#the question for jade (GOD AWFUL NOISES) had me screaming

[starsillys]

guys chjeck out that kinito crew stream on your tube

I put it on as like. Simple background noise (BIG MISTAKE BIG MISTAKE) and I’m like an hour and a half in . Pausing there for now causw it’s supeor late for mwe and i physically cannot restrain myself to scribble out the SILLY SHENANIGANS these guys are up to. Link under cut

#kinito crew #kinitopet #kinito the axolotl #jade the jellyfish #sam the sea anemone #kinitopet fanart #kinito fanart #doodle #im fuckinh dying #the question for jade (GOD AWFUL NOISES) had me screaming #i replayed that part so many times #oh ymf god #andy way #RAUGHH💥💥💥💥 #these giys are so silly holy shoot

[hexxborne]

Requiem

It all started when he pulled the trigger. He’d never had a nightmare so vivid and terrifying. His vision went white, and before he could even blink, it was back to normal again, and he was standing in front of a large marbled door. Looking around the immediate area, he saw elegant statues of unthinkable figures, filigreed veins of gold and silver running through the ivory stone. The floor was just as white, splattered with what appeared to be gold and black paint. He was too stunned to move for quite some time, simply observing the odd, ethereal room.

When he did finally muster up the courage to take a step, the sound echoed loudly around him, easily stopping him dead in his tracks again. It was an awful sound, and something about it told him he was wrong for moving. So he continued to stand and wait, pale jade eyes glancing nervously from statue to statue. The figures were strangely humanoid, surrounded by impossible rings decorated in eyes and fluttering flame. Just looking at them told him they weren’t stone, but something otherworldly and beautiful. The longer he looked, the more they shifted and changed before him. It brought tears to his eyes to perceive such beauty.

When his tears hit the floor, they left more black stains in amongst the gold, white, and black. It took him by surprise, a soft, choked noise sounding in his throat. Suddenly, he felt as the ground began to shake beneath him, nearly knocking him over. When he stood upright again, one of those strange statues had moved to stand before him, though a blinding halo hovered over it this time. No, it wasn’t a statue– It must have been an angel.

The angel spread its many sets of wings and let out an ear-piercing shriek, sending a wave of terror through him. As the angel silenced itself, he fell to his knees without even knowing it, obeying whatever command it had screamed. He could no longer move freely, instead feeling as if he were held in place by invisible angelic hands. A fresh wave of terror washed over him, leaving him trembling in the hands of the angels.

The head angel spoke, flaring its wings once more. “Re- qui- em.” It stated simply, its voice stinging his ears and rattling through his bones. He nodded without thinking, understanding what it meant despite its vague statement. It was his judgement day.

Another figure appeared– Though this one was much different than the others. It was mostly human looking. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, causing him to openly weep as the hands around him began squeezing tighter and tighter. The tall figure stood over him closely and in silence, as if awaiting something.

All at once, the hands began to tear into his flesh, picking through skin and muscle like it was paper. He screamed, and continued screaming as black blood poured out of him, chunks of flesh splattering onto the floor. The angelic fingers seared through him like a hot knife through butter, melting his flesh and lighting his nerves on fire. 

His endless screaming continued as the ripping and tearing came to an end, one hand finally pulling a black core from somewhere deep inside him. It handed the core over to the beautiful figure, and suddenly, the agony was over. He was free from the angel’s grasp and free to look himself over, arms wrapping tightly around himself as he recovered from the traumatising vivisection. His sobbing continued though, terror coursing through his veins as he touched his suddenly intact body, wailing in terror as the figure held his blackedned core. 

“O, my child,” The figure spoke, its voice soft inside his head. “Why have thou forsaken me?” It’s question burned in the back of his mind as he came to realise he was standing before God himself.

“F-forgive me father, for I have sinned–” He gasped, as if such a plea would help him. The figure leaned over above him, and he could feel a rush of sadness wash over him before it spoke again.

“It is too late for that, my son.” It stopped him, its voice echoing in his mind. He was frozen, awaiting whatever was to come next. 

One of the Lord’s fingers came up to hush him softly, pressing against his lip and dragging itself down his throat and chest in an impossibly straight line of white hot agony.  He screamed again, and the Lord cried over him, tears dropping onto him like rain and staining his skin a gaudy gold. 

Baptised in the ethereal tears of his Lord, the pain stopped for a brief time, before the angels began a shrieking cacophony around them. “Hell!” He heard one of them wail as God held out his obsidian core. “Damnation!” Another scream. “Hellfire will rain down upon you!” They chanted, deafening him. “Fall! Fall! Fall!”

And so he fell.

#𝘗𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺;; Drabbles #(: #rewrite of an old one #blood/ #suicide/

[etlunainmorte]

Very brief mention of abuse and bullying. Read with caution. Thank you!

***

📷 Memories 📷

***

Click.

There. He heard it.

Click.

He heard it once more.

Click.

There it is again!

"V!" The demonic familiar screamed. "Watch out!"

The warning came too late when one of the full - grown parasite’s snake - like heads hit V right in his stomach, throwing him across the messy, and thankfully deserted, marketplace.

Groaning in pain, the tattooed poet did his best to get up despite his fragile form and fight once more alongside his familiars to bring the unspeakable thing down. One strong attack after another, the poet's beasts finally managed to reduce the parasite into its most vulnerable form, making it weak against one final attack, which, of course, must be dealt by him.

Throwing his cane to the weakened Demon ( click! ) and using his ability to teleport, he instantly vanished and materialized in mid air right before the enemy ( click! ), making it even more confused than before this unexpected battle began.

His eyebrows twitching in annoyance when he heard that clicking noise again, he grabbed his metal cane, raised it high above his head, and pierced the enemy's chest with it.

"The cut worm,... forgives the plow." The poet quoted and smirked, relishing the satisfying feeling of the metal cane on his hands, piercing the pulsating flesh of the unknown Demon. "What do you say?" And with one final sadistic push of the cane deep into its flesh, the enemy finally took its last breath and disintegrated into nothingness, just like what always happens to the unlucky Demons who found themselves at V's mercy.

Click!

And just like those nasty Demons, this one left a fair amount of funk in the air that assaulted V's nostrils. More than necessary, in fact. This one really left an impression.

"V." Griffon whispered as he landed on his master's waiting arm. "I found the culprit."

"Where?"

"Behind that stall!" The bird pointed with his wing.

Eyes dangerously narrowed, he took a deep breath, and threw his cane. And the moment he grabbed it, he vanished once more into thin air.

And when he materialized once to where Griffon directed him, he heard an unmistakable little yelp as the culprit, who was, indeed, the source of those annoying clicking sounds, was finally caught.

And those annoying clicking sounds that distracted him more than once during the fight? It was a camera, after all!

The chit has been taking pictures of him fighting that Demon!

Forcefully taking the camera from the culprit's trembling hands, he directed his threatening, jade gaze at her, and it seemed to work really well.

"Are you the one who summoned the parasite to this world?" His low voice laced with threat and poison, V carefully asked the little blonde female, who was positively cowering in fear before his tall frame.

"Yeah, start talkin', lil' bitch, or I'll fry ya where ya sit!" Griffon added his ear - piercing threat.

The blonde's green eyes widened. She shook her head as she tried to cover her head in fright. "Summoned? I can't do that! I swear!"

"V, SHE'S LYIN'!" Griffon squawked angrily, making her even more frightened.

And this pushed V a little off balance. She,… seemed to be saying the truth. "What is your proof?"

"I,... ah,..." The blonde stuttered. Pointing at the camera, she said, "It's my job to take photos of Demons. I swear I didn't summon it! Please, believe me!"

"Do ya honestly believe this bitch?" Griffon asked V as he watched how the poet's facial expression soften but, only a bit. He's still suspicious of this female, after all.

"No but, let's have an agreement, shall we?" He declared, his attention fully focused on her. "Tell your boss to stop sending you to life - threatening commissions. Do you have,... any idea,... that this,... stupidity,... would cost you your own life?"

The female gulped nervously, her large eyes focused on his. She did not, or cannot, answer, and this irked V even more.

"No? Then, let this be a lesson to you. Stop chasing after such,... dangerous creatures,... and I will let this pass. That is for your own sake, believe me."

Satisfied to see the female nodding in agreement, he answered, "Good." Then, looking at the camera in his hands, he added, "Then, I shall give this back to you."

"T - thank you!" The female expressed her heartfelt gratitude with a relieved smile but, when she was about to take it from V, the man let it fall to the ground, and before she could even retrieve it, the man crushed it beneath his foot.

"That settles it." V murmured as he walked away from the female, hoping to not see those startling green eyes of hers, or that annoying camera, ever again.

"Haha! Couldn't agree more." Griffon jabbed.

***

"Who did this?" The teacher questioned as he showed the whole class a single report sheet with a big red F mark written on it. And, oh, how mad he looked! Those veins popping from his forehead! That left fist clenched and ready to take down the culprit! "Who. DID THIS?"

And lo and behold, from the sea of frightened faces rose a single, tiny hand that trembled. 

Tiny and trembling, and yet bold and daring.

"It was me, sir." The little girl squeaked and stood, frightened beyond her wits but determined to the bone to face the lion before her.

"SUERMANN!" The teacher growled, making the students gasp in fear. The balding adult closed his eyes, his lips spouting silent curses, and his fists clenching to restrain his anger. He opened his eyes and took out something from his drawer - a long piece of thin, flat wood.

THE long piece of thin, flat wood.

Nodding at the little girl with the feared device on his hand, he instructed, "Come here."

It took the little girl a whole minute to process what's going on, and when she and the rest of the class heard the awful sound of their angry teacher slamming the desk with his large palm, she jolted in attention.

"I said, COME HERE, YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!"

The little girl came forward as she was told, knowing all too well what would happen to her. She stopped right before the adult and looked up, feeling as if her life would end right then and there.

It did not, fortunately. But, she did end up having bruised hands later after school. And, oh God, it hurts! It hurts so, so much!

"Mary!" Her best friend called, catching up to her. "Mary, I'm so sorry! I must be the one who's punished, not you!"

Mary smiled at her best friend and shook her head. "It's okay. I can't let that man hurt you."

"Oh, Mary!" Her best friend cried as she saw the ugly bruises on Mary's hands. "I'm so weak! I shouldn't have listened to them when they told me to write on Mr. Burns' papers. But, I had to because they're gonna tell the whole school I'm adopted!"

