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princessmisery666 · 3 months

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The Right Guy On Paper

Summary: Dean receives unexpected news, and his chosen coping mechanism leads him straight back to you. Part 2 of 3. Part 1 - Just Don't Say You Love Me.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, mentions of cheating.

W/C: 4,315.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Jody Mills, Mentioned: Sam Winchester.

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: A bar - An Arrest - Loyalty

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes remain my own.

A/N: I finally figured out part 3 so here's part 2.

Graphics: made by be on canva. Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

How did he not see this coming? Well, he did, maybe, but not this soon. But still, how could he have not seen it coming, especially after his last encounter with you? It had been written all over your face; you didn’t want a full-blown commitment or declaration of love, but the hope of some kind of promise was there. He’d shot it down immediately, made a hasty retreat, and hadn’t spoken to you in over a month.

It doesn’t make it sting any less. But that’s all it is, a sting, a scratch. It will scab over, and he’ll ignore the itch. At least, that’s what he tries to convince himself of as he pulls up at Jody’s.

The door opens as he steps onto the porch. It’s Jody, phone to her ear, and an incredulous look turned in his direction.

“Yeah, he’s here,” she says into the phone. So Dean assumes it’s you checking up on him. “Yeah, will do. Okay. Bye, honey.”

Dean kisses her cheek, perhaps a little too hard, as he crosses the threshold, heading straight for the liquor.

“Dean…” she starts.

He ends it immediately, holding a hand up so she can see it over his shoulder. “Don’t.”

He doesn’t see her surrendering gesture, but he hears it in the sigh she releases over the clink of the bottle hitting the glass. He shoots back the whiskey; it's the cheap stuff and burns more than it should.

He pours another shot, back still turned, but he can feel Jody’s eyes on him, the worry radiating off her. He won’t tell her he’s fine. She’d see right through it.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He laughs, humorless but amused because Jody knows the answer, yet she always asks on the off chance he’ll give her a glimpse of what’s going on in his head. If only he knew himself, maybe he’d share it.

Another blazing shot warms him from the inside.

He pours another and takes a breath, waiting for the flame in his gut to simmer. But it doesn't, and it’s not because of the cheap liquor, so he concedes, taking the bottle and the glass to the chair. “Who is he?”

Jody sits opposite him, smiling softly. “His name’s Luke, nice guy.”

“Luke,” he tests out the name before washing it away, swilling the liquid around his mouth. This time, he lets the wince show, accepting that it's more than the booze. “He’s a cop, right?”

“Yeah,” Jody confirms.

He smiles, even feels the fondness in it, but the sentiment dies before he finishes his sentence. “She has a type.”

Jody reciprocates the gesture, reaching over to take the glass from him. “Don’t push her out because of this,” she says, “she’s good for you. Some of those broken pieces didn’t seem so broken when you’d been around her. That doesn’t change because you're not sharing a bed anymore. Let her be your friend.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, “maybe.”

But he knows he will push you away because he doesn’t know how to be your friend. After all, you’ve never been just friends.

It’s too easy and not as entertaining as Dean hoped. He’s been on a bender for a few days now. He told Sam he was just stir-crazy, the monsters haven’t been monster-ing lately, and he needs an outlet. It’s partly true. It’s the lack of killing, plus the news Jody delivered a week ago. More so the latter.

You and Luke are engaged.

Dean thinks it's too soon; it’s only been two months. But then again, what does he know? Maybe when you know, you know. You're no fool. And you didn’t suffer fools. You wouldn’t commit to something unless you knew it was right for you.

So Dean’s been doing what Dean does best, finding distractions to bury his tumultuous emotions. He was looking for a warm body, but when no one caught his eye, he settled for ridding some suckers of their hard-earned cash.

He’s up three hundred dollars with double or nothing on the line. Though part of the hustle is to appear drunk, as he finishes his seventh, or maybe it’s his eighth beer - he lost count after shot number four and around bottle five - he thinks he really should slow down. If only for the fact Sam will have to come collect him and Dean doesn’t want to hear the ‘your-not-twenty-six-anymore’ lecture.

His opponent, David, walks around the table, looking for the best angle to take his shot. It doesn’t matter. Regardless of what he does, Dean’s got him in three moves. Or at least he would if his earlier victim, Jason, wasn’t striding up behind him with a furious look that Dean sees in the mirror hanging on the wall behind the table.

“Hey,” Jason calls, a tenth of a second before he throws a punch that Dean ducks.

Dean spins to face him, standing his ground. He can’t back up out of reach cause he’ll hit the wall and box himself in. “C’mon man,” Dean tries, “don’t be a sore loser.”

Jason is already swinging a second punch that Dean recognizes the poor form would likely break his hand had Dean not sidestepped to avoid it.

Two of Jason’s friends are close by but seem reluctant to back up their buddy, so Dean tries to reason with them as he pivots so Jason has his back to the wall, and Dean can back away. “Come get your friend before he gets hurt.”

That’s enough to convince them to intervene, but instead of doing the smart thing and removing their friend from further embarrassment, they descend on Dean, and he’s left with no choice.

He smashes the pool cue into the stomach of the first one. The dude doubles over and falls to his knees. The second man narrowly avoids tripping over him, stumbling towards Dean’s perfectly formed fist, and goes down after a crack of bone and a scream of pain.

Jason looks down at his fallen comrades, and Dean lifts his brow, challenging him.

“Walk away,” Dean advises.

He doesn’t.

Dean has to give credit where credit is due. Jason is tougher than his withering friends. He takes three shots to the face and manages to land a good right hook to Dean’s mouth before he drops to the floor, rolling into the fetal position when Dean takes a step forward.

He can’t be sure whether he was going to kick the man while he was down. But he’ll never know because two sets of hands grab his arms.

Dean doesn’t think. He reacts. Twisting his right arm free, he throws a punch as he turns.

“Okay, you're under arrest…” but it’s too late. His fist connects with the jaw of his captor - a blond cop who still has a hold of him.

Dean’s brain finally registers the uniform and star pinned to his chest, and now he’s really in trouble. “Shit!” He grumbles, holding his hands up as the blood trickles from the cop’s nose.

Dean tells Deputy Callaghan he’s making a mistake and wasting his time hauling Dean to the station. But his suggestion to call Sheriff Mills to get this mess straightened out falls on the deaf ears of the cops in the front of the squad car.

Dean gives up. Jody will have his back, and hopefully, she’s got some leftovers for him at the house.

“You're gonna feel really stupid when we get in there,” Dean says as Callaghan roughly pulls him from the car. “I’m telling you, Sheriff Mills will have your ass for wasting her time.”

“That’d be scary,” Callaghan smirks, smug in whatever knowledge he has that Dean doesn’t. “If she wasn’t on a retreat in Milwaukee until Monday.”

“Crap.”

“Looks like you're our guest until we can get a hold of her, which could be days.”

“Crap.”

Despite Dean’s lack of resistance, Callaghan makes a point of manhandling him through the station doors. He must want to look tough in front of his buddies and make the dried blood on his shirt look like Dean put up a fight that Callaghan won on account of his being detained.

Dean accepts his fate - for now. He doesn’t want to cause more trouble for Jody to clean up.

But maybe he should have because slipping the cuffs and making a run for it would have been easier than facing you. As soon as the door swings shut, like some kind of magnetic pull, your eyes find him, and you're frozen in place staring at him while some newbie who looks about twelve talks at you.

You hand the clipboard back to the young deputy and march with such purpose toward him he’s expecting a Sam-level lecture, but instead, you look around him.

Dean’s seen the sneer you unleash on Callaghan before, but there’s an extra layer to it, a venom that spits out with your command, “Uncuff him now.”

Dean is glad he’s not on the receiving end of your ire, and the station falls quiet. All activity ceases while they watch the show.

The softness of Callaghan’s voice doesn’t match his words or reasoning tone. Dean can tell this dude knows he’s on thin ice with you and trying to make it right. “You don’t even know what he did.”

“Bar fight at Lloyds. Heard all about it.”

“He hit me.”

“You're still standing, so it obviously wasn’t hard enough,” you counter, and Dean sniggers, as do some of the other people watching.

“Y/N,” Callaghan tries again.

You purse your lips, stubbornness settling in tight. “Release him and get out of my station.”

Technically, it's not your station, but Dean assumes Jody’s left you in charge while she’s away. He really wants Callaghan to point that out because Dean can see your one smart comment away from adding to the bloody nose Dean gave him.

But you don’t give him a chance to make the mistake of correcting you. “You owe me, Luke, now and forever, so I’m calling in a chip. Release him!”

Silence prevails for a loaded second. Dean turns slightly to look at Luke, jiggling his hands behind his back. “You heard the boss,” he smirks, “I’m a free man.”

Luke shakes his head and looks back at you. “Whoever he is,” he says, pointing a finger dangerously close to Dean’s face, “he’s trouble.”

“She can handle it,” Dean counters and winks when Luke finally breaks the stare-down with you.

That’s enough to deflate his bravado a few notches, and he finally turns and leaves, slamming the door open as he goes.

Dean mumbles a thanks while you unlock his new jewelry, suddenly feeling some embarrassment for being arrested. He turns to face you, rubbing at his wrists now that the metal is gone. “Sorry if I’ve caused you any trouble.”

“It’s fine,” you wave him off, “no trouble.”

You stare at one another for a short moment, and he sees how tired you look. He opens his mouth to say it's good to see you despite the circumstances, but before he can utter a syllable, you hold up a finger.

Leaning around him, you announce, “Shows over,” and the station springs to life again.

“I should get out of your way,” he says, giving a tight smile.

“Can I give you a ride back to your car?”

He shakes his head, “No, thanks. I’m good. I could use the walk.”

“You got a motel?”

“Nah, just passing through.”

“You’re too drunk to drive back to Lebanon.”

He shrugs, “I’ll find a motel.”

“Here,” you say, fishing in your pocket for a set of keys. “These are for Jody’s. No one’s there. Jody is in Milwaukee, Alex is on vacation with friends, and Clare is hunting in Michigan.”

He makes no move to take them, so you grab his hand and place them on his palm, closing his fingers around them. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the place, but I’m finishing up here and heading up to her cabin. Jody will be back about three tomorrow.”

“Deputy Dick said she wasn’t back until Monday.”

You roll your eyes, “he lied. He does that.”

You don’t elaborate, and Dean doesn’t push, but he knows there's a story to be told.

“There’s beer and leftover lasagne in the fridge,” you layer on top of the perks, “and it's closer than the bar. Just sleep it off, please. For me.”

He nods, “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“Take care, Dean.”

“You too,” he says. He wants to hug you or kiss your cheek or something, but instead, he stares at his fidgeting hands. “Um…maybe we can grab a drink soon,” he suggests, “it’d be nice to catch up.”

“I’d like that,” you say, and your smile is genuine and kind when he meets your eyes again. “You know where to find me, Winchester. You never needed an invitation. That hasn’t changed.”

He laughs just as someone calls your name, and you excuse yourself. He watches you cross the room to the same deputy you were speaking with earlier. He really has missed you, but the open invitation dulls the ache a little. He’s definitely going to take you up on it.

You haven’t been sleeping well lately. It’s understandable; you’ve been through a lot, so you're surprised that you wake just after eleven to the cheerful, chirping bird song.

It must be the peacefulness of the forest that surrounds Jody’s cabin that allowed the much-needed rest to extend later than usual. You're grateful that she practically forced the mini-break on you - “You need to get away. Get your head straight. Take a few days.” As you step onto the porch with a steaming mug of coffee and the thickest blanket you can find, you realize she was right.

This is definitely what you need: nature and some quiet time. No hustle and bustle of a busy town, no traffic noise or drunks snoring logs in the holding cells.

Wrapping the blanket around you, you get a whiff of the cotton-fresh fabric softener and wrap it snugger around you as you sit on the porch swing.

That’s where you spend the rest of the morning and early afternoon wrapped up in the blanket with a book from Jody’s collection. You brought a healthy supply of food with you, and that's the only decision you need to make today: what to cook for dinner.

You’re two delicious sips into your third coffee of the day when the quiet is disrupted by the unmistakable growl of Baby’s engine. He’s not speeding, and you haven’t missed any calls, so you don’t think it's an emergency.

Dean cuts off the engine as he pulls up behind your truck, returning the forest to its quiet tranquility, and steps out of the car with a bright smile.

