that came unexpected

don’t mind me I’m just over here getting emotional about Sourcery and how most of the people Rincewind meets in the book for longer than five seconds is trying to be someone else

from Conina the born warrior who wants to be a hairdresser to Nijel the spindly awkward grocer’s son who wants to be a hero to Creosote the seriph without an ounce of poetic talent who wants to be the poet

and Rincewind, of course, the wizard who can’t do magic, but who insists that he’s a wizard anyone, and he’s the one who says, “It’s vital to remember who you really are. It’s very important. It isn’t a good idea to rely on other people or things to do it for you, you see. They always get it wrong.”

and he says this to a small boy who has never been allowed an identity of his own bc all his life his father’s been training him to take part in his quest for vengence

and like, none of them end up exactly where they want to be, but equally importantly, none of them surrender who they really are, either

wanting to be something doesn’t always make it happen but not being it yet doesn’t mean it won’t ever happen, either

wanting is a start, it gets you somewhere, and it’s up to you to go the rest of the way


Showtime’s Penny Dreadful came to an unexpected end with the abrupt conclusion of the Season 3, but the story will continue as an ongoing comic book series from Titan Comics. The first issue will be released on April 5.

Written by the series’ co-executive producer Chris King, the comic takes place six months after the events of Penny Dreadful’s Season 3. It features art by Jesús Hervás and color by Jason Wordie.

Ethan Chandler finds himself unable to move on. As he searches desperately for meaning in a world without Vanessa, ancient words echo across the centuries, and he is called on once again to take up arms against the creatures crawling out of the night!

Penny Dreadful #1 has six variant covers to collect, with artwork from Stephen Mooney, Louie De Martinis, Shane Pierce, and Rob Davis, plus two photo covers with Billie Piper and Eva Green.


Mrs Hudson is retired, but her last gig, bringing down the man her cover married in 1964, came with unexpected complications – Mr Mycroft Holmes’ brother. On Lady Smallwood’s request she lets the young man move in to her building to keep tabs on him. When the boy flings himself off a roof, Mrs Hudson leaves retirement to help Lady Smallwood bring down Moriarty’s web.

lillifred asked for lady smallwood x mrs hudson

lostwithoutmyanchor  asked:

The prompt I mentioned: Maybe Steter - meeting online in a supernatural forum/chat. maybe AU meeting first time or somewhere in canon and them not realising who the other is.

Thank you @ssree for proofing and for listening to me whine about this one for this long. Because people, this one was a nightmare and I’m never ever doing something like this again T.T

Right, wrong and everything in between.

Peter supposes that as a baby, there must have been some moments when it happened, but as far as his memories go, he can’t actually remember a time in his life when he was truly happy. He came too late, too unexpected, too different, and his parents, who were thinking about retirement in a couple of years or three at the most and an easy life where their toughest choice would be whether they wanted whipped cream with their pancakes or not, never were able to forget that he was the reason they couldn’t do that. Which Peter resents quite a bit, mind you, because it’s not like they didn’t do it anyway, pawing him off to Talia again and again.

And Peter guesses that he wouldn’t have minded if Talia had cared for him beyond an abstract sense of responsibility towards her family, if she hadn’t been barely a teenager (and later an adult, when Peter would finally stop trying) that didn’t want to be saddled with a baby brother when she had other more important things to worry about like school, her boyfriend, her cheerleader competitions, college, her marriage, alphahood, her pregnancy.

(But never Peter).

And so, what Peter remembers about his childhood is the burn of disappointmentpainanger when he’d try his best to be the ideal son (perfect grades, medals at competitions, always helpful, tidy, calm), and it only seemed to earn him the opposite effect when they left him even more alone. Needless to say, he stopped being a child pretty early and by the time Laura came along and he suddenly was expected to help take care of her because she was a precious baby that needed to be loved (what’s wrong with you Peter?), he had developed a hide thick enough to not rage inside about the double standards.

Except they’re paying attention to him now and Peter feels about to burst out of his own skin.

They’ve made him what he is. He’s a neat freak, an obsessive perfectionist, a cynic, a sarcastic shit. He’s loyal but distant, he’s dependable but vicious, he’s smart but devious. Everything he is is a direct result of their actions but they keep asking what’s wrong with you Peter?

It was their choice to make him the enforcer too (theirs, always theirs) and at the time Peter stupidly thought that maybe he had found his place finally, that such a position in the pack would earn him recognition (instead of the love he used to want, but that’s fine, because he stopped wanting it a long time ago) and respect. Or shouldn’t they be grateful that Peter keeps the pack safe at the very least?

(Apparently, even after all these years teaching him better, Peter still hasn’t learned. Shame on him.)

He comes back breathless and shaking from exhaustion after taking on a witch that wouldn’t heed Talia’s warnings about leaving their territory and they look at him and ask what’s wrong with you Peter? An omega tries to trespass and Derek is on his way, so Peter does what he must, leaving the kid covered in blood by accident but otherwise unharmed, and they ask what’s wrong with you Peter? And it can’t be said that Peter doesn’t learn from his mistakes, because he steps back and dials it down a notch, but they still ask what’s wrong with you Peter?

And so, he feels cornered because their eyes are on him at all times -and why the hell did he wish for their attention before? It’s unbearable!- and nothing he tries seems to be the correct answer. Because either he’s too vicious or too soft, either he’s too violent or too inefficient, but neither of those or anything in between is the right option and it’s driving him insane.

And Peter is a neat freak, an obsessive perfectionist and a cynic. He’s distant, vicious and devious! But he’s also loyal and dependable, and, above all, smart and knows himself enough to know that he’s almost at the breaking point and he might do something he will regret later, so he leaves.

(Because shortcomings apart, they’re still family, they’re still pack, they’re still his, for the better or the worse.)

Which is why he’s sitting on a swing at a park downtown, almost at the edge of town, contemplating his options. Because the reality of it is that if he leaves, he’ll become an omega unless he finds another pack that will take him in. In normal circumstances, Peter knows he would have been able to prove his worth, but with the pull Talia has, who would dare take him in and go against her? Peter’s lips pull into a snarl, because he himself is partly to blame for that. While Talia has gained a lot of respect for her ability to perform a full shift and her upfront way of dealing with the problems that come her way, Peter is the one she’s sent into the shadows to do the dirty work for her when her method failed, effectively cementing her image as a powerful alpha. So, essentially, Peter has made his own bed and now has to lie in it.

A hand comes into his direct line of vision and Peter startles, instantly on guard, because he never heard anyone approach, and he should have, no matter how distracted he was. He frowns suspiciously when it turns out that the hand belongs to a five (maybe six, he does look around Cora’s age) year old kid that’s handing him some gummy bears with a face devoid of any emotion. Whatever his age is, it’s way too late for a kid this small to be out at this hour of the night, Peter notices, but then he remembers his own childhood and keeps silent.

“What’s your name?” The little boy squeaks suddenly, hand still extended towards him. “Because dad says I can’t speak to strangers but if you tell me your name then you won’t be a stranger anymore and then I won’t be talking to a stranger and breaking the rules anymore.”

“Peter,” he answers blinking before he can think of it, too thrown off by the speed of the kid’s speech. “And I don’t really think it works that way, kid.”

“Hi, Peter, nice to meet you,” the kid continues unfazed, reaching to shake his hand and leaving the gummy bears behind when they unclasp hands.

The boy nods self-satisfied, as if having remembered to fulfill the social niceties is a success for him, and then he proceeds to hop onto the free swing beside Peter. It takes him three tries to actually achieve that but Peter manages to keep a straight face despite feeling his lips wanting to twitch. Then he tries to sway but he’s too short and his feet don’t reach the ground, and finally Peter snorts softly and reaches to give him enough momentum to be able to swing by himself as he sticks one of the gummy bears in his mouth.

“Thanks, sir,” the kid chirps.

The boy continues swinging silently for the next five minutes and Peter honestly doesn’t know why he doesn’t leave, because if someone finds him with an escaped kid in the middle of the night there’s going to be hell to pay. And an escapee he is, of that Peter has no doubt. More over, this is not the first time he’s done this either because he’s way too calm about being alone in the dark and too prepared, which tells Peter even more about him, because he remembers doing the same when he was a little older than this boy, and knows the difference between hiding and “hiding”. And the kid is hiding for sure. He’s not trying to manipulate his parents emotionally by disappearing on them, he really doesn’t want to be found and has come accordingly prepared to last all night. He has somewhat warm clothes, food, drinks and has chosen a secluded park where no one will think to look for him, but secure enough that if something happens he has a lot of places to hide and a 24h fast food joint just across the street where he can ask for help if he needs to.

(Smart kid.)

A normal person would call the police. Peter, who thinks more of whatever the kid may have left behind, who can see himself in him and knows that some kids aren’t really kids and can take care of themselves, doesn’t.

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

They sit in silence for a bit and Peter tries to think about his own situation but his mind is blank. For the first time in his life he doesn’t know what to do and now that the anger that had pushed him before has burned out, he just feels numb. He rubs his forehead tiredly and sighs. The little boy, who had let the momentum die a while ago and now was just content swinging his own legs, as if he couldn’t keep still, reaches to place his backpack on his lap and then rummages inside until he seems to find what he’s looking for. He takes a batman tupper out and offers its contents to Peter after a little hesitation. Peter declines and the kid shrugs and starts eating himself. Then he blinks, stops and reaches to pass Peter the rest of his gummy bears. Peter’s lips twitch involuntarily and he takes the offered treat with a murmured thanks.

Much later, he hears a car coming down the road and looks in that direction, pondering if he should warn his little companion or not. Noticing his attention is elsewhere, the kid blinks at him quizzically.

“Car,” he murmurs finally making up his mind, and if he had any doubts about the boy’s situation, they get completely erased when he springs from the swing and hurriedly runs inside one of those domes with a lot of holes that Peter has never bothered to learn the name of. “Well,” he sighs and goes after him, because why the hell not at this point? It’s not like he wants to have to answer to any questions if it’s a patrol car, after all.