Mary sighed and shook her head. Why are there such bad people living in this world?! And why do they keep torturing the weak?!

"Forget it, Vanessa. I'm here, and I'll protect you from those bullies!" Mary told her with a brave smile as she hid her hands behind her back.

"Thank you, Mary!" Vanessa cried as she threw herself at her best friend and gave her a big hug.

And that's how Mary Suermann came to hate Mr. Burns, his thin piece of flat wood, and those bullies who forced her best friend to vandalize on the teacher’s precious report papers.

***

"Thanks for pitchin' in, man!" The freckled woman with glasses patted V on the shoulder. Wearing a huge grin of success on her face, she added, "I knew I could count on ya."

"Where is your partner, if I may ask?" The poet questioned as he took a seat on one of the chairs inside the woman's spacious, and yet messy, trailer.

"Oh, Nero? Heh. Bet he's gettin' his ass kicked real good,..."

"Says who?" The man called Nero, himself, interrupted just in time when he opened the door and let himself in. And he clearly looked like he got his rear side kicked real good, just like what the woman said. From V’s fair perspective, Nero looked like someone who could face a horde of Demons with a smile on his face and still come out victorious. After all, his posture and his overall appearance said so.

Then, again, appearances could be deceiving. And V knew that very well. 

"Whatever." The woman answered, rolled her eyes, and lit a cigarette. "Oh. This is V. V, this is Nero, my partner."

"Hey, man." Nero greeted with a nod.

"It's a pleasure." V simply answered without too much of a fuss.

"Same." Nero nodded, and with a disgruntled expression on his face, he opened the door to let the cigarette smoke out and kicked the sofa where his partner was sitting. "Got any leads?"

"Hmm, aside from the single fact that these Demons just keep poppin' outta thin air, nothin'!"

"Nothing? Not anything?"

"I told ya!" The woman answered. Facing the poet, she then said, "How about you, V? Any leads?"

"That Demon," V answered. " ... it's a parasite called Nidhogg. I believe it latches on Qliphoth roots to sustain itself."

"Qliphoth?" The woman and Nero spoke almost simultaneously.

"It's a demonic tree that thrives on human blood." V explained. "And I found it,... quite baffling to encounter such a creature when there are no,... Qliphoth roots around."

"Great. Now, I'm even more confused." Nero muttered as he waved the cigarette smoke off his nose. "And it already smells like ass in here."

"That's you!" The woman retorted. Looking outside through the window, she spoke in a lower voice, "Ah, she's late."

Nero's eyebrows shot upwards in attention as he moved a bit away from the door.

And the person who entered the trailer made V's own eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

"I'm sorry, Nico, there's - "

The blonde stopped talking abruptly when she saw the mysterious man who crushed her camera sitting on the chair across her boss!

What is he doing here?!

Unless - !

"What is it?" The woman named Nico, who was unaware of what happened between the blonde and her friend V, asked as she looked up at her, a bit excited to know what news she brought for all of them. "Oh! Oh! Before I forget," Nodding at V, she said, "This is V, my good friend from Red Grave City. He's that other one I called to help with our investigation. Ya know! The one I told ya about last night!" And with a proud smile on her face, she stood up and roughly brought her hand down on the little blonde's shoulder, a thing she enjoyed doing just because she's small compared to her. "V, this is Mary, my assistant. And friend."

"Guys, I'll just call Kyrie." Nero spoke as he took his cellphone from his pocket and made his way out of the trailer. And nobody even noticed him.

"So! Got any leads for us, girl?" Nico asked, waiting for Mary to speak.

"I,... ah,... " Her nerves betraying her and getting the better of her, she took out the broken camera from her large We Bare Bears handbag and handed it to Nico. "I'm,... sorry,... about that."

"GIRL, WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS?!" Nico, whose eyes got as wide as saucers, freaked out as she held the broken thing on her hands.

"Well, I'm - " Mary began, seeing the look of utter horror on V's face at the corner of her eye. He just,... didn't expect things to turn out like this.

Who knew that chit worked for Nico?!

"WELL?" Nico screamed hysterically.

Oh, dear, V thought helplessly, deciding whether to, at least, save the girl from being fired, or not.

Then, something happened that he never expected.

Mary,... the little blonde chit,... smiled.

She smiled!

"I'm a klutz, right?" Mary squeaked with a nervous little laugh.

"This thing is OLD! You should've fixed your clumsiness a long time ago!" Nico scolded the blonde.

And to this, Mary just scratched the back of her head. "I'm sorry. I really do. But, hey! I can show you what that Demon - thing looks like - "

Nico growled, cutting her off and making her way to the back of the trailer to fix her grandmother's camera.

V's eyes widened in disbelief.

Why,... he thought as his eyes focused on the girl, who looked more relieved than worried. Would she cover for me like that?!

***

📷📷📷

***

#vitale sparda #devil may cry 5 #memories #v x oc #v x mary #chapter i #griffon #nico #nero

[riverboundao3ff]

Riverbound, Chapter 6

Your name is TYZIAS ENTYKK and you have had a long fucking six perigees.

It’s not like it was all terrible, because it wasn’t; a lot of it was actually super thrilling and dangerous enough for your matesprit to ask you, on several occasions, if you’re suicidal. You’re not, thankfully. However, your life has been, for the lack of a better term, apeshit crazy.

You are currently sitting in a loose circle with your coworkers and the jades, the alien sandwiched protectively between Stelsa and Tagora. Daraya had told you that they had two broken ribs and were severely underweight, but you’re still stunned by how frail they look. Had they been like that before they went missing? They’re strangely tangible now, like you’re truly seeing them for the first time. It haunts you.

“What’s the last thing you remember before you were kidnapped?” you ask.

The alien and Lanque exchange glances.

“I was coming back from a party Lanque invited me to,” they begin. “I was just walking down the street and… boom, next thing I know I’m up in Scratch’s mansion-dimension-hell.”

That’s what the jadeblood told you six perigees ago, but you just wanted to make sure everybody’s timelines were in order. “Right. After you disappeared, we all did a massive search party, and I’m assuming your other friends did the same. That went on for like, what, two and a half perigees? After that, I… well, we came to the conclusion that you got culled.”

They nod.

Your throat feels tight, but you continue. “Of course, we were all devastated. Nobody wanted to believe you were really gone, but… there wasn’t a trace of you left. So we decided to do the next right thing.”

“Oh boy,” Tirona mutters.

You ignore her. “Daraya and I kept in touch after you introduced us that one time. We kept coming back to what you would always tell us about making the world a better place, even if we were just talking about random shit. So eventually I was like… hey, fuck it. Let’s start a rebellion. Tegiri thinks we’re all gonna die and wants nothing to do with it, but that’s his problem. What have we got to lose?”

“Your lives,” they point out helpfully.

“True. But yeah, that’s how this whole thing got started. It took a bit of convincing, but we finally got some other people to join.”

“More like dragged us kicking and screaming into it,” Tagora mutters under his breath.

“So far we blew up a hangar full of rockets, hacked the government a few times to delete cull-on-sight lists, beat up a purpleblood, vandalised some stuff with Trizza’s face on it, uh… what else did we do, guys?”

“We organized a rescue for Outglut after a drone raid basically burned the place to the ground,” Stelsa added. Yeah, that had been one hell of a wipe. You guys had helped out a lot of survivors, but sometimes even sopor couldn’t keep away daymares of burning flesh and lifeless eyes. Saving everybody wasn’t an option, but you tried your best. That’s what was important.

“I saved a grub who was gonna be culled because he wasn’t as big as the others,” Wanshi mumbles shyly, kicking her feet against the log she was sitting on.

“Honk!” Karako adds.

“And Karako helped!”

The alien’s eyes twinkle with utter delight. “That’s amazing, Wanshi. And holy moly, dude, who blew up the hangar?”

“I think his name is Azdaja? He and his partner Konyyl absolutely destroyed the place,” Tagora explains shrewdly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Azdaja and Konyyl? They’re in this too?” they exclaim, getting even more excited. “Oh my God, I can’t wait to see them again. But who the frick hacked the government? That sounds pretty damn dangerous.”

Tirona clears her throat. “A mutual friend of ours is responsible for that. You knew Mallek Adalov, right?”

The goofy smile on their face falls away. “Mallek? Of course I know Mallek! How is he?”

“Hanging in there. He does his own thing, really,” Tirona says with a shrug.

“When’s the last time you saw him? Does he know I’m back?” they demand.

Lanque smirks. “Somebody’s eager, huh?”

Your friend splutters and shoots him a look like, I’ll kill you later, bitch.

“Well, I saw him a couple wipes ago, and… no. He doesn’t know anything. Should I call him?” Tirona asks helpfully, understanding dawning on her grub-round face as she and Lanque lock eyes. He nods eagerly, and the alien shrieks in protest and then clutches their side.

Tagora catches them as they faint, and together he and Stelsa carefully lay them out on the ground. Daraya’s eyes flicker between the alien and Lanque and Tirona, who are animatedly discussing whether or not they should call Mallek, like she doesn’t know whether or not to yell at them for making her beloved friend pass out from pain or join in on the fun.

You roll your eyes. Great, even more drama. “Jegus, just call Adalov and tell him his bag-of-bones flushcrush is half dead on the forest floor.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a business meeting?” Tagora snipes.

“Business can wait. I want to see where this goes,” Stelsa giggles. “Besides, they’re his friend, too. He deserves to see them again!”

In the dirt and dead leaves, the alien groans. “What…?”

“We’ll take care of everything, dear, just take deep breaths,” your matesprit promises sweetly. She pats the alien’s forehead and scooches over so Daraya can sit down with her and Tagora. Your bloodpusher warms at the sight.

Tirona’s palmhusk is cheerfully trilling, going through one, two, three cycles of that damn noise. You need to get that kid to change her ringtone, seriously.

Just when you think Adalov’s not going to answer, there’s a sharp click at the other end. “Yeah?”

“Mallek, hi!” Tirona sings. “What are you up to?”

“Re-wiring my PC so it stops overheating every time I try and play Mineclaw. Look, if you’re gonna ask me to hack anything again, it’s a hard no. I already risked my ass once so you guys could dick around in a major government server--”

“No, we don’t need you for that. Just get your blue butt down to the base of the jades’ mountain. There’s somebody I think you’d like to see,” she insists.

