. Your body would slump over if he didn’t because all of your strength is put into getting yourself through this intense orgasm on the horizon. “You feel so good… So fucking good.”

“I know, love. I know,” he moans in your ear. “Come on my dick if you really love it so much, baby.”

The coil snaps as soon as his name leaves your lips, and your release finally arrives in an intense wave of pleasure. Your vision becomes white and your ears ring, making it impossible for you to hear Jungkook’s whines about your pussy being too tight for him to go much longer.

His dick slips out of you as the pressure releases, and you’re gushing all over the ground below, making the soil dark as it dampens. Jungkook brings his hand in front of you and slaps your pussy to draw out more of your juices.

You fall over once your body is spent, but Jungkook rolls you over before you can flop on your face. He hovers over you and rests his weight on his forearms. His knee wedges itself between your legs, and he uses it to spread them apart.

You lay there just staring at him through your lashes, secretly looking in awe as he situates himself. He catches you in the act, but you still turn away and pretend you weren’t.

“No, no. Don’t look away,” he says. “Let me see how you cry for my dick.”

You do as he requests, and once your eyes meet each other’s, he winks.

Jungkook grabs each of your wrists and pins them by your ears. He rests his forehead on yours, so you have no choice but to look at him.

You know you shouldn’t do it like this. It’s too intimate. But you can’t deny yourself the attention you’ve been craving for so long. Finally, his eyes are on you. Only you.

“No holding back, okay?” he suggests.

“Okay.”

You don’t know how he understood your voice since it’s barely audible and raspy, but he does. Jungkook reaches between you and grabs his dick, aligning it with your opening before he slowly slides in. Your lips part to let out a cry, but nothing comes out because your voice has given out completely.

As his dick gets deeper, you spread your legs to give him more space. His tip hits your cervix by the time he bottoms out, and you can’t bear him just stilling in that spot. When your back arches, he takes the hint and starts chasing his high.

“This is what you want, right?... Eyes on you?” he grunts, thrusting into you, each snap of his hips resulting in a ripple of echoes. “You got me now, so don’t be shy.”

“Jungkook.” You moan his name, and his cock jumps inside you.

“You felt that?... That’s what you do to me, love.”

He looks down, observing the way the blunt tip of his cock can be seen penetrating lower abdomen. Both of your mouths fall open while your eyes are glued to the sight, mesmerized by how much of him you’re actually taking in.

“This pussy was made for me and only me,” he growls. When you don’t answer him, he grabs your face to get your attention. “Did you fucking hear me? It’s mine, understand?”

You nod. “Only yours, Jungkook. I promise.”

Jungkook grunts in response, but you heard it as “it better be.” His thrusts become rougher, making your back drag against the ground. You’re both covered in dirt, sweat, and blood but can’t bring yourselves to care because the sex is so good.

Heat begins to rise within you. It confuses you so you look at the demon above you for answers, and he greets you with a devilish grin.

“You said you can handle me, didn’t you?” he reminds you.

“I can.” Your voice is hoarse, and your throat is dry.

Jungkook smirks. “Time to prove it.”

You pant as Jungkook drills into you, setting your body ablaze in the process. He pulls your legs up to his waist, so you wrap them around him in an embrace.

“What do you mean?”

He whispers against your lips.

“Welcome to hell, love.”

The scream that erupts from your throat brings your voice back to its full potential. Your body is on fire, and it leaves you gasping for air. His cock continues to bring you stimulation throughout the tortuous rise and fall of the radiating heat inside of you. Your nails drag down his back, drawing feral noises from his lips.

His dick feels like it’s swelling within you, stretching you more and more until you’re screaming his name and begging him to let you release some of the pressure.

“Jungkook,” you groan through clenched teeth.

“Shh. A little more, okay?... Just a little longer.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as you try to focus on anything but the desire burning in your gut. The intense heat becomes bearable, but the stretch still has you breathless.

“But I’m going to come,” you sob, your body no longer able to stand it.

Your walls enclose around his cock as you try to hold on, but the tightness milks Jungkook’s shaft and pushes him over the edge.

“Fuck,” he growls.

You both reach your peaks together, and the moment causes a pause in time. For several seconds, you’re unable to register what’s going on around you. Your mind is blank, and your focus is only on the pleasure rippling through your body.

You’re on fire, but it’s not unpleasant. You feel everything you’ve craved from all the drug use and drinking, the meaningless sex, and the dangerous lifestyle you ran to when you wanted nothing more than to feel secure and wanted.

That’s how you feel as his arms slip underneath you and embrace you, like you’re being protected by someone who actually gives a shit. It’s not real; he’s only caught in the moment, but you’re going to pretend like it is because that’s exactly what it feels like.

You hold onto the feeling for as long as you can, but nothing lasts forever, and soon you both begin to come down from your high.

Jungkook’s cum is still painting your walls when his body slumps over. He leaves lazy kisses across your chest but stops to gently suck on your nipples, soothing you until his dick softens and slips out of you.

In your post-orgasmic daze, you feel him kiss his way down your body. He ends his journey at your thighs and then rises to his feet, leaving you on the ground for a minute to regain some strength. His cum slowly leaks out of you, pooling beneath you and seeping into the soil.

You open your eyes after a few minutes and find him standing over you with his jeans already on although his sweater is still off. His eyes have returned to what is considered human-like. However, his horns remain present.

“You need help?” he asks rather dryly.

“Please,” you whisper, and he leans over to help you up. Once you’re on your feet you stand in front of him awkwardly, arms covering your body as if he hasn’t seen every inch of you. “So… Is this it?”

Jungkook’s eyes bulge as he cranes his neck in shock.

“You wanna die? Get the hell out of here before I change my mind.”

Oh.

You almost forgot about the talk you had with him before. Jungkook didn’t want to meet with you. He only wanted your soul.

Before leaving home, you’d probably give it to him willingly. You weren’t really living anyway.

But after traveling on the road and exploring new places, you’d like to stick around a little longer, see the world your parents told you to be afraid of but in the right ways this time.

Still, you didn’t think this encounter would end like this. Are you really supposed to just move on?

“Okay, well. Goodbye then, I guess. I should probably clean this anyway,” you reply and fake laugh. Your wound is pretty sore though, but tolerable. You’d bear it for a few more minutes if you had them.

He doesn’t say anything, but he nods instead.

You turn towards your car and take your exit. Almost halfway there, a pair of gentle hands grab your waist.

“Wait,” he says. His voice is so soft. If it weren’t so quiet, you wouldn’t have heard him. “You left something.”

When you turn around, Jungkook stands behind you with your chain in his palm.

“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t want it, but I’ll take it off your hands,” you say before giving him a small smile.

You take the jewelry and prepare to leave once more, but Jungkook interrupts you again.

“How come you’ve never been to a show?” he quizzes. “You say you’re a huge fan. I’ve never seen you at a show before.”

You sigh, resting your weight on your right side with folded arms.

“Well, I lived with my parents before I dropped everything and left a few days ago. They’re very religious and would never buy me a ticket to that type of event. I’ve been saving up, but now…”

“You need it to survive?”

You nod. “Exactly.”

Silence falls over you, and no one makes a move. You’re about to tell him you need to get dressed and hit the road before nightfall, but he beats you to it.

“I’ll get going now. I—”

“You wanna hear a song I’ve been working on?”

“Uhh…” You’re taken by surprise, but you’d be honored to hear anything he shares with you. “Sure, Jungkook. I’d love that.”

He gestures for you to follow him to his car. You start getting paranoid midway because about an hour ago he wanted to kill you. However when he reaches inside his car and pulls out a leather jacket for you to wear, your nerves start to settle.

“It’s going to cool down when the sun sets,” he informs.

Jungkook helps you put on the jacket, and you’re instantly met with his scent. While his back is turned, you secretly inhale deeply to savor the smell.

After he grabs his guitar, you both walk to the front of his vehicle and he helps you sit on the hood, making sure it isn’t too hot before you take a seat. You’re shocked by his sudden caring nature, but you don’t complain.

“Thank you,” you state after he hands you his flask.

You bring it to your lips and to take a gulp but are hit with a pungent smell of alcohol.

“It’s whiskey.”

“Fucking hell, it is,” you agree with a grimace. You decide to sip on it instead of aiding your thirst.

“I’m not human so I don’t have water,” he explains. “Sorry.”

“Oh no, this is fine,” you assure.

After a nod, he walks away and sits on a small boulder sitting about three feet away from his car. He gets settled and then his fingers begin to strum the strings of his guitar. The music sways him back and forth, and he allows it to guide him with closed eyes. Just as you’re also caught in the trance, he starts singing.

The voice that you hear isn’t paired with a loud audience or a band crashing in the background. It’s just him and the most graceful voice you’ve ever heard.

Tears form in your eyes hearing the lyrics. They’re so raw and filled with emotion, a side of him you’ve never seen before. He talks about how scary it is to feel. To care. To love. How he’s never experienced any of it before, but a part of him feels like it’s time to explore it.

You’re so moved by the final note that you’re startled when the music stops, and you no longer hear his voice. You dry your eyes and look at him with so much admiration.

The warm tones of the setting sun makes his skin appear to glow; he’s breathtaking. You wish that he knew that too.

“That was beautiful,” you tell him. “Thank you so much for sharing that with me.”

He sets down his instrument and walks over to you, situating himself between your thighs.

“You’re the only one I’ve shared it with,” he replies. His eyes and tone hold sincerity, and what you believe is gratitude. “Thanks for listening.”

“Of course, babe. I’d listen anytime. You’re such an inspiration to me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you answer truthfully.

Jungkook rests his hands on your thighs and looks off into the distance as if he’s thinking. You can see wheels turning in his head but have no idea how to get him to speak his mind. You’ll just have to wait, but not for long.

“I’ve never been human,” he starts, taking the flask and drinking all the liquor before he continues. “I used to not feel anything but now… I guess I should say you all have changed me.”

You don’t say anything, but you nod to let him know you’re listening.

“In case you didn’t get that, I’m trying to say that I have feelings for you. You’ve grown on me,” he adds, and your mouth falls open to speak.

However, nothing comes out.

“I know you just wanted to fuck me and get a few pictures, but I couldn’t let you leave without—”

You interrupt him by pulling him close and crashing your lips into his. You couldn’t take it anymore. You knew if anything was going to happen, you’d have to be the one who took initiative. Jungkook’s probably never had anyone who truly cared about him. You plan to show him what that feels like.

You retract and look at him, saying what’s been on your mind since you saw him.

“I think you’re amazing and talented…and beautiful. You deserve love or whatever it is you desire because you inspire so many to know their worth. It’s your turn to take your advice.”

“Hit the road with me,” he blurts out.

You blink. “What?”

“Hit the road with me, let me learn everything about you… Be mine. That’s what I desire.”

Your mind races as his words play in the back of your head. You’re speechless. Jungkook, a demon and the world’s biggest rockstar, just asked for permission to take you on a journey with him. You don’t know his motives or his plan, but the hopefulness in his eyes tell you he put a lot on the line asking that of you.

“It’s just that I want you to be cautious out there because I care about you…I think?” he tries to explain. “I just want to make sure you’re safe and I can only do that if…”

“I’m with you.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, eyes brighter than the sun. “So what do you say?”

You shrug. “Let’s go.”

“What?”

You push him and hop off the car with a shriek, almost busting your ass.

“I said let’s go, Jungkook!... Before I change my mind,” you wink.

The demon seems shocked by your answer, but he keeps his promise.

And…he takes you on a trip of a lifetime.

Epilogue…

“I knew I couldn’t trust you.”

Jungkook stands in the doorframe of his backstage dressing room with folded arms. He’s angry with you, but as soon as his eyes land on your hand caressing your growing belly, he can’t stop his smile from breaking free.

He sighs and shakes his head, walking across the room to his vanity where you sit waiting for him. This is the first time you’ve had to sit out on a tour since you officially became a couple, and needless to say the downtime has gotten the best of you.

“You’re supposed to be at home with your feet up,” he chides, helping you stand even though you’re perfectly capable of doing so yourself.

Jungkook has pampered you all six months of this pregnancy, but sometimes he goes to the extreme.

“Yeah, but…”

You pause when he pulls you in for a warm hug and take the opportunity to inhale the fragrance lingering on his clothes. You giggle when he playfully threatens you about stealing his clothes, but you’ve already tucked a t-shirt in your purse.

“I'd rather be here with my legs up, you know?” you continue saying as you separate.

Jungkook’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, but then his shock is replaced with a tiny smirk.

“You better be careful what you wish for, love,” Jungkook warns.

“And what if I don’t?... Will I be punished?”

Your taunting causes his grin to fade. In a split second, you’re lying on the couch with Jungkook hovering over you. He carefully leans in for a kiss, being extra cautious of your stomach.

“I can hear his heartbeat,” he says in between kisses, shifting so he can place his hand on your stomach.

“You mean her heartbeat?” you correct.

Your baby’s foot finds his palm instantly, and Jungkook’s mood brightens even more.

“Yeah, the jury’s still out on that one.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he chuckles, lifting your shirt and finding the waistband of your leggings.

His fingers trace the fabric before he ultimately slips his hand inside, moving aside your panties next. You grab his arm when his fingers touch your center, alerting him of your sensitivity. He takes it slow and waits for the feeling to become less intense.

“I missed you,” he whispers. “Both of you.”

“We missed you too, daddy.”

Jungkook leaves a kiss on your cheek, and then he moves to your neck, tracing the barely visible scar that his talon left on your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Jungkook’s changed a lot since the day you met him. Emotions and feelings he’s never had have revealed themselves over time. It was scary for him at first, but now, he’s not afraid to let you know what he’s feeling.

You laugh at him through your sighs of pleasure. “You’re getting soft on me, I see.”

“You think so?” he asks.

“I know, and besides… You’re sorry for that and not putting me on lockdown for nine months?”

“But this is your fault,” he insists, smiling against your skin.

“Really? Don’t you remember what you said when I told you I was ovulating?”

He denies, so you grab his hair and force him to look at you.

“Just the tip, love… You feel so good. I can’t pull out tonight.”

He doesn’t respond because he knows you’ve made your point. Your moans fill the room when he applies pressure to your clit without warning.

“Jungkook, your fingers are freezing!”

“Warm them up then, love—”

“Dude, we’ve been looking all over for you. You’re on stage in 5,” Jungkook’s manager, Billy, says after bursting through the door. He’s unaware of what he interrupted until he peers over and sees you both on the couch. “I am so sorry.”

Jungkook’s eyes become pitch black, and an angry vein protrudes from his forehead. You already know what’s about to happen, so you do your best to calm him down.

“Be nice, baby,” you plead.

Everyone always says you have Jungkook wrapped around your finger, so now and then, you like to pull your “status card.”

He takes a deep breath, and he relaxes. But only for a moment.

“Well, I’m kind of busy. If you haven’t noticed,” he answers, looking at the older male.

Jungkook’s digits continue to stimulate you, but you know it’s only to suppress his anger. His biggest pet peeve is to be interrupted when he’s in the middle of something with you.

He returns his attention to you and gives you a wink, but a second later, his joy fades.

“I understand, but what do I tell the fans—”

“You’ll tell them I’m backstage fucking my pregnant wife, and that I’ll be out in a bit. I’m sure they’ll understand,” he seethes, making your face heat up. However, your cunt still clenches everytime he uses the “W”-word. “Okay, leave!”

Billy shuffles his way out of the door and closes it behind him, leaving you and Jungkook alone again. When he turns to you again, you can see why his manager ran.