It’s a tight fit and the boy is looking at him very intensely now, as if he’s trying to understand why would an adult hide, because he probably thinks what every kid thinks, that adults don’t have to respond to anyone and can do whatever they want. But he seems like a very smart boy, so maybe he thinks Peter is a criminal? In any case, whatever he’s thinking, it’s obvious he makes up his mind about it quite quickly, though, because he looks inside his backpack again and passes a bag of chips to Peter before going back to his own food.

“Well,” Peter sighs again, because this is a new low for him. He was supposed to be on his way to a new life and instead he’s hiding with a five-maybe-six year old kid at a park in the middle of the night and eating said kid’s provisions too.

He opens the bag anyway.

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

He looks at the boy’s tupper absently and ponders about it. Peter has never had one of those, his have always been generic. For his birthday he would get clothes or practical (impersonal) things, always hastily bought items when they finally remembered his birthday must have already passed because it was November already. This boy has a batman hoodie with batman pajamas and shocks underneath and a batman tupperware. The clothes look slightly small on him and the tupper is on the small side too. Maybe he’s reading too much into it, but he’d bet that things started to change at home when those still fit him.

Peter wonders which is worse, not having ever been loved by family or having known the feeling and then losing it.

His phone rings and he sighs. He considers not picking up, but then he admits to himself that if he really was going to leave, he would have already done so by now and wouldn’t be lingering around. He picks up.

After he hangs up, he closes his eyes and just concentrates on his breathing for a minute. When he opens them again, the kid is looking at him and there’s something like recognition in his eyes. Peter takes off his red hoodie to drap it over his little shoulders when he catches a shiver running through his small frame and then turns to leave without a backwards glance.

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

He sighs and then sticks his head inside again. “Listen, kid,” he starts and then bites his lip. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Whatever is happening to you, it’s not your fault. They’re the adults that should be taking care of you and there’s nothing more you have to do but be the way you are, ok?” The boy is not breathing, Peter can tell. His eyes are almost impossibly wide and his hands are clenched around the tupper. “There’s nothing wrong with you, ok?


“No,” Peter cuts him implacably. Because the kid could be a devil for all he knows, but if at five-maybe-six he’s so skilled at hiding, at escaping his own home, and police aren’t swarming the streets after the almost two hours they’ve been here, whatever is wrong is not his fault. “There’s nothing wrong with you.

There’s a pause and the boy finally unclenches his hands. He swallows forcibly and for a second his eyes don’t leave Peter’s.

“There’s… nothing wrong with me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Exactly,” Peter nods as he turns to leave. “Take care, kid, and don’t forget that.”

“Peter?” He looks back towards the boy and finds himself caught by eyes that know more than they should. “There’s nothing wrong with you either, right?”

“I-yes,” he stutters caught off guard before taking a deep breath and regaining his footing. “There’s nothing wrong with me either, kid.”

“Ok,” the boy nods and Peter suddenly remembers how to breathe. “Goodbye, Peter.”

And so Peter leaves and goes to search for Cora, who isn’t in her bed and no one has seen her since the movie night ended half an hour ago. He finds her “hiding”, apparently sulking (and not just a little frightened about being alone in the middle of the night despite her thunderous scowl) because she’s grounded for pushing one of her classmates to get a toy she wanted, grabs her by the ear and takes her home.

Things don’t get any better on the family front after that, but Peter doesn’t care anymore. He’s still a neat freak, an obsessive perfectionist, a cynic, a sarcastic shit. He’s still loyal, distant, dependable, vicious, smart and devious, but there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. So when Talia tells him to take care of this or that threat, he does it and doesn’t care about the looks he earns for his methods. And when she orders him to take care of the Paige issue (because she’s always the white queen and Peter has to be the black knight), he does so without contemplations, and when they ask what’s wrong with you, Peter? afterwards, he says nothing, which will always be is his shameless answer no matter what happens onwards.

If the closest he can get to happiness is by achieving mental peace, Peter will take it and be, well, happy.

And then he’s on fire, everything is on fire, the pain is unbearable and it just won’t stop. At some point, when he can’t feel anything anymore and the screams have died, he briefly wonders if the kid had more luck than him before he welcomes the blessed darkness that closes down on him.

There are intruders in the house and it’s Peter’s job to stop them but the pain is unbearable and everything is in burning hot agony and Peter can’t move. Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop. Peter can’t stand it, Peter can’t move, Peter is being dragged away, Peter can’t protect his pack.

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

Peter screams and screams. The remaining pack bonds stretch thinner and thinner and thinner and thinner. They snap. He howls. He tries to grasp them but they slip through his fingers like sand. He howls and howls and howls.

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

Peter is trapped, he can’t move, he’s alone, defenseless, vulnerable. He rages and screams and howls but no sound comes out of his mouth. He wants to rip, to avenge but he’s useless and his pack is dead.

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

Peter will tear them apart, he will. And he will enjoy every second of it. His fangs will bite into flesh, his claws will tear into them, and he will make them feel every ounce of pain tenfold. One by one he will hunt them down and he will make them regret ever thinking of hurting his pack. Hurtful and dismissive and infuriating, but his. His and no one else’s. They will pay for taking them from him dearly.

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)


For the first time in years he can move. The window is open and he surges through it. His legs give out and he grunts upon impact. He forces them to support his weight and pushes himself until he reaches the edge of the woods. The earthy smells assault his nose and the soft sounds of the forest fill his ears. He howls at the moon, high, high in the sky.

(No answer comes.)

Peter resists the temptation to rip the woman’s throat out and goes towards the woods instead. It’s a near thing but for now he needs her, so he can’t teach her how wrong she is for treating him like a dog that needs to be let out to take a piss at night. It will eventually come to that but he will wait until his skin stops feeling like cracking leather, until he doesn’t stumble every few steps because his muscles are still atrophied, until his lungs don’t protest at every effort he makes.

Peter dreams about it, though. Vividly. Her shocked face when she realizes that she has chewed more than she can swallow, her panicked breaths as she tries to flee, her choked screams as his claws tear into her.

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

For now he has more important things to concentrate, though, since he has some murderers to hunt down and a pack to avenge. Besides, he has all the time to teach her why prey can’t play with predators after she has outlived her usefulness.

A month passes and he has yet to kill his nurse, who still treats him like a dog, who still acts like she has the upper hand, who still thinks that she will get what she wants. So, so stupid, but she’s still surprisingly useful for now so he ignores it. Instead, Peter digs and digs until he finds the ones responsible for the fire.

All things considered, it’s disgustingly easy. He gets his hands on all the reports and news articles on the fire, and he comes to a clear conclusion: someone either bribed the ones responsible for writing them or they doctored the evidence before the officials arrived.

It gives him a place to start in any case.

He tracks down one of the culprits to a seedy bar on the outskirts of town. It doesn’t take him very long to ascertain that the man is drinking in an effort to drown the guilt he feels for having participated on the whole thing, even if he only faked the information in the report.

Humans are funny things. The man wishes to atone for his sins so much that he even wants to die, but when faced with the real possibility of dying, he fights tooth and nail to survive. Which suits Peter just fine, because he wants to make them experience the terror, the helplessness and the pain his pack felt along with the asphyxiating certainty of defeat in the end.

He directs the terrified man to where he wants him and then he even lets him have some advantage before he gives chase. Peter makes him run for hours until the man lets himself drop in exhaustion to the ground, now too tired, too certain of his imminent death that he can’t care anymore. Peter makes him care once more and then, only then, tears into him, pacing himself to make it last. Ultimately, the man dies of shock, his heart giving out, rather than because of the wounds Peter inflicts on him.

With the information he got out of that man, he tracks down a bigger prey, one that participated directly in lighting his house on fire. He learned his lesson from his first prey and knows to push him only so far before getting his hands on him. When he tires of the chase, he bites into his ankles so he drops to the ground with a scream, his tendons ripped and unable to run anymore. If the man wants to move he’ll have to crawl, but before he makes it anywhere he’ll die of bloodloss. That certainty is so, so sweet… but still not enough. Every new sound Peter extracts out of him is as satisfying as the last one and he only laments that he can’t get more out of him, that his fragile human body breaks so quickly under his hands. He’ll do better next time, but for now he’s satisfied with having extracted more names from him before he lost his voice.

Then, one day, Laura appears and whatever good remains from the Peter from before the fire suffers a swift death just then when he realizes that it wasn’t that he had been left packless because everyone had died, but because he had been abandoned; when he learns that she’s only back because the news of the killings had reached her (the markings he instructed his nurse to leave on the animals to draw the ultimate culprits out calling her instead), not because she had finally come back for Peter.

He suspects it never even crossed her mind, just like with Talia a long time ago. But what did he expect? She (they, all of them) was taught that way, made that way just like Peter was made by them. But Peter learned from his mistakes so Laura will too?

What’s wrong with you, Peter?“ She asks horrified when he tells her why he killed those men, and then she refuses to avenge the pack. “I’m the alpha,” she growls. “I forbid you to continue.”

Peter blacks out for a moment. When he comes back to himself, he feels nothing at the sight of his dead niece. Some part of him is vaguely dissapointed that it doesn’t feel cathartic in some way that his claws took her life for her transgressions but, honestly, he feels nothing besides the need to scoff at the look of surprise and betrayal that will be permanently engraved on her face.

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

Peter is stronger, faster, more powerful than he has ever been! It’s an exhilarating and euphoric feeling and he can’t have enough of it.

But he can get even better if he gets his own pack and since Peter has always been a firm believer of taking advantage of the opportunities that rise around him, there’s no time like the present. He lunges forward towards the boy -Pretty healthy if with a slightly weak-looking body. Smells a little like medicine, but unless he has some mental illness, the transformation will take care of it. If not, Peter will take care of him like a good alpha should, and teach him to use what he has. If he dies, he will try again.- and he doesn’t even get to scream before Peter’s teeth are sinking in his side.