“I’m busy. Tell Tyzias to suck a fat one.”

“Okay, but seriously! Mallek, you need to come here, it’s important.”

“I already told you, I’m done doing stupid shit.”

“We both know that’s a lie, but okay. Please, dude, you won’t regret it--” Tirona pleads, but gets cut off by Lanque swiping the palmhusk from her hands, growling in exasperation.

“Adalov. It’s me, Lanque. Come here now. They’re back, they’re a little injured, but they’re alive and that’s what’s important. Don’t you want to see them?”

Dead silence.

Then, a low beeping as Mallek hangs up.

Lanque’s fangs glint as he grins in satisfaction. “He’s on his way.”

“You sound like you know him,” you state.

He shrugs. “Old hookup.”

“Ah.” That makes sense.

“Gimme my palmhusk back,” Tirona demands, grabbing for the device. Lanque obliges before bringing out his own and fiddling around with it. On the adjacent log, Wanshi and Karako start talking about some story they’re coming up with together.

Another groan reaches your ears, and you look down to see the alien pushing themselves up on their elbows. “Aw, crap. Did I pass out?”

“Yeah, you did. Also, Tirona and Lanque called your cerulean boyfriend. He’ll be here in a bit” Daraya explains dryly.

“You… oh, geez. He’s not my boyfriend!”

“I can help with that. Consider it your welcome-back present,” Lanque offers, smugness radiating off every pore.

“I thought you were on my side!”

“Darling, I’m on no side but my own.”

“I despise you.”

“Oh?” You almost burst out laughing when you see the bit of interest that sparks in his eyes. Good fuck, this alien had all of Thrashthrust wrapped around their little finger.

Their face burns bright red. “Not like that, you horny Onceler headass--”

Tagora tries and fails to cover both Wanshi’s, Tirona’s, and Karako’s ears at the same time. “Stop saying those things in front of the kids!”

“Gor-Gor, until somebody helps peel my injured self out of the literal dirt I’m not doing anything for anybody, okay?”

“So much for business,” Daraya huffs. You know her well enough by now to see that she’s amused by all of this. It’s in the slight narrow of her shadowed eyes, the tilt of her head.

“That’s what I just said-!”

Your fellow rebels’ bickering is abruptly cut off by the sound of a revving hoverboard engine somewhere above you. Karako yelps and slaps his hands over the sides of his head. The alien stops cussing out Lanque and looks up at the sky, pale face shining in the light of the moons. Despite Stelsa’s protests, they push themselves to their feet with a grimace. A fierce determination lights them up from within.

Could you convince them to use that strength for the rebellion?

“That was fast!” Wanshi notes cheerfully.

A lean figure blurs through the canopy and swoops down to land on the path outside of the clearing you guys are in. Any other time you’d start ragging on Adalov about him and his stupid pretentious rich-boy hoverboard, but you keep your mouth shut once you see the desperation in his wide blue eyes, and also because the little insect instinct that’s survived billions of years of evolution cringes away from the color. Only adult trolls have color in their eyes, and adults are bad news.

It’s a lot less dramatic than you thought it was going to be. Mallek steps off his hoverboard and kicks it up into his waiting left hand, opens his mouth to say something, and then his eyes fall on the alien.

Something incredibly sweet and vulnerable softens his face behind the obvious shock that makes him stiffen up like a corpse. He hardly looks like the tired, emotionless punk you had the misfortune of meeting once or twice since your mutual friend disappeared.

Mallek says their name, a perfect mixture of a question and an exclamation. The alien smiles, still holding their side, and limps over to him with their other hand reaching out to him. Something in your guts twist around when he hesitates, before slowly taking their pale, bony hand in his own, like he’s not believing what he’s seeing. You hear him inhale shakily when they finally touch.

“I was hoping we’d be able to do this a little more gracefully, but my friends are assholes,” the alien jokes feebly.

The cerulean shakes his head in disbelief. “How… how are you alive? I thought… we all thought--”

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Tirona sniffles and wipes her nose with a handkerchief. She looks like a proud lusus.

“I’ll explain everything, I promise,” the alien vows. “Wanna sit down with us? Tyzias is filling me in on everything I missed.”

Mallek opens his mouth like he’s trying to speak, but then he just nods and follows the alien back to your little friendship circle group. The poor bastard still looked like somebody had slapped the thinkpan cells from his skull.

He doesn’t get the chance to join you, though. A low hum of another engine reaches your ears, deeper than that of a hoverboard and more guttural. Lanque shoots to his feet, pointed ears sticking straight up.

“Drones!” Stelsa cries.

Your digestive tract drops down and out of your ass. No, no, no, not now! The government was getting an idea as to who you are, and once they see you and a bunch of other trolls meeting up in a fucking forest of all places-!

You’re on your feet and ready to bolt, but before you can go anywhere the alien reaches out and pulls your arm.

“Everybody hold hands!” they shout.

Tagora whips around to stare at them. “What?!”

“Just do it!”

They look deadly serious. You squeeze their wrist and wonder what your life has come to. Daraya and Lanque grab Wanshi and Karako, who grabs Tirona, who clings to Tagora, who holds on to Stelsa. Mallek grabs Stelsa, still hand-in-hand with the alien with his hoverboard tucked underneath his arm.

Three drones whiz by over your heads. Your blood turns to ice inside of you. Weirdly, the only thing you can think of is if you told Bearmom you loved her before you left.

“Okay, guys, this is gonna be weird. Brace yourselves!” The alien grits their teeth, looking like they were concentrating. Something in their strange hazel eyes flashes bright green.

One second you’re standing in a clearing in the woods, holding hands with your weird friend and some punk, and the next everything is pitch black.

Not black like a moonless night, but black like nothing you’ve ever seen before. It was the darkness of space, the endless void every living thing is subconsciously terrified of. You’d written a paper about the fear of the unknown when you were six sweeps old. It lasts for less than one beat of your bloodpusher, but it felt like an eternity in your panicked mind.

All at once the abyss goes away, and you and your group are in somebody’s messy apartment.

You and Tagora stare at each other for the time it felt like you were in the void. Tirona is holding his hand in a white-knuckled grip so intense you’re surprised somebody hasn’t broken a bone.

Wanshi is the first to speak. “Holy shit.”

“Wanshi,” Lanque hisses.

Slowly, Daraya lets go of his and Karako’s hands. “... Well. You weren’t lying about the whole space-time thing after all.”

Your alien friend snorts. “Nope.”

“We just teleported,” you realize.

“Yep.”

Mallek breaks away and sits down heavily on the loungeplank. It looks like you’re in the living room, except there’s computer parts littered everywhere.

The alien looks back at him, guilt evident in the way they hold themselves. “Um, sorry. This was the only place I could perfectly visualize for some reason.”

“... You need to be able to visualize something or somewhere to travel to it?” he asks.

“Yeah. Space-time travel is weird like that.”

He nods.

There’s another long break of silence.

This time, Lanque breaks it. “Adalov, why is there a crusty grubcake stuck to the ceiling of your kitchen?”

#hiveswap #Hiveswap Friendsim trolls #riverbound #pesterquest #c6 #jadebloods #teals #AND MALLEK #The Guardian #MSPA reader #homestuck #the guardian's friends are assholes

[notapaladin]

confess with your lips, v2

...yeah this is exactly the same as the other one but there’s porn in it! enjoy! i actually feel like this could be even more fratricidal but I’m not sure how. Also on AO3.

During their stay at Nezahual’s summer palace, Teomitl thinks about murder and the things he would do for Acatl. He also discovers he is loved.

“If I’d been too late,” he whispers, “I don’t know who I would have killed first.”

-

In retrospect, Teomitl can pinpoint the exact moment he decided to kill his brother.

It has nothing to do with Mihmatini. No, Mihmatini is surely glorious—a sunrise, he thinks, all rosy-fingered with the promise of brilliance and scorching heat—but he wants the moonlight, shadows, a cool dry breeze on his face. He wants the blood, the light, the man who taught him to wield it. Tizoc’s dismissal of her angers him, surely, and fires his heart such that he cannot think he’ll ever stand beside his brother again, but.

But.

But it is that sentence, whispered in his ear by a sympathetic warrior—Acatl-tzin will be executed for treason on the morrow—that makes him forget even that bare minimum of support. Forget standing under him, supporting him with no complaints. Forget even standing by him, a grudging ally in the service of the Emperor. From this day his face is set in opposition; Teomitl knows as surely as he knows his own name, as surely as he feels the Jade Skirt’s power pulse with the beat of his rage, he will one day cut Tizoc down for this, for daring to want Acatl-tzin slain.

(Should Acatl—should he succeed—no—that day will come much sooner.)

So he breaks out. It is...harder than he expects. The fleeing, too, is harder. By the time they make it to Nezahual’s palace—and oh, how that grates, to be so dependent on the man!—he feels like he’s been thrown alive down the temple steps. But he lives, and more importantly…

...Most importantly, so does Acatl. He is just as tired, just as drained, but alive.

And when he wakes, Acatl is there. Some small part of him melts at that, at the rightness of Acatl’s face being the first to greet him. The rest...the rest of him is angry. Southern Hummingbird blast Tizoc in all his limbs, none of this should be happening. They are supposed to be greeting the dawn in Tenochtitlan, safe and sound, and the stars are not supposed to shine by day. Tizoc—Tizoc, who was going to have Acatl-tzin killed—Tizoc is supposed to be his brother. (To be the Master of the House of Darts, to be the Revered Speaker, to be the one bringing glory to the Empire—but to be his brother, first.)

Acatl doesn’t understand, but he tries. It doesn’t help.

They’re both too tired to argue. Maybe they will fight later, maybe not. He hopes not, but—well. He’s never been good with words, not really. Besides, Acatl looks like he can barely stay on his feet.

When Acatl finally sits down—something with about as much grace as a lung-shot deer finally collapsing—he moves to lean on his shoulder like he did the night before, when he was wrung out like a bloody rag from the strain of keeping the ahuizotls moving while their constant, sickening chatter assailed his mind. Now he’s awake enough to enjoy it—warm skin against his, soft hair brushing his cheek, the steady thump of Acatl’s heartbeat. They may be in a serpent’s lair, but they are together.