“Someone’s horny,” you joke.

“Tell me about it… Where did we leave off?” His fingers move down to your entrance, and he slowly slips one of them in. “Oh, yeah. Squeeze my fingers like you just did and warm them up for me.”

Your body wants you to just lie there and let him finger you until you’re coming all over his digits, but every ounce of brat in you wants to make him suffer.

“What if I rather keep something else warm?” you suggest with a smug expression.

“Hm, like what?”

You reach between you and unbutton his jeans. You pull him closer and bite his earlobe before saying,

“Recite your commandments and I might show you.”

Jungkook gulps.

“I shall place no other God before you….”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #k-vanity #kbucketlist #bangtanbathhouse #btsdreamcourt #bangtansorciere #bts fanfics #jungkook fanfic #bts imagines #sugakookitty

1K notes · View notes

thisishowgalaxiescollide · 5 months

Note

You're honestly so close to getting me into nico/jack it isn't even funny anymore 😂

Anyway, if you're willing, give me the final push there and/or your fave fic (if you're reading any). I know I am tempting fate here but... Yolo. 😌 I accept it.

Come, friend, to the dark side. no, seriously, though, they make me ridiculously happy. Like, we don't have to do anything as a fandom because they already do the gay and the loving for us.

I must confess I haven't been reading much lately because work and life have been complicated enough to keep me from doing much more than reblogging a few things here and there. BUT my past self used to read, so I have a few treats for you, <3

1386 fic rec list

Melt the ice, by theaa

Summary:

So, like—was he just not supposed to notice, or—?

So, so, so good!

Caveat Emptor, by Kerfluffle

Summary:

Two months of advance preparation—memorizing detailed building blueprints, stalking specialists on LinkedIn, reading The $12 Million Stuffed Shark—and Nico gets fucked over by his turtleneck. Or, Nico lands himself in hot water after a recon mission goes awry.

Delightful and sweet.

50 Ways to Leave Your Lover, by Kerfluffle

Summary:

Unlike some supernatural disasters, theirs starts ordinary—with a harmless bar bet.

Fluffy, horny and funny. Great characterization.

kiss me on the mouth (set me free), by coastalhighway

Summary:

Headlights as bright as Jack’s should be illegal, probably. Nico locks the door behind him - three twists, one two three - and counts his steps to the car. He gets to twenty-seven and opens the door, and Jack smiles at him, sharp as a razor’s edge. He smells like smoke. “You good, baby?” he says, and Nico wonders if he tastes like smoke, too. Smoke and lies and broken mirrors, a nasally voice whispers in his ear, breath hot on his cheek. You broke the mirror, soothsayer, sweet-talker. Liar, liar. Nico sits down in the passenger seat. “Drive.” Jack doesn’t bother asking questions. He drives.

Gorgeous. Jack calling Nico "baby" has me !!!

deep into that darkness, by countthestars

Summary:

Quinn’s whole thing is talking to the dead, but Jack’s gift is dealing with the living.

Amazing. Quinn needs a nap and jack is a brat. I love him a lot.

Double Play, by dilangley

Summary:

This is minor league baseball, long days in little towns no one’s ever heard of playing games no one will remember once the lights go out.

This one blew my mind and broke my heart simultaneously even though I know nothing about baseball.

sense of expectation, by greenteam

Summary:

“No, no, hear me out on this…” Jack’s mind is running a million miles a minute as he tries to compile his thoughts into something even vaguely coherent. “I don’t have to go out and find someone new to be in family photos who I know I’m gonna turn around and dump the next week. And you get a free invite to the Hollywood wedding of the century.” Nico looks pensive as he lounges back on the sheets. “I think Ellen would give me an invite anyway.” Jack facewashes him for that. (or: 5 +1 plus ones)

Adorable.

won’t believe half the things i see inside my head, by rafting

Summary:

Jack can’t perfectly shift into anyone anyway; he has to concentrate and base his shifts on what he’s seen, what he knows of someone else’s face and body. So he’s never a perfect copy, often missing freckles or getting the hair or eye shades slightly off. He can’t shift his own dick into someone else’s if he’s never seen it, which is what most guys want to know. He thinks he’s got Nico’s face down pretty well. He’s spent enough time looking at it by now. or, the USNTDP is a program designed to help mutant hockey players control their powers, and Jack’s a shapeshifter who is starting to suspect Nico can read his mind.

Very interesting concept.

take the wheel, by greenteam

Summary:

Nico rakes a hand through his hair. “I just worry. That’s my job. You drive, I worry.” “I thought your job was to fix,” Jack says instead of doing something stupid like kissing Nico.

Just !!!

The tag is thriving, though, so I've probably only scratched the surface. I need to get go back and start reading again. One day soon.

#saucerfulofsins #fic rec #1386 #1386 fic rec #these are all probably old by now #if anyone has additional recs send them my way please #nico x jack

34 notes · View notes

sheep-and-lykos · 7 months

Text

Elliott - NSFW Alphabet Day 5: Dirty Secret

Nothing brings pleasure more to Elliott than when he’s cumming deep inside of your womb, feeling his cock strain inside of you as his warm seed spills into you while he’s still grabbing onto you.

Elliott’s little secret wasn’t hidden for long, revealed on your wedding night in the best of ways. His carnal need to breed you like the bitch in heat you were was strong. Like some supernatural force had overtaken you both, Elliott would not stop until he’s climaxed into you at least twice on a slow night.

Things only got better when the nursery had been built. Elliott wants nothing more than to put a baby in you and nothing is gonna slow him down. He wants nothing more than to see you grow soft with his child. And he really wants nothing more than to fuck you while you’re pregnant. It’s good for you and the baby, so he says.

For an elegant man, he really can go feral in the bedroom.

Strong hands supported your belly, fingers rubbing soothing circles into your stretched skin, palms flat against your curves. His bare chest and abdomen was pressed against your back, his arms protectively around you, supporting you on the bed. Your knees burned from the way the sheets bit at you, your legs had grown tired, your back was aching. His hands felt magical, cold skin pressing against your warm flesh, soothing all of the aches and pains that had been growing for the past nearly eight months.

You whined, head thrown back over Elliott’s broad shoulder as he sank himself fully inside of you again, slowly thrusting his hips, his mind was swimming in a pool of lust. Your husband shushed you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear while rubbing tighter circles into your swollen belly. You pleaded with him, feeling the coil inside of you twisting tighter and tighter.

“Elliott!” you gasped suddenly.

Your womanhood felt on like it was on fire, pulsing with life as your husband fucked you from behind. The bed creaked under you, the air felt both hot, your body felt weightless as he held close.

“My darling,” Elliott hummed, “you’re taking me so well.” Your cheeks flushed from his praise, you whimpered out his name again. “You’re so wet for me, my love.” His hands ran along the curve of your belly, fingers exploring your baby bump eagerly before they finally reached your breasts. He squeezed them, earning himself a whine from you. “You must be so exhausted, my dear.”

His cock twitched inside of you, sending little shocks up your spine.

You came suddenly around Elliott’s cock, arching into his touch as you shuddered around him. Arousal wracked your body, shuddering as you milked Elliott’s thrusting cock inside of you still.

Elliott nuzzled against your ear, his lip brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Think you can lay down and take it again?” he purred softly.

#elliot x farmer #stardew valley elliot #elliot x reader #stardew valley #stardew valley fic #stardew

19 notes · View notes

nomunamuinmybrain · 2 years

Text

Unbecoming

Pairing: Vampire Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut, supernatural

Word Count: 1.6 k

Disclaimer: if you are under the age of 18 please know that this contains heavy sexual themes and mature language.

Author's note: This story was penned two months ago for Junkgook's birthday but such is life that I never really got around to posting it. Halloween presents an excellent opportunity for me to introduce this indulging vampiric treat. I hope you enjoy it. Also, please excuse any syntax or grammar errors because this gal was too lazy to proofread once more before posting, oops...

“What a beautiful, good girl you are” the last thing I can remember from last night, fading, drifting away from memory. The vibrato of his voice still ripples all over my skin. A warning, a farewell, an invitation.

The maknae was not one to mess around for too long. Maybe him saving me, if salvation is as such, is the universe buying me some time. Escaping though seems impossible.

“…and it is sweetness” his voice but a breathy whisper haunting the corners of my mind. He can hear me. I forgot about that. I feel so weak. I am not even sure where speech wavers and thought takes over.

His wicked lips on my neck and then my thigh, the juiciest veins of his vessel, his plaything, his nourishment, all wrapped up in the frame of me. I think I should mind and try fighting but nothing seems to be in my control not even my own limbs and skin.

“I overdid it once again precious. I can’t let you drift away now. What will become of me, depraved of your sweetness?” his monologue, a selfish reminder of what has become of me. It’s the second time now where we’ve almost reached the point of no return and truly I wish he’d drain me out already but it doesn’t seem that his intentions of keeping me are in vain.

The maknae ruled upon his own word. When the whole town was slaughtered in just one week, we all knew the careless acts of hunger were his. We waited like sheep to the knife, trapped. I wonder if the people who thought of his existence to be a mere piece of lore died of shock before his brilliant sharp teeth had a chance to tear their flesh.

How long ago was the great massacre? How long have I been here? Where is here?

I get tucked in once again, feeling the blood, my blood all dried up on my skin mixed with his saliva. If beasts cruel like him got to look so angelic then what was hell actually like. Gazing upon him you’d think that God was true and just and that his angels walked indeed amongst our tragic existence. The red betrayed him. Those bright red ruby eyes, sparkling murder.

Rump and ruff around the edges. That is how the town, my town, knew me. Good enough to hold a house and probably marry off someday. Nothing special. I was appointed assistant to the head pharmacist of the dominion, my father. As brilliant as he, that’s what they’d say. Although, I was mostly out gathering ingredients for our salves and medicines and potions, I felt valuable in our community in contrary to the other women my age. My parents did not wish to force me into any arrangements that I would not enjoy or approve of, therefore life, my life was sweet.

The high families, as we called them, ruled in underground means. We all knew of them without having much to do with them. I didn’t want anything to do with them.

“...Yet, here you are…” he raises his head from where it is buried in my thighs. His tongue chasing after the trail of blood that weakly escapes the bite marks.

“You were meant to be here you know. Here with me. It’s been 5 weeks and though I expected you to cry yourself to death, here you are. Persevering.”

“If crying really could push me to the edge of death, I am sure you’d yank me back to you with a vengeance.”

“I would.”

“Why?”

He looks at you for a moment. Contorting his features, in an effort to honestly seek an answer himself. Why would he? He didn’t know how or when but somewhere along those few weeks of being with you, feasting on you, a different hunger grew. It planted a spark of need at the pit of his belly, torching his loins. Desire. He would do anything for you. He would do anything to keep you. For your delicious plumpness was the only reason he chose to feed off of the damned nook that nestled the warmth between your thighs. The plush redness of your lips as you drank his own blood at the end of every visit.

He would, of course he would, for when he lays to rest and wraps his hand around his cock it is your velvet touch that he imagines to bring himself to bliss. Day in and day out. Like poison you slowly but surely gained your ground in his head. He made sure to take care of you without making it seem too obvious. He knew from the beginning, that damned day his hyung dared to lay his eyes on you boasting about how he’d drain you not to the point of death but close enough so he could bring you back again and make you one of them. An immortal. A monster.

He couldn’t bear the thought and that’s when his anger took the best of him. He killed them all. His hyungs, the townspeople, everyone in his vicinity but not you. Never you. He wanted, for the first time in thousands of years, to preserve something and it happened to be you. He almost turned you, twice but he couldn’t go through with it. What if your luscious peachy scent were to faint as you transformed? He couldn’t live with himself. Of all the crimes he has committed that would be the greatest one. It seemed like a joke.

His head tilts. There is an unmistakable playfulness in his eyes.

“I wish to try something… It has been gnawing on my brain for a while.”

“What is it?” you sheepishly ask, intrigued by what is to follow. You’d deem anything intriguing after weeks of nothingness and utter darkness.

“Close your eyes” he commands.

Death is finally here, you think. He’s putting an end to this miserable story of yours. You close your eyes awaiting the sharp teeth of the beast to tear you limb by limb.

He creeps closer instead. His breath, warm, fans your face. His lips ghosting over yours, stealing away your weak breath. Tracing softly from one edge to the other, teasing.

“You smell like peaches.” he deftly whispered. He kissed you. Reverently. Carefully. As if he held the most precious rose blossoms.

“I was curious to see if you tasted like so. Your blood does carry a floral, fruity tone but maybe I thought tasting you in other ways might be more effective.”

With your eyes still closed and with him now laying fully on top of you, the kiss deepens. It escalates into something more. His strong hands roamed your curves in adoration as he devoured your lips. You couldn’t help your moans as they escaped you. Of all that his done there was none you could forgive, but you could not deny him. You hated that part of you that lusted after the beast. Every time he drank from between your thighs you’d fantasize about his kisses trailing off to the place you needed him the most.

“Look at me… You precious thing. You crave me, of course you crave me. It is how I am made. It is all that lures you in. The camouflage. This is the skin of a killer.”

He languidly thrusts your thigh as his lips wonder away. His actions contradicting his words entirely. As his lips marked your neck in ways he’d never dared before, his hands seek for your softness under your skirts. Bunching the fabric barrier as done so many times in your previous meetings, only this time he’d go one step further and leave you entirely bear. His ruby eyes pierce through yours as a wicked grin appears. Softly his fingers find your clit. Circling ever so skillfully to draw out a moan. He started mercilessly fucking you with his fingers and as you was about to reach another type of sweet death he draws them out. Sucking on them one by one as if he dipped them in the most decadent honey.

You couldn’t understand how everything happened so fast. No more than a second later his face was buried in your cunt, licking and sucking your juices out of you. The vibrations from each grunt that escaped him send shivers of pleasure throughout your body and by the time you reached your fifth peak of the day you grew sensitive unable to take anything more.

“I can’t” you weakly protest as your fingers unclench from his locks and brush them off his face.

He molds over you as he steals your kiss once more. Only this time his tenderness comes up to the surface.

“I can’t let go. I can’t let you go. How could I leave without you?”

“I’m not going anywhere…”

“Maybe not now. At some point, down the line, you’ll leave me forever. You’ll pass away to the one place I cannot meet you.”

Speechless. This sudden surge of emotion has left you more confused than ever. Words seemed of little to no substance as his grasp on you was seconds away from breaking you. There was nothing left for you. Nothing but him.

“Then let me walk this path with you forever. If that is something you’d want, I wouldn’t oppose as I have nothing but my own life to lose.”

Cradling your face he looks into your soul as if searching for something to prove you wrong. He found nothing of the sort.

“I have crossed eons to find you. Today Peach we’ll become one, as it is your wish as well.”

His lips kissed yours one last time. His fangs pierced the tender flesh of your neck, fully set on finishing the deed this time around. You held onto each other as blood married you into one. From his, you were reborn, from yours he rejoiced for finally, he had found that one missing piece. A soulmate.

#jungkook #bts #jungkook x reader #vampire jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #bts supernatural au #bts vampire au #bts vampire smut #bts one shot #jungkook oneshot

136 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 1 year

Note

i am def interested in coma fics, specifically ones where john is in a coma 👀

Hello Lovely!

Whee! I'm excited to share this long-awaited list with you! I've not many of my own recs, so I did a quick tag-search on my MFL list, so I added those as well. Hope y'all enjoy, and as always, friends, add any that you may have!