“Hey,” he greets as he reaches the bottom step.

“Hey yourself,” you grin, finding his smile endearingly contagious. “Everything okay?”

“Peachy,” he says, “passing through on my way home and wanted to say thanks again.”

He could have called you from the road, so you know the flimsy excuse is the best he could come up with, but you're not upset that he’s there.

You laugh, “You mean Jody asked you to check up on me?”

“That too,” he admits with a slight shrug.

You feel the hurt constrict your chest again. Jody’s concern is a reminder of what happened. “She tell you why she wanted you to check up on me?”

“No,” Dean says, climbing the few stairs to stand on the porch. “Doesn’t take a genius, though.”

“Just a sober hunter.”

“Ow, low blow,” he laughs.

You laugh with him for a second but cut it off with a deep sigh. He will hear the story sooner or later. It may as well come from you. Closing the book and putting it on the table, you ask, “Can you stay for dinner?”

He claps his hands and rubs them together, “What’re we having?”

It shouldn’t be as easy as it is to fall back into the familiarity of working together. Dean chops peppers and onions while you put the chicken breasts in the oven. It’s effortless, moving around without getting in each other's way.

You’ve missed it, and from the slight smile that remains while Dean works, you think he feels the same.

He doesn’t press for information, though you’re sure he’s desperate to know why you're at Jody’s cabin alone and if Luke was/is your Luke owed you big enough to let him go without question.

You wash your hands and move on to making the dough, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Dean. It’s easier to talk that way without the embarrassment of looking at him face-on. Though you know he won’t judge you, you don’t want his pity. Still, you start with an easier question.

“You have Charlie’s unlimited credit card.” Mixing the ingredients in the bowl, you ask, “So it’s not like you need the money. Why were you hustling people?”

He shrugs. “Needed some entertainment.”

“It work?”

“Yeah, for a minute,” he chuckles, “at least until I got socked in the mouth.”

You see his tongue poke out to lick at the cut on his lip. “Maybe that's what I need.” you wonder, sprinkling flour on the countertop.

“To get clocked in the face?”

You chuckle along with him. “No, smartass. Some mindless entertainment, forget everything for a while.”

“Like why Luke owes you now and forever?” Dean asks.

“Nice transition,” you jest.

“I thought so,” he says, walking to the fridge to grab the cheese along with two beers.

He twists the caps off and tosses them in the trash. He’s started grating the cheese before you decide to tell him what happened.

“It was good for a while, really good, dreamlike even.” you take a long pull on the beer, and he’s nice enough to keep working, piling grated cheese to the side before continuing to work on the remainder of the block. “But obviously, it was too good to be true. His ex showed up. She’d left him to take a promotion a couple of years ago but decided her career wasn’t all she wanted after all. He made a big show of telling her no and asked me to marry him." The dough takes the brunt of your ire, words punctuated with huffs of breath while you knead it into shape. “He took a demotion to be closer to me. I thought I’d bagged a good one, a real devoted guy. But I was wrong. It didn’t take long for him to cheat.”

“Glad I clocked him.”

“Me too.” silence stretches, and you break it by blasting out a long sigh. “I’m such an idiot. I chose the stable guy, the guy that was right on paper. I picked the easy way, and it backfired.”

“That doesn’t make you an idiot.”

“No?” you question, pausing your work to look at him. He halts his task, too, looking at you fully. “When I found out, I did all the tests, holy water, silver, recited an exorcism ‘cause I didn’t believe he was just a bad guy. If that doesn’t spell out desperate idiot, I don’t know what does.”

“It doesn’t!” He argues, frustrated that you're talking down about yourself. “But you know what does spell out ‘idiot’? Cheating on someone as awesome as you.”

You cock a small smile, “Thank you.”

You hold one another's gaze for a long moment. You want to tell him that you would have picked him over Luke, over anyone else, but you know he wouldn’t want to hear it. As if he can read it in your expression, he clears his throat and breaks the loaded stare to turn back to his task.

“C’mon,” Dean says, “Let’s get these pizzas baking and get drunk.”

The late morning rise must have been a fluke because you can’t sleep. Considering the half bottle of whiskey you drank with Dean, you're surprised by your inability to fall asleep.

Maybe that’s the cause of your insomnia, too much alcohol in your system, or the fact that it feels weird knowing Dean is sleeping in the room next door, or perhaps the emotional turmoil of the last few weeks is taking its toll. Whatever the reason, the more you try to force it, the further away it seems to get and the angrier you become. After an hour of tossing and turning, you give up.

You need to do something to occupy your mind and decide to bake some cookies. Once in the kitchen, you realize that using a mixer will most likely disturb Dean, who’s just down the corridor. But now that you’re up, you really want cookies and decide to mix them by hand.

The first batch is just starting to rise in the oven when Dean appears, fully dressed but with messy hair and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Crap, did I wake you?” You ask.

“Nah,” he shakes his head, bleary-eyed, squinting under the brightness of the kitchen lights. “Don’t tell Sam,” he says, “but I’m not twenty-six anymore. Indigestion woke me up.”

You laugh lightly, “There’s Pepto in the bathroom.”

“Found it,” he tells you, clicking the button on the coffee machine. “Then I smelled cookies, so I came to investigate.”

“Well, perfect timing. The first batch should be ready by the time the coffee’s done.”

He doesn’t speak while the coffee brews, but you feel his eyes following you. You wonder what he’s thinking but know better than to ask. Maybe you truly don’t want to know. The thought of him pitying you fills you with embarrassment despite knowing Luke’s actions are not a reflection on you.

Dean pours the fresh coffee and adds sugar and a splash of cream to yours, sliding it closer to you while you pull the first batch of cookies from the oven and onto a cooling rack.

He steals one, “hot, hot, hot,” he hisses, juggling it from one hand to the other. Despite the obvious temperature, he takes a bite, huffing out the heat before it's cool enough to bite down.

He chews three, four times, hesitates, and chews some more. It’s evident from the face he’s trying, unsuccessfully, to not pull that it’s terrible.

“It’s awful, right?” you ask with an apologetic scowl.

He nods, grimacing, “Disgusting,” he confirms but starts chewing again as if the taste will improve.

“Well, don’t eat it!” You scold, laughing, “spit it out!”

He rushes to the trashcan and spits out the chewed-up wad.

“I’m sorry,” he says, swiftly walking back to grab his coffee and taking a big gulp. “I was trying to be polite, but yeah, that was not good.”

You know he’s not being purposefully mean. You’ve never been good at baking, and clearly, eyeballing the ingredients didn’t work, but it still hurts a little. You sigh, watching the cookies slide off the plate and into the trash.

You scoop the second batch of cookie dough onto the spoon and into the trash, “I guess I wouldn’t have made a good wife after all.”

“Don’t say stuff like that,” Dean reprimands. “You’d make an awesome wife.”

Has he really thought about what kind of wife you would be? Why would he? That was never a possibility for the two of you, so it’s purely a reflex, saying something nice to make you feel better.

You don’t respond, continuing to tidy the mess you’ve made while Dean steps out of the way, leaning his shoulder against the fridge to watch you.

While your back is turned, he asks, “Is that really what you wanted? To be his wife?”

You shrug, wiping down the countertop with a damp cloth. “I don’t even know anymore.”

“You were so career-driven, always seemed happy in the moment. I never pegged you for the white picket fence type,” he comments, sipping his coffee again.

“I never was.” You laugh without an ounce of humor because he has you dead to rights. How well he knows you always surprises you, which in turn surprises you more because that’s what he does for a living. He has to read people. The same way you do - checking for tells and body language of victims and suspects. Dean knows when he’s being lied to. You know you’d never sneak one past him. Yet he doesn’t seem to understand that he was the one who changed your perspective. He was the one who made you believe there was more to life than a career.

“So it was him then?” he softly asks, as if he’s expecting you to reveal a secret. “He changed your mind, made you want it all?”

The anger and bitterness swell inside of you. Not just towards Luke for promising you a future and then ripping it away, but at Dean for being oblivious to the fact he’s the reason for the change of perspective.

“It doesn’t matter what changed. It’s over now,” you snap, throwing down the cloth and knocking the neat pile of crumbs you’d made onto the floor. “All of it.”

“Why are you mad at me?” he yells, looking slightly confused and standing straighter.

“I’m not,” you try to backtrack, though your volume increases. “I’m just mad! Mad at Luke for being an unfaithful asshole, mad at myself for falling for it, mad at the universe for giving me something good and taking it away again. And y’know what? Yeah, I am mad at you, Dean! I’m fucking furious ‘cause you changed my mind. You made me realize I could have it all: a career and partner who understood my commitments, someone who was happy to slot into my life when it worked for both of us, and made me see it could be effortless. I didn’t want any of that until we started our thing.”

“Hey!” he shouts back, “I never said never. I said not right now. Or then or whatever.”

“Bullshit! You said you couldn’t make any commitments, even without Chuck pulling the strings.”

“Yeah, I meant I needed a minute to process, figure some stuff out. You said we were good. You didn’t want any ‘awkward conversations’,” he counters with full-on air quotes.

“I didn’t want to scare you off!”

“And I didn’t want you to run off and meet someone new!”

“Yeah, well, that worked out just fucking great, didn’t it!” The anger simmers, and you hold his eyes until he blurs behind your tears.

Dean blasts out a sigh, “Maybe I should go.” He phrases it as a suggestion, but he’s already tipping the remainder of his coffee into the sink, so obviously, he’s made up his mind.

“Yeah, maybe you should,” you say, blinking up at the ceiling to stem the tears. “I’m really not in the headspace for this right now.”

You keep your back turned while he shuffles around, going to the bedroom to grab his duffle.

Why did Jody send him? She was the one who suggested the vacation, and she, of all people, knows how much losing Dean hurt you. You’d confided in Jody about the commitment comment, which had been the catalyst for realizing how deep you’d got with Dean and how much it wasn’t reciprocated.

A chair momentarily teeters as Dean pulls his coat off the back, but the jingle of his car keys is what pulls you out of your own head.

Tears suffocated and stalled, you find the courage to turn around, but he’s already at the door. “Dean,” you call. He stops and half turns to face you, but you don’t know what to say. It’s too soon to let yourself be vulnerable with anyone, but you don’t want him to leave, at least not like this.

You stare at him, hoping he can read the words you can’t find in your expression.

He breaks eye contact, looking down at his feet. “I’ve, er… I’ve missed you.”

It lifts a weight you weren’t aware you were carrying but brings fresh tears to your eyes. “I’ve missed you too.”

He drops his bag at the door, crosses the room, and swiftly tugs you into a tight hug. “Call me when you’ve figured all this out,” he requests, and all you can do is nod into his shoulder. He kisses the side of your head and rushes out like a gust of wind.

Part 3 - Just Say You Love Me

Tags info

/ @alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @deandreamernp / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @foxyjwls007 / @jc-winchester / @justagirlinafandomworld / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @lyarr24 / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @nancymcl / @shanimal87 / @stoneyggirl2 / @waywardbaby / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior / @pank0w / @kmc1989/ @deans-spinster-witch / @spnbaby-67 / @roseblue373

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

#dean winchester #jacklesversebingo23 #spn #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #reader insert #female reader #dean winchester angst #spn fanfic #angst #spn fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fandom #dean winchester x you #you x dean winchester

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honeycrispjamz · 2 months

Note

Misty Quigley thoughts?

:0!! Excellent question

Been thinking alot lately about how Misty could be a representation of a Hazard ⚠️ warning in the wilderness. I think each girl represents something associated with the wilderness and its dangers— Jackie being starvation/lack of preparation, Shauna being a direct foil to that by being hunger (which I would argue is very different than starvation but that’s a whole nother post)/a reversion to primitive urges, etc.

But specifically for Misty, I think she represents those warning signs you see at the front of the entrances to forests/the wild. Turn Back, Do Not Enter, Certain Death Ahead. One of my not as solid points for this is just how much yellow the show puts her in— and yes, most of the cast is in yellow, but (if my memory from several rewatches serves me correctly) she is the one most absorbed by it, at least in season one. Even before the plane crash, years before, we are given an insight to her room, which is, well—

The most yellow bedroom I’ve ever seen.

She has always been a person that is manipulative, smart, dangerous, even as a child. She takes the hate she receives and turns that into fuel for her to work harder for acceptance from her peers, and no matter how much she fails she just keeps going, and going, and going, despite all signs to turn back.