Anger drains slowly as they sit there. He keeps his eyes closed; each lid feels like it weighs half a ton, and he isn’t lifting them for anything less than the end of the world. Acatl is still next to him—drowsing, or thinking—but when he shifts closer, Acatl moves as well.

It’s a natural gesture. An innocent gesture. Comfort, nothing more. Still—still, feeling the arm that had been trapped between them slowly pull free and slide around his waist, holding him that little bit closer, makes his heart thunder. Acatl’s hand rests on his hip; is it wishful thinking that has it brushing a bit too low for propriety's sake? Gods, he hopes not. (He knows he’s hoping in vain. Acatl is a High Priest. There are exceptions to every vow, but surely the exceptions don’t include him.) He wants to sigh. He wants to roll over, lift himself onto Acatl’s lap, and kiss him breathless. He wants—so much.

He breathes in and out, slowly. Let his mind be blank, let his heart be calm. He can’t have any of what he wants, not even Tizoc’s death—not now, with the star demons so close. And who knows? Maybe Tizoc won’t be an embarrassment to the Empire after all. Maybe they’ll hold together long enough for the Fifth World to steady on its foundations, for the stars to retreat to the night sky, so there won’t be any confusion in his brother’s heart as to why he’s being gutted like a fish and left to scream his life out on the palace floors.

(Tizoc might yet make a decent leader but he will always be the man who tried to kill Acatl, and Teomitl doesn’t intend to let that go.)

When soft lips brush his temple, he gasps. Aside from that, he’s not sure he’s breathing. He’s not sure, in this moment, he remembers how. The arm Acatl has around him goes very still.

Oh no. Oh no, he’s pulling away. “Ah…”

He lifts his head, takes a moment to look—to really commit this sight to memory, Acatl flushed and hazy-eyed and so, so beautiful—and closes his eyes again, letting his head drop back on Acatl’s shoulder with his lips parted. It’s all he can do to tilt his face up, a better angle to offer a kiss. (If Acatl wants. Gods—all of them, he’s not picky—gods, please let him want.)

Acatl still doesn’t move. Then there’s a barely audible sigh and breath wafts across his face, gentle and warm. He can feel the heat of his lips just barely brushing his own.

He’s never been a patient man. He closes the distance.

Acatl’s lips turn out to be soft, a little dry, and hesitant even when he deepens the kiss, as though he’s not sure he’s really allowed to do this. It’s sweet and chaste but sends heat through him anyway, heartbeat frantic in his ribcage; he feels disjointed, barely aware of where his limbs are. When he manages somehow to pick up a hand and slide it into the fall of Acatl’s glorious hair, the moan that reverberates through them both makes him feel like he’s been struck by lightning. The gods must love me, he thinks, and then I’m going to skin Tizoc alive. The thought makes him growl; under him Acatl trembles at it.

They part for barely a breath, and he hears his own name as he’s never heard it before—hushed and awestruck, syllables like precious jade in Acatl’s mouth. “Teomitl…” Long fingers trace his jaw tenderly, and he’s struck dumb.

So he kisses him again. It’s much less sweet this time; Acatl’s hand cradles the back of his head and there’s a soft, surprised sound when Teomitl coaxes that deliciously hot mouth open. He wants to hear it forever. But then the arm around his waist shifts, hauls him in, and while his body twists and folds and arches to facilitate it his mind still takes several seconds to register that he’s been pulled onto Acatl’s lap. Oh, he thinks incoherently, this is better. Like this, he can more easily run his free hand down the flat plane of Acatl’s chest, feel his hammering heartbeat and the vibrations of the noise that escapes him when Teomitl catches his lower lip between his teeth, just hard enough to sting a little. (He wants more. He wants to leave marks. But they are still in Nezahual’s power, and he can’t dare to give him anything to use against them.)

They’re both panting when they part for air. He opens his eyes again, suddenly needing to see Acatl’s face. The man’s always been cautious, never cared for change. If this change is too much, if he can’t bear it, wants him to be only his student...Teomitl’s not sure what he’ll do.

Acatl’s dark eyes are heated, his kiss-swollen lips red. The hand still on his neck doesn’t move as he breathes, “What about my sister?”

It’s not a no. It’s not a get off me, you disgusting boy, and keep your hands to yourself. Still, he averts his gaze and feels his face catch fire as he mutters, “She knows.” It had been the single most embarrassing conversation of his life, helped not at all by the fact that she’d thought it was hilarious—but she’d approved, and he probably would have married her based on that alone.

“She knows?” Acatl swallows visibly, meeting his eyes again. “She knows that you…”

He nods. Or tries to, at any rate, because as soon as he realizes he won’t be breaking Mihmatini’s heart Acatl is kissing him again. Acatl is kissing him. Hungrily, nails raking down his spine and that will leave marks but that’s what he’s got a cloak for and besides he can’t bring himself to care when there are more important things to worry about—things like the way Acatl arches when he pulls his hair, hips surging under him in a way that tears a breathless, too-loud moan from his throat. He could do this forever.

...Or until someone finds them. The thought runs through him like ice, and he breaks away from Acatl’s tempting mouth to nuzzle at his hair instead. “If I’d been too late,” he whispers, “I don’t know who I would have killed first.” Probably Quenami. He would have saved Tizoc for last.

Acatl breathes out slowly. “I’m glad you came.” His voice is a little rough, shaky, and it fills Teomitl with awe.

I did that. More words are on the tip of his tongue—something soft, something tender, something about how Acatl-tzin is worth burning the world for—but then a bird calls, and he remembers where they are. Namely, huddled up against a pillar in Nezahual’s summer palace, out in the open, where anyone could come in and see them. He shudders at the thought. The gods only know what that bastard would do with a secret like this.

He’s not sure where he drags the words from. He’s amazed he can still arrange a coherent question, honestly, and if he wasn’t literally in Acatl’s lap and feeling how interested he is in the proceedings he would never risk it. “Do you want…?” More. Everything. He trails his fingers down over Acatl’s stomach and hopes it’s enough of a hint.

It must be, because Acatl trembles, eyes widening—and then fluttering shut as he grits out, “My room. Now.” It has the timbre of an order, which raises some very interesting possibilities.

Possibilities he can contemplate after they get back to Acatl’s room. It’s the least dignified trip of his life, but he doesn’t have a chance to dwell on it because as soon as they draw the curtain behind them Acatl is pulling him down onto the mat and kissing him as though those few minutes were an eternity of separation. He wants me. The thought spins him around until he’s dizzy with it, until he has to breathe “Acatl,” into the air between them, lips against his shoulder, because the emotions running through him right now are just too much for him to express any other way.

When he lets himself fantasize about this at all, he’s always imagined Acatl to be hesitant, maybe a little prickly. The fact that Acatl’s hands are on his thighs, sliding up to his hips—the fact that Acatl’s mouth is on his neck, that he can feel the faint scrape of teeth against his pulse—it’s so much better than anything he’s ever dreamed about. When he buries his hands in his hair again, Acatl actually growls and he really does think he could come just from this.

And then Acatl lifts his head and whispers, “You told me not to thank you.”

Anyone would have done the same. It’s true. It remains true. The fact that Teomitl—that he cares for him shouldn’t even enter into it. Still, he feels a shard of icy fury lodge itself in his heart. “If this—if this is out of gratitude, Acatl-tzin—“

“No.”

Their mouths meet in a biting kiss. It’s about all Teomitl can manage to roll them both over, Acatl on top, mind hazy with desire and the need to be closer, closer. Acatl’s hair has come unbound at some point, tumbling over his shoulders, and it’s the most glorious thing he has ever seen right up until he manages to grind against Acatl’s half-hard cock; the expression on Acatl’s face blows it entirely out of the water. He’s only a man, after all. He can’t possibly resist.

He’s pretty sure he tries to say something. Ask for permission, maybe. But then Acatl’s hands are on his loincloth and he thinks oh and all possibility of forming coherent words flies out the window. There’s only room in his head for this—for the way Acatl’s hand feels around his cock, the way he gasps, ragged, when Teomitl pulls him close and guides him to grip them together, hot and slick and gods, so perfect—

He feels feral. Nothing else exists—in the world, in his mind, in his heart—except Acatl’s length sliding against his, Acatl’s head flung back in ecstasy, the steadily building heat between them. He nips sharply at his collarbone, twisting his wrist on a rough upstroke to hear Acatl’s breath stutter out of him. A minute late. If I’d been a minute late—I would have had to watch you die. He must make a sound when that thought hits him, because Acatl says his name like a desperate prayer.

“Oh, Teomitl.”

It’s enough. He comes all over their hands and only manages not to scream by muffling himself with his teeth in Acatl’s shoulder, feeling every tremor of his body like it’s his own as Acatl follows him silently over that edge. For what feels like an eternity, the only sounds that exist in the world are their ragged breaths and racing hearts. Acatl’s free hand is stroking his back, and he drinks it in.

I almost lost you, he thinks, and then I almost lost this. If Tizoc were in front of him right now, he could quite cheerfully rip his heart out.

“We should...clean up.” Duality, Acatl’s voice sounds wrecked in his ear. His cock twitches with renewed interest but his words reassert the reality of their situation, and he has to pull away.

It’s a good thing. It gives him room to breathe, to calm his racing heart. Most importantly, it also gives him a chance to make it look like he hasn’t just been completely debauched. They adjust their clothing in silence, not touching even though Teomitl’s fingers itch to fix Acatl’s hair for him. (If they had the time—if they weren’t in a serpent’s lair with the end of the world bearing down on them—if they were home, and he could convince Acatl to lay his head in his lap and let him—if, if, if.) His heart feels like it will overflow at the slightest provocation, too full of things he wants to say now that voicing them might not ruin everything forever. Things he never would have had the chance to say, if his brother had succeeded.

Hmm. Maybe, on second thought, he’ll kill Tizoc first, and let the ahuizotls have Quenami.

He closes his eyes on a slow surge of familiar rage. Really, the fact that Acatl-tzin desires him changes nothing. The Fifth World still teeters on the edge of destruction, the Mexica Empire is still bleeding out on star-demons’ claws, and they are still dancing to Nezahual’s tune in search of answers. Next to that, his heart should be stone.

He manages to hold onto that thought until Nezahual and his soldiers come to find them, and then the way his Acatl straightens and becomes Acatl-tzin, High Priest of Mictlantecuhtli cracks his stone heart like an egg.