COMAS

See also:

Hospital Fics

Hospitals Pt 2

Giveaway Fic #9 - Angsty Sick Fic/Sherlock is Sick by ConsultingPurplePants (T, 1,734 w., 1 Ch. || Sick Fic, Hypothermia) – The next time he awakens is even more chaotic. Two doctors are shouting at each other in the corner, and John is holding his hand so tightly Sherlock is worried he’ll break it. Part 9 of 1000 Tumblr Followers Giveaway Fics

A Room of One's Own by whitchry9 (K+, 2,174 w., 5 Ch. || S2 Timeline, Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Coma, John Whump, Worried Sherlock, POV John, Angst, Friendship/Bromance, Hospital) – When a severe head injury lands John in a coma, somehow he ends up in Sherlock's mind palace. It's actually pretty nice there, and John is entertaining the notion of staying there, rather than returning to his broken body. But Sherlock isn't taking it as well, and John can feel him breaking around him.

The Deafening Silence by occasionally-maybe-never (T, 2,238 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Major Character Death, Post-TRF) – 'Sherlock hopes fiercely that John can hear him, as sometimes coma patients can. He knows that John will understand, that his admission of love isn't a grand, sweeping romantic statement, but simply an expression of truth.' When Mycroft retrieves Sherlock to bring him home, it's not to John having dinner, but to John on his death bed.

As You Wish by PipMer (K, 3,311 w., 1 Ch. || Bromance/Pre-Slash/Epic Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, John Whump, Hospitals) – When John woke from his coma, he wasn't at all surprised to see the wrong Holmes brother sitting at his bedside. Disappointed, but not surprised.

I See You Through by belovedmuerto (T, 12,078 w., 8 Ch. || Psychic AU || Empath John, Alternate TGG, Whump, Nightmares, Bedsharing, Slow Burn, Pre-Slash) – John has never asked Sherlock about his past, his childhood, the reason he quails in lonely misery almost every time he sees his brother. He’s never needed to. Part 2 of An Experiment in Empathy

I Think I've Come A Long Long Way To Sit Before You Here Today by ArwenKenobi (T, 18,251 w., 3 Ch. || Grief/Mourning, Passage of Time, Major Character Death, Alternating POV, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Coma, Revenge Murders, Hallucinations, Love Confessions, Brutal Accident, Mystrade, Ghost John) – One year after John is killed Sherlock starts to wonder whether John has actually gone anywhere.

Rupert Street by WritingOutLoud (M, 27,262 w., 9 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Case Fic, Sexuality, Demisexual Sherlock, Drugging, Smart John, Sherlock Has Internalized Biphobia, Fluff, Angst with Happy Ending, Gay Bar, Flirting, John Manipulates Sherlock to Eat, John Deduces, Arguments, Kidnapping/Torture, Hospitalization, John Whump) – Discharged from the war with nothing but the clothes on his back and a realisation of his bisexuality, John Watson has to learn who he’s become. He can’t afford London on an army pension, but the city is the only friend he has. In an effort to understand his newfound queer identity, he heads to a bar one night, where he stumbles across a mysterious stranger who turns his life upside down. ‘I dug around inside myself, and I'm not quite sure what I found, but it was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.’

The Wisteria Tree by SilentAuror(E, 29,773 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Emotional Love Making, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Sherlock POV, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Est. Rel., Retirement) – Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John's...

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) –Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

MARKED FOR LATER

Awake by greymantledlady (G, 2,178 w., 1 Ch. || Pilotverse || UAP ASiP Fix It, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, Hospital Love Confessions, Getting Together, Awkward John, Coma Dream, Sick Fic) – Pilotverse fix-it in which Sherlock is initially in a coma and the events of S1-4 are a kind of lucid dream. Also, hospital confessions, clearing the air, soft pilotverse Sherlock and John, and John Not Hitting Sherlock.

Fugue (n.) by reyiosa (NR [G], 3,281 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate Universe || Post-TRF, Hospital, Hallucinations, Coma, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, It Was All A Dream) – A Sherlock AU were it turns out Sherlock has made up his whole life with John as a consulting detective while stuck in a coma caused by an overdose. The real John is just a kind doctor at the hospital that sits by Sherlock’s bed and reads him detective stories.

The A.G.R.A. Complex by SilentAuror (E, 19,563 w., 1 Ch. || Freebatch RPF || Brain Injury, Reality/Sherlock Crossover, Altered Perceptions, Angst, Motorcycle Accident, Sherlock is a Coma-Dream, Martin POV) – Martin Freeman wakes from a brief coma during which he dreamed the entire Sherlock series. As he recovers from his brain injuries, he has trouble distinguishing between reality and the Sherlock universe in his dream. This impacts his relationships with both Amanda, whom he cannot stop seeing as A.G.R.A., and his friend and sometime colleague Benedict, who is Sherlock to his John. Part 1 of The A.G.R.A. Complex

Whenever it's right (AKA First Date) by Aliea (M, 26,493 w., 15/? Ch. || WiP || London Underground, Explosions, Doctor John, Sherlock Whump, Angst, Hospitals, Mind Palace John, Coma, Past Drug Use, Big Brother Mycroft) – Meeting the person you have been searching for all your life, never knowing that you have been searching until its over and you have them before you. What happens when you fall in love at first sight then everything goes to hell? Do you stay or go, take the risk or run for the hills. John has has never ran from anything, so he wasnt going to run from the man that changed his life in less than five seconds.

Where The Ghosts Have Voices by HappyJuicyfruit (M, 37,691 w., 12 Ch. || Supernatural AU || Ghosts, Magical Realism, Light Horror, Fluff and Smut, John Can See Ghosts, John Whump, Emotional Manipulation, Dark Magic, Coma, Injury Recovery, Blow Jobs, Anal, Happy Ending, John’s Past, Mr Holmes, Powerful John, Holmes Brothers, Sherlock’s Past, Past Viclock, Drug Abuse, Hair Pulling) – John has lived his whole life as an outcast. It is only when he meets Sherlock, that be realizes being a freak might not be such a bad thing, and that the curse he has lived with his whole life may be a gift after all.

Having Your Cake by SilentAuror (E, 44,615 w., 1 Ch. || Freebatch RPF || POV Martin, Open Infidelity, HLV/TAB Filming, Jealousy, Angst, Drama, Hotel Sex, Twitter) – Set four years after Martin's temporary brain injury that caused his universe to shift between reality and his coma dream of the Sherlock universe, Martin's history with Benedict comes back to haunt them both as they attempt to make sense of the relationship between their characters during the filming of His Last Vow. They are forced to face the question of whether they're interpreting the scripts objectively or are biased because of their personal history. As Martin deals with the difficulty of separating real life from fiction, he also has to make a decision that will affect the rest of his life as he knows it. Part 2 of The A.G.R.A. Complex

NO! by Tildathings (M, 50,043 w., 36 Ch. || Homophobia, Bed Sharing, Military Uniforms, Past Abuse, Jealous John, Stalking, Violence, First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Pillow Talk, Coming Out, Sherlock’s Past, Shower, Cuddling, Grief and Sorrow, Hugs, Character Death) – Sherlock has been in a coma in over 8 months after he overdosed on the plane at TAB, during which time Mary and Rosie were killed by Vivian Norbury. This story starts 3 weeks after Sherlock has woken up. John is asking to move back to Baker Street.

In Absentia by SeaweedWrites (T, 79,273 w., 39 Ch. || TRF Divergence, Major Character Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Realism, Car Accident, Traumatic Brain Injury, Hospital, Sherlock in a Coma, Physical/Psychological Rehab, Sensory Issues, Heavy Angst, Drama, Sherlock Whump, Biog Brother Mycroft, Depression, Nightmares, Panic Attacks) – Sherlock sends John a mysterious text. While John waits for Sherlock to come back to 221B to explain, Sherlock is involved in a terrible car crash, and everyone's lives are irrecoverably changed. Will Sherlock survive? And the bigger question for John- If he does survive, will he ever be the same? Part 1 of the In Absentia Fics and Information

Out There by DiscordantWords (T, 131,695 w., 10 Ch. || X-Files Fusion || Slow Burn, UST, Case Fic, Government Conspiracy, Aliens, UFOs, Mutants, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Coma) – FBI Special Agent John Watson, medical doctor and army veteran, is assigned to assist eccentric genius Sherlock Holmes with paranormal investigations on the X-Files project.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #comas #sick fics #my fic recs

46 notes · View notes

grumpygreenwitch · 2 months

Text

The Witches & Wizards Jobs 17-18-19

AO3 Link

Buy me a Ko-fi?

Remember: Tumblr has no algorithm. Reblogs give me life.

1-2 + 3-4 + 5-6 + 7-8 + 9-10-11 + 12-13-14 + 15-16 + 17-18-19 + 20-21-22 + 23-24-25 + 26-27-28 + 29-30 + 31-32-33 + 34-35-36 + 37-38 + 39-40-41-42

SEVENTEEN

I slept like I hadn't in months. Living in a constant state of anxiety will do that to you, I suppose. But I was so far from home and from the enemies and dangers of Chicago that it felt as if they were too far away to matter. Even the war seemed a thing happening to someone else. It was a dangerous feeling, particularly because the house didn't have any of the protections of my Chicago apartment, but I was too tired to care.

I woke up to an unfamiliar doorbell and my dog trying to murder me by stepping on my kidneys. That much dog euphorically walking all over you will wake you up in a hurry, if nothing else. I dragged myself out of the surprisingly comfortable bed and down the stairwell to the door.

I found my current boss there.

"Dresden."

"Ford." I was all at once as awake as someone could be, every sense sharply on the alert.

"You can't use an electric stove, can you."

Ok, not the words I'd expected to hear from the man. "Uh, I can probably do it once."

"Without setting the house on fire?"

"Fifty-fifty on that one."

"Mm. Get dressed. We're gonna pick up breakfast."

He must have seen something on my face. I'd expected a lot of things; most people see Soulgazing as a theft, or worse. Very few like what they see in me. I'd expected to be fired, or interrogated, or something in a long and extensive list. Treated to even more food had not been part of it.

Ford shrugged minutely. For once he looked put together, and it was startling. He still had that deceptively harmless quality, the feel of a man that makes friends easily. He was freshly shaved, wearing a light shirt under a summer jacket and casual slacks, all in dark, neutral tones. His hair was still damp. "I refuse to let you think Boston only wants to come at you swinging."

I opened the door wide and stepped aside. "For the record, I don't mind Boston. I just don't want to make waves."

He stepped in. Mouse sniffed him, the banner of his tail wagging sedately, and Ford distractedly rubbed his head. I don't think he even noticed he was doing it. "Is it that easy? If what happened yesterday at the museum hadn't happened, would the city still know you're here?"

"Yes."

He looked thoughtful, but merely went on his way to examine the rooms full of crates while I took the fastest shower in the world, fed Mouse some dog food that looked like it cost more than my rent back in Chicago and got into my spare clothes. We headed out into an unfairly sunny and lovely morning. Trees bordered the street, the houses gracious in their old age. Boston was lovely.

It just wasn't home.

"There is, comparatively speaking, a lot of things living in Boston that aren't human. Supernaturals move, same as us," I explained as we walked. "For work, for life, for family. That's universal. And Boston's one point where that traffic bottlenecks. A lot of them don't go any further."

"So Boston's the best they could find?" He gave me a quick, incredulous glance.

"No, the most convenient. Magic likes it when you throw down roots. You can draw power from your home in a pinch, there's protections that kinda seep into a place the longer you live in it."

"Lintel magic," he murmured.

I damn near stopped walking. It was the first time in all our dealings that I'd heard Ford use the m-word.

"My mother believed," he said after a few steps. "She'd tell me stories, the old classics, and the ones from the Old World. Fairies, wicked stepmothers, charming princes - kelpies, hounds, fairy queens…" He shrugged once again. "I'm not nearly as surprised as I should be that the reality is even bloodier."

"You stopped believing, why?"

The ice flickered briefly in his eyes. "You looked into my soul, Dresden, don't you know why?"

"It doesn't work like that. You know that, or I would already be on a train to Chicago."

He did look amused at that, snorting minutely. "Dresden, you're Crime Lite from where my people and I are standing." He marshalled his thoughts while I tried to figure out if I was flattered, insulted, or something else even more complicated. "Life got in the way. Here comes Parker."

The thief was sprinting at us. She'd probably been coming to meet everyone in the loft. "Nate! Are you getting donuts?"

"Uh, we can?"

"I want donuts."

"I want something a little more substantial than donuts," he pointed out mildly.

"Oh, fine." She peeked at me. "Are you alright?"

"I'll do better with a couple of donuts in me."

She beamed. Ford groaned. We walked down the block to a little shop by the clever name of Double-O's, which did bagels and donuts both. Ford ordered enough food to feed twenty people and we sat at one of the little tables with a couple of donuts and some coffee and they brought me up to speed on what they'd done after I'd gone down.

Parker and Eliot had moved the coffee table, and everything in it, to the storage room, and taped the key to the Witchwell. That was already a huge weight off my mind. But then the Leverage people had gone further - with the crumpled envelope, of all things.

"It's not paper, it's vellum," Ford explained while Parker demolished a donut covered in chocolate and corn flakes. "Which is just fancy paper made to imitate actual vellum."

"Expensive paper," I ventured.

"Precisely."

"There was no writing."

"There doesn't need to be. Remember the embossing on it? It's a sigil, sort of a coat of arms."

"I really, really would love to know what it is you people actually do. So you looked up this sigil thing?

"Solve puzzles." Ford didn't miss a beat. "We didn't have to. Sophie knows it by heart, it's the sigil of Christie's."

"Christie's, the British Auction House?"

"Yes."

I worked on my coffee. "I'm hoping this makes sense to you, because I'm -"

The lights above us flickered. I wouldn't have thought much of it; I was there, after all. But at one of the tables, two women snatched up their purses and one toddler, and scurried off at truly phenomenal speed.

There were advantages to having that many supernaturals around, apparently. I snatched for my wand; like a moron, I'd left my staff back at the house.

"Do not." The gratingly avuncular tone was threaded with menace.

The man in black walked sedately past the counter and the last late morning customers. Only one person reacted to his passage, a young man wearing a typical cycling outfit, a messenger bag slung across his chest. He took one look over his shoulder and bolted. No one else seemed to see him, to know he was there. They shifted out of his way because suddenly they had to reach for a napkin or a sugar packet or something else, but no one directly acknowledged his presence at all.

It was a Veil with conditions. Until that moment I'd never known a Veil could be crafted like that, with exceptions built in.

Ford put a hand on my good shoulder and shook his head minutely. I tried to relax, and managed only to pull my hand out of my duster pocket. Parker was glaring with hyperbolic fury.

"Ah, you must be the sensible one," the man in black told Ford. "What pleasant luck."

"Every now and again," Ford agreed mildly.

He turned to look at Parker. She immediately looked down at her donut and scowled.

"This modern world," the man in black mused. "One comes to find the Prince of Thieves, and it is a woman. How times change. Hands on the table, please. Where I can see them."

"Parker," Ford said quietly when she didn't move. He said nothing else; he merely let his eyes take in the dozen or so people sharing space with us and the wizard.

She obeyed, sulking all the while.

"And yours, wizard Dresden."

Gosh, I'd almost forgotten what it was like, when someone used the title to insult me. I dropped both my hands on the table and worked really hard on not curling them into fists.