She joins soccer probably as a way to meet other girls, only to be assigned team manager/water boy. And instead of getting upset and quitting, she uses their blindness to her skills as an advantage. She is in a pretty replaceable role (feel free to correct me as I’ve never played a sport lol) and instead of taking the “hint,” (turn back. Do not enter. Certain social death ahead) she fights to make herself irreplaceable. She cheers the loudest, is the first to try and fix Allie’s leg, is constantly by Ben’s side ready to receive directions.

During the plane crash in the script, it’s noted that when Misty sees Lottie and Laura Lee grasp for each other, she realizes how alone she is. She is shown that in the wilderness ahead, she will have no friend. No guide. No path out. (TURN BACK. DO NOT ENTER. CERTAIN DEATH AHEAD.) And, again, instead of submitting to the crash around her, she comes out of the plane BLAZING, ready to help and save the other girls. She isn’t scared of the very real danger that is the wilderness. She thinks she can overpower it, make it submit like everyone has made her submit.

Now, we have to talk about *sigh* the Ben situation. I would argue he— at least, at the beginning— is the only one not fooled by Misty’s overall confidence towards them and him surviving. He is pessimistic (which is. Valid lol) towards her and her help, and when she tries to approach him in a sexual manner (which I believe is influenced by past abusive experiences she may of experienced but that’s just my hc) he completely dismisses her. Which is what he should do, even though I do think he could have said it in a “nicer” way but that’s a whole nother post.

You know what does make him submit, though? His fear of her. No one else is scared of her, has given her this power to show her raw power/darkness. So, when he rejects her, she tries a different route— poison. You know how some hazard signs notify hikers that there are plants that look almost exactly like non-toxic plants, and that telling the difference is impossible to someone who is unprepared/ignorant? Well.

I could go deeper into this in a separate post as I’m still playing with this interpretation of her character and haven’t written it down before, so I’m open to any ideas/thoughts/arguments someone could have for or against this interpretation :3

#yellowjackets #misty quigley #strawbabyjams asks

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nickfowlerrr · 2 years

Text

taking care

pairing: soft!dark nick fowler x curvy!reader

warnings: innocent/naïve reader. violence. mentions of blood. mean!nick. mentions of injury. minor character death. smut. choking. gun violence. pet names. hair pulling. spanking. i think i’m missing stuff so please let me know if you think anything else should be tagged!

words: 7.4k

notes: this fic has been sitting in my drafts for a couple weeks and i haven’t reread it in a while so apologies for any errors. genuinely idk where this story went and i know i didn’t bother trying to make it make much sense - it was really just an excuse to write nick fowler smut and then this all just kinda came along with it lmao. also - can i just say that i am big anti baths but honestly, i’d get in a tub with this man any day of the week 😙

i feel like, by now, we should all know not to expect well written endings from me and this fic is no exception. idk man lol

as always feedback and comments are always welcome. thank you for reading and reblogging 💜

“I really wanted to trust you, sweetheart,” he said, sounding disappointed as he stared down at you. “I was so sure I could trust you.”

“What?” you said, taken aback by his words as you stared up at him from where you were made to kneel in between his legs. “You..you can. You know you can,” you continued, trying to hide your hurt though you were sure it was written clear as day on your face.

His hand was caressing your cheek softly as his eyes continued to gaze stoically into yours - giving nothing away.

When you had gotten home, after putting away the groceries in the kitchen, you found him in the den. He was just sitting in his chair near the fireplace- the glow of the flames illuminating him and accentuating the sharpness of his facial structure. He sat there, almost unmoving - looking like a work of art.

You were going to call to him, but were instead momentarily stunned by the sight of him before his clear, blazing blue eyes suddenly shot to yours as he heard you enter. His gaze froze you to your spot with the chill it sent through you. He stared at you a moment before speaking.

“Come here, princess,” he called to you.

You blinked at him before making your way over. You had heard that pet name many times before, but something about the way he said it was different now. It sounded wrong, cold. So unlike the wickedly sweet way it normally sounded coming from his lips.

When you were stood right before him, he grabbed your hands in his and pulled you down, urging you to lower yourself onto your knees before him.

To say you were confused at his words would be an understatement. You had been with Nick for the past two years and had started living together just around the first. He had moved you into his home with him a few months shy of your one year anniversary, promising you it would be perfect. And the place itself was perfect. It was in a newer, quite expensive, neighborhood with few neighbors living in the houses near his.

And his house was amazing. High tech and as luxury as you had ever seen in person. You had no qualms about the place you’d be moving to, you were just a little trepidatious, worried things were moving too fast. But of course, Nick convinced you it wasn’t too soon, that when you loved like you loved one another, these things could never be rushed. Not when it was always meant to be. You’d get to spend more time together, you’d save money on rent, and he’d be able to keep an eye on you - to keep you even safer.

You knew Nick’s line of work was dangerous, but you never felt worried about something bad happening to you. You knew he’d never let that happen. You were always his top priority, and had been since the day he first laid eyes on you. Rather, your concerns were in regards to his safety. When he would come home after long weeks away, you finally felt like you’d be able to breathe again. He’d always call or message when he could, but of course you’d still worry. Especially on occasions when he’d get home bloody and bruised. Sometimes you thought it hurt you more than him. But you were always there waiting for him. Always there to patch him up and take care of him when he needed you. And you always would be. You’d promised him as much.

You were closer to Nick than you had ever been with anyone and you’d never felt such an intense connection the way you did with him. You never knew how deep love could be before you met him. You would trust him with your life. You did trust him with your life. And after all this time, you thought he felt the same.

But apparently not.

You weren’t sure what had come over him or what exactly brought this on, but his current behavior was unsettling to say the least. You felt like he was keenly watching every little movement you made and taking note of each reaction you had as he stared at you. Looking for some sort of tell, something that would betray your innocence. But what did he think you were guilty of?

Whatever it was, he wouldn’t find anything. You hadn’t done anything to cause him to question his trust in you, you were sure of it.

“You don’t have to lie, sweetheart. There’s no point now, anyway,” he said as his fingers ghosted along your cheek.

“Nick, I swear,” you said, shaking your head in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.

What are you trying to accuse me of?”, your hurt even more evident now, “I haven’t done anything wrong,” you insisted earnestly.

It was only when he brushed his knuckles along your cheek that you dared to move. You gingerly grabbed his hand in yours and as you pulled it down to hold it, you then saw the blood and bruising. You looked up at him, eyes wide as you finally took his appearance in more closely. You noticed what appeared to be dried blood stains on his crisp white shirt, but as you scanned his face to see if he was hurt, you found no sign of injury. So the blood wasn’t his.. The only give away he was injured at all was his hand. No, hands, you realized as you pulled away only slightly to run your eyes over him again, needing to be sure he wasn’t hurt, before you noticed the bloody knuckles on his left hand, matching his right.

You weren’t new to seeing Nick like this, but you were normally more prepared. If he was due home from a mission, you knew what to expect. You had time to prepare and steel yourself against the sight of him possibly walking through the door wounded and bloody. He wasn’t normally a hands on kind of guy. He preferred to avoid hand to hand combat when he could, “less messy,” he’d say. But from the looks of him, it seemed he had been in some kind of altercation. You just couldn’t think of how that would have happened in the few hours you had been out. It’s not like he had been gone on an assignment, he hadn’t had any work since he came back last week. So when did this happen? Why did this happen? Why was he sitting here looking the way he was? Treating you like you were in on some conspiracy against him.

“Princess,” he tutted as his eyes burned into yours and his expression grew harsher. Your hand in his, being squeezed tighter. “You’re gonna need to stop lying to me, before I get even more upset.”

“I’m not lying,” you stressed again. “Please - please, just tell me what’s wrong. What happened?”

“You really thought I wouldn’t notice the little hushed conversations you’d have with him every time you’d go out?” He dropped your hand from his and you moved further back from him as he leaned closer to your face, scrutinizing every emotion that passed your eyes. His question served only to confuse you further because you really, truly had no idea what he was talking about or to whom he was referring.

“Don’t play stupid, baby. It’s not gonna work this time,”

This time? What was that supposed to mean? You wanted to ask, but knew better than to let it slip from your lips. He was obviously upset and lashing out, and you knew you needed to figure out what he was going on about before he was too angry to deal with. Nick would never hurt you, you knew that, but he had a way of taking his anger and frustrations out on you that would leave you feeling him for days. Normally you didn’t mind, but seeing as his ire was now directed, in part, at you, you felt a little more… nervous. He had never spoken to you like this before and you certainly were not a fan of it. He was making you feel uneasy.

“Nick, I honestly have no clue what you’re talking about or even who you’re talking about,”

“I saw you on your way out earlier, princess. What did you tell him, hm? What did he say to you to get you to smile so pretty for him?”

You sat there, mouth agape and brows furrowed as he spoke so condescending towards you. You thought back to when you were leaving today, who had you seen on your way out? Who had you talked to? The only person you could think of was Johnathan.

Yeah, it was Johnathan. He stopped you on your way to your car, asking about when would be a good time for a double date night with you and Nick and him and his wife. He’d been trying to set something up for a while, since they had moved in a few months back. Nick was evasive the couple of times Johnathan had caught him outside - always asking when you two were free. It was odd, certainly, but you had never thought anything of it. Only that he seemed to be a friendly neighbor, maybe overly so, but nothing more.

And certainly Nick knew better than to assume anything more than friendly, courteous conversation was happening between the two of you anytime you may have spoken. You were just being polite.

“This is about Jonathan?” you asked, almost disbelieving. “Seriously, Nick? He said hello and asked about you, like he always does before I told him I had to get going. That was it. That can’t be why you’re so upset. Will you please, just tell me what happened?” you tried asking again as you reached for one of his hands to examine more closely.

“Let me get you cleaned up and-,” you soothed before you found yourself being shoved down onto your back. The movement was sudden and unexpected. As you found yourself pinned down onto the hardwood floor, Nick on top of you, his hand wrapped firmly around your neck as his ice blue eyes raged with betrayal, you didn’t have time to scream and only managed to squeak out in protest before he spoke. He was mere inches from your face as your hands instinctively grabbed onto his forearm while he held you tighter.

“I told you to stop lying,” he spit out as you stared up at him in complete shock. You tried to speak but the hold he had on you, the way he was choking you made it nearly impossible. He stared into your frightened eyes for a moment before he loosened his hand from your throat and you coughed out, desperately trying to regain your breath as your head lolled to the side. He immediately grabbed your face and brought you back to looking directly up at him while you heaved.

“I’m not lying, Nick! What the hell is wrong with you?” you cried beneath him, trying to push him off but getting nowhere. He ignored your words, clearly not satisfied with your answer and seemingly unphased by your fighting against him as he continued staring into your eyes. When you stopped thrashing, he let out a heavy breath, letting his head fall slightly, his forehead against yours.

“I’ve already forgiven you, princess. I promise. I just need you to tell me the truth now so we can move past this,” he bargained as his thumb brushed away the tears that had fallen down your cheeks.

You stared perplexed yet again as your brows returned to their furrowed position.

“The truth? The truth is I haven’t done anything. I still have no idea what you’re talking about or what happened while I was gone- I-”

You were interrupted by Nick scoffing and huffing as he hauled you roughly up from the floor. He had a tight grip on your arm as he pulled you to him. You crashed into him with the force of his pull before he spun you so you were in front of him, your back now to his chest, as he urged you to walk in front of him while he led from behind.

“I really didn’t want to do this the hard way, sweetheart, but you’re leaving me with no choice.” he said as he moved you both to the garage. “You’re gonna tell me the truth, in your own words, one way or another.” he promised.

As he shoved the door open from behind you and urged you in, you were stunned by the sight you were met with. You gasped in shock as you stared at your unconscious, bloodied and beaten neighbor tied to a chair. The walls of the normally empty garage and the floor beneath him were covered in plastic. You were genuinely lost and felt like you were on a delay as you just continued to stare, begging your mind to catch up.

What had Nick done in the few hours you had been gone and why?

“Let’s start off easy,” he began as he spoke into your ear. “How long?”

“How long, what?” you stuttered out in a whisper.

“How long have you been planning this? How long have you been working with him?”

“Working wi- what? Working with him? What are you talking about, Nick? What the hell is happening?”

“He said you’ve been in on it since before we met.. But I know that’s not true. Can’t be. Because I’m the one who found you, not the other way around. I don’t believe you’re that conniving and I know you’re not that smart. So, tell me. When did he get into contact with you and when did you decide to work with him, huh?”