There is the Empire, the Fifth World, and you.

He’ll tell him later.

#obsidian and blood #teocatl #teomitl #acatl #not work safe #paladin writes stuff

[fanfictrashdump]

Queening a Pawn, 7

Summary: During the Time Heist, Loki stole the Tesseract and escaped. He did not expect, however, to be pulled through a Time Loop that delivered him to a Midgard more than a decade older, wiser, and bitterer. Having just lived through his unsuccessful attack in New York, Loki must learn to live in Midgard after the defeat of Thanos (post-Endgame). The question is, who is Loki without a quest for a throne or total domination?

Pairings: Loki x OC

=

"You assaulted him!"

"Hello, Thor. Great to see you, too. Why, yes, this is a new shirt. Thanks for noticing!" Delilah sassed, not even bothering to look up from her paperwork.

"Bruises, cuts, broken bones–"

"I know you didn't just barge in here to start yelling at me Thor Odinson," she warned, evenly, her eyes flickering up to zero in on his. "Right?"

"I left him in your care!"

"You left him under house arrest. In my facility." She shuffled the papers into a neat pile and set them aside, crossing her arms over her chest. "Did you let him talk before you decided to play protect the maiden's honor?"

"Good job, Lilah! I haven't seen anyone drop Loki in a spar in ages!" Valkyrie cried, bounding into the office with a wide grin perched on her lips, it falling slightly with the palpable tension in the room.

"Loki doesn't spar with mortals," Thor said with a scoff.

Valkyrie made a face. "Who else would he spar with, Thor?"

"Ding! Ding! Ding! You've won today's prize, Brunn."

"What? Am I supposed to be my brother's keeper for time immortal?" Thor argued.

"Literally, no one asked you to. Sparring got out of hand, I admit, but you know your brother." Thor's expression still hadn't softened from the glower. "He's my friend. Why the hell would I hurt him on purpose?"

"I want to take him back to Asgard."

"I don't want him in Asgard!" Valkyrie complained.

Delilah sighed. "Sure. Let's go run this by him, shall we?" Abandoning her work, she led the group to the living quarters, in silence. When they reached Loki's door, it was already swinging open and Loki was holding it aloft. He gestured with his free hand for them to enter with his mouth set in a thin line. "You're going to New Asgard, I guess."

Loki reeled, frowning. "What? I don't want to go there."

Thor clapped his shoulder and he had to swallow a wince of pain as the kind oaf rattled his ribs. "You should be among your people, brother. They'll be grateful to have you back again."

"I don't think we should be exposing to the world that your kid brother jumped a time loop and was brought here. Asgard might be glad, everyone else…" Brunnhilde reasoned.

"I don't want to leave. Do you want me to leave?" Loki cut his eyes at Delilah with the question.

"God, yes! You're annoying as fuck!" He failed in not looking disheartened, but the covert wink she sent in his direction made him smile to himself.

"And what happens when you go off on one of your trips to wherever it is you go? What is he to do then?"

The Valkyrie's volume was increasing and Delilah took a half-step backward to give them their space. Loki, noticing this, did the same. Thor had countered her argument before they had both resorted to screaming in some other language that Delilah did not understand. Rolling her eyes, she gestured with her head at the door, slipping backward through it and Loki following close after. They didn't dare laugh until they were at the corridor, well away from the other two.

"They're definitely going to get it on in your bed," she said with a giggle, turning the corner.

Loki rolled his eyes, matching her quick steps with sauntering, long strides with his arms behind his back. They had slipped into an area of the facility he had yet to explore, a glass-encased sunroom that gave the illusion of being outside, nestled among the trees while still being protected from the elements. There was no one there, and they had not passed any other staff on their way to that place, so he assumed it was a rather well-kept secret.

The world was icy outside. The early winter frost covered the ground in blankets of white crystals that glittered in the sunlight. Beyond the glass deer paced through the trees, glancing shortly into the room before disappearing back into the thicket. Lilah had folded herself into a window seat, pulling a fleecy throw over her shoulders as she stared back into the forest. 

Loki distractedly tapped the window with his fingers, watching the very ends of his digits turn a pale blue in response. It only took him a second to regret the decision, deciding his warmer self was probably a better sight than the frost giant. With his powers dampened, however, his physiology was making the decisions for him, adapting to whatever it thought best. After a moment's contemplation, he sat down beside her, leaning into the tastefully arranged cushions.

"Did you ever spar with him?"

Delilah snapped out of her reverie and tilted her head. "Thor?" He shook his head, and she made a noise of understanding. "Oh, him. Not really. We were friends, but we weren't particularly close."

"Did he do other things, then?"

She smiled. "To flirt with me, you mean? No. Flirting wasn't really on his radar." Loki urged her on with a nod. "He was, I don't know, tired. Jaded, maybe. There were things worth pursuing and that didn't seem to be one of them." She leaned forward in a conspiratory whisper. "Not that he didn't enjoy a lady's company." Loki raised an eyebrow in question and she internally cursed the relative innocence in his gaze. "His lady friends came with a price tag? He paid… for sex…"

The thought blew his mind. Usually women threw themselves at him. He certainly had no difficulty acquiring a date for the night on his own. "Why?"

"Honestly? It was uncomplicated. Sometimes I think he just wanted company. You could call at his door and he was perfectly dressed and just chatting. That or he just liked making Cap uncomfortable." She wrapped herself further in the blanket. "Who knows? Maybe he realized early on that flirting with me would be useless."

"Is that so?," he queried, smiling as he shifted closer.

"Yep. Entirely useless."

"We shall see, I suppose." A comfortable silence followed, as they both stared at the prancing deer outside.

Lilah pulled back a corner of her throw and held it open. "Get under this, will you?"

Loki looked amused. "I thought flirting was entirely useless."

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't mean it like that. Just… get under, please."

"Tell me why."

Delilah played with a loose thread on the hem. "You're, erm, turning blue."

Staring down at his hands he confirmed that he was, indeed, turning blue and so he crossed his arms over his chest and tucked his hands under his elbows. He looked as if his intention was to fold himself into a quantum dot and then, disappear.

"Come on!" He stubbornly stood still, hoping that if he was quiet enough she would ignore him. The nape of his neck was currently turning the same dusky blue and it was quickly spreading to his face. Lilah sighed, scooting over closer and throwing the blanket over his shoulders, pulling the corners so it pressed them together in a bundle. Her hands rubbed his larger ones to get some warmth into them, ignoring the fact that he looked well and truly uncomfortable. "Blue's my favorite color."

"What?"

"Blue. It's my favorite color." She raised his hands to her mouth and blew warm air onto the chilled digits, watching the color fade from dusky blue to periwinkle to lavender to pink.

"If that were the case, you wouldn't be rushing to rid me of it."

"No, it just clearly isn't your favorite color." Her fingers traced the raised lines on his hands, looking eerily out of place as his skin returned to its usual pallor and not the blue they were normally accompanied by. "You were taught the giants were monsters, sure, but… whatever."

"Tell me." The skin on skin contact distracted him, though he remained conflicted about deriving any sort of pleasure through her appeal to a side of himself he had resolved to keep hidden.

"I don't know." A flush crept up her neck and the side closest to her turned back fully in her warmth, leaving him an incongruous, mismatched form. "It's sort of pretty, isn't it? I mean, the eyes are a lot, yes, but the decorative lines, the blue…," she trailed off, embarrassed.

"You're a strange human," he breathed, though he remained luxuriating under her ministrations.

"So I've been told." She reached up to fix his hair, ruffling it out of its perfectly slicked back style

"Was my hair blue?" He asked with a smirk.

"No, you just looked like a dork." They both laughed, settling against each other under the throw. Loki threaded his fingers through the hand abandoned on her lap. "Are you OK sitting? Do you need some rest?"

Loki shook his head. "No, I'm quite alright. I'd ask for you to kiss and make it better, but I fear that would be pushing my luck."

"You'd be correct. Though I am sorry I kind of lost it on you."

"Don't be. It was… glorious." There was something dangerously close to awe in his eyes, though he would have passed it off as pride. And it was, to some extent. "Angry Midgardians are a force to be reckoned with and you were quite a sight to behold."

Delilah laughed. "You are such a weirdo, Lo."

"I concur."

#loki #mcu #mcu fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #loki x oc #loki x ofc #post endgame #loki of asgard #thor #thor is being that annoying big bro #valkyrie #valkyrie is bae #loki fanfic

[absence-of-decomposing]

Demametamort

Have you ever heard of the term Demametamort? If so then this story might make sense to you. If not then please please refrain from looking it up in my personal dictionary and stick around till the end for an explanation. I will now begin his story. 

Imagine a light grey sky, like the ones that make rainy days feel emotionless. Then imagine an unofficial road that borders on a cliff. The cliff has a hard drop into the ocean and at that moment a car had been recently met with sharp rocks and the high-pressure water. The water surrounded the tan automobile in waves that hit the skin of investigators like knives. 

If you looked around a bit more you could see the face of a boy who had somehow survived the tragedy. As he stood emotionless and highlighted by red and blue he was led to dry off while his 6-year-old body was drenched in saltwater. His dark hair and green eyes accompanied by a police officer to the ambulance where most adults looked in awe at how torn up this child was, frantically moving to apply pressure in the right spots. No one could explain how he could have survived the impact and sharp rocks; if that didn't do him in the water would have. This is a prime moment we can look at as an example of how things always worked out in his favor, as long as he didn't bring attention to it he could avoid any consequence. 

The most shocking part, however, took its place in the unphased attitude of the child. Every adult at the scene was shocked he survived, shocked his parents had dragged him along for their suicide, shocked. Shock is what defined the atmosphere so they wrote off Luca’s behavior as him being in shock. 

Little did they know this boy genuinely didn't care. His parents were scared of him but he didn't know why so why should he care? All he did was draw on the walls. Sure it was with the neighbor’s pet mouse but no one seemed to miss it after he stole it at the end of his playdate with their 13-year-old daughter. They just got a new one. And sure, his babysitter didn't know he stole it but to him, the rodent would be much more useful being used as paint than in a cage where it sat in its own mess and made squeaking noises. 