"Well, isn't this nice." He sat at our table. He was wearing fully modern clothing, a high-collared white shirt, a black embroidered vest, a long black coat with silver and emerald buttons, dress slacks, expensive shoes. His black hair had been cut and combed back, and his moustache and beard were so neatly trimmed I wouldn't have been surprised to find out he'd used a ruler. He was a very pale man, and his eyes were the same luminous, poisonous green of the painting and his magic. He looked and sounded so smug it took effort not to just haul up and punch him on principle. "So very nice. You have something of mine, sir," he told Ford mildly. "Several somethings, actually." He grinned.

"That would be stealing. I don't make it a habit to confess to crimes publicly, even when I haven't committed any."

The man's eyes flashed. His mouth opened - and closed, and he looked deeply amused. "No, of course not. You have committed no crime." His voice suddenly turned into a lash. "Hands. On the table."

Parker glared at him.

"I do strive to not be a fool more than once," he told her mildly. "If you do that again, I will kill someone here. Someone you do not know. Someone who does not know you. That nice man who served you your donuts, maybe. The old lady one of your companions held the door for one time. It will not hurt you. It will just be a toothache, forever there to be worried at, because I will kill them only if you take your hands off the table. Yes?"

Parker's face had gone to stone. My hands, despite my best efforts, had curled into fists after all. Ford tightened his grip on my shoulder a little more.

"I do not see a need to make this into a quarrel," the man in black said very calmly. "My attention is on greater matters. Whatever Dresden might have told you, until the small issue at the museum, I had committed no crime."

"No c- No crime? At the very least you destroyed the MFA lab. You stole from their vaults."

"Not at all. The portrait is mine. I commissioned Sokolov for it. Beautiful work, truly. I was very pleased with it, even with the nose being wrong."

"Working from memory," Ford mused.

"Mm, as portraitists do. So you see, I was recovering my property."

"You could have gone through proper channels. That shouldn't be a hardship for a man like you."

"I am pressed for time," the man in black admitted. "Which is why I come to make you an offer."

I tensed up immediately. Ford's hand turned into a vise on my shoulder and he shot me a warning look.

"You will return my property to me. And I will not kill you. You will send Dresden home. And I will not kill him. You will forget this matter. And in three days' time, I will grant you and your people your heart's desire. Whatever it might be. Fame, fortune, revenge, knowledge. I am a man of many talents. I daresay there's very little in this world that I could not give you. One wish."

"I get to punch you once," Parker growled immediately.

The man in black blinked in surprise, and then laughed. "Well, not that."

Under the table, Parker's leg bumped lightly against mine. It was so unexpected, so out of nowhere from someone who only touched even her own teammates when she absolutely had to, that it shocked me back to my senses, and I turned my attention to her. She was scowling at the man in black from the corner of her eyes, hunched down minutely, her hands flat on the table, tension on every line of her body, and her face had the same wild expression she'd had back at the Museum, when she'd figured out how to save our asses.

I lunged at the man in black across the table. I did it slow; I already knew I was much quicker than him. For a moment I thought I was going to actually get at him, the one time I didn't care if I did, but Ford belatedly caught me. "Dresden!"

Whatever slammed into me froze me, literally. I felt my veins turn to ice, my muscles lock. Cold blasted into me, left me motionless, unable to even shiver. I could barely gasp for air, but hey, if I wasn't going to get another chance to breathe, I might as well put the one breath I had to good use. "My hands're still on the table," I hissed at the man in black.

I saw surprise and fury flash through his eyes. He'd thrown himself back and scrambled to his feet, his chair crashing to the floor. No one noticed." So they are," he gritted out, and his magic faded, letting me wheeze for breath. With an effort he turned to face Ford, the mild and cheerful facade gone behind a vulturine, sharp and predatory look that was far more appropriate. "My property. Now, if you please."

"Does that include the Burning Witch's Well?"

Surprise once again went over the angular features, quickly hidden out of sight. "Yes."

"Well, you nearly killed twenty people with it, so, uh. No."

The man in black bared his teeth and flicked his hand. The lights went out. I threw my hand up and whatever he'd meant to hit Ford with crashed instead into my shield. It sent us both skidding back until we hit a half-wall behind us, random little decorations falling off it. He looked livid; yeah, still faster than you, asshole.

"Then I will take what is mine, and enjoy the killing of you all in the process," he declared, stalking off.

Breathless or not, Nate rushed immediately after him. I turned to check on Parker. "You alright?"

"Yeah, go get him!" She was wriggling in place. "I gotta put my shoes back on!"

Her sh-

Her shoes?!

There's only so many surprises I can cope with from just one person. I ran after Ford, but he was just outside the door to the shop, looking frustrated, scanning the street in every direction.

"Don't bother," I told him. "He probably closed off the Veil he was wearing to begin with."

"You saw him."

"No. I saw a couple of ladies bolt; they're the ones who saw him. I told you; you can't hide a wizard, not easily."

Parker nearly ran into us both as she charged out the door. "Is he gone?"

"Yup." Ford had that look again, the look that said he was putting together bits and pieces into a whole no one else had even noticed was there.

A man peeked out of the shop. "Mister Ford? Your order's ready."

"Oh, good." He marched back inside.

"You picked his pockets again," I told Parker before either of us followed Ford inside, not sure if I was amused or amazed. I settled for both.

"Yeah, of course I did. You almost messed me up, though!"

"I did? I thought you were signaling me for a distraction!"

She flushed minutely. "No. Your legs are just longer than Eliot's."

"… Sorry?" She grinned a little. "So what did you get?"

She grinned even more.

EIGHTEEN

Nate charged into the loft at full speed. "Hardison, are you here yet?"

The hacker had been in the kitchen; he peeked out of the fridge. "Yeah, man. Uh, fridge's broken."

"Then replace it, landlord mine." Nate glanced at the door and added, his voice quieter. "Quietly."

Hardison's expression filled with understanding, and he nodded. "Did you get breakfast?"

"They're bringing it up. I don't promise there's any donuts left. Is everyone else here?"

"We are now." Eliot held the door open for Parker and Dresden, Sophie coming up behind them. "What's this I'm hearing, that you met the man in black?"

"We did," Nate confirmed cheerfully.

"What?!" Hardison looked stunned.

"Is everyone alright?" Sophie asked.

"Oh, yeah, everyone's fine. He just wanted to talk. Threaten us, bully us, you know, the usual. Dresden, back to your couch, I need Hardison's computers." The wizard went that way obediently, but he didn't let go of the box he was carrying, raiding its contents before he surrendered it to Eliot. Sophie followed Parker to the staging area.

"Hardison." Nate sat and stared at the screens. "The Tetryakov Gallery is the main repository of Sokolov's work. That's not just his portraits and his studies, that's also his journals, his notebooks. The records of his commissions. Do they have electronic copies of those?"

In a moment the central screen was full of documents, more and more being flicked to one side as the hacker blithely charged into presumably secured databases across the world. "Some of it."

"Cross-reference against the portrait. We might not know who the people in it are, but it's absolutely one of Sokolov's largest pieces."

"It's also a full-body portrait of two people. He preferred faces, busts, or large groups. It's unique," Sophie added.

"Give me a minute, I'm having to run all this through a translator. I don't actually read Russian."

"Sophie, Parker. Are there any big art events taking place within the next three days?"

"Yes," Parker replied before Sophie could. "A private art auction in two days." She pulled from an inner jacket pocket a small piece of paper and handed it over with a grin.

Sophie took it, read it, and passed it on. "That's what the Christie's man is here for. He's not selling, he's buying."

"He just went to all this trouble to get the portrait, and he's selling it already?" Eliot protested mildly. "Why?"

"Because in two days he won't need it anymore." Ford stared at the screen. "Dresden, the brass piping. What you meant to do with it, can you do it in the storage room as well?"

"If there's enough brass, yes."

"Do it." Nate looked at his team. "He can't find them. He came to us because whatever Dresden did worked. The key, the circles, whatever it is, they are actually doing their job and he can't find all the stuff Parker took from him. I bet he had some sort of tracker in his pockets, waiting for Parker to go for it."

"Jerk," the thief muttered, but she didn't sound angry as much as resigned. "I figured the paper was safe."

"Dresden."

Eliot brought the piece of paper to their consultant. It was a match to the envelope, heavy vellum, the ink black and gold, the writing beautifully elegant. Dresden grimaced as soon as he touched it, and lifted it up. "Nope. This is your tracker."

"I can't put it back when he just keeps being invisible!" Parker protested.

Nate gestured appeasingly. "Hardison, make a copy. We'll put the original with the rest of the stuff. I imagine next he's going to try and break in, send the leshy to fetch them, or something worse." Once again he turned to Dresden. "Can you stop that from happening?"

"Yes, but I should get started soon," the wizard had sat up straight, staring in something like wonder as, once again, Nate did what he did best.

"You've got the whole day. Sophie, you and I have a meeting for dinner."

"Fedorov?" When he nodded confirmation, she pursed her mouth. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"No. That's why we're going."

Hardison had put the invitation into a scanner that was discreetly hidden in one of the desks. He handed it back to Parker, who glared at it as if it were the man in black himself. The computers chose that moment to beep and he looked sharply up. "Found it." His fingers flew over the keyboard and he grimaced. "They're direct scans from one of Sokolov's commission journals. The OCR is having a time with it, let me see if I can make the name of the commissioner any clearer." He clipped one particular set of lines from the yellowed, faded page on the screen.

Sophie drew in a sharp breath. Eliot, who'd been coming over to take the invitation from Parker, froze.

"You're fine, Hardison. It reads fine like that," Nate murmured distractedly.

"That can't be right," Eliot muttered.

"What's been right about this job from the beginning?" Sophie countered mildly.

"What's it say?" Hardison asked.

All three of them replied at once. "Koschei."

Behind them, Dresden choked on his breakfast sandwich.

Nate clapped his hands. "This is good!"

"Good?" Eliot stared at the mastermind in disbelief. "This is good? We're going up against the main bad guy in every Russian fairy-tale ever written, someone who actually makes the Russians balk, and you think this is good?!"

"All fairy tales have their basis on something real," Sophie had sat to one side, her hands wrapped around a cup she hadn't touched yet. "Khan Koshan was a barbarian warlord, back in a time when Russia was simply Rus, 'the land'."

"It's good because we have a name," Nate explained. "And a name means a trail. Wizards might not be able to use technology - he is a wizard?" He turned to Dresden, waited for a nod to carry on. "But the rest of the world does. A name means a profile, travel records, hotels, purchases. Even if he's not using his own name, and honestly I expect he'd be the sort who would out of sheer arrogance, a name isn't the sort of thing that blows up computers, like an image does." He turned to stare at the screen. "A name gives us everything. Hardison, this isn't your usual profile, but can you give me an estimate of how long it will take you?"

"You want me to guess how long it'll take to sift through two hundred years of fairy tales to get a bead on this man?" Hardison stared at Nate.

"He's older than that," Dresden sounded off. "He's much, much older than that."

"Dresden." Nate acknowledged. "Do you have a starting point?"

Harry exhaled sharply. "Yes," he replied carefully.

The mastermind pressed his mouth into a thin line and added, "One that doesn't involve men in gray and big swords?"

"I'm working on that," Dresden admitted. "Khan Koshan is…sort of a wizardly cautionary tale. He's the only wizard anyone knows of that successfully managed immortality."

"As in he can't die, or he can't be killed?" Eliot asked.

"Both," the wizard replied grimly. "That's half the trick. You can be ageless, if you don't mind every supernatural in the world out for your blood. You can be unkillable, if you don't mind selling your soul. As far as anyone knows, he got both kewpie dolls without paying the price."

"So he's a criminal." Nate didn't look convinced.

"That's the other half, he's not. Technically." Harry seemed to measure his words with incredible care. "The best known way to be ageless is by stealing the life off of someone else. That is outright necromancy. Men in gray. Big swords."

"He's not doing that." It wasn't a question.

"No. No one knows how he's doing it, only that he absolutely doesn't age, and that he's not a necromancer."

"And he can't be killed? Hurt?" That came from Eliot, who was scowling at the very thought.

"Parker clocked him twice at the museum. Solid hits. They were gone by the time I tackled him."

"That can't be an easy trick to pull off," Sophie mused.

"It's not. What… is known is what the fairy-tales are already telling you. He cut out his own heart and hid it - he hid it so well that no one can find it, not even death."

Sophie drew in a deep breath. "The brooch. The Emerald Heart of Koschei the Deathless. The jewel that no one's ever seen, but everyone knows is real."

"Yup. Now, here I'm going on hearsay: he did it to gift it to a woman he loved. But she rejected him, and it poisoned the heart. Turned him greedy and cruel. He was going to share the trick of it with the world, up until that point. Having met the man, I think it's bullcrap. He never meant to give the secret away. He's just spinning some PR to make himself look the victim, not the villain."

"That tracks," Nate agreed.

"Is that what he's after?" Eliot turned. Hardison had put up a picture of the portrait on one of the screens, deeming it safe enough since no phones had been sacrificed in the acquisition of it.

"The placement of the lock would seem to hint at it," Sophie agreed, but she saw Nathan frown minutely.

Surprisingly, it was Dresden who sounded off. "Why? It's been safe all this time, impossible to find. Why bother now, why bother at all?"

"Mm." Nate stared at the painting. "Dresden, do you mind shouting across the room?"

"I like it better than the alternative."

"Then I'd like you to work with Hardison on the profile, but the security around the things we took from Koschei takes priority. Eliot, you're with them. Sophie, Parker, we're going to find out what we can about this private auction."

"I bet Jess knows," Parker suggested.

"Start there, then. Dresden." It was Nate's turn to choose his words very carefully. "Is this something you should report to your people?"

The wizard looked surprised to even be considered on that regard. "Technically."

"We're flying on a lot of 'technically's here," the mastermind muttered.

"I mean, I can't use a cellphone. I'd have to find a landline." A little smirk ghosted over Harry's features making him look, for a fleeting moment, young. "The only ones I know of are back in Chicago."

Nate didn't smile, but it was a close thing.

NINETEEN

To be fair, I did get why Ford called it 'wanton destruction of property'. Eliot just looked way too gleeful wielding a power tool. And it absolutely wasn't because I was a little bit jealous that he got to use the fun toys, like a nail gun. Cordless drill. Power sander.

Nope, not jealous at all.

So the morning went with Eliot in my basement and me out in the yard entertaining Mouse, and the hitter occasionally stopping long enough to relay a question from Hardison back at the loft.

Then he ran out of iron nails. That wasn't anyone's fault, I'd asked for enough for a few spells, not enough to line the doors and windows, which was what it would take to keep the leshy out. No shield or barrier I could think of was going to keep a Golden Bear out, obviously. And I couldn't imagine anyone had ever come up with something to keep Koschei out, it would have been the stuff of legends. No, the point was the circle, and the ward inside, a copy of the pattern on the key.

Hey, if it worked for Koschei it was good enough for me.

Eliot took off to get more nails. Hardison didn't want me near the loft while he worked on a little joint project I'd suggested. Which gave me the perfect opportunity to head into my shiny new basement, close my shiny new circle for protection, and break out Bob.

I'd honestly thought about leaving Bob behind. My apartment might not look like much, but there were protections on it that only living for years in the same place can create. My laboratory, the sub-basement, was not only protected but hard to find. There was a better than good chance that Bob would be reasonably safe. But better than good was no perfect. And powerful and knowledgeable as Bob was, he still lived in a skull, and skulls are fragile. I wasn't worried about any of the many enemies in my life breaking in and finding him nearly as much as I was about them breaking in and not realizing how valuable he was while they wrecked the place.