The kid takes off running. Peter is very amused at the pup and entertains the thought of playing with him for a while, but he can hear people drawing near and it’s not like the teen won’t come when Peter beckons him tomorrow anyway, so he lets him slip away and returns to his hospital room even though he wants nothing less. However, since he wants the pleasure of seeing Kate Argent’s surprised face as he rips her throat out when she inevitably shows up, he’ll bear with it for now. Which, sadly, also means that he can’t get rid of his nurse either despite being self-sufficient again.

Well, they do say that what resists you is sweeter in the end.

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

Well, look at who decided to finally show up.

Derek has grown up a lot since he saw him last, about six years ago. Gone are the baby fat and the awkward limbs but the bunny teeth that Peter used to vaguely find somewhat adorable remain. Viciously, Peter wishes Talia was still alive to see her son, to see what her ways brought upon them, what her negligent teachings resulted in. A mediocre daughter that couldn’t even keep up with the most basic duty of an alpha (never leave a packmate behind) and a stupid son that trusted the hunter that killed them all, that’s what. And now said daughter is dead and said son doesn’t look capable enough to survive by himself. Peter really wishes he could bring his sister back from the dead to see, because this is ultimately her fault and it’s not fair that she got the easy way out as always.

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

He has the sudden urge to just gouge his nephew’s eyes out when they land on his scarred face and the nearly asphyxiating scent of despair and self-hate that clings to him threatens to overpower Peter’s sensitive nose. He can’t feel that remorseful if he’s showing up now, probably just because Laura has dropped out of the radar without warning.

He contains himself, but just barely. It helps that Derek merely stands there looking at him just for five minutes, making no move to speak, and then leaves. If he had tried to touch him, he doesn’t know if he’d been able to restrain himself. Peter doesn’t like to be touched nowadays. It’s more than enough that he has to bear with sponge baths, with being positioned here and there by complete strangers with no say whatsoever for the sake of keeping the farce up. If the touch wasn’t so clinical the walls would have been painted red a long time ago, and that may still happen if a certain nurse makes another crude joke about some parts of his anatomy.

Peter’s lips curl derisively for a second before he schools his face into a neutral expression once again. He lets his hands relax too when he notices he’s about to twist the metal of the wheelchair out of shape.

He wonders about what he should do about Derek. His first instinct is to kill him, of course, because Derek is not pack and is in his territory. Besides, instincts aside and on a more rational note, he doesn’t have any delusions about his dear nephew’s reaction when he finds out he killed Laura. And he will, that’s for sure, because they aren’t pack anymore (if they were, Peter would have felt the bond with Derek at the same time the alpha powers settled, but nothing was there until that boy’s bite took some hours ago and that fragile link sprouted to life), so there’s no way the alpha powers would have gone to Peter instead of Derek if she had died naturally, and he can’t sell someone else killing her and him taking revenge for her since he has already feigned still being comatose. However, after what he’s seen in the scant minutes he was here, Derek might actually welcome death as it will be the end of his suffering and Peter doesn’t want to give him the easy way out.

Choices, choices.

Well, Kate Argent is bound to appear soon and if Derek is here, she’ll be inclined to think it was him who killed those people. Leaving his nephew alive instead of killing him or driving him out of the territory might prove to be useful to keep her attention off Peter while he approaches her.

If he proves to be too troublesome, Peter can always change his mind at a later date, after all, and drive him out of the territory.

The boy comes only once, completely feral and out of control, and, of all things, tries to save the bus driver from Peter. He bats the unruly pup away (he doesn’t know better, after all) but in the end he has to leave because the boy is so out of it, so defensive, that to get what he wants he’d have to kill him and Peter doesn’t want that. And even though the need to rid the world of that scum that is cowering and smelling like urine is almost irresistible, it’s not worth the price right now. Besides, either the bus driver will die before help arrives or en route to the hospital, or he will end up not very far to Peter’s own room, and his nurse has to keep being useful unless she wants to become expendable, after all.

After that incident, the boy won’t come no matter how many times Peter calls. One part of him is peeved about the insubordination, but the other is reluctantly impressed because it demonstrates a great deal of the self-control that he lacked on their first encounter, so maybe he’s had luck this time.

Except it doesn’t take him too long to find out how wrong he is because he couldn’t have found a more asinine teenager even if he’d tried. He won’t submit, it looks like he resents being a werewolf despite all the advantages it has given him (he actually thinks of them as a compensation, which Peter finds pretty insulting, thank you very much) and, worst of all, he seems to share the same stupidity as Derek where the Argents are concerned. Peter would be able to work with that even if it’s not the best foundation to start from, but add to that his obtuse refusal to be taught to round it all up and it makes his first beta a perfect failure.

How disappointing.

Peter is reluctant about how to proceed, though. While he can’t afford to be weighted down by a liability, the boy is just a stupid pup, he doesn’t know better, and however fragile it might be, he’s pack, because that bond is still there. And Peter not only takes care of his messes -because this is undoubtedly his mess; a poor decision made hastily that he won’t repeat ever again, sure, but that resolution doesn’t change that it’s his responsibility to deal with it- but he takes care of his pack no matter how lacking they may be. It’s convoluted, he knows, but it’s how things work, how good alphas must be.

Still, not everything is a loss and the whole situation may be salvageable yet, because the boy with his wayward beta is certainly interesting and could prove to be the piece he’s missing to get his beta to come. With no apparent previous knowledge of the supernatural, he has managed to teach a newly turned wolf control to a certain degree, which is impressive. He also hasn’t chickened out even when faced with a feral werewolf, and that shows a loyalty that Peter values above anything else. Even better, he doesn’t seem afraid to do what’s necessary to keep his people safe, demonstrating a callousness that makes Peter giddy to see what he would be capable of if pushed.

All of which means that no matter how everything evolves, he can’t just take care of one Scott McCall even if he continues to refuse the bond and ends up breaking it completely (thus turning omega and not pack and not Peter’s responsibility anymore), as it will earn him a vengeful teenager with enough smarts to actually take him down. Again, a trait that he appreciates, but not aimed at him.

Well, if the worst comes to happen, there are hunters in town and Scott is dating the daughter of one, so Peter is sure that at one point or another, if he turns omega, he will cross a line and get himself killed and save Peter the trouble. He has patience in spades, he can wait.

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)


Kate Argent finally comes into town. Peter expected her to come into his hospital room and try something but she doesn’t. Peter doesn’t know if he’s disappointed or not about it, but part of him is relieved, because he knows that if she’d had the gall… And while it would have been an immensely satisfying thing, if anyone deserves Peter taking his sweet time to tear their world apart, it’s her.

In the meantime, Peter tracks down another cockroach of the ones that helped burn his pack alive and goes to pay him a visit. As his claws are tearing into him without contemplations, he catches a wiff of something that is not human in a terrified girl that witnesses the whole thing along with another boy, and he files it out as something to investigate at a later date. He leaves the mangled corpse behind in clear sight, hoping that it will drive the message to Argent. You can run, you can hide, but his is what will happen to you no matter how much you try to avoid it.

Anticipation is part of the game, after all.

But still, Kate is a dangerous animal and confusing her would be worthwhile (and also Peter could use a little less of police patrols going around, to be honest), so he catches a mountain lion and releases it on the parking lot of the school and watches from far away as chaos reigns.

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

He expected some kind of action from his wayward beta (prompted, no doubt, by Stiles), but being howled at to be lured at night to school is not precisely what he predicted. Nevertheless, he bites so to speak, and decides to make the most out of it and tricks the Argent girl into the school (maybe if she displays the common attitude of her family towards werewolves Scott will finally wake up?), getting the unexpected bonus of the boy and girl from the store, which is perfect, because he wanted to take a second look at her anyways.

It’s a very… revealing night, that’s for sure.

First, Lydia Martin is a banshee and she doesn’t know it, which can prove to be really useful for Peter at a later date if he plays his cards right. Second, that boy from the store has been scratched by a werewolf (either Derek or Scott, but Peter is pretty sure it was the former) and is exhibiting some kind of reaction to it. Third… he still cares at least a little bit for Derek, which is vexing to say the least.

By all means, Peter should have taken the chance to kill him on that parking lot but he simply incapacitated him. True, he hurt him quite a bit (that he cares about him doesn’t change the deep well of resentment he harbours, thank you very much) but he’ll recover from it given enough time. Why? Derek is proving to be more of a hindrance than anything else, because not only do the Argents already know that he’s not the alpha and are trying to use him to find Peter, but also, by the looks of it, he’s teaching all sorts of nonsense to Scott that couldn’t be more wrong. Which means that either Peter still cares about Derek or he still feels some kind of familiar duty towards his nephew. And he can’t deny this because when he’s shifted he acts more based on instinct, and he stayed away from vital organs… and it certainly wasn’t because he wanted to prolong his suffering.

All in all, Peter is left floundering a little because he has to re-evaluate his stance on this matter. However, before he can decide exactly about how to proceed, he gets found out.

“You must be Stiles,” he purrs, delighted to finally have a chance to asses Stiles’ intelligence in person without any intermediaries.

Except apart from an admittedly good self-preservation instinct, he doesn’t get to find out much because Derek intervenes.

(He sighs inwardly. Always so dramatic, his nephew.)

After the encounter, Peter abandons any semblance of subtlety and leaves the hospital entirely. He has managed to convince Derek that he killed Laura without recongnizing her. It’s a little stretch of the truth, because he obviously knew it was her, but it’s also true that he wasn’t in his right mind when he killed her and he’d have probably not done it if he was. In any case, there’s no way to prove it was otherwise and with the way he laid it out, Derek detected no lie, so Peter is pretty satisfied with the results.