“He said what?” you asked shrilly. “I swear to God, Nick, I met him when you did. I’d never seen him before in my life. And I wasn’t working with him on anything? What does- what does that even mean? Look, I don’t know what happened, I don’t know what he told you, but he’s lying. Whatever he told you, he was lying! And how could you believe him,” you finished, your voice on the verge of breaking.

He stayed quiet for a minute, then his grip left your arms. You stayed still in your spot while he was still close behind you, close enough that you felt it when he was reaching for something. You weren’t sure what he was doing until he moved his arms to wrap around your waist lightly as his hands crossed in front of you. As you slowly looked down at his hands, you saw his pistol being held in his right hand. He leaned down to rest his head on your shoulder as you continued to stay as still as you could.

“Nick,” you nearly whimpered. He sighed, nodded his head and placed a gentle kiss on your neck before he spoke.

“I believe you,” he said, standing up straight.

It happened so fast. You had instinctively turned around into Nick the second you saw him raise his gun. With his left hand, he pushed you out of the way as he stepped in front of you and aimed his pistol at Jonathan - firing a single shot into him without a second of hesitation. You jumped at the sound of the shot as you were looking away from the scene while your eyes watered and your hands covered your mouth as you silently gasped in shock.

Nick put his gun down on the workstation next to him and turned to you, walking to where you were standing. He didn’t say anything as he pulled you into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you before moving a hand to hold your head against him as he tried to comfort you.

“Sorry, angel. You’re so gullible, so easily persuaded into things, I just had to be sure,” he began as he moved to walk you back into the house. His calm was a stark contrast to your terror filled debilitation.

“He got inside after you left and tried to sneak up on me. Honestly, he’s probably the worst trained agent I’ve ever come across. I heard him coming from a mile away.”

You were back in the house, he guided you to the den and sat you down on the chair he had been previously occupying in front of the fire. You were clearly in shock as he continued speaking.

“Got him tied up in the garage, I told him to talk but he didn’t want to. Took a little work, but eventually he broke and told me all about his secret assignment. And then,” he paused, taking a deep breath before letting out a light scoff, “he brought up you,” he said as he caressed your face gently.

“And each time your name left his mouth, I couldn’t stop myself from punching the living fuck out of him. He passed out and I came inside and waited for you to get back. You know, he was shitty at every other part of his job, but he sure knew how to get under my skin.. The rational part of my brain kept telling me he was full of shit, I knew he was, I just- I hated even having to think about the possibility it was true.

“But sweetheart,” he said as he grabbed your face, making sure you were looking him in the eye before he continued. “I want you to know that even if you had been working for him, with him, whatever, that I would have forgiven you.

“I know you weren’t, I know you didn’t, but if you had, we would’ve moved past it. Because no matter what, we belong together. You’re mine. And I know how much you love me. I know you’d do anything for me. And I’m sorry I had any doubt.”

He was squatting down in front of you as you were finally starting to process everything. Your breathing became quicker and quicker and your mind was racing.

“His wife, Nick. What about his wife? She’s gonna- she’s gonna be looking for him. What are we gonna do? What do we do? He’s- he’s, he’s dead, Nick. He’s dead. In our garage. What do we do?” you rambled as you began to cry again, leaning forward into him desperately.

He pulled you to stand up and held you once again.

“There’s nothing to worry about, sweetheart. I already sent some people over to his house. There was no one living there but him. He’d been staking us out since he moved in. Working for some rebel agency after he was dismissed in the academy. Never even made it into the bureau. But don’t worry, it’s all taken care of, I promise. No one’s missing him except whoever sent him, and we already have plans on how we’re gonna deal with that,” he assured you.

You stayed in his embrace, the only source of comfort you had. You were still upset and you wanted him to know it, but you didn’t want to lose his touch or push him anymore than he had been pushed today by getting angry and blowing up at him after everything.

“I wasn’t working with or for him. I have never told him anything about you,” you said quietly into his chest as your lip wobbled. “How could you accuse me of doing something like that?” you asked as you pulled back to look at him, his eyes much softer now and full of sorries. “You’re my everything, you know that. I love you, I would never go behind your back. I would never want to get you hurt in any way.

“I would never do that to you. I could never do that to you.”

He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to your lips, pressing his forehead to yours as he nodded.

“I know, princess. I know. I’m sorry,” he said solemnly. You just hugged him tighter as he held you.

“Your hands,” you suddenly remembered. “Let’s go upstairs,” you said.

“Hey, angel,” he stopped you from pulling him further, “I think you’re still in shock. I just shot a man in front of you, you don’t need to be taking care of me right now. I’m taking care of you.” You stared at him a moment in silence, gently biting your lip trying to keep yourself together.

“You killed him,” you said bleakly.

“I killed him, yeah. I shouldn’t have done that in front of you, I’m sorry.”

“He was trying to kill you first, though,”

“Yeah, he was.”

“And he was trying to make you believe I was in on it,” you added.

“Yes.”

You just nodded against his chest as you leaned into him again.

“He had it coming, but that has nothing to do with me doing it right in front of you. Don’t try to rationalize the trauma,” he lightly chuckled. He was pretty accustomed to death. He had seen his fair share of it and his hands obviously weren’t clean of anyone’s blood, either. Though that certainly wasn’t something he ever wanted for you.

“It’s normally pretty difficult for people the first time they see someone die,” he said softly.

“The first time?” you said, sounding stressed. “The only time. First and last,” you said seriously.

“First and last,” he promised.

You later found yourself wrapped in your bath towel, sitting on the edge of your bed while Nick dried himself off with his own. You had cleaned his hands yourself before he ran a bath for the both of you. Sitting in the bubbles, you just laid with him in the warm water while his hands trailed up and down your body. You didn’t talk, just enjoyed his presence. That was until the realization that you could have actually lost him today hit you.

You looked up at him and tugged him closer to you as your eyes threatened to spill over with tears. Nick hushed you softly as he kissed your head.

“I can’t lose you,” you whispered.

“You aren’t going to, princess,” he assured you. You soaked a little while longer before you moved to the shower together. You were now clean and a lot more relaxed after being comforted by him all night long.

Nick moved over to you, standing before you as you sat on the bed. You looked up to him with a small pout and puppy eyes and just raised your arms up to him. He laughed a little before he bent down to your level, allowing you to wrap your arms around the back of his neck, hands finding his hair as you pulled him into a soft kiss. He gently pulled away from you and tugged your towel off of your body before he pulled his own off of his waist and tossed both of them to the wayside as he immediately went back to your soft, waiting lips, his hands framing your face while he deepened the kiss.

You broke away for a breath, staying nose to nose with him. Quiet and softly, you spoke with your eyes closed as your foreheads touched, “You’re my first and last.” The sweet reminder of the fact that Nick indeed was your ‘first’, in a lot more than just sex, and that he would absolutely be your ‘last’ as well, seemed to only frenzy him as he returned his lips to yours hotly.

“Your one and only,” he snarled as you nodded against him.

“My one and only,” you repeated obediently.

Before you knew it, he had you on your back and moved you up the mattress, allowing him more room to kneel above you, only breaking the kiss to breathe. His hands were on your face and yours were in his hair as you continued to sensually make out. Soon, his hands began wandering your naked body and as he lowered himself and closed the space between you, you could feel his heavy cock, hard and hot against you. You spread your legs around him as he moved his lips down to your chest. You moaned at the feeling of him playing with your breasts. He was toying with your nipple in one hand as he took the other into his hot mouth. Suckling and nibbling, getting you more and more wet for him as he moved to deliver the same attention to your other breast. Leaving kisses and love bites all over your ample chest before moving back up and attacking your neck with the same need.

You knew he was trying to be gentle, working very hard to not go feral over you. You could feel it in his tense muscles, he was too stiff and you knew he was holding back for you. Trying to, at least. But when you felt him bite your shoulder a little too harshly as he grabbed your ass roughly, you knew what he really wanted, needed. Today was a bad day to say the least and you knew he needed to let it out. Normally he had no qualms about taking his frustrations out on you in bed but today was different. You were involved in this and he had already hurt you earlier, you were still fragile. He didn’t want to push you so he was trying to keep his aggressions at bay. But you didn’t want that. You wanted to feel him. Completely, with no inhibitions. You needed it.

Pulling his hair back just enough to get him to look up to you, you urged him closer as you kissed him hard before speaking.

“Nick, baby, I want you. Use me. Please. Don’t want you to hold back,”

“Princess,” he tried to caution, voice hard.

“Please,” you begged. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I want you to feel better. I want you, I just want you, please.”

He didn’t need much more persuasion as he crashed his lips into yours again. Your hands were on his back, holding him close to you, chest to chest, before he pulled away from your lips and pulled back. Your hands fell from his back and moved to his built chest, then up along his muscular shoulders as he stared down at you with dark, hungry eyes.

He pulled you up with him suddenly as he got off the bed completely. You stared at him confused for just a second before you realized what he wanted. Without him saying a word, you got up and bent over the side of the mattress, your ass sticking out as you stood there in anticipation of what was to come..

“Color?” he asked huskily.

“Green.” was your prompt response.

The first strike of his hand across your bottom stung in the most pleasant, familiar way. You moaned at the second one as he admired the jiggle of your ass, squeezing your flesh before he landed the next strike. He spanked you repeatedly as your skin grew hot, your eyes grew teary, and your pussy grew needier with each hit. You were a mess for him already.

As he grabbed at your ass and soothed your hot flesh, he couldn’t help but taunt you as he admired your slick pussy drooling for his attention.

“All this for me, princess?” he asked as his thick fingers swiped through your wet folds while you whimpered. He rubbed your wetness around as he continued playing with you before plunging one finger inside of you, curling against your tight walls.

“Yes, yes, Nick, all for you,” you moaned.

You could practically hear him smirking as he moved closer behind you. He pulled his finger out after pumping in and out of you teasingly. He pushed you further up the bed as he grabbed your ass again and spread your cheeks so much so that you opened up even more for him, you could feel your pussy spreading for him as he squeezed you and continued his playing. He slapped your ass once more and without warning thrust two of his fingers inside your wet and wanting cunt. You mewled in delight as he scissoed them inside you, preparing you for his cock. He loved playing with you, teasing you with pleasure and watching you writhe with desire for him to push you off of the edge. And he would, eventually, but he liked seeing just how far he could push and taunt you before you were crying for him. So he continued fingering and stimulating you just enough to keep you on the edge, but not enough to get you there. Not yet.

“Please,” you whimpered out with a breathy moan. He slid his fingers out of you at your pathetic plea and then leaned over your back, shoving his fingers past your lips into your mouth as he spoke in your ear.

“Suck,” he commanded, voice low and heady. You did as he said, sucking his fingers clean as he panted over you, and you could feel him grinding his cock against your ass. He pulled his fingers past your lips before he placed a sloppy kiss on your shoulder as he stood back up.

“Good girl,” he praised.

He grabbed his thick cock in his hand and decided to tease you a little more as he ran his tip up and down your slit. You were mewling at the sensation and wanted more.

“Your needy little pussy’s just crying for my cock, isn’t she?” he taunted, voice thick with desire.

“Mhm yes, Nick, please. Please fuck me. I need it, need you, need your cock inside me, please,” you whined desperately.

“Careful what you ask for, princess,” he said darkly before he positioned his cock up to your dripping hole. He thrust into you and began moving hard and fast as he fucked you without restraint. You were groaning and moaning as he hit deep inside of you, your legs dangling over the edge of the bed now with how far he pushed you up with his thrusts. His hand went to your hair and he pulled your head back harshly, loving the way your body reacted to him while he grunted in pleasure as you continued whimpering and babbling pure nonsense.

Letting go of your hair, his hands then gripped your soft, fleshy hips as he pulled you back onto his cock repeatedly, slamming in and out of you. The clap of his pelvis meeting the flesh of your ass while he continued pounding into you was salacious and lewd and served only to turn you on more.

“Fuck, you look so fucking pretty when you’re being spread open on my cock, angel. Feels so fucking good, fuck,” he grunted huskily, moaning at the feeling of you.

Your fingers were buried in the sheets as he fucked you further into the mattress and you were on the very brink of your orgasm. Nick was hitting so deep inside of you and you had never felt so full. Each slide of his cock against your walls brought you closer as he stimulated your g-spot with every thrust.