In any case, I'd brought him with me. I hadn't expected we'd do much. I figured I could let him loose for a little while, if nothing else, and use that later as, heh, leverage when I needed his help. But that had been before I realized the size of the mess in Boston. I brought my rucksack down to the basement, found three boxes that had been on the Endless List, and put the skull on top of them. "Wake up, Bob."

The spirit's eyes lit up like candles, and immediately blazed and sparked like fireworks. "Whoa!"

"Yeah, welcome to Boston." I knew exactly how he felt. I put the sack on the shiny new workbench and sat on the shiny new stool.

"Ooof, headrush." Bob sorted himself out faster than I had, and his eyes rolled all around the sockets as he took in his surroundings. "Nice place. These Leverage people are taking good care of you, I see. Did you ever find out what it is they do?"

"I'm working on it."

"You know, Harry, it wouldn't have killed you to put me on a window during the train ride. It's been forever since I've really traveled."

"I was asleep for most of it."

"Liar," Bob sang back. "Are you wearing a sling?"

"I was trying to sleep for most of it. And yes." The shoulder was only occasionally throbbing, but Eliot had been very clear about wearing the sling as long as possible. "The Leverage people seem to have stepped into something a little beyond everyone's paygrade."

The spirit scoffed minutely. "Mortals."

"I'm not sure I'd have the arm to put in a sling if it weren't for them, so let's skip the pleasantries about that. I need to make a quick veil-shielding charm."

"Harry, you can't do that, you know that. A charm that can defend against a Veil needs to be attuned to, if not the Veil, then the wizard casting it, else it burns up."

"I'm fine with it burning up. I just need it to last five minutes. Two even." I couldn't even imagine the sheer amount of mayhem any of these people could do in two minutes. Or less, but I was trying to play it safe.

"What a waste of magic," Bob scoffed.

"Bob, focus. These are the same people who got you the boxes you're sitting on." The skull was sitting on top of three boxes full of paperback romances. I didn't question his unlife choices and Leverage hadn't questioned mine.

The spirit's attention turned inward briefly. "Well, I'm suddenly feeling a lot more generous toward our hosts," he declared, far too chipper. "Also, this city's making my teeth buzz. Anything that takes attention away from that is welcome."

"Oh, I have lots more questions for you, don't worry. The charm?"

"Did you bring the Vivendum with you? Page 253. By the way, Gottridge is lying, the charm works just as well in metal as it does glass, as long as it's not iron or lead."

I lifted one of the pins I'd found in the Lost & Found box. "How about pewter?"

"Ooo, tin and copper, perfect. If you get lucky, there might even be silver in there."

I found the Vivendum Grimoire, one of the books I'd brought with me from Chicago, found the spell to enchant the charms, and started rummaging about for sympathetic ingredients. Magic's all like that: sometimes you need something specific, but for the most part as long as you have something that sorta resonates with what you mean to do, you're fine. I found a heavy mortar and pestle first, and started throwing things in there: a lens and some colorful beach glass, a few plastic whistles. I tore strips out of a sheet of sandpaper, and emptied a bottle of perfume in. Then I started looking about for something to fill in the fifth slot. Gottridge recommended cheese, but everyone agreed that the man had had a dairy allergy.

"Rice," Bob said in a long-suffering tone. "Rice, Harry. If you cannot go to one extreme, go to the other."

I threw my last ingredient in, covered the mortar and started grinding. "Next question. Can you make a suppression spell into a suppression potion?"

Bob sucked in a breath. How, I didn't know, given he lacked every single element needed for it. "Yes, but it's not gonna taste good. Among other things."

"Other things?" I asked in between working the pestle.

"Think, Harry. The point of a spell is that you can dismiss it at will. If you drink the suppression, how are you going to dismiss it if you need your magic?"

"Can it be done so it's on a timer?"

"Tricky, but doable. And it's still going to taste like the bottom of a ditch. Why are you wearing a sling?"

"Because I dislocated my shoulder last night. Work out the recipe, please." The pestle began grinding more smoothly, so I gave all my focus to the spell. Bob knew better than to distract me, though I could all but feel those witch-light eyes burning into my back.

It wasn't hard, particularly because I didn't need it to be efficient, or good. Like I'd told Bob, I just needed the charms to do their thing long enough for my employers to get wise to a bad situation and bail. I worked the spell into the ingredients until I had fine, dust-colored dust on the bottom of the mortar; I scooped that into an empty salt shaker, sprinkled it all over the dozen or so pins I had ready, covered it all with a dish-cloth with sunflowers printed on it and left the magic to cook.

"You've been here barely a day and you dislocated you shoulder already?" Bob burst out as soon as the cloth settled.

"The suppression recipe, please."

"Harry!"

"It wasn't by choice!"

"That's worse!"

"Bob… These people live and work and do everything on computers. The suppression potion, please. Besides, they put it back already."

I got a recipe, and about ten minutes' worth of being lectured in between every step and ingredient, where Bob knew I couldn't get away or complain too much. "What do these people even do, did you ever figure that out?"

"Nope, and at this point I don't want to. Next question: what would it take to summon a Golden Bear out of the Nevernever?"

Bob went quiet. You wouldn't think this a bad thing unless you knew Bob. Unfortunately, I knew Bob.

"I mean, a couple of the wizards on the Council might be able to, if they can find one. If they can convince it to come through. Things that big, they don't like it on this side, Harry. It takes too much effort and they're not bright enough to put in the work themselves."

"Let me rephrase," I said as I tried to figure out if I had half the things I needed for the suppression potion. "What would it take for someone to instantly summon a Golden Bear out of the Nevernever to do their bidding?"

Bob went quiet again. His eyes were staring at me with an almost solid weight. "Harry, what aren't you telling me?"

"Too hard? Ok, here's another one: tell me every you know about Koschei."

The silence went on for so long that I would've thought him gone if it weren't for the eyes pinned on me. "Harry."

"Yeah?"

"Call the Council."

"Not an option."

"Harry, I know you. If you're asking leading questions about Koschei, it's because you've already met the man. You know for a fact he's here. You are involved, and that is the least safe thing you could be. This is beyond you, Harry. This might be beyond the Council, but at least if you call them it'll be them dying, not you." Bob was sounding very clipped and rushed; it was something I very rarely heard from him, I guess because when you're stuck in a skull there's not much to make you afraid anymore.

"I can't. Not with the War going on. Even if I did manage to get through to someone, I have no way of knowing if they'd have anyone to send. I'm here, now. This is the job."

"You can't take Koschei on! Harry, that's beyond suicide. He has a reputation for holding grudges for a reason!"

"That's a problem for future me. Present me still needs to know everything you can tell me about him -"

"I will not!"

"-because if you don't he's still coming after me, I just won't know when or where or how."

The skull somehow blew me a raspberry, and let out a highly infuriated sound. "What did you do?!"

I brought him up to speed while I worked on attuning a couple of compasses to the chalk I'd scrawled on the back of the portrait. Odds were the painting -sorry, the portrait- would be protected with the same anti-tracking magic on the key, but just in case it wasn't I wanted some way for the others to follow and find it, not just me.

"So he's here for his heart?" Bob saw me grimace as I worked. "You don't think so."

"No. It's been safe all this time, Bob, he has no reason to look it up now, particularly not so openly, so blatantly. If he just wanted the heart he could've gone into the museum at night, broken in by magic and taken it. No, he wants that portrait for another reason."

"And you're sure the woman's the Hag herself?"

"Ford thinks so. I haven't met her."

"I still don't like it."

"Oh, I'm thrilled as peaches about it, Bob," I told him, and all the sarcasm I'd learned from the damn skull came out with the words. "Really. I've met the man twice and both times he wiped the floor with me. I'm sure earning my paycheck."

"Harry, no one could ever pay you enough to face off against the Raven." Bob's voice went to a quieter note. "You're alive. Take the win."

"What'd you say?"

"I said take the win, you -"

"No, I mean, what'd you call him?"

"The Raven? The Blackbird? I wouldn't even be saying his name if we weren't in a circle that I'm sure you've closed. He's one of those people who are deeply attuned to any attention coming their way. You know the type. Opera singers. Politicians."

"So he can tell when someone says his name?"

"If he's listening. If he knows the person saying it. If there's enough intent, like with any other sort of magic. Why?"

I closed my eyes and focused on that morning. Koschei hadn't actually met Sophie; the vault hallway of the MFA had been dark, and I'd drawn his attention away just long enough that, by the time he'd caught up to us, Sophie had already bolted to go get Eliot.

Eliot, he knew. Unfortunately.

But he didn't know Ford. They hadn't even traded names at the bagel shop. More, Ford didn't believe. It didn't matter that he'd seen me actually throwing magic around, he was more like the sort of person I'm used to, the ones who wanted to explain it all away and forget it had ever happened.

So, just as we'd expected, he probably had a nebulous idea of where his stuff was - somewhere on the block, if he'd sniffed me out already. But he wouldn't know precisely where, and with the anti-tracker in place, he never would. "See, that's the sort of thing I need to know. How about sharing some fairy tales with me while I work on the suppression potion?"

Bob wasn't happy about it, but he also had a vested interest in keeping me alive, and it was going to be hard enough without suggesting one of his usual bargains. I spent the next hour setting up and preparing the suppression potion while he told me old Russian fairy tales and scared the crap out of me.

And yet.

The thing was, whenever I was on a case, things were usually happening so fast, coming at me from every direction, that most of the time I wasn't acting, I was reacting. That wasn't happening with the Leverage people; it couldn't. Whatever came at them, one of them knew how to deal with it and the rest knew to follow through.

Which included me.

I'd never realized it before, because I usually worked alone. I didn't have time to think through what I was doing, I barely had time to catch my breath, keep all my body parts attached to the body in question. But working with other people, capable people, I'd held my own. It wasn't gonna save me from Koschei, but it was kind of enlightening to know I could keep up with some of the smartest folk I'd ever met. Even if they were suspiciously criminally inclined.

I got the potion sorted out, dipped my finger and tried a taste, since I was pretty sure I was done doing magic until lunch, at the very least. It tasted about as bad as I'd expected. "Hey, Bob?"

"I don't have a tongue, I'm not tasting it for you."

"It's not that. I was just thinking, if you can see what's in those three boxes, you can probably do a general inventory -"

"Oh, here we go with the drudgery."

"- and I need to know if I've got what I need to make a mirror-mask -"

"Hey, Harry!" Eliot called out somewhere above me. "You home?"

"Inventory, Bob."

"There better be another box in it for me," he grumbled.

"Thanks." I stepped forward and focused on breaking the circle, except as soon as I stepped up to it it disappeared.

Right, suppression potion.

"Dresden!"

"Down here!" I set my foot on the stairs.

The doorbell rang. It was about as old as the house, and it seemed to be holding up well in my presence. It was certainly loud enough to nearly make me jump off the stairs. Eliot had just opened the basement door up top, and I saw him snap around like a wolf scenting prey. He put up a hand; I'd seen enough of the man to stop dead where I was.

He walked out of sight. I couldn't even hear his steps on the wooden floors. I only knew where he'd gone when the front door opened. I heard a woman's voice, I heard Eliot saying something back before he called out, "Dresden, someone here to see you."

That, I wasn't expecting. I trotted up the stairs, closed the door; Mouse was waiting for me there, ears perked and tail on the alert. He whuffled a warning.

Eliot shot me an equally wordless warning with his eyes before he stepped back, away from the door. There was a woman there with a kid, a young girl. I'm not good with children but she was old-ish, maybe twelve. Something like that.

When someone talks about someone who's not classically beautiful? The woman was the very definition of it. She was short, solid, very curvy, but even when she was just standing there there was a grace, a sort of unbreakable dignity that made you take notice. She was wearing a very prim business suit, gray skirt and jacket, white silk shirt, black shoes. She had dark hair done up in a very severe bun, dark skin the color of copper, sharp features mixed in with soft curves. Her eyes were black as midnight, with a ring of gold.

Her daughter had the ghost of her mother's beauty; she was quickly growing into it, though there was a bit of lanky to her that said her father was probably taller, definitely skinnier. She was wearing some sort of uniform, gray pleated skirt and white shirt, and she looked scared; she took one quick peek at me and immediately pinned her eyes down, but it was long enough for me to see she had her mother's eyes.

"You are wizard Dresden?" The woman had a thick, nearly impenetrable accent. She also had a printed sheet of paper with, of all things, my ad on the Chicago Yellow Pages on it. "Lost Items Found?" she recited.

"Uh -" I'm not good when I'm not under pressure. I usually get myself all hyped up and ready when I have to talk to a customer, be it on the phone or in my office back in Chicago. It didn't help when she suddenly started talking in a language that sounded a little bit like music and a lot like nothing I'd ever heard before. "Whoa. Ma'am. Ma'am, please."

"She wants to know if you're the man from the ad." Eliot's frown had changed to a look of curiosity.

"You sp -? What is sh -?"

"Wampanoag. Algonquian. It's a native - hold on." The woman had kept on talking, faster and faster, and Eliot put his hands up to stop her. "Ma'am, please, wait a minute -"

"Ma'am, he's human!" I shot at her, hating that I had to.

It worked. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth fell open. She stepped back. "Sorry! Sorry! Am sorry! Am so sorry! I say nothing!"

Eliot fell back, confused, so I stepped forward. "It's fine. It's fine, ma'am. Yes, I'm Harry Dresden. Can we please move this inside?" I thought for a moment she was just going to bolt, but obviously whatever had made her track me down sight unseen, in Boston, had more weight than her fear of humans and she stepped in, her daughter keeping close.

"Dresden, what was that?" Eliot muttered.

"There's a thousand humans for every single supernatural in the world, and most of them come out shooting if they get so much as a whiff of anything weird. Never sell yourself short in a fight, Eliot, not that I think you would. Humans are the tactical nuke of the supernatural world."

"And scary accordingly?"

"It's just safer if humans don't find out what lives around them. Safer for everyone involved."

"Hardison wants to know why you're not blowing up the earbud."

"Suppression potion. Long story. No magic for me right now. I'd take it out, it's gonna wear off any minute."

We sat down. Mother and daughter laced hands, and the woman said something. Eliot opened his mouth, but the kid beat him to it. "We don't want any trouble. We didn't know you had humans with you. We don't know what the rules are for people in other cities."

"I'm a little looser on the rules than most wizards. Now, I'd love to ask how you tracked me down, but I'm more interested in why."

"I found you on the internet," the girl replied. "I told my mom. We had a friend sniff you out. It wasn't hard." The mother said something. "He said you smell like big water, like a lake."

"You found him by his smell?" Eliot sounded stunned. She shrugged. Her mother said something and he frowned. "I'm not sure I got that right, it wasn't Algonquian."

"It was Welsh," I said. "Wasn't it?" I looked at the two ladies sitting on a couch that had been, until five minutes ago, still wrapped in plastic. "Because there's no word for 'selkie' in the local tongue."

The mother finally found her courage. "You help us. You find lost items, yes? You help."

Well, the next part was gonna suck. I've been the victim of my share of raw deals in my day. There's been a lot of times when I've had to sit down, shut up and take it when someone's doling out misery. I'll never agree to leaving someone in that kind of situation, but there's rules of magic even I can't bend. "Not this one, no. Ma'am… did he take it fair?"

She drew herself up proudly. "Never fair. Never. You know, wizard. You know this."