While he waits for an opportunity to take Kate down, he does everything he can to make Scott accept the pack. Peter doesn’t think it will get him anywhere, to be honest, but it has the added bonus of acting as a test for Stiles to see if he will be a worthy beta, because it’s obvious that just winging it won’t work for a person with the kind of luck Peter has. Sadly, Scott is more than proof enough of that. He’s also sure that the only way to get Scott is to get Stiles, because they’re attached at the hip, but at this point he’ll be quite content with only getting the latter.

He tries to make Scott give up everyone in his life and Stiles metaphorically grabs at him and doesn’t let go. It also serves to make his beta stay away from the Argent girl, but sadly, it only makes Scott even more infatuated because of their forbidden love.

He asks Scott’s mother to a date, and the teen in question just gapes uselessly. Stiles crashes his jeep on Peter’s car to stop them from having said date. He nearly laughs delightedly right there.

Derek disappears, so Peter decides to kill two birds with one stone. He crashes their prom night both to attack Stiles’ date (because Peter always has backup plans) and to get Derek’s whereabouts out of him, and the teen bargains for her life, terrified but sure. He gives up a way to locate Derek through Scott’s phone, but Peter can see a plan already forming in his eyes, so he makes the teen go with him, because a person like Stiles can do a lot of damage out of sight, while Peter has control of the situation if he doesn’t leave him behind.

“Do you want the bite, Stiles?” Peter asks instead of simply taking it and the teen says no. He’s lying, he can tell, but Peter leaves anyway. He has more than enough time to convince him later.

(He doesn’t.)

That night, he finally manages to slit Kate Argent’s throat from side to side, so at least there’s that. Unlike with Laura, this time it does feel cathartic because even if he doesn’t get to tear stripe after stripe of skin out of her he can torture her with the prospect of losing her niece. -He instantly wishes he could revive Kate so he could kill her again, but this time drawing it out, just like she executed his pack (imperfect, neglectful, bastards most of the time, but ultimately his) agonizingly slow.- But drawing an apology from her provides nothing to Peter besides the pleasure of getting her to give something she didn’t want to give, so while she’s still conscious, he jumps at Allison, who is going to turn up like her aunt anyways, because that family is a poison like that.

In the end, he doesn’t have time to convince Stiles, after all. He ends up on fire and Derek tears his throat out without an ounce of hesitation, just like Peter did with Kate. The little and deeply buried part of him that didn’t want to kill Derek because it remembered dies a swift death, unlike Peter, who agonizes for a bit still on fire as he chokes on his own blood.

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

Getting one Lydia Martin to do what he wants shouldn’t be this easy, seeing the terrifying intelligence hidden under her almost too perfect strawberry blond curls, but it is. It helps that she’s mostly ignorant about the supernatural world and that Peter keeps her terrified enough not to get her footing back, he thinks, because he doubts it would be this easy if she wasn’t. As it is, though, it’s just as easy as getting information from her about what’s happening in Beacon Hills right now.

Part of him considers letting go for a moment, because so much stupidity is unbearable. Really? Peter had thought he had made a bad call biting Scott, but Derek is taking that to a whole new level. Then again, what can he expect? This is Talia’s teachings working their magic, after all. She had barely started training Laura, but she never even bothered with Derek, not even just in case something happened.

(Peter kinda hopes that the afterlife is a thing so that she’s watching.)

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

It’s not like he has any other options, though, because now that the ritual has started he has to finish it or face being stuck in this limbo of sorts for the rest of eternity or, with any luck, until this girl dies. And although with how things are progressing that doesn’t seem too far off in time, really, with Peter’s luck she’ll die and he’ll be haunting this place forever, so he better move things along before that happens.

His nephew’s horrified face almost makes it all worth the trouble and he nearly stays to gloat. Instead, he leaves for now. He’s already been left behind and killed by him once, and Peter always learns from his mistakes… or he tries to anyway, and he can tell that he’s weaker than he was before he was even the alpha, so right now he wouldn’t stand a chance if Derek tried to enact a kill uncle, take two.

He knows he can’t stay away from his alpha (his lips curl derisively against his will) for long, though. Not only he can’t afford to turn an omega right now, but his information about this ritual is limited (which is why he left it as a last resort), so for all he knows, it will unravel if he’s not near the alpha that brought him back and he’ll end up six feet under again and stuck in between. And while he doesn’t want to touch what’s going on in Beacon Hills right now with a ten foot pole, he’s gone through too much trouble to stay alive to let it go to waste. Besides, while he’s not as insane and hell bent on revenge as he was before dying -because there’s no doubt about that, he was completely crazy… so crazy, sloppy and out of control he wants to cringe- he still has a little of that feeling inside. Enough, in fact, to seize the opportunity to take care of more Argents if it wanders by and doesn’t pose a threat to his continued existence. Besides, staying alive as a big fuck you to the family that disdained his ways and ended up dying for not being more like him in the end is something he appreciates quite a bit too.

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

So, all in all, he has to depend on Derek for now until he can get himself an alpha to kill and regain his independence again. Which means he has to find out why Derek turned on him at the last minute. He’s not looking forward to that conversation now that he hasn’t the upper hand, that’s for sure.

But before that, he has to know what’s happening exactly to be able to play his cards right. Because as much as he knows the information he got from Lydia to be true, it’s also an incomplete and he hasn’t ever been one to rely on intel he hasn’t acquired by himself anyway.

So information gathering he goes… After getting a shower, clean clothes and a much needed haircut, of course, because he felt disgusting, thank you very much. Maggots and dirt is not a look he favours by any means, after all.

He gathers as much as he can before even contemplating coming back. From what he learns the Argent girl is as much of a psycho as her aunt (who called it? who?), Gerard Argent is the master of the kanima now and plotting something nefarious (nope, not worrying at all), Scott is double playing with him (which ratches up his decision to bite him right to the top of his not-a-good-call list because how can he be so stupid?), two of Derek’s betas are about to risk becoming omegas just to leave this hellhole of a town (which simultaneously makes them idiots and smart and he never thought that possible) while the third is gravitating towards Scott (another idiot), and Derek is as an incompetent of an alpha as Peter expected him to be. Apart from that, the video store boy is the kanima, Stiles seems to be the same and Lydia still doesn’t know why he had to use her for the ritual. Summarised, everything is going to go to hell in a nicely wrapped package and probably over the next few days at the most.

He could have certainly chosen to come back at a better time… if the damn ritual hadn’t had a deadline, that is.

Well, no matter. Peter can use this to his advantage, actually, because Derek will need him in one way or another because of the situation and he won’t be able to say no.

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

As luck would have it, just the day he decides to give it a go, Derek’s betas grow a backbone (one Peter still isn’t sure is a smart or a stupid one) and tell him they’re leaving. Peter swoops in while the wound is still gaping open, so to speak, and he gets thrown around for all his troubles. He takes it for a bit, waiting for most of the anger to burn itself out and when it doesn’t seem likely, he finally snaps.

(Because no matter what, the one thing he won’t do is beg.)

It works.

“See?” Peter mutters looking at his reflection with a grimace. The wound in his mouth is still sluggishly bleeding even if it is mending itself slowly. Derek is sitting a few feet away on the stairs’ steps, face stony and silent. Peter doesn’t let it deter him. “Fine example, right here. I’m not healing as fast. Coming back from the death isn’t easy you know, I’m not as strong as I used to be,” he states simply, as if the person that is with him isn’t the one who killed him. Putting his weaknesses in the open leaves a sour taste in his mouth, but he sees no other way to put Derek at ease so it’s a necessary evil. “I need a pack, an alpha. Like you.” And God if this isn’t humiliating for Peter, who even at his worst hasn’t ever depended on anyone. “I need you as much as you need me.”

“Why would I want help from a total psycho?” Derek grunts after he scoffs, not even turning to look at Peter.

“First of all, I’m not a total psycho,” Peter corrects him before feeling the need to point out. “By the way, you’re the one that slashed my throat right open, but we’re all works in progress, right? So.” Is there a flicker of regret he sees there? Oh, good, Peter feels better about wanting to find alpha powers somewhere else now that he sees some reciprocity on the familial front. “We need each other. Sometimes when you need help, you turn to people you’d never expect.”

Derek’s shoulders slump a little as his mouth presses into a tighter line and Peter knows he has gained a foothold, so it’s time to use what always saved him the spot in his pack no matter what happened: his knowledge.

He shares what he knows about Scott and Gerard and tells him how to save Jackson, because for all that Derek’s first inclination seems to be killing (which Peter finds equally amusing and hypocritical on his part), deep down he wants exactly the opposite.

Several hours later Peter is regretting deeply ever coming back to life. Jackson is about to turn into a gigantic creature that has wings (which implies flying, as if it wasn’t sufficiently terrifying when it was earth-bound) and they have to rely on Tweedledee and Tweedledum to bring it towards them. Ah, and with the help of Chris Argent, wonderful! If that wasn’t bad enough, Derek is doing as always and rushing in without any plan whatsoever, which is exactly what that geriatric fascist wants. This is the recipe for disaster and Peter can do nothing but to try to stay away from the crossfire and wait for an opportunity to either strike or beat it as fast as his legs can carry him because he really wasn’t exaggerating (if anything, he was downplaying it) when he said he was weak.

Life has never been better.

(That was sarcasm, if anyone was wondering.)

Everything goes to hell, of course, no surprises there. Gerard makes his appearance after making Jackson maim Derek and the little mini Kate doesn’t have any qualms about shooting her first love. Again, nothing surprising there. What is surprising is Scott using Derek to bite Gerard because he wants to be cured of cancer, even more so when it turns out the teen has been switching the man’s medication with mountain ash filled pills so that if it came down to it, the bite would kill him. It’s impressively cunning and Peter would find himself reluctantly impressed if he didn’t dislike the sloppy execution (despite being at odds, no one can use Peter’s family unless it’s Peter himself) and didn’t suspect someone else’s hand at play in all this.

Nevertheless, Peter finds the image of a black goo vomiting Gerard a sight for the sore eyes. A sight that gets completed by the little bitch’s expression of betrayal and self-loathing and Chris’ revolted and pained one. Well, that earns Scott a descend to the still respectable second position on his not-a-good-call list, congratulations.