Apparently, this was the last straw. His parents started to talk about how they “couldn't do this anymore!” and “At least it's not as bad as when he was 3.”. Luca doesn't remember what other things he's done but no punishment made his actions not worth it so he had little memory of anything that was deemed “bad”. His parents tried to punish him for his behavior they really did, but it was hard to punish him when he stopped showing his “art” to them. In the end, they considered getting Luca into therapy but this had his mother and father worried about being judged as parents so, in the minds of a couple of parents whose will was stretched too thin, suicide would probably sound like the only option. They loved their son so maybe that's why they brought him with, or maybe it was an attempt at stopping his actions. 

If we move on to the next event of his life you'd see a hospital room with white walls and a small window, where he stayed for a couple of weeks until a caseworker came to situate him into a foster home. You'd see his emerald eyes opening in the hospital bed and his small feet moving to pack up his pencils and toys before his hands where being held on either end by a perfect cookie-cutter family. You'd then see him staying in that home for many more years because the Bander family took a liking to his obedient behavior and witty humor, and as Luca grew in this privileged household he learned to accommodate to people's expectations because that meant he could keep practicing his illegal passions without losing the attention he received from others. The same kid who played football in high school was watching people bid on body parts on the dark web. The same kid who laughed and teased his friends about being stupid compared to his straight A’s was the same kid who was planning to kidnap a few of those same friends and turn their beings into soulless sculptures. He was pleased with how smoothly his plan worked, how the laws of not just humans but of karma has never touched him. He reveled in how simple everything was and how godlike he was compared to his peers who were always facing a misfortune and getting dragged for their underage drinking or for harassing a girl at school. It was when he made his first kidnapping, one so obviously tied to him that it would hurt the observing eye. That is if eyes were ever on him, despite the girl nailed to the walls of his basement being his girlfriend, no one ever questioned him. That is when he realized he was different, god must not know he exists. He's a ghost among men and as visible to every eye as he was not there. I think this is when he rationalized the idea of, “If God doesn't know I exist, then neither does death. Right?”

Today Luca is a couple of years out of high school, he lives in a studio apartment while on a break from college and has a body count of 7 and his work has been all over the news. As he sat on a leather couch and toyed with the volume of his Tv his frustrations grew and grew. 

“Stop ignoring my work! It took me ages to make that!” He whines in frustration to no one in particular as the screen flashed images of his sculpture made of a female body whose bones were exposed due to the skin and muscle being nailed apart like a dissected frog. It zoomed into the bone where he was mastered the art of carving into. After cleaning the bones and draining the blood of the body out, he drills away to create designs so beautiful it could be compared to Chinese ivory or jade sculptures. Beautiful waves of the sea that represented the girls' love for surfing, a few animals like tigers and rabbits also danced along the streams of her life. It was truly beautiful despite its canvas. Lucas carefully tanned skin started to shift over to the arm of the leather couch before placing his hand down for support and standing. He began to pace around, mumbling incoherently. He then made his way to a laptop that was propped up on the counter of a kitchenette. 

“I will make them see, they will worship me. People have begged for this! They loved being used, they cried in joy when the found out they had been chosen by ME!” he claimed. His shadowy whispers did hold some truth however, a few victims had fallen victim to love him and would do anything for his approval. 

However, Lucas fetish for attention was currently driving him mad as his fingers type away at the obsidian keys and made the finishing touches on a public Instagram. He began to upload image after image with his name and face next to countless bodies and gore that he had only ever shown in private forums. The next morning he woke up outrage on his phone and in the news. He had missed calls from his family and friends and he just smiled in glee as he picked up the phone and called his mom back.

He expected to be greeted with admiration like the last girl he carved but in his delusional mind that was realistic, I guess. He was greeted with screams and tears.

“Luca why! Tell me this isn't true? This is someone else framing you right baby?” she said with obvious distress.

“Mama I just made another sculpture, it's not a big deal.” He said, confused at her reaction.

“They have feelings, Luca! FEELINGS! And I am not your mom anymore. I'm calling the cops.” she said shakily before hanging up.

Luca didn't think she was being serious, I mean she knew he that would affect him, right? He put on his apron and gloves and had just picked up the head of a dog he had recently started to work on as a side project when a loud, sharp knock was made from outside his apartment. With head still in hand, he opens the door only to be tackled down by police forces and dragged outside in cuffs. Bright rays of light burned into his eyes as he yelled and laughed. His confusion apparent and his resistance futile. He had dropped the dog's head in the process and suddenly he began to cry out.

“Get off me! Its what they wanted! You know you can't kill me right?” he laughed. This was met by a shaky voice.

A woman was standing in the crowd with puffy eyes and sagging skin. Her auburn hair mirrored that of his last victim, and she held a gun. Without a moment's hesitation, she said,

“Want to bet?” before her shaky hands released the firm hold on the gun to pull the trigger. 

Lucas's life didn't flash before his eyes. His life didn't matter much to him but when he fell to the ground he looked at his reflection in the pooling blood coming from his throat. He recognized the look on his face and that similar to those when he was 6. He recognized shock and fear in his face before he was put into the black void of death.

Crippling and quiet black and was like white sound in a realm with no structure. No walls or floor yet his non-responding conscious was suspended in it. Time did not exist and although empty it was not peaceful. It wasn't a place that provided a feeling of tranquility nor did it scare. It was completely empty. That was until Luca's vision reappeared through opening slits. He could suddenly see a different and darker black, his hands could suddenly feel silky cushion on his hands and his mind was suddenly able to register these things. He was awake, but was he? How could one tell when he all he could see was darkness and the smell of wet soil encased his nose. One would have to define being alive and being dead, what requirements are there to be considered living? Is it the ability to crave and breathe air? To need it? Because Luca definitely craved air but no matter how much he gasped there was no oxygen to fill his lungs. Wheezing was barely possible and when his fingers moved to touch the scabbed hole in his throat, it explained why. Gasp after gasp he was brought back to nothingness and his suffocation was over. Until it wasn't.

He woke again and the events repeated.

Again.

And again. 

And again. 

So, do you think you can guess what a “Demametamort” is? If not I will let you in on it.

A Demametamort is someone who believes they are above, beyond, or better than death. They don't think they can die or can change death. And sometimes they can.

#oc #creative writing #new word #imaginary word

[purplesurveys]

739

Do you enjoy watching birth vlogs? OMG never. Those are a thing? I would imagine there’d be enough butthurt people flagging them enough to be taken down YouTube, but if they’re being uploaded there and are able to stay uploaded then that’s a really good thing. I’ve seen birthing photosets on Facebook but I’ve never watched an actual video. Would you rather paint on canvas or wood? I don’t paint but if given the chance I’d probably pick canvas just because it’s more common. What regret keeps coming back to haunt you daily? Recently it’s the daily decision to keep ignoring my thesis. UHGJGHFKD I’ll do it and have it finished in May I fucking swear, I just can’t right now. Do you miss someone? I miss all my best friends, close friends, friends, acquaintances, classmates, groupmates, and everyone I’ve ever come across in school including the cats and dogs. If you could cure yourself of one allergy, what would it be? I don’t have any allergies but I wish the irritation in my eye that will occasionally annoy me like an allergy would go away forever.

Do you know anyone else with your name? Yeah when I was applying for AIESEC there were two people there with the same name and even the same spelling - I had never felt so common until then lol. I know more Robins with an i. Have you felt like the main character in a book was you? No, but I know if I read more then I will probably be able to name a character for you. Which country's flag is your favorite? Nepal’s. I also found Libya’s old flag interesting since it used to be just green with no designs whatsoever. What would you be most afraid of happening if you were to visit Africa? This has some pretty awful undertones but uhhh I’d be wary of being attacked or scammed as a tourist, which is just the same thing I’d be scared of if I went to a different continent. Where are you tempted to move to sometimes? Chicago. Have you ever hiked a mountain? I’ve hiked before, but not for a mountain. Who seems like they have the perfect life? One of my acquaintances, Chesca, is reeeeeally intelligent but also incredibly rich and funny and POPULAR and pretty and trendy and an insanely talented speaker and very well-loved. I know no one has a perfect life per se but out of all the people I observe, she’s definitely the one who seems to authentically have it all. Do you ever take pictures of negative moments? I only did that once. The only thing it did for me was remind me of how much I was in a shitty place then. Do you think it would be a good idea to post photos of negative moments as well as positive? ^ Clearly, no. I never wanted to take photos of shitty moments after that. What time zone are you in? I never memorized the format but it’s something with +8 in it. Would you ever post a picture of yourself crying on social media? No. ^Why or why not? Because I find that extremely personal/private. Do you like dark blue jeggings or light blue jeggings better? Light blue even if I don’t wear jeggings, I guess. Dark blue isn’t as trendy these days. What color is the rim of your whiteboard? I don’t even own a whiteboard. Do you have trouble staying organized? For some spaces, yes. I can’t ever keep my car clean, for one. Throughout college it’s kinda served as my second home so I’ve never been able to avoid having my stuff from home pile up in there instead lmao. What was the last thing you cried about? The Philippine Bar exam results got released today and there was a video that quickly went viral of a family finding out their daughter/sister passed before she knew, and the passer only found out because they were all whooping and screaming downstairs. When she realized what they were making noise for she fell to the ground and started crying and oh my god there is a lump in my throat right now just thinking about it again. Have you ever held a newborn baby? No, I’ve never been in a delivery room nor met a baby a day or two after they were born; there’s just lots of sanitary/hygiene stuff to worry about and I’m ok with getting out of the way for a few days to ensure their health. Do you know anyone who has twins? I know sets of twins, which I guess kind of means the same because it means I am at least remotely aware of their mom lolol. Would you rather look older or younger than your age? Younger. Where do you buy calendars from? I don’t. Do you shop at the dollar store often? That’d be impossible to have here because we don’t even use dollars. But we don’t have anything equivalent to like a peso store either, so no I don’t. What does your name rhyme with? Foreign. Are you following in the career path of any family members? Yep. I have two aunts who worked as journalists; one of those aunts also worked as a radio DJ at one point; my great-uncle was a historian, author, and a professor and dean of history; and I have too many lawyer relatives to count on one hand. Have you ever met anyone who talks like a robot? Yeah, some really bad reporters in some of my past classes. Name something unique about your town. We have an authentic Swiss restaurant. That’s genuinely the most random, unique thing I’ve seen come out of any towns lmfao because any restaurant that isn’t Chinese/Japanese/Italian/American/Mexican is just not a common concept here at all, much less Swiss. I haven’t tried it yet since it’s fine dining but hopefully soon. Who does all the chores in your home? My mom. She’s super particular about chores and likes things to be done her way. Every time we’ve tried to help her we just end up getting yelled at because as much as we try to imitate her, somehow we always do the chore wrong. Do you feel you missed out on a lot as a kid? I missed out on the emotional foundation/support, for sure. I had to figure all that out on my own. What is your best kept secret (or one big secret you have right now)? This blog that to this day, only my sister knows about. Do you have anyone you can tell your secrets to? Yes. ^If so, who? You. Hahahahaha Who was that best friend you ever had? This is in past tense, so my best best friend that I’ve since lost was Sofie. I’m sad we drifted apart but we both seem a lot happier today and that’s what matters. She was an important person in a certain period in my life so I don’t regret the friendship. Do people appreciate you and accept you for who you are? I feel this from them, so I guess they do. What color is your laptop? Silver. What class would you like to repeat over again just for fun? Bio 1 because it was easy and POLSC 180 because I learned so much.