"Wait, selkie, as in, the selkie? Seal-woman?" I saw Eliot go through every stage between disbelief and understanding in under five seconds. Then I saw dark, cold rage blot out the sunshine. "Her skin. Someone took her skin."

"Someone took her skin, what, twelve, thirteen years ago?" I asked the kid.

"Fourteen," she replied haughtily.

"That deal's done. It's like signing a contract, you might not like it, but you're stuck with it. The penalties for breaking it are… severe. And interfering is tricky. Interfering with magic into a selkie marriage tends to rebound, ricochet. Like a bullet. "Ma'am, I can't help you, I'm just - I'm a wizard. The rules apply to me same as everyone."

"No!" She snapped at me. "I no say -" She growled in frustration, then looked at her daughter and took a deep breath. "He find my skin. Take. Is law. I know. I no need you find my skin, wizard. I need you find my daughter's skin."

Oh, Hell's Bells.

Both Eliot and I turned to stare at the girl. Thirteen, fourteen years old. In some places, to some men that I couldn't legally set on fire, she was ready to be married.

"He took your daughter's skin," Eliot sounded ready to murder someone.

"Yes. You find."

"I'm… working -"

"Can you find her skin, Dresden?"

"There's a few things I could try?"

He smiled at the two seal-women. It almost looked like his usual sunshine smile, but I could see the murder still lurking somewhere behind it. "We'll do what we can, ma'am."

She sagged with relief and reached for her purse. "I pay -"

"No payment required," he told her pleasantly.

"But we'll need as much information as you can give us about your -" Even knowing Eliot felt the same as I did, even knowing I had both backup and permission to act, I still wanted to set someone on fire. I did my best to smile instead. Smile and reassure. "- your husband."

She had it all typed up neatly in another piece of paper she pulled out of her sensible purse, as well as a few hairs in a bit of plastic wrap and her contact information, which directed us to Sannah, her daughter. We saw them to the door, waved them away, and Eliot turned to face me. "Dresd- " The little bit of suppression potion I'd tasted chose that moment to run out, and he yanked the earbud out as it screeched angrily. He drew in a deep breath. "Is that for real? Someone took her skin and she had to marry him?"

"Yeah. Crap deal, with magic and hope keeping them tethered. As long as there's even a chance to get her skin back, she'll do anything, put up with anything."

His hands curled into fists. It took him a few moments and a couple of deep breaths to get past the first crest of anger; he was better at it than I was, I'd known about selkies for so much longer, and I was still angry at the whole situation. "So, how do you normally handle something like this?"

"Uh, I go to the library, look up the guy. Tail him, on foot or by magic, see if he goes any place that isn't home or work. Find out where the skin is, report back to her with the location."

"Wh- That's it? There's no… explosions, no fighting?"

"He's human. Anyone else would know to give the skin back. A selkie's skin is bad luck on an impressive scale to anyone but the owner, it's why you can't use magic to break up the marriage."

"So he'd be using human means to keep the skins." He looked very thoughtful.

"Probably, yes."

A slow, wicked grin bloomed on the man's face that made me feel as if we were about to do some very bad things to some very bad people. It was a good feeling after having Koschei wipe the floor with us. Me, mostly. "Good. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Out of the dark ages and into the age of the geek. Unless you're in the middle of something?"

"Nothing that can't wait." Yeah, ok, I was curious to see how Leverage dealt with a supernatural challenge, even if it was a relatively minor one.

#fanfiction #my writing #urban fantasy #leverage #the dresden files #harry dresden #nathan ford #parker #alec hardison #eliot spencer #sophie devereaux #crossover

4 notes · View notes

missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway · 2 months

Text

Moonlight & Fang Ch. 5

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Ari

For as long as I can remember, I have always forged my own path. A lone wolf. Going against the traditions ingrained in me as a pup.

It’s not that I don’t enjoy the company of other wolves. My knot can more than attest to that. I just like the freedom to come and go as I please. Living in the shadows, affords me a means of which to protect himself and help other supernaturals, born and bitten, get to safety when their lives are in danger.

Having safely delivered a young Firbolg back into the arms of their mother. I was left to my own devices once more. I had been exploring the vast forest of what was rumored to be cursed land.

These woods may be dark and ominous, but I felt an ease wash over me as I crossed through its threshold and set foot upon its soil.

My wolf, who is normally pacing back and forth, unable to settle, is oddly calm the deeper I go. A steady glow in the distance catches my attention. As the wind makes its way through the trees, it carries with it a myriad of scents, coming from the direction of the light.

Four distinct scents to be precise. One of which has my wolf perking up, wanting to play. I can smell that the scents are mingled together. Three males mixed in with a very strong female. Most likely Alpha’s and their Omega. Mates. Pack. I should turn away and go on about my business; but my stubborn wolf is pushing me forward.

I watch the group from the shadows. The female’s beauty is unparalleled. Draped in black, like myself, from head to toe. A perfect matching set, if I do say so myself. I’m not one for sharing though. So I will have to challenge the head alpha.

Too bad there doesn't seem to be one. They naturally follow her. What a powerful Omega she must be. I can sense she is much more than just a wolf and I’m dying to know what that is.

Selene

I can sense the eyes of a wolf, an Alpha to be specific, observing us from the protection of the shadows. As much as he is trying to mask his scent, the notes of sandalwood, black tea and pepper fill my lungs as I inhale deeply. The way it meshes with ours has my wolf ready to perfume the air.

It looks as if another mate has found their way to me. It’s been only months since Sy and I bonded. The fates must be smiling upon us for our paths to cross so soon. You won’t find me complaining.

Time for this game of hide and seek to come to an end. “Are you going to brood in the shadows all night or are you going to join us?”

A tense moment passes as my mates look at me like I'm crazy, talking to the trees. Or maybe they think I'm taunting Othello. That is until a figure emerges from the darkness. Shrouded in black, a hood obscuring his face.

“I didn’t want to impose. I’m not much of the group setting type.”

“A lone wolf.” I tease. “How fitting. Removed from the shadows yet still remaining hidden behind swaths of fabric.”

“If you wish to see my face, you need only ask little one.” He states. Charm oozing from his pores with every word.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” Dean quips.

“Quite.” Jax agrees.

I close the distance between and this new wolf. I have nothing to fear here. This he may be charismatic and based off of his build, most likely skilled with a weapon. But he never would have made it this far into my land if it was with malice intent.

I smile my sweetest of smiles, and place my hands behind my back. Effectively placing my ample breasts on display. “Would you be so kind as to remove your hood, solitarius lupus?”

I watch on as his hands push the well crafted fabric off of his head. Revealing a bearded jaw, cerulean eyes, and longish brown hair that I would love to run my fingers through. I am so captivated by his looks that I almost forget how to breathe.

“Not what I was expecting under there.” Sy mumbles under his breath.

“I have too memorable a face to allow myself to walk freely without cover. Being able to be invisible is necessary in my line of work.” He calmly states.

“I’d ask you what that line of work is, but I’m sure I’d have to pay for that information. Right now we have more pressing things to address.”

“And those are?”

“I’m pretty certain your wolf has a strong idea of what it might be.”

“Let me guess. It has something to do with your rousing scent.”

“My scent makes your wolf all warm and fuzzy does it?”

“He’s practically foaming at the mouth.”

“Good. You're right where the fates deem you to be.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because, like you, I was a lone wolf for a long time. Until the fates brought them to me." I wave my hand in the direction of my pack. "Each tested to ensure they were worthy of a mate such as I.”

“So I am to be tested?” He queries.

“It is not mandatory. The choice is yours to make. Prove your worth and fulfill your destiny. Or walk away and be left wondering what could have been.”

“Say I accept. What challenge would I face?”

“Need to see all the angles before making a decision, I see.” I tilt my head. Almost as if in thought. When my wolf and I knew from the moment we sensed him in the shadows what his test would entail.

“Something like that.” He responds.

“A game of agility and wills.” I declare. “One dagger each. The first to draw the others blood along their blade is the victor. And may do with the loser as they please.”

A cocky smile crosses his face. “Challenge accepted.”

Ari

“Excellent.” Her plump lips, up turn in a devilish smirk. She takes her pointer finger, nail elongated into a thick black claw, and slides it down her thigh. Forming a tear in the fabric of her dress, to which she grabs and tears down to the hem. Repeating the process to the other leg. Allowing for freedom of movement I can only guess.

Upon the bronzed skin of her right thigh, sits a leather sheath. So the little Omega was at the ready far before I made my way here. This may be more interesting than I thought.

I watch with rapt attention as she removes the weapon from its well worn home.

The blade, black as midnight, has a broad, warped cross-guard. An elaborate coil of mixed metals on each side. Which makes it both balanced and capable of protecting the user's hands against any sliding sword.

This weapon wasn't created by just any blacksmith. The hilt is adorned in black and red leather and a fairly small black pommel is decorated with precious gems. Fine details which prove how carefully this weapon was crafted.

It fits perfectly in her delicate hands.

I remove my own dagger from its hiding place tucked between my belt. The blade itself is bare. No decorations or engraved patterns. A sheathed sword has a hidden blade and a sword in use will be dirty and bloody, so only the hilt needs decorations. And mine is dressed in the runes of my ancestors. Offering protection in battle.

As the moonlight shines down upon us, she stands draped in a flowing black dress. Ready to engage in an intense duel with a skilled adversary. Her amber eyes gleaming with determination as she clasps the hilt of her dagger.

The stakes are high, for the first drop of crimson spilled upon the ground shall proclaim the victor.

The air crackles with anticipation as our blades dance with deadly precision, weaving a tapestry of swift strikes and agile parries. Both of us, fueled by a burning desire to prove their prowess, move swiftly.

Her body is an embodiment of grace and strength.

The clash of metal resonates through the trees, as if nature itself holds her breath, witnessing the outcome of this exhilarating contest. With every move, her determination intensifies. Her movements become a mesmerizing display of artistry.

In this fateful duel, honor, skill, and destiny intertwine.

Somehow she manages to seize a split-second advantage. With a swift and calculated strike, she swivels beneath my raised bicep and grazes the flesh beneath my chin. Drawing forth a small but decisive flow of scarlet.

The duel ends, the goddess before me standing triumphant, chest heaving from the exhilaration of battle. Her victory, a testament to her unwavering skill and indomitable spirit.

I lower my weapon. “It takes great skill to be able to best me. With no use of magic at that.” I step forward, decreasing the space between us even more. “I am nothing, if not a man of my word. To the victor go the spoils. What is it you want of me, little one?”

Selene

“Now what could I possibly want from a lone wolf such as you.” I lick his still warm blood from my blade and tap it against my chin. “You do taste oh so lovely. I think I would like some more along my tongue.” I lunge forward with my beloved dagger. Made especially for me by my favorite blacksmith as a testament to our love and bond.

I give him a fresh cut just above his clavicle, as I allow my blade to render his shirt to shreds. The crimson pooling at the base of his neck. Standing on my tip-toes, hands gripping his waist, I am able to lean forward and suck on the wound. As I pull myself closer, I become aware of a very prominent thickness pushing against my hips.

“Seems I’m not the only one who enjoyed that wolf.” I take a half a step back and look him in his soulful blue eyes. “Before I claim my true prize, I need know of your name.”

“Why?” He questions.

“Because I want to know who’s name to scream to the gods about who is providing me the utmost pleasure of course.” I bite my bottom lip.

“Ari.”

“Ari. Mmm. Rolls right off the tongue.” I let my hand wander down his chest until I reach his rather large bulge. Allowing my fingers to trace the outline of his cock. “Now, are you going to be a good wolf and let me have my way with you, unchallenged.” I quirk my brow.

He narrows his eyes at me . “I surrender to no one.”

“Oh goody. I hoped you’d say that.” I practically beam with pent up energy as I look over to my pack. “I’d normally have my mates watch over a first mating. Safety precautions and all. But you seem the prickly sort. You’d have your eyes on them more than me and the pleasure I’m bestowing upon you. So I will send them a distance away. But not so far that they can not come to my aid if needed.”

“Why would they need to? I mean you no harm. I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Selene. You are Silver tongued and full of charm Ari. That is the most dangerous sort. You can slide under my defenses and strike all my vulnerable parts. I won’t risk it alone. So they stay close.”

He gives a charming smile. “Agreed. Though I’m not sure I have much of a choice.”

“You don’t.” I smile. Addressing my pack. My eyes never straying from the hold they have on Ari’s. “Dean, my love, would you mind finding a nice spot for you all, that may provide a semblance of privacy for us but allow for the link to stay strong.”

“Of course. I know just the place. Follow me boys. Let’s leave our Omega to do as destined and claim another soul.”

“Sel, you use the link if he tries to pull anything. And I mean anything.”

“Oh, Sy, I’ll be fine. I caught all of you after all.”

“Correction. I, in fact, caught you.” Jax boasts.

“Move along. Move along. I have pleasure to give and receive. As well as a claim to test.”

“A claim?”

“Oh yes. You didn't think you just happened upon our fire by happenstance did you? The fates brought you here to test you. Congrats, you won.”

“Won what?”

“Me, of course. The right to claim me and become a member of my pack. Unless you’re afraid to be part of my pack.”

“I don’t share.”

“I don’t believe that. I think you just never cared enough to try. I won’t tie you down. If you don't want me as a mate, then by all means, be on your way. But be aware.” I step closer once more. “You will be leaving with a reminder of your cowardice. Turning your back on your fated. It will be deep and scar. You will never be rid of the thoughts of me.”

“I am no coward.” He grits out.

“Prove it then. Claim me. Make me yours and I will make you mine. There is no other way.”

Ari

She wants to play with fire and tempt my wolf. Well, I’ll gladly watch her burn.

With a growl, I reach forward. Wrapping my hand around the back of her neck and pulling her forward into a bruising kiss. She tastes of wild magic and sin. Breaking the kiss, I leave her breathless. Hand placed on her heaving chest as she tries to regulate her intake of air.

“Dress. Gone. Now. Before I cut it to shreds.”

She pulls her dagger back out, turning it over with a flick of her wrist and cuts it off herself. Nicking her chest in the process. “It’s just fabric. Need further assistance with yours.” She innocently asks. Doe-eyed and sweet.

“Oh you’re dangerous, little one.”

“What better to challenge you with.” She giggles.

I kiss her once more as I unlace my pants and release my aching member into the chill night air. Gripping her thighs, I lift her up onto my naked chest. Walking forward, I allow my wolf to navigate us to the nearest tree and I slam her up against it. Affording me a nip to the lip in retaliation.

Her slick if making a mess of the thick hair trailing down my abdomen. She’s ripe and ready for me. So I notch my swollen head between her leaking folds and thrust inside her.

Only giving her a moment to adjust to the size of me splitting her open, I start a punishing pace. Slamming into her hard and deep. Hitting all of the sweet spots and grinding my pelvis down against her little bundle of nerves. As her back scratches against the bark, leaving its own mark behind. Our chests, still slick with blood, slide against one another as the very essence of our beings co mingle together.

I can feel her orgasm coming on quickly and with one more deep thrust, I watch her soar over the edge. Screaming my name to Gods, as she promised.

This is not how I wish to claim her. No, I have something special in mind for that.

Pulling out, her tight cunt grips me in protest as she whines. Unhappy to be empty once more. I place her back on solid ground and turn to a patch of soft grass to our left.

Lying on my back on the forest floor I turn to her. “C’mere Omega. I won't make you present for me. But I do want you to ride me to where I can watch that delectable bottom bounce upon my pelvis.”