His right hand left your hip and slithered under you to where his index finger found your clit. He began rubbing the swollen nub in small circles, causing you to clench hard around him as he swiftly brought you to your orgasm with the added stimulation. You were moaning and crying breathlessly as you came, eyes squeezed shut as he rode you through your high and talked you through your orgasm.

“Ah, fuck, princess,” he moaned out. “You’re squeezing me so goddamn tight. Coming on my cock like a good girl, huh. You like that, yeah. Love when I split you open like this, don’t you. Love when I fuck your pretty little pussy, stuff you full of my cock while I play with your clit,” he spoke into your ear as he leaned over you again.

“Mmhm, I love it, ‘so good, it’s so good. Fuck,” you cried as you mewled into the sheet beneath you while he continued pounding in and out of your overworked cunt.

He took your hands in his, intertwining your fingers as he pulled your arms down and around your back, his hips snapping more erratically into you as he chased his high. He was leaning all of his weight onto you as he leaned over your body, pushing you further into the bed as he groaned. You knew he was close as he lost any of the restraint he may have had left, your name leaving his lips along with a string of curses.

“No one else could ever make you come undone like this. No one else will ever get to fuck you, feel your tight cunt wrapped around them. Fuck, this is goddamn heaven. And it’s all mine,” he said, moaning and grunting.

“You’re mine,” he growled into your ear. “And you’re gonna come again for me. Need to feel you come again, princess. Need to feel you grip my cock like that again.”

As if the never ending stimulation from his thick cock rocking into you from behind along with the thrilling sounds and praises you were pulling out of him weren’t enough to make you come again, those words absolutely were. Your toes were curling and the feeling of him on top of you - his pants and moans right in your ear as he leaned into you even more, all of it, every word, sound, and sensation were cascading at once into you and sent you headfirst into another orgasm, your hands squeezing his as he pushed into you further, your walls tightening around him again while he bit into your shoulder and you whimpered pathetically.

“I’m gonna come inside you, angel. Fill you up full of me, and you’re gonna take every last bit of my come, you hear me,” he panted through grit teeth in your ear. “You’re gonna be feeling me for days after tonight, princess. But that’s exactly what you wanted, isn’t it. Just can’t fucking get enough,” he growled before he pulled out of you. He flipped you onto your back so quickly you barely even registered it happened until he slammed right back into you, his hands keeping your thick thighs spread for him as he pulled you as close to him as he could, your ass on the very edge of the bed as he kept your legs open around his hips. He thrust a couple times more, long and hard, before he seated himself as far inside of you as he possibly could with the most beautiful moan you’d ever heard, his shuddering breaths falling on you as he started to let himself go inside of you, your pussy gripping him like a vice all the while. His hands were back on your hips as his body fell forward, his head nuzzling to the crook of your neck as he sucked air in through his teeth before letting out a deep, guttural groan, nearly shivering as he came harder inside of you. His thick ropes of come filling you. You held him close to you, petting his head as he leisurely pumped his cock inside of you a few more times, riding out his orgasm as you panted and mewled beneath him every time he stimulated your ever sensitive clit. When he was finished, you were sure you had never been so full. You could practically feel him leaking out of you.

You were both panting, regaining your breath, as he smiled against your skin, coming down from his high and nuzzling more into your neck as he readjusted the both of you to be more comfortable on the bed.

“You’re perfect, you know that? Every last thing about you,” he said as his arms went around the dip of your back, hands settling on your hips once again as he kissed your neck, up to your cheek, peppering kisses along your skin.

You smiled at his words and the feeling of his soft lips trailing along your tender flesh as tingles ran through you, wrapping your arms around him. Briefly you heard his earlier words float through your head. You’d never known him to be so…mean. To you, at least. Though you wanted to forget it, it continued nagging at you while he laid in your arms.

As he slowly pulled out of you and got off the bed, you pondered talking to him about it. You didn’t want to upset him, but this was gonna bug you if you didn’t voice it.

He was back in front of you with a damp rag and the most loving look in his eyes. Gently, he cleaned his spend from between your legs and after discarding the rag, crawled on top of you, engulfing you in his arms, pulling you into his side as you were cuddling with him.

“Nick,” you muttered softly. He hummed in response, waiting for you to continue.

“I just wanted to ask, to know..Earlier, you… do you, you really think that? That I’m stupid?” you asked quietly, your embarrassment and hurt evident as you tried to hide your face against him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he gently pulled you back to look at him, his eyes full of sympathy, a stark contrast to the cold fire that raged there previously. ��No, I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Really?” you pressed.

“Really,” he nodded. “You’re not stupid, you’re naive,” he stated matter of factly.

You looked down, wincing slightly as you pulled away from him. Tried to, at least. Nick was quick to pull you back to him, tilting your chin up as he forced you to make eye contact.

“Hey,” he breathed, “that’s not necessarily a bad thing. You may be naive but no one's gonna take advantage of that or use it against you, I’ll always be right here looking out for you. Protecting you.” He placed a soft kiss on your lips as you allowed yourself to settle next to him again.

“And I love that about you,” he smiled. “It’s just natural for you to be sweet.. and trusting.. and kind,” he punctuated each word with a gentle kiss to your temple, cheek, and finally your soft lips once again after nuzzling your nose. “I’m so lucky I found you before the world could change any of that.” Those words, sickly sweet and full of love and admiration of you, that was your Nick. The way he behaved earlier was intense and unlike anything you’d received from him before. You were just glad he was back now, and eager to forget the hurt he caused you. Certain he wouldn’t do anything like it again to you.

You half smiled before sucking your lip, your mind returning to the current conversation you were having with him, “Certainly tried to.”

You thought back to just a couple years ago, before you met Nick, before everything changed. You were making minimum wage, working two jobs in the city, living in a shitty apartment with a roommate you barely knew. Life had never been easy on you. But the moment Nick came into yours, it was like he just made everything better. He took care of you like no one ever had. Showed you love like you’d never known. You felt like you owed him everything. You really would do anything for him, he was your whole world now. That’s why it hurt so badly when he insisted you were lying to him earlier. You thought you had made it clear that that was something you would never do to him. You loved him so much. You figurned you just needed to show it more. To do anything and everything you could to reinforce the simple fact that you were his and his alone. Forever. It was the least you could do, right? He gave you everything, and made sure you were aware of the fact that he’d do anything for you, he’d protect you and love you with all he had. You needed to ensure he knew, without a single doubt in his mind, that you’d do the same. Because you really would, you did. He never made you question for even a second his devotion to you. He always said how lucky he was to have found you, but you felt even luckier for it. Truly, where would you be without him? You didn’t want to even think about it. It was all too much to put into words at the moment. For now though, exhausted and worn from the tumultuous events of the day, laying next to him, his protective hold on you as you were cuddling into his warmth and feeling surrounded by the love you shared, it was enough.

“I’m so grateful for you,” you sighed.

He caressed your cheek as he smiled at you, admiring your delicacy. He knew you were perfect for him the moment he had first laid eyes on you. He knew you were meant to be his, and so he made sure that you were and you always would be.

“I love you,” he kissed you once more as your eyes threatened to shut, lashes fluttering.

“I love you, more,” you whispered as you nuzzled further into him.

“You look exhausted,” he chuckled softly. “Go to sleep, angel.”

He was right, you were completely drained, but still, you wanted to fight your sleep a little longer. You worried your dreams would be flooded with nightmares of dangerous men breaking into your home, trying to hurt you, trying to hurt Nick, and god, the sound of the pistol firing ringing in the back of your mind. You shook your head, hoping to shake the sound as well. A man died today. And that could have been Nick. That thought wrecked you. You didn’t want to be without him for even a moment, not even in your sleep.

“I will,” you mumbled, holding onto him.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” he said as if he could read your mind, rubbing your arm soothingly. You needed to come back to yourself. You were only working yourself up to dwell on things you couldn’t change or control. And with Nick around, you didn’t need to worry about anything, he’d take care of it all. He’d keep you both safe..he’d always keep you safe. Finally allowing yourself to really settle while Nick held you, you were soon sleeping, and though you woke up every now and again with a start, Nick was always still right beside you. His touch calming as he’d lull you back to sleep. He was here and you were safe, he’d remind you, mumbling words of comfort against your temple until you fell asleep again. He stayed up all night just making sure you were okay. He said he’d take care of you and he meant it. He’d be damned if you ever had to go through anything like tonight again, but right now he just needed to be sure you were okay and slept through the night. He already had his guys tracking down their headquarters and first thing tomorrow, he'd be sure the people who were responsible for tonight would be deeply regretting getting anywhere near you and ensuring they’d never have the chance again. And after that, he’d finally tell you the big news. You two were going off the grid, somewhere remote where it could be just the two of you, like it should be. Somewhere safe, where no one could find you. He’d had the plans set for a while now, and it was the perfect time to do it. You were more dependent on him, he was sure you’d say yes without him having to convince or force you to. The ring was perfect and he couldn’t wait to slip it on your finger. He wasn’t sure you’d be ready for another big move, but the honeymoon would be the perfect cover to get you there without you worrying. You’d say ‘I do’ and it would all work out. He’d be your first, your last, your only, just like he was meant to be. Always and forever. Just you and him.

#nick fowler x reader #nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #soft!dark nick fowler #nick fowler x y/n #soft!dark nick fowler x reader #soft dark nick fowler #naive!reader

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my-name-is-jefferooni · 5 months

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Have you ever even heard of…

youtube

BECAUSE OH MY GOD SEARCH FOR THE LOST IS SUCH AN UNDERRATED GEM OF A FAN-MADE SONIC SHOW

Okay, allow me to give you some additional context before just bombarding you with all the many reasons why you need to watch this show.

Search for the Lost is a fan-made production created by Creative Planet Entertainment on YouTube. This shit has been around for 6 whole years, and it is such a good show! Made entirely out of g-mod screenshots/screen recordings and Sonic gameplay, Search for the Lost is a show about Silver the Hedgehog and his friends figuring out what Melhiles of all people is doing back in action, and why the fuck he’s working with Eggman of all people. Also, why is Infinite back… AND WHAT’S ALL THIS TALK ABOUT A PROPHECY!?

OH AND BLAZE IS HERE TOO!?!?

AND THERE’S THIS NEW GUY CALLED FORGE WHO IS LITERALLY THE BEST IN THE ENTIRE SHOW HANDS DOWN 100000P0/10 BEST BOI BEST ROBO BUDDY EVER HE’S SUCH AN IDIOT AND SUCH A HILARIOUS GUY HE’S LIKE THE ONLY ONE WHO MAKES GOOD JOKES HE IS LITERALLY THE BEST EVER I LOVE FORGE

Aight lemme just give a quick spoiler-free explanation about Forge because I know yall are looking at this like “Who tf is Forge?? Some kinda fan character or something??” Because… Yeah, he is a fan character, BUT A VERY GOOD ONE AND HIS DYNAMICS WITH EVERYONE WORK LIKE A CHARM I TELL YOU HE IS NOT JUST SOME RANDOM SONIC RECOLOR.

Cuz he’s a Metal Sonic recolor! 🤩 Haha, well to be fair, they literally call out Sonic recolors in the show with this fact. It’s in Forge’s story! Basically, Forge once worked with Silver in his bad timeline in Crisis City, but the ashes and the chemicals were too much for his small little itty bitty bird lungs. So, to keep himself from slowing everybody down, he managed to shove his consciousness into an old Metal Sonic model. A black-and-yellow one, kinda like the one from Archie except a lot less like Sonic personality-wise and a lot more like Sonic visually. With all these new robotic upgrades, Forge became a force to be reckoned with, and became one of Silver’s bestest friends after the whole Iblis thing. Oh, and he ships Silvaze like it’s nobody’s business, so that obviously gets an A+ from me lmao

I may have gotten carried away with that explanation and maybe there’s some spoilers in there but it’s late and I’m sleepy so you’ll only know if you watch the show~! ✨🙂

Seriously tho. This show is very underrated. I’ve been keeping tabs on it for years now, ever since episode 5 came out! Trust me, that’s a long time. They have their plates full when it comes to personal things and it’s a big project so episodes come out after a long time in production.