(Given his previous record, Peter is pretty sure he won’t stay that low on the list for long, though.)

Everything devolves into a fist fight once again and why is everyone forgetting about the psycho bitch that was trying to kill them not a minute ago, Peter doesn’t understand, not even in the face of a common enemy, so he keeps his distance.

Stiles chooses that moment to crash his jeep right through the walls and into the kanima, bringing Lydia with him. Peter would swear he hears a celestial chorus singing in the background, because yes! Someone else thinking with their brains and not their fists! Peter feels even more vindicated when the teen beats a hasty retreat right afterwards, because someone finally has an ounce of self-preservation instincts too!

Lydia goes forward, terrified but unwavering, holding her trembling hand up with what looks like a key. Peter is quite ambivalent about her, but he hopes she doesn’t end up a shish kebab if only so that dealing with Jackson doesn’t become even more difficult. He has already been thrown around quite a bit today and while a bed sounds heavenly right now, he won’t get that until this matter is resolved. And that will happen certainly sooner if Lydia doesn’t end up in a kanima claw skewer.

(What’s wrong with you, Peter?)

She doesn’t and Jackson turns back partially. He nods at Derek while Lydia cries, and while that is clearly a sign of acceptance to his fate, Peter doesn’t want to risk it (specially since Derek goes for the frontal assault as always) so he attacks from behind too. And Jackson dies in a scene worthy of a movie that Peter would give an Oscar to.

Thank god it’s over, Peter really needs that bed and cleaning this mess up is going to take a while.

Except since this is Beacon Hills, nothing is that easy, and Jackson comes back to life a regular werewolf. Color Peter confused, because he’s never heard of this happening… but well, now he doesn’t have to find a way to bring back a body to the morgue, so at least that’s nice? And since there’s no way that Chris Argent will not take care of his father’s body, he doesn’t get the pleasure of burning it either, so essentially the wish of a bed in his near future has become more of a certainty rather than a possibility.

“Is leaving him alive really wise?” He asks, because someone has to, because they don’t know if this change is permanent.

Except for Stiles, who just purses his lips, and Chris Argent, who is as stony as ever, the rest turn to look at him horrified.

“What’s wrong with you, Peter?” Derek hisses.

Peter smiles with all teeth.

(Ah, so it’s going to be this way.)

And now the alpha pack is in town, isn’t that wonderful?

Why was he so adamant on staying alive besides for being a contrary bastard?

(Peter has to remind himself a lot of the sweet sight of a destroyed Argent family these days.)

“What’s wrong with you?” Seethes Derek before throwing Peter into a wall and leaving.

Peter picks himself up, a satisfied smirk never leaving his face, and dusts his clothes. Riling his nephew is so easy and at the same time so immensely satisfying… His day isn’t complete if those words haven’t left his mouth and if he gets him to lose it enough to get physical, he counts it as a win, because lately that doesn’t happen that much for some reason he can’t discern. What? He’ll take pleasure from everything he can these days. And since Stiles is here most of time helping with the search of Erica and Boyd, he’s become his unwitting accomplice, because boy, does he irritate Derek. Peter would go as far as to consider it a gift the teen has.

He’ll never admit it to the teen, of course, but he really enjoys the verbal matches he has with him. Stiles has always been mouthy, but now that he doesn’t think likely that Peter will attack him (although Peter knows he keeps mountain ash on himself at all times, the smart kid) his invective is a thing of beauty.

Out of all the people that Peter could have been saddled with, he has been lucky, indeed.

(Part of him mourns that Stiles wasn’t the one out there in the woods or that he didn’t accept the bite when Peter could give it to him. The possibilities… Ah, it would have been glorious, wouldn’t it?)

“Anything you want to share with the class, Stiles?” He drawls to the teen, who has been staring fixedly at him since Derek left to drag Isaac into another patrol through the woods, hoping to find something that wasn’t there yesterday, or the day before, or the day before (and so on) and that Peter bets that won’t be today either.

“You know, I was a kid so I had an excuse, but what’s your deal?”

Peter arches an eyebrow and levels the teen with an unimpressed stare. Stiles huddles in his too big red hoodie and raises both eyebrows at him, unrepentant. Peter blinks slowly, because he wasn’t wearing that before and because it feels familiar. Suddenly, his breath catches because he’s pretty sure that if he looks on the back of it, he’ll find a 01 accompanied by his last name in big bold letters.

“There’s nothing wrong with you? What a load of bullshit.” Peter can’t breathe and he’s insanely grateful that Stiles can’t hear that. “There’s something wrong in everyone, so who fucking cares?


There’s something wrong in everyone, Peter,” Stiles repeats, his intense eyes never leaving Peter’s, “so who fucking cares? Right, wrong, who cares? Whoever says that there’s nothing wrong with them is either delusional or a child or plain stupid.”

“There’s… something wrong with me?” Peter finds himself unconsciously parroting back and this is ridiculous, this shouldn’t affect him this much, shouldn’t feel as if he’s having an epiphany. “And there’s nothing wrong with that?”

“Not unless the wrong in you tries to have another go at my people, because then my wrong would come out to play, and everything would be wrong with that… for you, capiche?”

“Duly noted,” Peter answers as dryly as he can, because his world feels off its axis right now.

Then, Stiles extends an arm, hand clearly possed for a handshake and Peter is reaching before he can think of it. When Stiles lets go, gummy bears have been left behind.

Peter can’t help it. He laughs.

(And for the first time, he feels happy.)

What’s wrong with you, Peter?

Who cares?

The Past On Your Doorstep - AU

Dean x Reader

Based on this prompt: I was getting over you. Why did you have to come back?

Word Count: 1900+

Monday mornings suck. Everyone has thought that, at least once. The reasons are many and fairly known. Today, though, there was one more, one entirely unexpected that came knocking on your door.

Humming your favorite song, your socked feet padded towards the source of the noise, as you wondered who on earth wanted something at 7 AM. It had better not be your neighbor, looking for his cat, for the 20th time this month.

The moment you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat. No. No. No. You’d take your neighbor over this, a hundred times.

This couldn’t be real. Why was he here? What did he want? How long had it been? More than four years now?


“Hi,” he said, added a smile too.

“Hi?” You repeated, the shock of seeing him again getting soon replaced by anger. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” he replied, then gestured to your living room, “Can I come in?”

“What - no.”

Before you could slam the door shut, he stopped it with his hand and looked at you with pleading eyes. “Listen, it’s important or I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

“I wouldn’t know. You told me nothing but lies for a year, so I don’t know anything about you.”

“Okay, that’s fair enough,” he said with a nod. “But I only lied to keep you safe.”

“Oh, that’s what that was about?” You asked, sarcastic. “To keep me safe? You know when I’m safe? When you’re far away from me. So get lost.” You tried to push the door closed one more time, but he still didn’t let you, one foot ready to block the door from shutting.

“Just - let me explain, okay? 5 minutes.”

You sighed and opened the door all the way, but still blocked the entry with your body. “I’m not alone and I don’t want you in my house. You can talk from there or you can leave.”

But he didn’t seem to register what you had told him. Not all of it, anyway. “Not alone? Who are you with?” And he was trying to take a peek inside when you put a hand on his chest and pushed him backward. More than 4 years and he thought he was entitled to know what happened in your life. Unbelievable.

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Westworld finale: Anthony Hopkins on Dr. Ford's fate

Dr. Robert Ford’s journey on Westworld came to an unexpected and apparent conclusion in Sunday’s finale. Below star Anthony Hopkins chatted with EW about his role playing the theme park’s mastermind on the show – and the classic film roles that helped inspire his take on the character.

This was your first serious TV show, at least in the United States. What drew you to this project originally?
They sent me the film book to read. I love to work. And I’d seen the original Westworld. But I couldn’t remember it, I only remembered the actors – Yul Brynner, Richard Benjamin. My agent phoned me and said will you meet [showrunner Jonathan Nolan] in order to talk about Westworld and I said, “Yeah.” And I said: “What do they want me to be?” And he said, “Some doctor.” So, Jon, we met and he gave me the script. He said you play the man who invents Westworld. I said, “Is it like Walt Disney?” He said, “Yeah, but it’s even darker than that. It’s almost like a Frankenstein.” So I said, “Yes, I’ll do it.”

What’s refreshing and interesting about it was starting with the first pilot – because no one knew it would be taken up [to series] by HBO. So it was a gamble, and I wanted to do it. And then the series was picked up. So what was interesting was to not know which way the story was heading. I said to Jon, “What happens to him?” He said, “I can’t tell you.” So I said, “What happens next week?” And he said, “I won’t tell you.” They sent me the script and I think, “Oh, this is interesting.” So each week I got a new script every 10 days let’s say, and they [blacked] out a lot of lines. So as a condition I said, “Look, it’s not that I don’t love it, but I always want to know the script inside out, backward and forward, so I can talk it in my sleep.”

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They say we qunari need the Qun in order to tame the dragon blood that courses through our veins. That we will live as savages and brutes without the order and discipline such a sect provides.

Know this about me then, I am not of the Qun. My parents were, but became Tal Vashoth, my brother, in my mother’s womb when they fled into the night, one too.

My past is not one of ease. We were pariahs amongst humans, elf and dwarf alike. My family is at peace now. And despite our struggles, our inner strength and our bond carried us through.

The present has bought me untold labours. I considered them all with balance, restraint and with help and a love borne out of redemption and compassion. Harmony and happiness fell upon me and for those within my inner circle.

My renewal came through a most unexpected source, and at a price that put my life in jeopardy. My future is a road never travelled and one I know will be perilous, but I know I choose the right path.

My name is Ciara Adaar and I am Vashoth. I was born free and I live free.

About this artwork: The artist is Heathwind - I treated myself to this commission for doing NaNo this year and I am so happy because it turned out absolutely amazing. Heathwind did a fantastic job, their art is to die for. Commission them, you will not be disappointed!