What are five careers you think you'd be good at? Corporate lawyer, any job that requires a lot of spreadsheet-y and internal work really, PR, a consultant for something I’m interested in, historian. I tried to delete this question but I brought it back at the last second because now is so not the time anymore to still dodge my future career prospects lmao. Are you thriving in your life right now? I don’t think anyone is at the moment, and that’s okay. Who do you have moral support from? My girlfriend and close friends, mostly. Who encourages you to go after your dreams? Them, and sometimes my parents. Do you have people in your family who want you dead? That’s horrible lmao I wouldn’t think so? Are the police criminals in your town? Yes. List all the antiques you have in your room. I don’t have any. What Bratz doll resembles you the most? JADE. My homegirl through and through. Do you have a walk-in closet? No. What was the last thing you ate? I had a chocolate chip cookie. What would you do to save money for your wedding? Allot some money from my salary for it, lmao. Have you ever been manipulated, lied to, abused, or controlled? Yes, of course, yes, and sure. Are you against plagiarism? Of course. That’s literally the biggest no-no in journalism.

#survey #surveys

[iwantthedean]

Country Strong; A Happy Man

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N was a normal college student, that was until Dean. After saving her from a nest of vampires, what happens next is something neither one expects. 

Characters: Reader x Dean, some Sam

Word Count: 4,075

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Cannon-like violence, Use of alcohol, Smut (18+), Unprotected sex (be safe), Kind of sex in public… it is shitty smut ya’ll.

A/N: I go through phases of the the type of music I like and right now its country, so when this song came on I couldn’t stop this fic from bouncing around my head.  In my mind this take place sometime in season 1 or 2 of the show. This will be a three part mini series and this part is based on this song. Each part will have a different country song it is based on.  I tagged based off this list right here so if you would like to be added you can add yourself.  As always feedback is always appreciated =)

A/N 2: This is my submission for @winchester-writes ‘s Drinking Writing Challenge.  My pairing was Captain Morgan Spiced Rum and “Seriously? I only left you two alone for an hour.”

**I wanted to write Smut so bad! I hope it isn’t awful it is my first time.**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You lived a perfectly normal life, well that was until Dean Winchester.  One of the most terrifying nights of your life also turned out to be the best, because you met him.  

You were working as a bartender in a hole in the wall bar to put yourself through college.  The night was filled with flashes of faces coming and going, some of strangers and some of regulars.  Most of the time the new faces all blur together, until you saw those green eyes.  He came to the bar wearing a suite and tie, his partner almost as good looking as him. They asked you a few questions about one of the regulars that went missing. You remember thinking to yourself there was no way a FBI agent looked this good.  After their questioning they stayed for a few drinks.  The one with the green eyes complimented your ACDC shirt “You a big fan of classic rock?”

“Absolutely.” You talked to the stranger a little longer but once they finished their drinks they left.

You made you way to your car that night, thinking of that green eyed stranger. It was a short walk and you always carried a pocket knife for safety so you were never overly worried.  That is until you got a sinking feeling that someone was following you, throwing a quick glance over your shoulder, you see a shadowy figure walking about ten feet behind you.  You fumble with your keys a bit and quicken your pace.  You chance looking back once more and when you do the figure is gone. You take the blessing and turn to hurry to your car only to run into a hard surface when you turn. It’s Joe one of the bar regulars, he could get a little handsy around last call but usually he was harmless.

“Holy shit Joe, you scared the shit out of me.” Pepper spray still in hand you aren’t risking anything, Joe always did get a little handsy when he was drunk. You side step him to continue to your car.  His hand on your wrist, stopping you. “C’mon Joe, I tired and have class early tomorrow I don’t really have time to chat.”

Except when you finally turn you realize that it’s not Joe, not really him.  This thing has fangs and is about to attack you. Before you can react it’s head goes flying.  You let out a blood curdling scream before a hand is placed over your mouth and you hear a hushing noise.  “I’m not going to hurt you, just don’t scream.”  This voice is deep and velvet, it’s the voice of the FBI agent from earlier.

He looks from you to the back door, silently signaling you to head that way. You nod leading him through the back door.  Once safe inside you lock the door and head straight to the bar, grabbing a bottle Captain Morgan taking a swig straight from the bottle.  The agent just looks at you, his expression is unreadable. “You want some?” you reach out to hand him the bottle.

He shakes his head letting out a small laugh. “uh no thanks I’m more of a whiskey guy.” You just shrug your shoulders and take another gulp, then another.

After you chug a good tenth of the bottle you finally sit across a table from each other “What the fuck is going on.” You can feel the tears start to form, your adrenalin wearing off.

His jade eyes search yours causing your breath to hitch in your throat.  He looked more attractive now in his flannel and leather than he did earlier, if that was even possible. Then he told you about all the things that went bump in the night.  He was surprised you didn’t go running for the hills or call him crazy. “You are taking this really well, almost too well.” His deep voice filled the room his tone wasn’t accusatory more surprised.

“I mean I guess your right; I should be freaked out but I don’t know… I’m just not, I always had a feeling there was some weird shit out there.” You couldn’t really explain why you weren’t freaked out but you just weren’t. “So you and your brother just travel around hunting this stuff?” You ask as you head to the bar grabbing a whiskey neat for him and a Captain and Coke for yourself.

He is still looking at you reading you carefully. “Yea, we do. Hey maybe we are the crazy ones.”  You hand him the drink “thank you” he shoots you a quick smile before downing the drink.

You follow suit, when you finish you can feel the warmth from the rum start to spread through out your body.  “So is your name really Dean?”

“Yes, Dean Winchester…” before he can finish his sentence the is a loud noise coming from the door. You are both on your feet in an instant, Dean stands in front of you as if to shield you from what might come in. The way he is standing there, gun in hand makes you have thoughts that you definitely shouldn’t be having right now. Pulling you from your thoughts a tall man enters the door, the tall man from earlier. “And that is my brother Sam, who I almost shot because he thinks it smart to come in a back door after a vampire attacked you.” You see Sam shoot Dean an award winning bitch face.

“Nice to see you to Dean. Don’t worry I am doing ok; I didn’t get hurt or anything.”  He is giving his brother serious bitch face until he notices the empty glasses in front of you and Dean. “Couldn’t wait and make sure I was ok first.” He gestures to the glasses.

“Hey the lady needed to calm down.”  Dean shrugs off his brother turn back to you. “Did you get the rest of them?”

“What… wait your saying there is more than one of those things here?” You interject causing both brothers to look at you. 

“Uh- yea there usually is a whole nest of them.” Sam looks at you as if that was something you should have known.  He turns his gaze back towards his brother “No- I didn’t even get to their nest they could be anywhere or anyone.” 

Sam and Dean exchange a glance and look back at you, Dean clears his throat. “We uh- we should stay with you.  When a vampire gets someone’s scent they can hold on to it forever and may come after you. You can come back to our motel if you’d like.”

You let out a quite laugh “Is this real? Or like some really weird pick up to get a girl to come back to your place?” You’re half joking but everything seemed so surreal… how could this be your life? Just this morning your greatest concern was paying rent and graduating college.

Sam looks a little offended but Dean just smirks. “Oh I wouldn’t need a pick-up line.”

You took a pause, probably a little too long. It looked like Sam was going to say something but you stop him. “Listen I figure if you two were going to murder me you would have done it by now.” You let out a labored sigh. “That being said I don’t know what your motel is like but I have a two-bedroom apartment and a lot of booze so if it was ok with you two I would rather we go back to my place.” 

The brothers look at each other silently communicating before Dean looks back at you. “Sounds good to me sweetheart.”

After locking up again the brothers follow you back to your apartment, it is nearly six in the morning and you can see the sunlight start to peak through the darkness. Before you go upstairs Sam says he needs to make a supply run and you give him an extra key and let him know which apartment is yours. Dean follows you to your door, when you open your door instantly you regret not cleaning up earlier. Dean looks around and you feel a blush creep up. “If I knew I was going to be attacked by vampires and have two strangers come in I would have cleaned up a little.”

Dean lets out a laugh “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ve been in a lot worse.”

You make a beeline to the kitchen, Dean following like a puppy. “I don’t know about you but I could use a breakfast drink.” With out waiting for him to respond you grab two glasses and your bottle of Captain Morgan, filling both glasses. “I know you’re strictly beer and whiskey but I only got the Captain here, so you’ll have to deal with it.”

“I think I can handle it Sweetheart.” You click glasses and down your drink, Dean following suit. When you finish Dean sends another smirk your way.  You can’t tell if it’s the way he is looking at you or the liquor that is causing the warm sensation that was over coming you.

You were never a bold person, you can only attribute of what happened next to liquid courage. You walk around the island, reaching up grabbing the collar of Dean’s shirt and pulling his lips to yours.  No words were exchanged, you both move together with ease.  You lead him to the couch and push his shirt off, god he looked great.  You both undress leaving a flurry of clothes in your wake.

You and Dean moved as if you done this a million times before and he made you feel things you never felt before.  After everything was said and done you laid on Dean with only the blanket you kept on you couch covering the both of you.  You nuzzle into Dean’s side “I’m not too sure how this happened, but I’m not complaining.” You let out a soft giggle. 