There are only 7 episodes so far, but each episode is jam-packed full of lore and giving us more questions on top of every answer! It brings back characters we haven’t seen for a long while, and it always provides a reasonable explanation as to why some of them have been gone and why some just like. Cut contact or something. There’s characters from previous games, from Sonic X, from Archie, from IDW, BRO WE GOT GAMMA IN HERE BAYBEEEEE IF THAT AINT FREE REAL ESTATE IDK WHAT IS.

AND DON’T FORGET HEAVY AND BOMB FROM KNUCKLES CHAOTIX. PLEASE. PLEASE DON’T FORGET ABOUT THEM THEY’RE HERE TOO AND THEY’RE LOVELY

So. Please. Please just watch this show. Please look at all the additional content with Forge on their channel too, it’s fucking hilarious! Just… I wanna talk to someone about this show who isn’t just my lil bro. Like I love getting to bombard him with bullshit about characters he’s never even heard about until watching this show but I gotta know I’m not the only one. Please. These people are working so hard on Search for the Lost and I’d really appreciate if you even saw just one or two episodes. The story is very intriguing, the characters are all so well-written, TEAM DARK IS THERE, FORGE GETS A WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION, so I say it’s all totally worth it!

#PLEEEEEAAASSSSEDEEEE WARCH ITTTTTTT #WATCH IT WATCH IT WATCH IT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I WILL PAY YOU I WILL PAY YOU CASH MONEEEEEEEEEEE #(no I won’t I’m broke just like the lot of you. Why do u think I’m on tumblr)#WATCH SFTL YOU WILL NOT REGRET ITTTTTTTTT #sonic the hedgehog #silver the hedgehog #using default tags cuz ALL YOU BITCHES NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THIS SHIT #my shitty rambles #blog/ask stuff #idw sonic #BECAUSE THERE ARE IDW CHARACTERS IN HERE #whispangle #YES. YES YOU SAW THAT RIGHT. PRETEND I DIDNT SAY ANYTHING THO AND JUST WATCH THE DAMN SHOW.#YES THERE IS WHISPANGLE BUT PRETEND THERE ISNT #FORGET IT WHEN YOU’RE WATCHING THE SHOW. NO IT’S NOT A SPOILER. TRUST ME IT’S NOT SPOILERY.#…uhm. Uh. No. No spoilers here…#Aw shit. I fucked up.#Yes it’s a spoiler NOW KEEP MOVING.#Youtube

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shadamyheadcanons · 1 year

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SPOILERS FOR THE MURDER OF SONIC THE HEDGEHOG 🛑 https://twitter.com/krack932/status/1641923206486294530?s=46&t=tC2LddLuwO9pUUd3TlNgIg

Guess it’s time I tackled this, huh? I’m late to the party!

Short answer: I love the game AND the Shadow/Amy interactions! They’re wonderful! I’ll be putting spoilers under the cut. If you haven’t played it yet, I’d definitely recommend it. Great art, great story, fun gameplay. It’s free on Steam and it’ll probably only take you a few hours, so there’s nothing to lose!

I never would have thought to make a Sonic murder mystery game, but it fits super well. The characters are really well-written. It’s been a long time since I played a Sonic game and felt everyone was portrayed well. I wasn’t even fully satisfied with Frontiers in that regard tbh, but this game nailed all of them. It helps that with Sonic being, uh...preoccupied, we get to see side characters interacting with each other for once. Blaze conspiring with Rouge? Yes, please! Knuckles throwing a fit when he loses to Vector in a video game? Wonderful!

But Shadamy is the standout. I couldn’t be happier with how these two were handled! This is exactly the kind of Shadow/Amy interaction I’ve waited years for, and I know I’m not alone in that. Some people have started shipping them because of this game!

I think what I like most about it is that this is the exact pattern I often use when I write them falling in love. He does something really sweet and dedicated for her...

...makes bad excuses to try and downplay it...

(PFFT WHAT SOCIAL STATUS??? Even Tails is laughing)

He remembers something about Amy and goes to the trouble of doing something nice for her even if he has to embarrass himself in the process, something he wouldn’t be caught dead doing for anyone else...

She sees right through his excuses because she knows how sweet he is. She literally stutters and blushes. Just look how smitten she is!

...and then she asks him out because she wants to spend more time with him.

Sure, she’s probably thinking of it platonically, but it’s worth noting that this is the exact approach she’s taken to try to get dates in the past.

Wallpaper posted on Sonic Channel 2/22/21. Art by Yuji Uekawa

If she wants to spend time with a love interest someone, she’ll make it happen, regardless of their hesitation.

And he agrees. He hesitates either because it’s a boy band or maybe because concerts aren’t his thing, but he says yes because it’s her. The proof is right there: he goes through all this for her specifically. He dresses up in a glorified Starbucks outfit--let’s be real, we were all thinking it--joins in for a silly game, something that’s been out of character for him since the beginning...

and agrees to go to a party despite repeatedly rejecting invitations to such things in the past. Rouge makes it clear that’s the norm:

And even when he shows up to Sonic’s birthday, he’s late and ignores everyone, including Sonic himself:

But he goes to Amy’s birthday, makes sure to get her a thoughtful gift, and even socializes with the others. He’s in a pretty good mood, even showing an unusual amount of patience while she’s accusing him.

He doesn’t snap back at her or anything the way he normally would with others. How many people could get away with interrupting Shadow the hedgehog without getting an earful? He really is more patient with her than he is with anyone else.

Shadow’s a blunt, stubborn guy, and he won’t agree to something if he doesn’t want to. But he’ll go to a crowded boy band concert because Amy’s just worth it to him. Different rules for Amy. And if he keeps it up, she’s bound to notice.

That’s how I write them, at least, and now it’s in a semi-official Sonic game, too. I couldn’t be happier. <3 Hopefully Sega will see the positive response and put these two together more often; people really loved this, regardless of who they ship. Platonic or otherwise, I’d love to see more.

Either way, rest assured that this interaction will be finding its way into headcanons here and there from now on. And I may or may not have a proper story in the works for it 👀

Oh, and the kicker?

Tails totally ships it. He didn’t have to wink like that, but he sees what’s up. He’s a clever kid. That’s another point for the “Tails is on Team Amy” trend, and more fuel for the Everyone Ships Shadamy tag.

#Shadamy #Shadow the Hedgehog #Amy Rose #Sonic the Hedgehog #not a headcanon #ask #anonymous #plus another anonymous #and another one too #i'm always flattered whenever people want to hear my opinion on this stuff #sorry i left you three hanging! i know it's been a bit #Everyone Ships Shadamy #the murder of sonic the hedgehog

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ihrtmichael · 3 months

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random question, but, what's your favorite thing about wish? i have a feeling it's probably magnifico lol but if it is then why do you like him so much? asking because i know i reblog a lot of stuff about the concept art and the rewrites people do, since personally i find it pretty compelling and fun, but i also think it's neat that there are people who just genuinely enjoy the movie as it is! and it really must be frustrating for you that the tag is filled with what's basically a fandom centered on wish's concept art more than wish itself.

LMFAOOOOOO i feel attacked with the magnífico read!!!! /j

honestly i accept that the movie isn’t perfect and was rushed as fuck, but i had such a fun time! i think asha is so lovely and refreshing compared to the other (few) disney heroines of color. as much as i love esmeralda and jasmine they’re so oversexualized and fall into that stereotype of “fiery outspoken brown woman” which is 😬😬😬😬 to watch sometimes as a woman of color myself. it’s nice to see a young black heroine be clumsy and fun and learn to be a leader! and ofc magnífico is so funny and hellooooo it’s chris pine!!!! also he’s hot sorry likeeeee 🤭 i also find his story very compelling although i do concede his villain arc was slightly rushed lol. i would love to learn more about him and queen amaya! i also love the songs (esp “at all costs”) and animation (the rendering is beautiful!). while i understand that the final product was a bit underwhelming for what was built up as this huge 100 year disney celebration, i don’t think a movie needs to be outstanding to speak to you or make you feel happy. sometimes you just like what you like! and i had fun! ☺️

i definitely do wonder what could have been if the actors and writers strikes didn’t happen, because i think that may have messed with any final alterations they might have made before release that could answer all of my questions and make the story clearer. i used to be intrigued by the rewrites but now they just kind of annoy me because most of them are being written by people who haven’t even seen the damn movie and/or people who aren’t creating these rewrites from a place of love.

for example, during the fall i rewrote the hunchback of notre dame musical script out of a genuine love for the story and characters because i was so frustrated with peter parnell’s approach. and it shows in my version of the script. but with the wish rewrites, a lot of them come off as disingenuous and egotistical like this “im so much smarter than literal film professionals” bullshit (sorry if that’s harsh lol).

and a lot of the criticisms just aren’t constructive and seem to mostly come from people who have literally no idea what it takes to create something. like especially with the ai accusations??? full offense but most of yall wouldn’t know the difference between ai and real human art if it slapped you in the face. and it seems like a scapegoat to get out of providing ACTUAL constructive criticism of the film instead of people just admitting they’re blindly jumping onto the latest hate bandwagon lmfao.

it definitely is frustrating to go through the tags and see more conversation around the concept art than the actual final product we got, but i just pass out the blocks like candy and add certain tags to my blacklist and that clears things up very quickly lmfao.

thank you for the kind ask! i feel like most people come in guns blazing asking about why people liked wish lmfao, but your ask is very sweet and genuine. i hope you have a great night mamita!!!

#answered

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milaswriting · 11 months

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Ms Mila I need you to know that update snatched me by my dreads. Rarely do I see Fae written with their normal cruelty and I both loved and hated it; hated it because my baby Blaze was hurt and loved it because she made a damn good antagonist. My normally not a swing first ask questions later MC was ready to throw that aside for Blaze. I'm looking forward to the next update to run into Zillah again.

‘Snatched me by my dreads’! I love it, haha. I’m glad you’ve hated (as you should!) and enjoyed Zillah as a character! B’s scene with her was one of my favourites to write because I think B sort of handled it well when I think people could have expected the opposite.

And I think B’s struggles (minus obviously the werewolf stuff, but if you dig deeper…) is very relateable in terms of feeling like you haven’t gotten the love from the one person who you’d expect it from.

Can’t wait to at least mention Zillah in chapter 11, then have her make many more appearances.

#ask

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herbs-and-poultices · 6 days

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A tiny re-written snippet for my OCs from forever ago, Part 1. (As usual for me, this seemingly simple scene is going to require multiple mini-installments, because I write veeery slowly and perpetually underestimate the length of things)

Scene summary: Aftermath of a not-fun encounter with a half-starved mountain lion in the middle of nowhere.

Story summary: The Fire is dying, and someone must make the long and perilous journey through the mountains to the Place Where Worlds Meet, to receive the gift of Fire anew and bring it back to their people. It is the dead of winter, after a scarce year. The village, already ravaged by hunger and sickness, tries to strike a delicate balance between who can succeed and who they can spare. The chosen ones: childhood friends Raven and Sky. During the month-long trek there and back they face all manner of acute environmental perils, along with the ever-present threats of cold, hunger, and fatigue.

Important Notes:

Character ages: Somewhere between adolescence and young adulthood. They will both officially come of age in the spring, but I haven’t yet decided exactly what that age is in their society. Uncomfy? Don’t read.

Medical stuff: Going for hurt/comfort vibes rather than any sort of accuracy. Stickler? Don’t read.

Content Warnings: Blood and injury. I think that’s it.

Unimportant Note on writing conventions: Although present me has developed a preference for 3rd-person narration, I am sticking with younger me’s original 1st-person narration for now. It does make the pronouns easier, if nothing else.

“Sky?” Though it came out as a hoarse whisper, my voice sounded unnaturally loud in my ears, much like the rapid pounding of my heartbeat. A breath of wind through the hemlock needles was the only reply as I turned back towards him. “Sky!”

He lay still, as he had fallen, thrown on his back with his limbs askew. The tilt of his head left his throat bare above the clasp of his cloak. A shiver ran up my spine, and my hand found its way unbidden to the back of my neck, where the bite of the mountain cat’s powerful jaws would have killed me instantly. Stunned, unconscious, dead, in the wavering moon-shadows I couldn’t discern.

I stumbled across the clearing. The uneven snow and the giddiness which follows a rush of fear-fueled strength made me unsteady on my feet. Pain which had been temporarily overwhelmed by the need to focus purely on survival pushed its way to the fore, blazing hot down my shoulder blade and back ribs. My back tightened with the jolt of each step, pulling at the raw seams of skin. A few times I nearly lost my balance; the reflexive jerk of my arms sent the muscles all across my back into spasms that tore deeper into the gashes of open flesh and I cried out, sparks dancing around the edges of my vision.