She licks her lips before biting them and heading over to my prone frame on shaky legs. Instead of just straddling my hips and sitting on my cock, she proceeds to kneel above my head and crawl over my torso.

I grip her hips and lick her sweet pussy from slit to clit. With a generous slap to her ass for the brattiness. A fresh wave of slick drools out of her swollen lips onto my chest as she makes her way to my cock.

With a glance over her shoulder, she places her hands on my thighs and lifts up her hips. Slowly she lowers herself down on my throbbing cock. Undulating above me. Hips swiveling and pelvis grinding against me.

Her walls clench down on me whenever my head grazes her sweet spongy spot. She’s lost in the pleasure of it all. Sweat dampened skin, glittering in the silvery moonlight. She reaches her hands up and gathers her curls atop her head. Exposing the unmarked flesh on the back of her neck.

That unblemished skin is like a siren's call to my wolf. I raise my knees between her thighs. Widening them further as I move to sit up. My fingers tease along where we are joined as one until my ring and middle fingers decide to dance along her engorged clit. Rewarding me a mewling whine.

Her hips begin to speed up and right as she is at the precipice of another climax, I latch my mouth to the back of her neck and sink my fangs in deep. The sweet tang of her blood fills my mouth as she denotes. Her pussy gushing slick around my cock.

I thrust up into her, prolonging the pleasure coursing through her body. That is until she pulls my slick soaked hand up to her face and bites the inside of my wrist. Completing our bond and setting me off with it.

My cock barely makes it back, deep into the warmth of her channel before my knot pops. Locking us together as I fill her full of every drop of me I have to give. I have been without companionship for sometime now. So I quickly have her filled to overflowing.

As we release each other to clean our claims and savor in the rush of endorphins. I run the fingers of my free hand along her folds. Collecting my seed along my fingers and raising them to her blood stained lips.

Without prompting, she leans forward and sucks them into her mouth. A pleasant moan vibrates through her chest as I feel her walls squeeze me once more.

I nuzzle against her shoulder. “Forever mine.”

Selene

“After all of that, there’s no getting rid of me Alpha.” I chuckle. “If you run, there is nowhere in this realm you could go where I won’t find you. I would scorch a path of fiery destruction in my wake and make you crawl through the embers back to me. And that still would not be enough.”

“Such a savage little thing. In a beautiful package.” He whispers. Undeterred by my threat.

“She means every word of it.” Sy proclaims, emerging from the shadows with your red cloak, draped over his arm. He walks confidently over to you and his new pack mate. “She ate my little brother for sneaking up on her and stabbing her while she fed in wolf form.”

“And she devoured my father and our hunting party when she was but a pup. Not to mention the countless souls that have lost their lives to her fangs in these accursed woods.” Dean adds in.

I feel Ari move his head behind me. The hairs of his beard tickling my skin.

“Don’t look at me.” Jax throws his hands up. “She never killed anyone of importance to me. I was born this way and orphaned. Made a stable boy turned stable man. I care not for the people of that village.”

“To be clear.” I start. “Sy, your brother got what he deserved. The coward. And Dean,” I turn to him. “Let’s not forget that your father and his hunting party murdered mine in front of my very eyes. My wolf demanded blood for blood. I will never apologize for that.”

“Ruthless.” Ari speaks into my skin. “No wonder you were destined for me.”

“Or were you the one destined to be mine?” I query back.

“You had three mates before me. A pack.” He nips at my shoulder. “You needn’t another mate.”

“Actually…” I ghost my fingers over my bite on his wrist. “According to the Triple Goddesses, it is prophesied that I will have 5 mates. Upon claiming my final mate, balance on my land will be restored. The damage my mother dealt will be undone.”

“Your mother?”

“The Hag. But she’s nothing you need to concern yourself about. I killed her ages ago.” I state with a smile.

I feel him shake his head behind me and sigh. “You're something else, little one. I feel like I won’t have time to think about leaving as you’ll be keeping on my toes and entertained.”

“Does anyone else feel stronger with each new claim?” Dean blurts out.

“Now that I think of it, yeah.” Jax answers. “Just now when Red completed the bond, I felt this surge of energy zip through my spine. My skin has been thrumming with magic ever since.”

“Interesting.” Ari observes. “Well it seems there is only one more to go. So I guess I’ll have to wait and see. As of now I am feeling pretty fucking incredible.”

One more to go.

One more before I properly feel complete. Call it witches intuition or wolf instinct but I feel like this last one is going to be different.

#moonlight and fang #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x reader

6 notes · View notes

juria9090 · 1 year

Text

Danny Phantom but make it murder mystery + supernatural/horror elements

Basically an idea of an au of which Danny Phantom fuses with Detective Conan. Throw both in a pot. Let it simmer for a while. Add some mysteries to the mix, a pinch of family and comfort, a couple of case solvings, a big bowl full off horror and supernatural elements. Mix them together and let it boil for over to dry a bit before adding a whole gallon of angst.

Boy i just got this idea today and i wanna throw it up here because i do not want it to live free rent here in my head.

Alright, let's get this over with.

There will be a lot of changes like the settings and all.

Alright. Here we go. Jack and Maddie Fenton are still scientists BUT! Both of them are morally dubious and sometimes can be a little bit darker than the sunshine vibe and image that they give off. They do not work for anyone and work only for themselves. They are a renown scientists and people's opinions on them diverge from time to time. Some people are wary and afraid of them while others applauded their works as scientists and look up to them.

Their children are geniuses. The public prefers the eldest daughter to look up to but they adore the youngest son. The children are famous in their own field. Jazz is on her way to be the youngest kid in history to ever enter a prestigious university and making a name for it in the psychology course.

Danny is still a fan of the space. Technically, he gain more benefits from his inventors parents because to appease him and not have him bothered them back in the younger days, they created all sort of inventions that can help Danny understand the space. They give him everything that they could with their money and genius brain. However, they are not a good parents. They still love their children but sometimes they forgot their responsibilities and often ignored them in favor of their own job. They put too much pressure on the children it nearly drove them apart.

Jazz have a love hate relationship with her parents. She is the oldest and the toughest daughter. Yes she is hurt by her parents and their decisions to deal with them but she always could brush it off. But when it comes to her baby brother she will literally explode and rage. Danny is miserable. He was happy when his parents give him gifts like books and inventions related to space. He even have his own small ship. But after the presents, his parents would dismissed him and get lost in their own world ignoring everthing in favour of study and science. Danny is Maddie's favourite child but he is often at the end of her dissapointment and rage. Jack always divert it from Danny whenever he is there. Maddie did not cross the line. However, she nearly cross it when she slapped Danny so hard it bruises when he was 10 years old. That day forever scar in Danny's brain. It happened because of an incident with a precious research paper.

Maddie felt guilty and tried to apologize by giving him more gifts. Jazz doesn't trust her mother around Danny anymore. Jack, ... He ignored everything and decided that nothing ever happened.

Jazz is five years older than Danny. She was 19 years old when her brother Danny, 14 years old goes missing. Her parents went into hiding a week before his dissappearance. She thought that it might be connected. The moment their parents dissappeared, they could not even contact them at all. They were left with money and other things for them to survive.

Her brother was missing for six months with no trace after both of them went to a science expo. Then he suddenly showed all bloody and bruised. He looks haunted. She found him shivering near the Fenton Family main house.

But one major change is that he is now a child. A 5 years old child. She recognized her brother as that child. Of course she would know him. She is his sister. She was the one that mainly raised him in the Fenton Family.

He lied about himself. She thinks that Danny was just trying to protect her. She studied the psychology of humans. Her main subject. She knows the child she dubbed as her Danny did not in fact act much like how a child will. Not even a child that is wise beyond their years.

Danny is oblivious though but she will keep her mouth shut right now. She will wait until he is ready to tell her.

Jazz was afraid for Danny so she let Danny's file be written as a dead file. Cast away to be forgotten for an unknown period. He is officially dead in papers and media. No one knows of the real predicament.

Danny only introduces himself as Niel which is kind of stupid of him even though he was supposed to be a genius child. Really Danny? The name derived from your own real name?

One thing for sure that everything that she knows as something unbelievable and never existed are now flipped over.

Supernatural things are true.

And Danny is the proof of it.

Danny looks so afraid. Those... creatures always goes after her brother and nearly took him away from her. She was afraid for him. The creatures seems enchanted with his presence and will always find a way to whisk him away from her grasp.

She can't see the creatures. But she knows that they are there. Too much evidence in front of her eyes shows that in fact the supernatural exists.

She once saw one of those creatures. It was when Danny was being carried by her. It's kind of weird. Usually when she was carrying him around, she did not see them. But she only sees it for a brief moment.

So she studied more about the supernatural things. She needs to have all of the subjects about the the supernatural and the other side of reality covered because it is important.

Important to protect her brother against the unknown.

Danny, to simply say it, could contact the dead and have the ability that is ... supernatural. Like a medium or liminal. And it effects him greatly. It not only effects his health but his lifestyle. His life. She tried to keep him safe.

Then she met these teenagers who seems taken with Danny. Well, not really teenagers. Only 13 years old boy and girl. It seems Danny have them in his tiny grasps..good. He needs friends and all the supports he could get.

Tucker Foley and Sam Manson are average teenagers at best. They are not in fact, friends. Just acquaintance at best. They always clash with each other. Sam and Tucker's fight rivals the fight between Paulina and Sam.

They always argue with each other and only in an agreement rarely. Danny acts like some sort of glue. Sam wants to see who the child that was adopted by the famous Fenton daughter. She dragged Tucker because he knows the place and has seen the kid.

Niel (Danny) takes her interest because he is something different. A concept she can't grasp. Bonus is that he is involved in something supernatural. Tucker did not like how she is around Niel. He loves Niel but goodness he will be around often with Niel when Sam is around. She will drag the poor child into something dangerous if she keeps that kind of behaviour and thinking.

Jack Fenton came back from hiding but Maddie Fenton is still missing. Jack looks somber and sad. Almost depressed. He said that he needs time away from his wife. He said both of them need time away from each other.

Almost like both of them are thinking about divorce.

Jack believes Danny's and Jazz's lies and is even more sad to know that his son is missing and possibly dead. Having Niel around causing him grief and heartache but he is never the one to lash out. Jack is still a scientist at heart but he will never repeat his mistakes. He has a chance now.

It does not mean that Jack is not going to stop looking for his son.

Danny's first murder case was when Sam dragged him with her and her parents to a party. Jack and Jazz are invited too. They are famous and the rich people there want famous people.

There they met the Gray duo. They met Damon Gray and Valerie Gray. Valerie is in the same class as Sam and Tucker. Sam and Valerie do not get along at all. Even more so than Sam and Tucker. Tucker and Sam agree that Valerie cannot be anywhere near Danny.

Tucker does like Valerie but as in girls in particular. Tucker does have a standard. Damon Gray is in the Police Force. He is in the investigation team. The detective is Mr Weston. Wes's father. Wes is actually one of the junior detectives learning under his father's teaching. Wes is usually seen hanging around Tucker and sometimes Valerie.

Crime happened and there was a lot of blood. Danny was at the scene having witnessed the murder happened. He can't see the face of the culprit but he knows other things like the culprit voice, height, and body shape.

He is under witness protection. Danny wants to tell them that something is going to happen to the killer. That something is angry. And that more people will end up dead if they did not find the killer quick.

Danny helps Wes and his father find the killer. Wes is suspicious of the Niel kid but oh well. Wes is 13 years old. Wes does know that Niel is hiding something and he will uncover it but he did not want to face the wrath of one Jasmine Elena Fenton.

A spirit is involved in the story between the murderer and the victims. That is the first step Danny is involved in the world of crimes and supernatural mixed in.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dannyphantom #phandom #dp au #danny phantom au #danny phantom fandom #jazz fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton #detective conan au #dcmk #sam manson #tucker foley #wes weston #damon gray #valerie gray

51 notes · View notes

stackthedeck · 7 months

Note

hi!! I was wondering what happened to your t4t butch dean and trans cas fic?? Im really interested to read it if you still have it! butch dean is WAY to close to my heart. anyways have a nice day! <3

this has been in my ask box for literal months but I've decided to rewatch Supernatural (I'm not well) and I remembered this fic and this ask so... I'll probably never finish the fic or post it on ao3, but I did write this one scene and I like it a lot even though I like to think I'm a better writer now, but I wanna post it.

So for context this is happening in early season 5 where Sam and Dean are separated and also the plan for the fic as a whole was that Cas's complete separation from heaven was also mirrored by her gender journey, so Cas in this doesn't think of himself as a man, but has accepted that people view his vessel as a man and has excepted it. Basically, her egg hasn't cracked yet.

The road has been lonely since Sam left. Good lonely. For the first time in… well ever, Dean’s not playing mom or big sister. She’s just a hunter. A hunter who doesn’t have to look over her shoulder every second to make sure her baby brother isn’t getting maimed or hooked on demon blood. It’s good lonely… kind of.

It’s just that the front seat of the Impala is so empty and no matter how high she cranks the volume, the car just feels so quiet. The road just goes on and on forever. It sucks not having back-up on hunts, but Dean’s capable. According to the angels, she’s too important to die so she’s been pushing her luck lately.

The road hasn’t felt this empty since Dad went missing.

Dean’s pulled from her thoughts by a buzzing in her pocket. She pulls out her phone and sees a familiar number on the screen. The last time Dean ran into Cas, she gave him a burner phone so that they could keep in touch.

“Hello?” She says, phone wedged between his ear and shoulder.

“Dean, it’s Castiel,” Cas’s voice says from the phone, “where are you?”

“On the road.” Dean looks around for a mile marker, but it’s in the dead of night and there are no streetlights. Dean rambles off the interstate road she’s on and takes a wild guess at what mile she’s at. “I can pull off at the next exit if it’s important.”

A woosh of air and a flap of wings reverberate through the car. Dean looks over and Cas is in the passenger seat. “You don’t need to pull off,” Cas says into the phone as he stares at Dean.

Dean huffs and hangs up the phone, shoving it back into her pocket. “Any updates on God?”

“Nothing since the last time I saw you-” Cas sighs and looks out the windshield “-but I’m still looking.”

“If there’s nothing new—” Dean drums her fingers on the steering wheel “—then why are you here?”

Cas does his head tilt and Dean pointedly keeps her eyes on the road. Sure, she finds Cas’s clumsy attempts at expressing emotion cute, but it’s cute like a baby or a puppy. “I sensed that you were lonely.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Whatever happened to not perching on my shoulder?”

“Things are different now.” Cas’s words hit Dean’s ears with such certainty and finality, but she doesn’t feel like they’re true. Things are exactly the same. She’s still saving people, hunting things. It’s the family business, just without the family. Okay well, maybe things are different.

Dean does her best to keep her eyes on the road, but the highway is empty at this time of night. It’s so easy to let her eyes drift to the angel in her front seat, silhouetted by moonlight. His face is stone, that typical neutral expression, but Dean can see in his eyes that something is eating at him.

“So sitting here in silence is your grand plan for making me less lonely?”

Cas shifts in his seat, his tie suddenly becoming very interesting. “Can I ask you a personal question, Dean?”

Dean does her best not to sigh. This better not be a chick-flick moment or worse yet, a Christian movie moment. “I thought you already knew everything about me? What with the rebuilding my soul and all.”

“I want to hear it from you.” Cas drops his tie and meets Dean’s eyes.

Dean nods, pursing her lips. “Alright, shoot.”