Dean’s squeezes you a little and lets out a long sigh. “I’m not either” He leans forward placing a kiss on the top of your head. You tilt your head and your lips meet his.  When you deepen the kiss you move so you’re sitting on his lap, nothing between the two of you.  You can feel him start to get hard again, his erection pressing against your opening.

Just as you readjust yourself, giving him access Sam barges in using the key you gave him earlier. Until now he was forgotten about. “Seriously, I only left you two alone for an hour.” Sam turns away as you lean forward against Dean’s chest to hide.  This movement sends a tingling sensation through your body, as he hits your sensitive spot.  You stifle a moan into his shoulder.

“Uh we are a little busy here Sammy, come back in twenty” Dean calls over his shoulder, you lightly shake your head no. “Actually make that forty.”

Sam just shakes his head “Ill just stay back at the motel, we will regroup later.” Before either of you can respond he is gone.

That morning with Dean was damn near perfect, he fucked you until you both were exhausted.  The next night he and Sam took out the nest and you knew that meant he would leave, the only thing you would have was the memories he gave you.  You met the brothers at a local diner expecting this to be goodbye. You are surprised when Dean ask if you would be ok if he stayed back for a week while Sam got a car and went to visit friend in California, he said he needed a vacation and North Carolina is as good as any.  You tried to hold in your excitement and you agreed he could stay with you.  

The first few days were spent together in bed, tangled in sheets.  It was there Dean asked you a very important question “So don’t get me wrong sweetheart this is amazing, spending these last few days with you but I think its time I take you on a proper date.”  

Even though it wasn’t posed as a question his tone suggested it was, you were shocked.  Its not like you randomly hooked up with guys, hell this was the first time but you were pretty sure this wasn’t how it went.  You weren’t complaining though and you agreed to the date. 

The next morning Dean was gone but he left a note. “Wear this, I will pick you up at 7.”  You quickly tear into the box that is under the note, opening in and reveal a gorgeous red dress.  You check your phone and see it is already close to two o’clock, damn he really wore you out.  You jump up taking a shower, shaving, moisturizing.  After the shower you do your make-up and curl your hair. Before you put on your dress you go to you closet, deep in the back and pull out sexy underwear combo you never wore.  You decide this will be a nice surprise for him and pull your red dress over it. You look at the clock and can’t believe how long it took you to get ready it is six thirty already, you quickly pull on your pedant you always wear, the one from your grandmother.  

You wait patiently until you hear his knock at the door.  You open the door and there stands Dean, black pants and a dark gray button up. His normally disheveled hair is smooth down and you can instantly feel your legs go weak. While you were enjoying the view of him he took in your beauty.   

The ride to the restaurant was uneventful except a few thunder claps off in the distance. When you arrive Dean parks the car getting out and open the door for you, then grabbing your hand to help you out. “Such a gentleman.” You coo and kiss him on the cheek.  You can see he is hiding a blush but you decided to not tease him about it.

I wasn’t until you two are seated, a soft tune of Marvin Gaye playing in the background and each with a glass of wine that he speaks. “So I’m- I am not use to dates like this, I don’t know if you can tell.” He lets out a quite laugh. “But I have to tell you, you look amazing and you in that red dress could bring any man to his knees.” 

As you sip your wine trying to not blush. “Thank you, I guess you just have great taste in picking out dresses.” 

You and Dean enjoy your dinner talking about any and everything.  He tells you how he always wanted to travel but his fear of airplanes stops him and that’s why he doesn’t mind driving for hunting.  He tells you how he loves hunting things and saving people but sometimes he wishes for more.  You shared with him how you became obsessed with finishing school so you wouldn’t end up like the rest of your family, poor. You inform him that there is no such thing as a perfect childhood and yours was far from it.  You let it slip that you never had an instant connection with someone else like him before, you are usually a guarded person who puts up walls.

You were so into your conversation with Dean that neither one of you realized it was pouring until you were out front of the restaurant.   You at Dean realizing how upset he was “Great now a perfectly good date is ruined.”

You laugh “It’s not ruined; it is the perfect ending.” You quickly remove your shoes and placing them down and run into the rain arms spread wide.  You can’t tell if he is looking at you with admiration or thinks your crazy but you decided you don’t care; you do a few twirls, completely drenched by the rain. “So you just gonna let a girl dance all by herself?”

As if he was waiting for you to ask he makes his way towards you, a bit hesitant. As he gets closer you see the small smile playing at his lips.  He reaches for you placing his hands on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck.  He hums a tune and the two of you dance in the dark under September stars in the pouring rain.  

Dean is smiling and lets out a laugh when he twirls you, it is a sound you could never get tired of. When you’re soaking wet you grab your shoes and make you way to the impala.  Dean lays a blanket down to protect baby’s interior.  The two of you laugh manically and try to regain your composure. You lock eyes with Dean, as your breathing begins to normalize.  Your heart rate is quickening and you get butterflies in your stomach.  You know he is going to kiss you but that still doesn’t prepare you when he does.

His tongue slips inside your mouth, gentle but demanding, and it’s nothing like you’ve ever experienced, and you suddenly understand why people describe kissing as melting because every square inch of your body dissolves into his. Your fingers grip his hair, pulling him closer. You have never wanted anyone like this before. Ever. He pushes you backward and you’re lying down on the soft blanket. You are in a pretty dark parking lot but you don’t care if you’re seen.

You feel nothing but his calloused hands as the run themselves all over your body.  Dean pulls away for a moment looking you in the eyes for permission, you nod granting his request.  The windows are fogged from the heavy breathing.  His lips are back on your lips in mere moments, his right hand finds your breast and he begins to squeeze gently.  

You can feel his hardness as it presses against you, he grinds into you a little and you let out a soft moan into his lips. This time you are the one who pulls away. “I need you, Dean. I need you now.” His eyes are black with lust.  Your words were all the fuel he needed, he unzips your dress pulling it over your head and discarding it in the back seat.  

He takes one look at you in the black lingerie you picked out and you can practically feel him devouring you with his eyes. “Damn sweetheart you look amazing.” His voice is deeper than normal, if that is even possible.   

He stays like that for a moment taking you in. “Are you going to just look at me or are you going to fuck me Dean?” 

Surprised but also turned on by your crass phrasing he is instantly on your neck nibbling and placing kisses. He is taking his time which is great but also torturous. He hits your sweet spot causing you to moan and arch into him.  The rain is hitting the impala in sheets and the sound is the perfect soundtrack. Dean managed to pull his pants and boxers down to his thighs and his erection stands tall and free.   

You could never tire seeing him naked, he is the most attractive man you’ve ever seen and also the biggest.  You’ve never hooked up in public before and even though you are certain no one will see the excitement of it all could make you cum before you even get started.  One swift moment and Dean worked his way to your breast, kneading them softly.  He brings his mouth to your nipple giving it a light suck.  “Dean stop teasing; I need you inside me.” You are breathless but yearn to have him fill you.  

“If you insist.” He laughs slightly, grabbing your panties with both hands and tearing them off you. “Ill just have to buy you a new pair.” Sliding his fingers down your dripping fold he lets out a moan. “Your so wet already baby.” His words send a tingling through your body, he takes the same hand and wraps it around his member giving it a few pumps.  He aligns himself at your entrance and pushes just a little, he always gives you a moment to adjust. You rub your hands down his back communicating for him to continue. He pushes until he fills you completely and stays that way just long enough to lean down and kiss you. This kiss is different, it’s more passionate.  He starts rock in and out of you, setting his pace. “You feel so good baby, like you were made for me.” 

He always knew the right thing to say.  It wasn’t until his thumb made its way to your clit rubbing small circle did you feel it… It was inevitable, he made your toes curl.  You aren’t ready for it yet.  You put to hands on his chest pushing him gently signaling to him you want to change it up.  Like he is reading your mind he places an arm around the small of your back, bringing himself to a seated position, all with out pulling out. This time it is you who initiates the kiss as you roll your hips grinding into him.  You bring your knees up to the side of his thighs and use the leverage and begin to take control, lifting yourself up and down.  Dean runs his hands down your back resting them on your ass as you bounce.  The space between you filled with the sound of skin hitting skin and both of your moans.  You can feel that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach and you know you don’t have long.  You look at Dean knowing he isn’t too far behind you.  “I’m so close Dean, cum with me baby.” On command it hits you hard, you can feel yourself tense around him as he cums inside you.

Dean stays inside you well after you both ride out your orgasm, when he finally moves its to kiss you and gentle lift you off his lap.  He uses the blanket to clean you both off and puts your dress back on. The drive back to your apartment was silent bliss, replaying what just happened.

That week with Dean flew by and before you knew it it was his last day before he had to leave.  You laid next to him on the beach, just cuddled to his side, head resting on his chest.  The slight rise and fall of his chest calming you. You never planned to become this attached to him, you figured it would be a fun fling.  Neither one of expected to feel this way about each other.

“Dean, I have to tell you something… but I’m afraid it will scare you away.” You break the silence deciding to open up to him.  You look up from his chest meeting his eyes.

He smiles kissing your forehead “You can tell me anything sweetheart.” 

“I know this sounds crazy… believe me I’m not this type of person but this last week has been amazing. I think I’m really falling for you.” You inhale deeply, your heart rate racing.

Dean just looks down at you smiling. “If I never get to see the Eiffel Tower at night, if all I got is your hand in my hand…Baby, I could die a happy man. Y/N, I know what you mean, this time spent with you has been some of the best in my life.  I wish I could stay with you forever…” He trails off and looks at the waves as the crash against the shore.  “You know; I’ve never been to the beach before.  This is my first time, I never thought I would see one. My lifestyle isn’t really conducive with vacations… it isn’t conducive with a lot of things, like relationships either.”  You know he is refusing to make eye contact.  

You sit up turning his chin so he is looking you in the eyes “Listen, I know about your life and how dangerous it is but I’m not gonna miss a chance at happiness because you are scared to try.” You lean in kissing him softly. “You deserve to at least try and if it doesn’t work out then so be it, so hush and let’s enjoy our last day together. We will think about the rest tomorrow.”  Dean listen to your instruction and wraps his arms around you, thinking to himself what would be the harm in trying.

*** Cassie, this is amazing!! You caught the emotion so well ... pretty sure your smut is better than mine!! Good job sweets!

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