When I drew within a few paces, I could hear the rasp of labored breathing, and I saw his eyelids flutter open and then squeeze tightly shut again, furrowing his brow.

“Sky,” I breathed, torn between relief and a fresh wave of panic. “Are you…” I started out of habit, but the words dried in my mouth. What was there to ask? I had seen the creature’s curved claws gleaming white and chokeberry-red with the light of the full moon rising through the trees, each one sharp as a newly-honed knife; I had seen the spray of hot blood as they found their mark. The snow all through the clearing was churned up and stained black with it, and more showed in dark blotches on his torn cloak and tunic. I couldn’t tell, by the mottled gray light , how much of it was his - I and our assailant had both left our share. But I could smell it still welling up hot and fresh, a scent equal parts cloying and acrid that clung thickly to the back of my throat as I sank down at his side.

He acknowledged my presence with a tip of his head, eyes clear under half-raised lashes, but chose not to reply. I was grateful, in a way - words would have made it all even more real than it already was.

#winter journey OCs #my pen slipped #and slipped and slipped #friendly questions welcome #I know I haven't given these two a proper introduction

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evodevo-geekmonkey · 1 year

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Tanthamore ⚔❤🍑 Fic Recs

I’ve seen people in the tags looking for fic recs so here’s a list of my personal favourtie Tanthamore fics. (I’m going to link in my bio so people can go to it) I’ll be adding to this as I read more ^_^

Oneshot Fics

NOTHING SAFE IS WORTH THE DRIVE

leonhart_17

This is probably one of my favourites ever. Defeating the Wyrm, fighting together, getting married on the battlefield. It’s a comfort fic I’ve read it like a dozen times. (oneshot)

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LIFE IS A BAD DREAM

isabrella

Oneshot where Kit comforts Jade after Ballentine at Nockmaar. So lovely and tender <3

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LAY DOWN YOUR ARMOR (COME LIE BARE WITH ME)

saintbot

Super sweet moment between Kit and Jade after the end of season 1. Kit taking off the Cuirass but mostly just them being together and cute and a bit of sexy stuff too haha. also one I go back to a lot.

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LET'S TAKE A KNIFE AND CUT THE WORLD IN TWO

spybrarian

Super creepy exorcism fic that does a cool job weaving Willow lore into the demonic apocalypse

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SOFT BLAZING CROWNS

Jade and Elora friendship fic in Elora helps Jade with a photoshoot in the fall leaves for Kit. Elora and Jade are adorable and you can really feel the love between Jade and Kit even though she's not in the fic.

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Completed multichapter Fics

FULFILLING FATE

overkill_max

Another alternate universe where Kit ran away. I love this one, it’s so pretty? Kit has a bit of a different personality (a bit more mature I think… or just self destructive) but it’s so good (this is the sequel to escaping fate) (But I haven’t read that one haha)

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IT'S THE EYE OF THE DRAGON, IT'S THE THRILL OF THE FIGHT

AlderaanTourismAgency

Holy shit this one’s COOL. The gang fights a dragon and it’s badass and gory and there’s romance and angst and fun and glass everywhere. Very good action and character writing and a really good description of the gore (plus it’s hilarious, the humour is Willow 2022 to the max).

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RETURN TO TIR ASLEEN

DianeLS

I am not done this one yet but I’m enjoying it soooooo much. It’s fluff and smut and everyone being good to each other and Tanthamore being the awesome couple we know they are. Title says it all, the go back home and deal with the aftermath of season 1.

Also check out the prequel here for some great Shattered Sea in between the scenes fanfic :D

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A LITTLE LESS HARD TIME (A LITTLE MORE BLISS)

Geek_and_Nina

Kit is a stressed out business woman, Jade is a lonely farmer. They meet and farm life ensues. It’s adorable. It’s cozy. It is giving me romantic fantasies about farm life and I want chickens now.

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CULT CAPITAL OF CASHMERE

AlderaanTourismAgency

Prequel to Eye of the Dragon. We all go to Cashmere and there are cults and Boorman’s mom and it’s just a lot of fun. I’m really curious to see them fight these cults. (And also it’s hilarious and the Tanthamore romance is the sweetest)

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LIKE CONSTELLATIONS, A MILLION YEARS AWAY

StorySpinner_91

This one is SO cool. Its set in a universe where Kit and Jade (and the whole crew) get to pilot giant robots. And Kit is the heir to this huge (planet sized) company and they go on adventures in space. Also the characters are SO well written and the dynamics between all of them are so good (plus the Tanthamore and the Graylora in this is the best).

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THE ARCHITECT OF CATASTROPHE

Silver85

This one’s pretty dark. What if Kit took Airks place and trained with the crone? Lot’s of angst, angry Kit and some cool magic.

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Ongoing multichapter fics

I'LL BE THE SWEETEST THING TO EVER SCARE YOU

spybrarian

Jade gets possessed to save Kit and it gets creepy af. Also there’s a scary horse named gravy.

#that's it for now #trying not to get this into the tags because I don't want to spam with posts that are for my page #but the title is unavoidable so people know what this is lol #anyway will probably add more once Tanthamore week starts #now time to try to code this into my bio #hmmmm

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theluckywizard · 7 months

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Get to Know the Fic Writer!

Get to Know the Fanfic Writer

Tagged by @crackinglamb 💗

Tagging @nirikeehan, @monocytogenes, @bluewren, @breninarthur, @melisusthewee, @warpedlegacy, @about2dance

When did you post your first-ever fanfic?

February 8th, 2023!

First Character(s) you wrote?

My OC Rose Trevelyan, Cullen Rutherford, Cassandra Pentaghast (the DA:I crew really)

Main Character(s) you’re currently writing?

My Rogue!Inquisitor Rose Trevelyan, my warrior!Hawke Garrett,

Character(s) you haven’t written about before but plan to soon?

All the DA2 companions!

Fandom(s) you’re currently writing?

Dragon Age, my beloved.

Platonic Pairing(s) you’re currently writing?

Cullen Rutherford & (Dorian Pavus, Rylen), Garrett Hawke & (Varric Tethras, Alistair Theirin), Rose Trevelyan & (Cassandra Pentaghast, Sera, Dorian Pavus, Cole)

Romantic Pairing(s) you’re currently writing?

Rose Trevelyan x Cullen Rutherford, Rose Trevelyan x Garrett Hawke

Your top AO3 tags? (go to works and click sort & filter)

Blue-purple Hawke

POV Cullen Rutherford

Falling in Love

Current platform you use for posting?

AO3!

Snippet of the WIP you are currently working on?

From my "Garrett Hawke and Rose Trevelyan get fixed up by their enterprising mothers much to their chagrin" romantic comedy fic:

“I don’t know. I mean you saw her. She looked as pinched as every other blazing noblewoman I’ve met, but there was something about her expression—” Hawke says, swinging along the tidy streets of Hightown toward the dust up. “She— smirked.” “She smirked.” Fenris’ flat tone is somehow flatter. “Yeah, her smirk. I mean I can’t blame her. I am me. But it was— nice. And… weirdly familiar.” “Pinched she may be, but that girl’s been plucked,” remarks Isabela with a wry twist of her lips. “What do you mean she’s been plucked?” asks Merrill. “Because she’s a Rose?” “Yes, because she’s a Rose,” answers Isabela.

#get to know the writer #dragon age fan fiction #theluckywizard

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talesfrommedinastation · 5 months

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“If Tanke is a blazing fire, Miriam is soft candlelight. If Tanke is a lightening storm, Miriam is the rain that follows. For all her ferocity, Tanke would not be the physician—the person—she is without Miriam’s grace.”

- James Holden

For Christmas Eve and OC Sunday, here’s 2/3’s of my Belter polycule: Miriam Martin and Dr Tanke Drummer.

Their third spouse is Timon Chapelle, you can find him here.

I’m remiss that I haven’t done more art of Miriam, but she’s not a major character in the longfic.

Unlike her spouses, she is neither rude nor abrasive to the clones she meets, which is refreshing.

I’ve written some short stories about her (and a nice conversation she has with Echo, and another with Camina Drummer).

I need to expand on her, as she’s fairly complex: femme, asexual, emotionally romantic, nurturing, Earther born but Belter raised, and an agnostic humanist who was raised in an evangelical setting.

#the expanse #theexpanse #belter #fanfiction #oc sunday #oc sundays #the expanse oc #the expanse fan art #the expanse fanfiction #Tanke Drummer #gay ocs #lgbtq marriage #lgbtq positivity #lgbtq oc #space mom #space cajuns

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thesandsofelsweyr · 11 months

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HOLLOWED OUT

《 CH4 // FILLED BACK UP WITH HATE // PART 2 》

When Jason saw that photo of Batman and his new Robin, the thin cord of hope holding him together had snapped and he had broken into a million pieces. No one was coming for him. Not one single person on the planet cared whether he lived or died, or how much he suffered, or how loud he screamed. No one except the Clown. He was Joker’s now, and he would say or do anything to get a reprieve from the torment and the pain, even if it meant letting himself be reduced to something less than human.

《RATING》 🔞 Mature 《WORDS》 866 《CHAPTERS》 4/6

《CHARACTERS》 Jason Todd/Robin, Joker, Bruce Wayne (mentioned), Dick Grayson (mentioned)

《TROPES》 Hurt No Comfort, Angst, Whump, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

《WARNINGS》 Dehumanization, Bathing/Washing, Master/Pet, Collars, Ownership, Brainwashing, Humiliation, Non-Consensual Touching, Torture, Mindfuck, Scars, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Loathing, Past Child Abuse, Daddy Issues, Forced Nudity, Swearing

《SERIES》 Part 4 of My Arkhamverse, Part 4 of Ruined

《NOTES》

What’s this? TWO UPDATES in less than a week??? 😎

This fic is my pride & joy! It was the first thing I published after a 5+ year hiatus, and the longest story I've ever written by far!

This fic is also dark so be aware of the tags (especially the DD:DNE tag)

My Arkhamverse canon is a mix of game canon and Arkham Knight: Genesis canon. I pick and choose what I like best 😉

If you enjoy the read please consider kudosing, commenting, and reblogging ❤️

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are very much appreciated)

After the Clown finished butchering Jason’s hair to his satisfaction, he exchanged the scissors for the bar of soap and the wet rag, which he worked into a sudsy lather. Then, as gently as a lover, he took Jason’s chin in hand and tilted his face up. Jason tried to keep his tearful eyes downcast, but the insistent pinch of his jaw between thumb and bony forefinger was all the warning he needed to obey. When their eyes met, Jason’s insides twisted into knots while Joker’s painted lips skinned back from his yellow teeth and he crowed: “There’s those beautiful baby blues!”

Joker’s shark-like grin never left his lips as he scrubbed away months of grime, blood, and old tears from Jason’s upturned face, paying special attention to the raw ‘J’ that still burned on his cheek. The branding iron might’ve scorched away those nerve endings, but the memory of that agony still blazed as hot as the moment that unforgiving metal sank into his flesh, leaving behind the permanent mark of ownership. The tears that always welled up at the thought of his disfigured face edged his pale blue eyes, clinging to his lower lashes. He tried to blink them away, to swallow down the lump in his throat, but the Clown still noticed, and his own green eyes glittered with sadistic glee.

“Oh, don’t be so glum, chum,” Joker soothed. “You’re gonna be the talk of the town when I’m through with you. Gotham’s newest sweetheart! You may even knock your billionaire ex-daddy off his princely pedestal.”

Again with the star talk. What the hell is he gonna do to me? Joker probably wanted to film himself putting a drill through Jason’s skull so he could upload it to YouTube for clown clout. He wouldn’t die of course. Oh no. The Clown would make him a vegetable. Or better yet, he’d survive like the dude who had the railroad spike—or was it a crowbar? Heh, fitting—driven through his brain. Maybe he’d end up with a new personality like that dude, but he’d definitely still be around for more torture.

He vaguely remembered telling Joker about Bruce and his wardship. That was the nail gun, I think. He flexed his gnarled fingers as the memory pieced itself back together like a jigsaw puzzle. He’d started singing his entire life’s history once the fingers and palm of his left hand were nailed to the desk and the Clown was starting on his right. At least I haven’t told him Bruce’s secret. Joker hadn’t asked though, and at this point he wasn’t sure if he could still keep that secret once the Clown started “encouraging” him to talk.