The tarot is ‘The star’ and I chose as it encapsulates many of Ciara’s defining attributes, hope, finding inspiration, generosity and an overall feeling of serenity.


What came next was unexpected. He came closer, planted a kiss on her cheek, and she heard him whisper, “Be careful.” Wait –was he really worried about her and her safety? Her, who could kill a man twice her height with her bare hands? Loyal and kind and sweet and oh-so-easy-to-read-Benji was worried, about her. Since when? Well, maybe not so-easy-to-read-Ben in the end…

Trickster TV

gif is not mine

Title: Trickster TV

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

Characters: Gabriel, Dean, Sam

Word Count: 1,419

Warnings: fluff

A/N: This was requested by @hair-dye-or-nawh:

   Maybe you can do a Gabriel one-shot where the reader gets trapped in TV land with Sam and Dean and he’s super flirty and you can put them in current TV shows. That’d be really cool c:

I thought this would be great for Sweet Treat Saturday! I liked writing this fic! So I hope you all love it! <3 Feedback is welcomed and appreciated C: (btw sorry this was posted so late, unexpected things came up, but it’s all good!)

When Sam and Dean told you about the Trickster, you never expected to actually meet him.  Today was your lucky day.  You followed Sam and Dean into the building.  As soon as the door shut behind you it was like you were in a whole new world.  You were dressed as a nurse; Dean and Sam were dressed as doctors.  

Dean and Sam turned around to face you.  Their reaction to you dressed as a nurse made you roll your eyes.  “Stop the staring you two,” you muttered, brushing past them.

As you walked through the hall, things got even more weird.  Sam was slapped in the face by some woman none of you knew.  “We’re in the show Dr. Sexy M.D.,” Dean informed you and Sam.

“Personally I prefer game shows, but if this is what you’re into,” you snorted, looking down the hall.

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Thank you for letting me be
고마워 내가 나이게 해줘서
Thank you. For being ‘us’

Rosie Watson grows up to be a clever girl, above average really, exceptionally talented in Chemistry and Maths, a fine detective on her own. Sherlock couldn’t be any prouder of her, still his favourite thing about Rosie is how much she resembles John, in the way she came into his life (unexpected) and stayed forever (stubborn). 


The Largest Infiltration of the US Government in History —- Operation Snow White

Spies have had their place in history ever since the beginning of city states, kingdoms, and empires, providing important intelligence about an adversary and enemy.  Perhaps the golden age of spying occurred during the Cold War, where American and Soviet spies seemed to be behind every corner, listening in to every conversation and collecting every scrap of data that could be found.  So it would be no surprise to learn that the largest infiltration of the United States Government occurred in the 1970’s.  However, the source of the infiltration was not from the Soviet Union or any of the other communist bloc countries of the Cold War.  Rather, the infiltration came from a most unexpected and unusual source; The Church of Scientology.

Formed in 1954 by science fiction writer L. Ron Hubbard, the Church of Scientology had been under the suspicion of governments throughout the 1960’s and 70’s.  The church was especially under close scrutiny by the US Government, who suspected the church was a cult which brainwashed and manipulated it members, and suspected the organization of tax fraud.  In the late 1960’s a plan called “Operation Snow White” was drawn up by L. Ron’s wife, Mary Sue Hubbard, 2nd in command and head of the Guardian Office.  The Guardian Office was a section of the church devoted to protecting the interests of the Scientology, especially against journalists, critics, and anyone who spoke out against the religion.  Organized and planned by the Guardian Office, Operation Snow White called for the infiltration of various agencies in the US Government.  Scientology members were to get jobs within these agencies, then use their positions to steal any government documents which portrayed the Church of Scientology in a negative light and to plant false information.  Between 1973 and 1977, covert agents managed to infiltrate 136 government agencies, among them; the FBI, CIA, IRS, FDA, DEA, Coast Guard Intelligence, the Department of Justice, the Treasury Department, dozens of US Embassies, the American Medical Association, and the National Institute of Mental Health.  In addition, they infiltrated foreign governments such as Canada and the UK, infiltrated numerous private agencies, and infiltrated other law enforcement agencies such as the LAPD, NYPD, Washington D.C. Police Department, and INTERPOL.

By 1977, the Church of Scientology had one of the largest spy networks across the globe, with around 5,000 secret agents infiltrating organizations across 30 countries.  It was in that year that everything fell apart.   It started when two agents, Gerald Wolfe and Michael Meisner were arrested in Justice Department offices with fake ID’s.  The two tried cover story after cover story, but eventually spilled everything and turned state’s evidence for a plea bargain.  On July 8th, 1977 the FBI raided Scientology centers in LA, Hollywood, and New York City.  The Los Angeles raid alone lasted 21 hours and resulted in the filling of a 16 ton truck with documents and other evidence.  The investigation revealed that the Church of Scientology had stolen 90,000 confidential documents, had wiretapped government officials on a number of occasions, and exposed almost all of the 5,000 agents that made up Scientology’s spy network.  The investigation also revealed another program called “Operation Freakout”, a plan to frame journalist Paulette Cooper, who was critical of the church, with making false bomb threats in the hope of having her imprisoned or committed to a mental institution.  

By 1978, the Scientology spy network had been completely dismantled.  Mary Sue Hubbard and 11 other high ranking members of the Church of Scientology were indicted on charges of obstruction of justice, burglary, theft of documents, and theft of government property.  All either were found guilty or pleaded guilty, and were charged with a 5 to 6 year prison sentence and $10,000 fine.  L. Ron Hubbard was named as a co-conspirator, but was never charged as he spent the rest of his life in hiding ( a time when he wrote Battlefield Earth) avoiding various charges by the US government, French government, and numerous private lawsuits.  

Unexpected Encounter

Pairing: Theo x Reader

Summary: Y/N tries her best to avoid Theo after they encounter last night. However she didn’t expect to run into him in the school gym, and things get slightly heated between them once again.

Originally posted by anexar

Side Note: This is my first every proper imagine, it might not be the best but I’m still learning so don’t judge to harshly ahaha. Anyway I hope you enjoy reading, and feedback is always welcome :)

You were dreading to return to school the next day. Your little encounter with Theo was one you wanted to forget, and you just knew if you saw him he wouldn’t let you forget about the events that took place last night.

You managed to avoid him successful for most of the day, however it was typically the one moment you let your guard down you ran into Theo. You thought going to the school gym to reveal some stress would be the best way to end the day, however what you didn’t anticipate was Theo…standing there, completely and utterly shirtless. You were torn between staying and taking in his muscular body or leaving, whichever you choose you were bond to regret both. But before you could make up your own mind, Theo lifted his head and you swore you saw him with a cocky smirk on his face. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to come in?” He asked you, “ I was actually leaving, thank you very much”,“ Oh come on Y/N don’t be like that, I promise I won’t get in your way” he said with a sly smile.

You pondered the thought and even though your mind was basically screaming to walk out the door, your body on the other hand was pushing you towards Theo. So you eventually closed the door and began to take off your jacket, revealing a simple sports bra underneath. The whole time you felt Theo’s eyes on you, and it took everything you had to not punch that smirk right off his face.“Do you mind not staring, it’s rude”, you glared at Theo. “I can’t help that a beautiful girl is standing right in front of me”,“ No! Don’t do that, you have no right to flirt with me…not after everything!” You yelled at him, Theo walked over to you and towered over you with his height “I have no right?!” You could tell that you were making him angry, and you knew that Theo angry was never a good sign. “I think you got that backwards babygirl, or don’t you remember last night?”. And there it was, there was the thing you’ve been avoiding the entire day. If he was going to play this game, you were going to show him that you played better.

Without a second thought you pushed Theo against the door, you could see in his eyes that you caught him way off guard. “Alright listen here Raeken”, you demanded “What happened last night was a big mistake, and I’ll never let it happen again”. You were angry and he could see that, after a minute of silence and long heavy eye contact between each other, Theo grabbed you and now you were the one against the door he ignored that surprised look on your face and said “ Say what you want Y/N but we both know that you’ll be back in my arms. You can’t resist me and truth be told I can’t stay away from you, you drive me insane with everything that you do babygirl”. Now it was your turn to be surprised, before you could reply Theo started talking again, “The good girl falls for the bad boy, it’s a classic story don’t you think? Stop trying to run away from this, you and I both know that we’re better together”.

And just like that Theo grabbed his jacket and left you standing there absolutely speechless, and the only thing that was running through your head was the feeling of wanting Theo’s lips on your skin, and his body so close to yours again. He was right you couldn’t resist him, and you hated yourself for that.

sapphirestorm  asked:

Relationship headcanons for G?


~Oh wow, I hope I can do G justice in your eyes. And please enjoy the bonuses XD.~

admin adelheid

  • You came from an unexpected place. A part of a shipment of women a Mafia Famiglia had kidnapped to sell to the rich lords of Italy. Giotto and his group had raided the ship to rescue you and the others but found only you alone survived and was barely alive at that. You could only speak Japanese.
  • Giotto decided to take you under the group’s wing and handed your care over to Elena. You served as a maid while Asari tried to find the time to teach you Italian. G had never expected to have anything to do with you until he came home from a shootout with some enemies one evening bleeding heavily and Knuckle nowhere in sight.
  • You had tended over his wounds and though you spoke no words G saw the sadness and worry in your eyes. Unlike the usual fire of an Italian woman you were quiet but had a fiery soul. It was all reflected in your eyes. It was reflected in the way you had followed him around from then on making sure he was eating right and that he was comfortable.
  • G had never had anyone take care of him before. He had been but a poor boy who practically grew up on the streets. Having someone take care of him was as alien to him as the logic of the wealthy. He never thought he needed someone like you in his life.
  • It didn’t matter that you two had a language barrier. Just a simple brush of your hand got his instant, undivided attention. Just a glance would have him coming over wanting to figure out what was wrong.
  • He had fought it. Fought it for so long, so hard it almost drove him mad.
  • But he can’t look at you without smiling.
  • He can’t catch a whiff of your scent and not want more.
  • He needed you like air and the moment he tasted your lips for the first time he knew there was no going back.
  • He wasn’t supposed to be feeling this way. He was the right hand man of a group gaining power among a dangerous crowd. He can’t afford to be distracted, he can’t afford to make any mistakes because that would end up possibly killing all of his friends. It could end up killing you.
  • But he needed you. He needed you badly.
  • He needed to hold you close when he came back from another attack on an enemy for comfort.
  • He needed your attention on him and him alone.
  • It had gotten so bad that he resented the attention you gave any other man.
  • Holding you close as the both of you stood under the moonlight…
  • The scent of your hair as he buried his face in it while he made love to you.
  • Your voice, your laugh, the very sparkle in your eyes…
  • These were the memories he wanted to retain until the day he died.