“How did you decide to…” Cas hesitates “...decide to… not look like the other females of your species?”

Dean laughs. If Cas had asked her that a month ago, she’d assume he was trying to get her to grow her hair out and start wearing pink. But she trusts Cas, trusts that he likes that humans don’t perfectly line up with God’s vision. “You mean, why am I a lesbian?”

“No, I understand that,” Cas says, “women are very pleasing to look at.”

Dean smiles. She’s surprised that the strip club incident didn’t turn Cas off of women or just humans in general.

“So, why am I butch?”

Cas nods. “Yes, I believe that is the term.”

“I don’t know, I just am.” Dean drums her fingers against the steering wheel. “Sam took a gender studies course when he went off to college, he probably gets this stuff more than I do.”

“Well, I want to hear it from you.”

Dean sighs and rubs at the back of her head. “I don’t know, I guess Dad was a real traditional guy. From what I remember, Mom cooked and cleaned, took care of me and Sammy and Dad went to work. I don’t remember much of Mom, but I remember being in the kitchen with her and her handing me baby Sammy to hold while she was busy. I didn’t mind those things because I was with her, you know?”

Dean stares through the windshield, watching the landscape blur as the car speeds past. “And then Mom died and Dad still went to work. And suddenly it was just me and baby Sam alone in motel rooms for days. I think Dad was so caught up in his revenge that he forgot that Sam and I needed a dad and a mom. So I started cooking and looking after Sam because if I didn’t we’d starve.”

Dean can feel the words spilling out of her like a busted dam. She’s never told anyone any of this, but now that she is, she can’t stop.

“I think Dad expected me to be the new mom. He’d come back to the motel rooms from hunts or from bars and be furious if there wasn’t something to eat. And it’s not like he ever went grocery shopping. He’d just leave a credit card—that barely ever worked by the way—or cash and expect me to figure it out! I couldn’t stand that he treated me like his little wife. Then, Sam started looking at me like I was his mom and not his big sister.

“It didn’t help that I looked like Mom. I have her eyes, you know. And when I was younger I had long curly blonde hair. Sam liked to brush it, which was good because I didn’t. I think it was soothing for him or something, but that’s probably why he keeps his hair long now.”

Dean’s rambling. She knows she is and she’s doing it on purpose because she doesn’t want to say what comes next. Cas’s eyes are fixed on her, but Dean’s not taking her eyes off the road. She could stop talking, change the subject, or give an easy answer. But if she doesn’t tell Cas right now, she’ll never tell anyone. And it’ll just keep festering and rotting inside of her.

“Dad would run his hands through my hair and tell me how pretty I was when he was drunk. It creeped me out, always made my skin crawl. He never… you know… did anything. He’d look at me the same way he looked at old pictures of Mom. I know it’s not true, or at least I don’t believe it’s true, but I feel like he only saw Mom when he looked at me. I wasn’t his daughter, I was the ghost of his dead wife. A ghost that he couldn’t salt and burn.

“And he treated me like I was going to go up in flames like Mom. For god’s sake, Sam learned to shoot a gun before I did! Dad wouldn’t take me on hunts, wouldn’t train me because if I was alive he could pretend she was too. One day I couldn’t take it anymore. I stole Dad’s clippers and buzzed my head.

“And boy, was Dad mad.” Dean winces, squeezing the steering wheel until her knuckles turn white. “He was really mad. But suddenly, he didn’t care if I went up in flames. He put a gun in my hands and took me on hunts. And it felt amazing.”

Dean smiles at the memory of the first time Dad clapped her on the back and bought her a slice of pie after a successful hunt. She can still feel that warm swell of pride after her first ghost, first vampire, first demon.

“My hair started growing out and it looked bad, like so bad. But Dad started hiding his clippers so I just had to let it grow out. Then one day he dropped me and Sam off at Bobby’s place and he took one look at me and gave me my first crew cut.”

Dean looks at herself in the rearview mirror. It’s kind of embarrassing that she’s had the same haircut since she was fifteen, but if it ain’t broke. “I remember looking at myself in the mirror and thinking, that’s me. I didn’t look like Mom anymore, I was just me for the first time.”

Dean feels wetness on her cheek and realizes that she’s crying. They’re not tears of sadness but of relief. Man, it feels so good to get all that off her chest. But still, she always ends up crying around Cas and she really can’t make a habit out of this.

“Thank you for telling me that, Dean.” Cas’s eyes aren’t trained on Dean but on his own reflection in the windshield. “I suppose I just have one more question.”

Dean shakes her head but smiles. Might as well continue this chick-flick moment. “Go ahead.”

“How does Dorothy shorten to Dean?” Cas tilts his head. “I’m unfamiliar with the nuances of human languages.”

Dean laughs at that, a good hard laugh that echoes through the car. “It doesn’t, not really.” Dean claps a hand on Cas’s shoulder, unable to stop grinning. “Sam was a little shit when I buzzed my head and he called me random boy names to get under my skin. I always liked those old cowboy movies so, whenever we’d play cowboys, Sam called me James Dean. The joke stuck and now I’m just Dean.”

“Huh,” Cas says, “you’ll have to show me those movies sometime. I’ve never seen a movie.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Cas,” Dean says, “we’ll have a girls’ night, paint our nails and watch cowboy movies.”

He’s joking but Cas doesn’t get jokes. “I would like to do this girls' night with you.” That’s a hint of an excited smile on Cas’s face and it makes Dean’s heart flutter. In the same way that puppies or babies make her heart flutter, of course.

“It’s getting late,” Cas says, turning towards Dean, “you should stop and get some rest.”

Dean shakes her head and sighs. It is late, really late, and she’d kill for a bed right now. “Wish I could Cas, but there aren’t exactly a lot of motels around.”

Cas frowns, furrowing his eyebrows. “I could drive,” he says after a moment of thinking, “and you can sleep in the backseat.”

Dean cocks an eyebrow. “You ever driven before?”

“No,” Cas says, “but I’m an angel of the lord, it can’t be that hard.”

“Tell you what,” Dean chuckles, “you give me an angel blade, and I’ll let you drive.”

“Dean, we’ve talked about this.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

…

When God created the angels he named them. Each name was unique and divine, but it also gave God power over the angels. The angels did not have the power to create, to choose so they took the names with gratitude. When Lucifer rebelled, he took new names: Satan, Morning Star, The Evil One, and many others. Castiel has not rebelled against God, just against heaven. When he finds God all will be set right. Castiel is keeping his name as a promise. He has not fallen…just questioning.

Castiel may see the importance of names, but the Winchesters do not. Sam is not Samuel, the name his mother gave him to honor his grandfather, he’s Sam or Sammy, or a million other strange words that Dean hurls at him. Dean is not Dorthy, the name her father gave her to honor her grandmother, she’s Dean. Cas is not Castiel anymore, he’s Cas and so much more.

Dean’s been calling Castiel Cas since their second meeting, it’s just a shortened version of his name; it’s not a big deal. But then… Cas is sitting in a diner with the Winchesters late one night, trying to track down the horsemen. The siblings are eating burgers and Cas has one in front of him too. He doesn’t need to eat, he's an angel, but he’s curious. He’s curious about a lot of things lately.

“Pass the ketchup, Cassie,” Dean says through a mouthful of food.

“What?” Cas looks up from contemplating his burger to stare at Dean.

“I said pass the ketchup?” Dean frowns, but then just reaches across Cas’s chest to grab the bottle at the end of the table. “Never mind, I got it.”

“No-” Cas swallows nervously “-I mean what did you call me?”

Dean and Sam put down their food and exchange glances. “...Cassie?” Dean says slowly.

Cas still doesn’t understand facial expressions. Humans read so far into a tiny movement of facial muscles. So he keeps his face very still. When Castiel was just a fledgling, Gabriel, Balthazar, and the other older angels would call him Cassie. Fledglings weren’t ready for the full responsibility of their names, so it made sense. But Gabriel continued to call him that well into his adulthood. It was sweet, made Cas feel seen and seen by someone so powerful and important as an archangel. And then Lucifer fell and angels got much more serious about names.

“It’s like Sammy,” Dean says, awkwardly bumping her shoulder into Cas, “are you good with that?”

Cas looks between Dean and Sam, unsure of what to say. He’s created tension, he can feel it, but he’s not sure how to fix it.

“Hey don’t worry about it, Cas,” Sam says a little too loudly, “you’re a grown man and it’s weird to be called something like Cassie or Sammy.” He shoots a tight-lipped frown at Dean.

“Bitch.” Dean reaches across the table to steal fries off Sam’s plate.

“Jerk!” Sam attempts to swat Dean’s hand away, but misses and Dean ends up trying to stick her tongue out at Sam and eat fries at the same time.

“I’m not a man, I’m an angel,” Cas says, looking toward Sam. “But, it’s fine,” he says, mostly to prevent any more petty squabbling. The nickname is a sign of sibling affection, both in heaven and on earth. It doesn’t matter that the way Dean said it makes his heart race and his mind reel. “Cassie is fine.”

“Well, Cassie-” Dean smiles at him “-are you going to eat that?” She doesn’t wait for a response, just snatches the burger off his plate.

And the things Dean calls him only got worse from there.

…

When Cas first met Dean, she accused him of being a “prince charming” and at the time Cas wasn’t sure what that meant, but he’s starting to get the picture. Something about saving someone only to be rewarded with a relationship. That’s not Cas.

He’s in the far corners of the globe looking for God, when he hears Dean’s voice. It’s a quiet voice in his head, but it is powerful and desperate. A prayer. Cas is close to God, he can feel it. If he just keeps going a little longer, he’ll finally make it. But Dean’s voice is in the back of his mind, calling, pleading.

Cas flies to Dean without another second of hesitation. As he gets closer, the details of the situation flood into his mind in an instant. From a human perspective, Dean and Sam are in the basement of an abandoned mansion, surrounded by people, baring gruesome smiles with knives and fists drawn. From Cas’s perspective, Dean and Sam’s souls shine in a haze of demon smog. Dean’s the brightest, familiar in it’s golden hue.

“Cas, we could use some angel mojo down hear!” Dean shouts, voice thick with blood. “...Please!”

The demons laugh like in a chorus of gnashing teeth. One steps forward, kicking Sam—who’s barely clinging to consciousness on the floor—as he moves to grab the front of Dean’s shirt.

“Scream all you like, little girl,” the demon whispers, his breath hot against Dean’s face. “The angels don’t take calls from the likes of you.”

Cas appears suddenly, hand on the demon’s head, smiting the creature inside its meat suit. Dean actually smiles when she sees him, not even looking at the shell of the demon that falls to the floor.

“You came,” She says, unaware that it holds the same power as a prayer.

Another round of hideous laughter comes from the gaggle of demons. “Oh, how the mighty fall,” another demon cackles.

Cas’s stomach drops. He’s not fallen, he’s still doing God’s will. How can protecting Dean not be his purpose?

“Dean Winchester,” the demon continues, “damsel in distress waiting for a prince to save her.”

Dean, despite three broken ribs, a twisted ankle, and several lost liters of blood, sprints at the demon, burying the knife in his chest. She moves to attack the next closest one, limping as the adrenaline wanes. Even so, she’s a machine and Cas watches her with aw.

“Cas,” Dean shouts, “a little help here!”

Cas bolts into action, smiting demons almost as fast as Dean can stab them. Once they’ve killed all the demons, Cas stands with his arms pressed to his side, watching Dean pull her knife from the final demon’s throat.

“I’m sorry,” Cas says.

Dean places a hand on her chest, cradling her broken ribs. “For what? You totally saved our asses there.”

“I do not wish to belittle you,” Cas says, “what that demon said, if I ever—”

“Can it, princess,” Dean says, “it wouldn’t be the first time a demon tried to get under my skin.”

Cas nods then steps forward with his hand raised to heal Dean. She nods back and that’s all the permission he needs to press his fingers to her forehead, healing her instantly.

Sam groans from the floor.

Dean jumps away from Cas, staring at her brother. “Umm, maybe take care of him too.”

“Yes, please,” Sam gasps, weakly wiping blood from his mouth.

Cas leans down, healing Sam as well. Sam stumbles to his feet, glaring at Cas.

“Did you seriously heal her first?” Sam scoffs. “After she called you princess?”

“I did not!” Dean says.

“You totally did,” Sam says. “Cas, you’re just going to take that?”

Cas cast his eyes downward. He didn’t take any insult from it, but it seems he should have. “I am still unaware of human social rules, but Dean has made it clear that I am not to be her prince charming.”

“Yeah don’t be friggin’ sexist, Sammy.” Dean walks over, swinging an arm around Cas’s shoulder. “Cas is our princess in shining armor.”

“I believe I am wearing a trench coat.”

After the incident, Dean teases Cas by calling him princess. It’s just another nickname that makes its way into the many the Winchesters use for him. For the first month, Sam tries to get Dean to cut it out, but eventually, he gives up. Cas thought that Dean would drop it once it no longer annoyed her brother. It’s only when he has this thought does he realizes he doesn’t want her to stop.

But she never does.

…

“Hey, angel,” Dean greets, shoving his shoulder the same way he shoves Sam.

“I don’t understand,” Cas says, “I do not call you human.”

“She’s flirting with you,” Sam shouts from over the impala.

“Bitch,” Dean shouts back.

“Jerk.”

Cas looks down at his vessel. He doesn’t like it being called angel, there is nothing divine about this meat suit—as Dean so often calls it—it simply carries his grace while he’s on earth.

“Cas? Earth to Cas? Cas?”

Cas startles, looking up to realize he had tuned out another Winchester argument. “What?”

“You don’t mind when I call you angel, right?” Dean says with a smirk. “You think I’m funny right?”

Cas stares into Dean’s eyes, swallowing thickly. A part of him knows—no, hopes that Dean does not see his body as him. Perhaps she knows better than anyone that what body one happens to inhabit does not define them.

“I don’t mind your nicknames, Dean,” Cas says, “but I do not find them funny.”

…

“Dean, I feel ridiculous,” Cas says through the door.

Dean waits in the hallway outside of Cas’s room.

“No you don’t,” she says, “you’re just worried I’ll think you like ridiculous.”

“What’s the difference?”

Dean chuckles at that, shaking her head.

“How do you feel, Cas?”

The door opens and Cas steps out.

“...I feel good,” she says.

She’s dressed much the same way she did when she thought she had to present her vessel as a man. But now with all the angels locked in heaven and Cas is very human, her body isn’t a vessel. It’s her. They’ve traded the slacks for a pencil skirt and nylon tights and replaced the shirt and tie with a white blouse. She’s been growing her hair out since she turned human, mostly by accident, it’s still not as long as she’d like it, but it will be. Dean’s been helping her get a smooth shave every morning and showing her what lotions to use to keep her skin soft. But Dean was never great at being a girl, so what perfume and makeup to use has been left to Google. They’re working on getting her on HRT, but it’s not like they have insurance. They have also considered a couple of spells too.

And she’s still wearing the same trench coat.

“How do I look?” Cas asks.

Dean steps forward, taking her hands in hers. She plants a kiss on her lips, soft and sweet with lipgloss.

“Like a baby in a trench coat,” Dean says, “my baby.”

#asks #not tagging this because i don't want to get bullied by the spn fandom again #for context this is part of a complete rewrite of spn with dean as an afab butch and cas as a trans woman #so like that last part makes sense in context #season 9 is when her egg finally cracks #it's a long fic that i haven't even finished yet and never will #but i think about it all the time

3 notes · View notes