  • Caring.
  • Tender.
  • Loving…
  • These were all traits Giotto had shown you above everything else.
  • It had been hard for him to give in to basic instinct and finally pursue you but in the end he was only human.
  • He had no right loving you or anyone else. He had a foot in the grave and a target marked between his eyes so expecting you to stay with him was a far-fetched hope he dared not lean into.
  • So he would come off as a little bit distant sometimes and keep you at arms length.
  • He loved that you understood his reasoning behind his actions.
  • It pained him that he can’t protect you from this reality but he was half glad - half terrified that you understood and still wanted to stay.
  • You couldn’t say or do much to convince him everything was going to be alright. That you were in this for the long haul and that you wanted to share half of his burdens if only to alleviate some of his suffering.
  • All you could do was kiss him sweetly when he came home.
  • Or look into his eyes with all your love in them as you stroked his cheek tenderly.
  • Sometimes Giotto would just close his eyes and lean his forehead against yours and whisper how he would have liked it if he could take you away from here.
  • Far from the chaos, far from the bloodshed, far from the cruel world that had made him start the Vongola in the first place.
  • In response you would usually take him to bed, take off his clothes and make him come in your mouth.
  • You would push him back against the covers still panting and ride him until you both come one more time.
  • And as he is pulled down to sleep, worked to a pleasant exhaustion, he holds you tight in his arms and prays to God with all the desperation in his heart.
  • “Please… Please don’t take her away from me…”


  • Insane.
  • Foolish
  • Preposterous.
  • There were so many words he can use to describe his feelings for you.
  • There were so many reasons why his feelings for you was so wrong.
  • Asari knew he had lost his mind the moment he kissed you.
  • What was he to do? The son of an ally don had his sights on you! You whom he had wanted for so long.
  • The day he had met you he had been playing alone under the shade of a tree in one of those rare times when the world around him was peaceful. As he finished playing there you were, trying your best to still your tears as you stared back at him.
  • Something in your eyes stopped Asari’s heart and his ever present smile failed him for the first time in a long time.
  • He tried to gather composure by acting as he usually would, laughing and telling you there was nothing to cry about. You surprise him by calling him a liar. How could he say such a thing when his music wept tears of blood?
  • All Asari could do was gape as you ran away.
  • Since then he sought you out and observed your gentle, quiet nature. You were the kind of person who listened to everyone more than talk over them. You could look a man right in the eye and see through his soul and hold it hostage even when you turn away.
  • It was then that he understood that you could see right through his heart.
  • At first he feared you. You made him feel naked and vulnerable. But then he realizes you held no judgment in your eyes for him and he crumbled.
  • He had wanted you ever since.
  • He wanted to be the only one reflected in your eyes.
  • He wanted to hoard your tenderness for himself and keep it all under lock and key.
  • Never had Asari known such desire. Never had he known such despair.
  • How could he even think about laying his blood stained hands on someone as pure and innocent as you?
  • He tried to keep his feelings in check even as he sought your friendship. But then that allied don had to bring his son to town and see you during a tour of the village.
  • Asari’s blood boiled at the sight of the other man hovering over you.
  • His sight turned red whenever he spied that man’s hand thread through your silky hair with such careless boldness.
  • The worst part was that you never resisted. You stared up at that man like you’ve never heard a compliment in your life!
  • And truly you have never been complimented for your beauty. A lot of people thought of you as a wallflower. Even Asari stopped short of saying anything to beautify you.
  • Asari thought he liked it that way. He though it would keep other men away from you but bitterly it seemed not all men are blind.
  • The boiling point came when the son mentioned introducing you to the don Giotto was entertaining.
  • Asari’s mind snapped.
  • He immediately went to your house and banged on your door and as soon as you opened it he pushed you against the wall muttering all the compliments he had stopped himself from saying all this time as he peppered you with hot hungry kisses.
  • What surprised Asari was that you understood. You looked into his eyes and shed tears for him before you kissed him back.
  • And despite the niggling guilt at the back of his mind Asari couldn’t stop claiming you for his own.
  • He didn’t care if you deserved someone innocent and pure and untainted anymore.
  • You were his… And he will do anything to keep you.

Written for the bagginshield anniversary :)

“Do you remember the day we met?” Bilbo asks, propping himself up on one elbow, fond smile on his face as he looks down at his husband. There’s a rather becoming flush on Thorin’s cheeks still, though their breathing has finally returned to normal, and his bare chest looks so lovely in the firelight that Bilbo can’t help but trace absent patterns across it with reverent fingers.

Thorin smiles, and Bilbo kisses the crinkles by his eyes because he can.

“I do,” Thorin answers, large hand playing the knobs of Bilbo’s spine like a harp, “I was rather… frustrated by how lovely you were.”

Bilbo pulls back with a frown, “Lovely? Thorin, you do realise I was there, don’t you? You called me a grocer!”

Thorin does, at least, have the grace to look a little ashamed, “Yes. Dwalin still laughs at me about that.”

“Laughs at you?”

Thorin sighs, “I am not always so rude to respectable hobbits, you know. He was well aware of the effect you had on me, even if the others were not.”

The colour on his cheeks is brighter now than it was before, and it seeps down and across his chest in a way that Bilbo would find dangerously endearing if he weren’t busy blinking in surprise.

“I – effect? Thorin, I love you dearly, but even you cannot deny that our first few months of acquaintance were rocky at best.”

Thorin hums in acknowledgment, eyes falling to watch as his own free hand comes up to cover Bilbo’s, “I did not know you then as I do now, and I admittedly did not think you were suited to our quest,” Bilbo scoffs and Thorin’s eyes meet his again with a shy smile, “But I thought you a fine thing, even then.”

Sometimes, the way Thorin looks at him makes Bilbo’s breath catch in his throat and his heart feel like it could fly. He looks at Bilbo like he can’t believe he’s there, and Bilbo has to claim another kiss before he crumbles under the weight of it.

“I suppose I thought you quite handsome,” Bilbo smiles against the king’s lips, “For such a self-important, overly serious, arrogant – ”

Bilbo yelps out a surprised laugh as Thorin, grinning, pushes him back into the bed and leans over him until his dark hair trails across Bilbo’s shoulders like silk.

“Insolent hobbit,” he admonishes, kissing the laughter from Bilbo’s lips again and again and again.

They’re smiling like a pair of fauntlings by the time they finally pull away, Thorin letting his forehead rest against Bilbo’s.

“Why did you ask, ghivashel?” Thorin murmurs, leaning back just enough to see Bilbo’s face, “About the day we met. Did you think I could forget it?”

“No, it’s just…” Bilbo smiles, twisting the marriage braid in Thorin’s hair around his finger. It’s only a few hours old and Bilbo lifts the bead at the end to his lips, “Here we are.”

Thorin reaches down to press a kiss upon Bilbo’s own marriage bead and when their eyes meet again, Thorin looks as awed as Bilbo feels. “Yes,” he breathes, eyes shining with more than just firelight, “Here we are.”

Don’t deny it.

Gadreel X Reader

Prompts: 27. “That guy at the bar keeps staring at you.” 7. “Are you jealous?” 101. “I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you and – Oh, screw it!” 

2. “Did you enjoy yourself last night?” 40. “Why are you up so early? 48. “Is there a special reason, as to why you’re wearing my shirt?” 

Warnings: Mugging, Angst, smut, fluff isnt a really a warning, but ill put it here.

Summary: Having Gadreel as a guardian angel came with unexpected challenges, but he saved your life so you owed him. Let’s see how he reacts after you decide to get mouthy. 

A/N: So I got two Gadreel requests and I felt that with the prompts I was given they would all work well together, So I went for it. Hoping you guys like it, let me know what you think.

Word Count: 2614

@little-red-83 I really hope you enjoy this. Thanks for the inspiration! @spnfanficpond

Only a few months ago you were sure that angels were something that man created when they were lonely. That had changed the night you got mugged, you knew you shouldn’t have been walking home alone in the dark, but you did it anyways. The road was dimly lit, but you could see your house so you slowed your pace allowing your heart rate to slow. Suddenly out of nowhere there was a gun to your back and a man’s voice in your ear whispering, “Give me your purse and you don’t get hurt, understood?” You complied giving the man your purse, but you heard the distinct click of the pin slipping into place. You threw your elbow back into the man as hard as you could and began to run, but it didn’t help any. The bullet pierced your back sending you to the ground crying out in pain. Your assailant stalking towards you, no mercy in in his eyes as he reloaded his gun. This was the night you were going to die, you closed your eyes preparing to meet your end as you sent out one last final prayer. If there was a God up there he would hear you, well that’s what you told yourself at least.

Suddenly there was a bright white light and it was gone as soon as it came. You open your eyes to meet a pair of steel blue ones gazing back at you. “Don’t move I’m going to heal you.” With that he places his hand on your back and the searing pain began to fade. You found you could move again, you had to thank this miracle worker. Not only did he save you, but he healed you. “What’s your name?” you asked as he helped you up, his hand fitting perfectly with yours. “My name is Gadreel, I am an angel of the lord. I heard your prayer and I came to help.” There wasn’t an ounce of sarcasm in his voice and you were praying to whomever could hear you seconds before your end. “You’re, Y/N. I always hear your prayers. You claim to not believe is us, but you always had your doors open. I remember comforting you the night your father died. I won’t abandon you like everyone else has.”

You stood there slack jawed, he wasn’t lying. The night your father passed was hard for you, only being 7 and losing a parent was devastating. You clearly remember that feeling of calm that overwhelmed your senses allowing you to drift off to sleep all those years ago. No one knew about that, not even your mother.  “Ok, so you’re an angel, who just killed my assailant, and knows more about me than I would ever want a man to know about me. Well that’s a lot for a girl to handle in a 20 minute period.” You weakly smiled up at the angel realizing your hand was still in his. Your cheeks reddened as you let go, “Well what now?” you asked.

“You’re my charge, I am here to protect and guard you from humans and monsters alike.”

“Does every angel have a charge? Why aren’t more of you here?” you had a thousand questions and at this rate you didn’t plan on sleeping. His voice was so calming as he answered you, “Let’s get you home and we can talk about it as much as you want.”


Months later

Soon after the accident happened Gadreel was so stiff and protective it was suffocating. It always came down to “I was trained to be like this.” and after being alone for so long you didn’t need a babysitter, you needed a friend. The longer he was with you, the less he panicked which was a good thing. Especially because tonight was Friday and you were determined to get a few drinks in your system. “Gad, come on. We’re gonna miss the band, you’re the one who wanted to go listen, remember?” you yelled up to him. Gadreel lived with you, which was a blessing, especially when you had a bad night. He would come into your room and lull you to sleep curling his arms around you staying there unmoving until the next morning. He would greet you the same way every morning, “Good morning beautiful.” Even when your hair was disheveled and your eyes were still sleepy. It was amazing to live with someone who was your best friend.

Thankfully after a few minutes he came downstairs looking put together as usual. You loved when he wore his leather jacket, it made him look rougher than what he really was, accompanied with a purple undershirt that made his eyes just pop. “Wanna take the fast route?” he asked. You knew that meant a few minutes of feeling nauseous, but you did it. You grabbed his hand closing your eyes, you felt that familiar rush of warmth and then it was gone. Opening your eyes you saw the bar in view, “You ready to get your drink on, Gad?” you smiled knowing the answer was always the same. “You humans and your alcohol, I’ll never understand it.”

You look your seat at the bar, gad joining you as you talked and laughed about your day at work. The drinks began to flow and gad tapped you on the shoulder nodding to the stranger that was grinning at you from the other side of the bar. “I don’t like how he’s staring at you, Y/N. We should go.”  

He had gorgeous green eyes and a smile that would knock anyone off their feet, he started whispering to the bartender and all of a sudden you had a nice cold beer in your hand with a note that read. “Call me ;)” with a number attached. He wasn’t your type, but who were you to turn down a free drink? “What are you, jealous? It’s a drink I’m fine, last week a guy did the same thing and you were ok.” There was that feeling again, opening your eyes you found yourself in your living room. “Gad, really what the hell is this about? We were having fun.”

“I wasn’t comfortable in the situation and I made the decision to leave. You couldn’t hear what he was thinking. So deal with it.” His tone was final. You were already agitated after having a hard day at work and now he’s acting like a babysitter. “You’re just jealous that someone had their eyes on me, are you worried that you’re going to be replaced by someone who treats me like I’m grown?” you bit your lip debating what you were going to say. “I don’t have to deal with anything, I have free will. I think I’m going to go back to that bar to chat up that handsome man, go home with him and have some fun, to top it off, I’ll call Charlie to come get me in the early hours of the morning to sneak out on my one night stand. How does that sound?”

You turn around to walk out of the house when all the doors and windows lock simultaneously. It was rare when Gadreel pulled out his angel mojo on you, but when he did you knew he was mad. “Fine, get mad and lock me in. I’m not afraid of you, I know what you’re capable of. You’re just throwing a tantrum like Lucifer did, you’re not acting any better than your older brother.” You didn’t hear him come up behind you, you realized it pretty quick once you turned and hit his solid frame. He gripped your hair pulling it just enough so you would look up at him, “What did you say to me, Y/N?”

“You heard me, what are you gonna do? Put me in time out? Do it, I dare you.” You smirk deciding to test dark waters. To be honest you didn’t know what he was capable of, he had never gotten this mad with you. Getting physical was definitely a first, there was tension in the room. It wasn’t related to the anger though, you couldn’t put your finger on it. “No, I won’t put you in time out, that would be the easy option, I’m going to punish you for being such a bad girl.” His voice was so low and sultry.

“God, he’s hot when he’s mad.” You thought to yourself, hoping he wasn’t reading your thoughts. Gad effortlessly throws you over his shoulder and begins walking you to your room, tossing you on the bed. His body language was so carnal like an animal stalking its prey as he stood at the foot of the bed. “You don’t ever listen to me, what do I have to do to get you to understand that you’re mine and mine alone?” He grips your ankles pulling your towards him pinning your wrists above your head. Leaning down so you were almost chest to chest, he began whispering in your ear “You make it so hard for me to just do my job, no one warned me that night I saved you that you were a stubborn one. For months I’ve put up with the attitude and I promise by the end of the night you’re going to learn your place. Got it.” You began to melt under him only answering with a whimper.

Standing back up he slowly unbuttons your pants pulling them off with your panties, sliding his fingers through your slick folds teasing your clit with his thumb. “You think I don’t know what you think about at night, Y/N. Admit it you’re in denial about how you feel about me.” You lightly moaned bucking your hips against his fingers. “Admit it sweetie and I’ll give you what you want.” he cooed plunging his fingers in your slick pussy.

“Yes, you’re right I’m in denial, okay, you happy now?” you answer throwing your head back as he curls his fingers, hitting your g-spot just right. You were so close to an orgasm, until he abruptly stopped. “I’m not even close to happy.” he says pulling his fingers out of you, beginning to undress himself. He was so tantalizing, his muscles rippling as he took off his shirt and pants exposing his already bulging member through his boxers.  “Come here” he told you beckoning with a finger. You did as you were told shedding whatever clothing you had left and stood in front of him. “Get on your knees.” He was using that tone again, the one that made you all warm and tingly from head to toe. You shift yourself so that you’re on your knees in the exact place he wanted you, peering up at him through your lashes. You slowly slip off his boxers as his hard cock springs forward, “Someone’s excited to see me.” you wink up at Gad, his face completely serious. You lick his shaft up to his head never breaking eye contact, licking off the precum before taking him into your mouth. You start bobbing your head taking his length slowly as he grips your hair leading himself down your throat.

This was a complete control trip but you loved it. He was strong and powerful, you truly didn’t know you were pissing him off this much. You were ripped from your thoughts when you were ordered to go lay on the bed. Gadreel disappeared for a few minutes coming back with two ties you had bought him. “What are those for?” you questioned. “I’m in control therefore I’m doing what I want. Like I said you’re going to learn you’re mine” he answered calmly as he tied your wrists to the bedposts. You watched as he repositioned himself at your entrance, teasing your swollen clit. “Dammit, Gad just fuck me already. I need you.” You were so desperate to touch him you had resulted to begging. “Sorry I didn’t hear you, love. Say that again.” he grinned licking his lips.

“I said I need you. I need to feel you.” That’s all he needed to hear before he buried his warm throbbing cock into your slick hole. You moaned as you tugged at the ties his name escaping your lips. He obviously liked that because he picked up the pace, sinking his teeth into your shoulder leaving a nice mark. “Who do you belong to, Y/N?”

“You, and only you Gadreel.” With that you were both sent into explosive orgasms.

He smirked leaning down kissing your cheek. “Glad you admitted it. Let me get you untied and relaxed.”

After you threw some jammies you ended up curling into his arms, relaxing as you heard his slow and steady heartbeat. “Do you really think I’m that stubborn? If I was such a pain why didn’t you go get a new charge or something?” You had to know why he stayed, it obviously had been months of aggravation, yet he stayed through all the bullshit.

He chuckled “I stayed because I love you, I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you. That night I saved you was the moment I decided to stay. Now I get to say screw it all and do this whenever I want to.” He smiles down at you, gently kissing you before he lulled you to sleep. He never slept so when you woke up he was there waiting patiently, “Good Morning Angel. You’re up really early, so could you tell me something…” You raised your hand softly placing it over his mouth. “No coffee, no talkie. Save it for after my shower and I’ve had a shower, handsome.” you weakly smile kissing his chest rolling over throwing off the covers. “Give me 20 min, I’ll be back.”

The water was warm helping you to wake up as it rolled over your sore muscles. As you step out you just so happen to realize the mark Gadreel made was still there, you were pretty bruised up. “Talk about being marked.” You mutter to yourself in the mirror. “So did you enjoy yourself last night?” he asks from outside the door. “More than you can ever imagine, Gad. I’ll remember to piss you off more often.” He chuckled and headed back to your room closing the door behind him.

You had completely forgot to at least bring in new clothes, so you headed to the spare where Gad kept all his things and swiped a shirt. It was a dress on you, but for the time being it was comfortable and you had no plans on leaving the house today. You practically skipped down the stairs and made some coffee, dancing to the radio. It may have been early morning, but it was the first good one in a while. “Is there a special reason you’re wearing my t-shirt?” you jumped turning around to see your angel in sweats his blond hair disheveled from last night’s events.

“It’s a human thing, typically when two people are dating they borrow things from each other, out of comfort. Like when Sam comes over with Jess and she’s wearing his hoodie. I’m borrowing your shirt because I’m yours and it smells like you. I am still yours, right?” You ask raising your eyebrows in suspicion. “Always babe.” He replies walking over to you as you put your head on his chest, swaying to the music that’s still playing in the background. “You know Gad, I love you more than you know.” You don’t remember how long you guys stayed like that, but it was one of the fondest memories you have of your angel.