At first, when this hell was just beginning, he’d been proud. Proud that he hadn’t broken when the Clown used the drill and the blowtorch on him. Proud that, instead of crying or begging, he’d taunted and cursed the Clown between screams while his fingernails were ripped out one by one. Proud that he hadn’t failed Batman, that he hadn’t disgraced the mantle of Robin.

He’d been trained for this, of course; for a situation where he was held captive and tortured. There had even been torture simulations: electric shocks, waterboarding, force-feeding, solitary confinement, stress positions, sleep and sensory deprivation—all the shit they did at Guantanamo Bay—closely monitored by Bruce and Alfred. He remembered gloating to Dick about destroying his record, after holding out much longer than the first Robin had. Wonder how long the new kid lasted. He’d been taught to keep his captors talking, to play for time while he waited for Batman. The simulations had lasted for a month, not six-plus months. And Batman was always supposed to come rescue him at the end…

An insidious thought wormed its way into his brain and pierced his broken heart. If Dick Grayson was the one rotting in this pit, Bruce would’ve torn Gotham apart to find him. A tear slipped from his lashes and trickled down his soapy cheek. Grayson: the golden boy, the perfect Robin, the blueprint for all of Batman’s future partners. Grayson didn’t break bad guys’ collarbones. Grayson didn’t steal Bruce’s Lambo and get arrested for drunk driving. Grayson didn’t beat a rapist to a bloody pulp, then stand aside while the piece of shit staggered and fell off his own penthouse balcony. Grayson didn’t watch the scumbag splatter on the pavement below with a satisfied smile on his face. Bruce would’ve believed Dick when he said the man fell. But not Jason. Not the juvie he pulled off the street, the unwanted spawn of two degenerate tweakers. Not the stopgap solution until Bruce could find a Robin that measured up to the first. Not the loser who ran off to kill the Clown and got his dumbass captured instead. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better partner, a better son. I tried… I always tried…

Joker finished with his face, dabbing the remaining suds away with the hot pink loofah before tossing it aside, retrieving the rag, and lifting Jason’s left arm.

Then he started singing his stupid fucking song again.

“♫ Gray skies are gonna clear up, put on a happy face… ♫”

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chickensarentcheap · 1 year

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This is from chapter 19 of I Found. That god awful, shitty mess that is the first fic LOL. But this is one of the character interactions (both canon characters at that!) and sections of dialogue I am actually proud of!

@tragiclyhip, @themaradaniels, @munstysmind, @youflickedtooharddamnit, @mrsmungus, @residentdormouse, @asirensrage, @secretaryunpaid, @muchadoaboutcj, @starryeyes2000,

He arrives at Mumbai Central Prison just shy of ten am. The weather is already unbearable; hot and sticky; sweat dampening the neck of his simple army green t-shirt, the thin fabric sticking to the small of his back. He checks in at the main office. Using the fake law enforcement credentials Nik had sent him to register as a visitor, turning in his gun and the knife that he keeps in his back pocket.

“Long way from home,” the desk clerk comments, as he holds up the identification next to Tyler's face, verifying that the man in the photo is the same as the one who now stands in front of him. “Australia? The land down under?”

“That's what it says,” Tyler shoves the ID into his wallet and slips the latter back into the side pocket of his tan cargo pants.

“What brings you here? All the way to Mumbai.”

“Business. I'm here to see Mahajan.”

The clerk's eyes widen; the drug lord doesn't get many visits, aside from his team of lawyers. The kid had stopped coming to visit a long time ago, and they haven't seen the man servant in at least a year. He'd been the last one to come and see the old man.

“Check the book,” Tyler nods at the thick ledger sitting on the desk. It's an old school system; pen and paper when the old and weathered computers decide they've had enough for the day. “I'm in there.”

He taps the toe of his boot against the crack and faded tiles, watching as the other man flips through the thick leather bound book, and locates the proper page; a long, thin finger trailing through every written word until he comes up with the one he wants.

“What do you want with him?” the clerk inquires. “A cop all the way from Australia?”

“Like I said, it's business. And I'm not a cop. That's not what I do.”

The man arches an eyebrow, cocks his head to the side. Unsure of what to make of the stranger across from him. Tall and broad shouldered; strong and intimidating. “What is it you do?”

A slow grin. “A lot of things.”

****

He's led to a waiting area. A long, narrow corridor with faded tiles and peeling wallpaper that reveals the original brick underneath. No air conditioning. The temperature unbearably hot. And he uses the front of his t-shirt to clear the sweat away from his face and his forehead. A young woman with a baby sits in a chair in the corner, watching him warily. He's big and scary, as far as she's concerned. A stranger in their country. And as he leans back against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest, he gives her a small smile in hopes of easing some of her discomfort.

Several minutes tick by before the opens once again. An armed guard ordering the woman to stay where she is before giving Tyler a nod and jerking his head towards the main body of the prison. No formalities or mindless chit chat are exchanged as he is led through the central office and back out into the blazing sun. Feeling the curious eyes and hearing the chatter as he follows the guard. Sunglasses on, hiding his eyes as they survey the surroundings and the throngs of prisoners out in the yard. Always on alert. A stranger like him showing up causes a lot of speculation. And with speculation came worry. Which quickly turns into fear. If they felt threatened or spooked, there was no telling what kind of situation could explode.

“Out,” the guard orders all the visitors and prisoners currently in the visitation area. “Hurry up and get out. Move.”

He waits as guests scurry past him and the other prisoners file out, then allows himself to be led down to the very end of the room. Nothing more than a simple metal chair and metal bars separating him from the other side. And he is still standing when Mahajan is led in; heavily armed guards on either side of him, their hands on his upper arms as they guide him, handcuffs securely fastened to his wrists. Tyler is surprised. Unimpressed. Not nearly the intimidating figure that he'd been lead to believe. The years have not been kind to the old man; streaks of gray in his hair and beard, numerous pounds of weight lost. Maybe when he was younger he cut an imposing figure. But now he was nothing more than a pathetic old man who'd spend the rest of his life locked up.

He sits only after Mahajan has done so and the guards depart; waiting and watching from the door. Several minutes pass before anyone speaks; the only sounds in the room the slow ticking of the clock and the low hum of a window air conditioner. Neither man looks away from the other, Tyler's hands clasped and resting on the ledge in front of him, Mahajan tapping his fingers against the bottom of the frame that holds the bars

“So you're the one,” Mahajan finally speaks. His tone is unimpressed. Tyler supposes he doesn't fit the old man's bill of what a mercenary should look like. He's probably younger than he expected. Not as beat up and harried as most.

“Yeah...” he nods. “...I guess I am.”

“That stupid sonofabitch was supposed to take care of you. You shouldn't even be sitting here right now. Had he done his job properly...”

“He died helping save your son. And I should have died.”

“But here you are. Sitting in front of me. Thinking you have some right to come here and demand my presence? Looking for some kind of thank you? Some kind of respect? So you can gloat about what you've done?”

“That's far from the reason I'm here. You don't have to like me or respect me. I'm far past giving a shit about what others think of me.”

“So it's money you want then? You feel you weren't fairly compensated for the work you done. The one I hired you to do. You work for me. You don't come here in and walk in as if you own the place. As if I owe you something.”

“I don't work for you. And I don't give a shit about your money, mate. I'm here about your son.”

His eyes widen, jaw clenching. “The trouble has gotten worse? Why are you here then? Talking to me? You should be there. At my home. Protecting my son. Not here talking to me and wasting my time.”

“I've got six armed guards always watching the place. Two that follow him to school. I've been handling things. Taking care of your kid. Because apparently you don't give a shit about him enough to keep your head on straight and stay out trouble. What kind of father does that shit? Chooses the life you had over taking care of their own flesh and blood.”

“How dare you talk to me like that!” Mahajan fumes. “How dare you come and here and question my love and loyalty to my son!”

“A year ago I had to put my ass on the line to save your son. You caused that. Because you couldn't get your shit together and just be a father. So yeah. I'm questioning your love and your loyalty to your son. The fact that you have none.”

“You have a family?”

“A wife,” he confirms “And a baby. A daughter.”

“Are you telling me you wouldn't do anything to care for them? Provide for them?”

“There's nothing I wouldn't do for them. I'd lay down my life for them. No questions asked. But I wouldn't do what you do. Get rich by hurting other people. Put drugs in the hands of kids. Sit back counting my money while people around me die.”

“Are we really that different, you and I? Hmm? Do you not kill people for money? Hurt them? Is that not how I found you in the first place?”

“We're nothing alike, mate. We never will be.”

“Killing comes with your job, does it not? When you were rescuing my son, did you not have to kill people?” Mahajan challenges.

“It's not the same thing,” Tyler insists.

“Killing is the same no matter how it is done. Or who does it. I bet you have taken far more lives than I have. You have the blood of hundreds of men on your hands. You say you kill them because they deserve it. Who are you to judge them? These people that are just trying to live by any means necessary.”

“By hurting innocent people,” Tyler argues. He keeps his tone low, unaffected. Refusing to let the man get to him. “That's the difference. I help the ones who need it and I hurt the ones who don't. They aren't innocent. They hurt people. People who are weaker than them. Who can't defend themselves. We aren't the same, mate. Not by a long shot.”

“We both have blood on our hands. You say that yours is justified. In the same way I do.”

“You put drugs into the hands of kids. You made people into addicts. You ripped families apart. I'm nothing like you.”

Mahajan smirks, leans back in his chair, eyes cold and calculated. “Did the men you kill not have families? Children? Hmm? Were there not innocent people connected to them? You sit here, thinking you're better than me. A white man who thinks he is somewhat superior because of the colour of skin. You walk in here with your God complex, judging me? Does your wife and your child know what you do?”

“My wife and my child have nothing to do with this.”

“You put them in harms way, do you not? You preach to me about my son and you do the same with your child. Do you think it would stop people? People that want to hurt you? You think it would stop them from hurting her because she is a baby? That won't matter to the people that hate you. The ones that want revenge.”

“Let's get one thing straight...” Tyler leans forward in his chair, trying to ignore how his blood runs cold at the man's words. A chill that starts at the roots of his hair and travels his entire body. “...my daughter is innocent. In the same way your son is. We are not the same. I help people. Like your son. And I bring them back to their families. Without guys like me, your son would be dead. Without guys like you, a lot of innocent people would still be alive. We are not same.”

The older man finally relents. Holding his hands up in surrender. “You say you're here for my son yet there's been no trouble. So why are you here? Hmm? Wasting my time?”

“I'm here because your son deserves a better life. One where he's not looking over his shoulder all the time. Where he's not constantly paying for his father's mistakes. He shouldn't have to live like this. Alone.”

'He has everything he could possibly want. A beautiful house to live in, food on the table, an expensive school.”

“He doesn't have a family. And that's what he wants the most. He wants a family. People who love him. Who will take care of him. Who want more for his future than this bullshit existence he has now. He has no one. All those things surrounding him, yet he's very much alone. Even you must be able to see that.”

Mahajan nods slowly, considering his words.

“My wife and I want to take him. When we leave here. We want to...”

“Take my son away from me?” he laughs. “You come here with a request like that? My only son? My blood? Hand him to you? A stranger?”

“A stranger that already laid down his life once for him. Who'd do it again. In a heartbeat.”

“For money,” he reminds Tyler. “You did it for money.”

“That's how it started out, yeah. But it became much more when you decided to fuck me. There was never any money. Not enough to afford me, anyway. That's why you had Saju try to kill me and steal him back. How'd that work out for you?”

Mahajan inhales sharply.

“I could have easily left your kid in the street. When I knew there was no money. I could have handed him right over to Asif. I had the chance. My part of ten million dollars if I just handed him over. But I didn't. I kept your son alive. And for what? This shitty fucking existence? Always looking over his shoulder, waiting for the next threat? Even you must be able to see it. That he has nothing. He doesn't even have a father.”

“I'm his father!” the other man roars, and leaps to his feet.

Tyler waves the guards off when he sees them attempt to make a move towards them. “You're not his father, mate. You're just the guy who helped make him. There's a lot more to being a father like that. Swallow your fucking pride and think about your son for once. Think about the kind of life he has compared to the one he deserves.”

“You think I can't hurt you from here? That I can't take away everything and everyone you love? That you...”

“I think you need to sit down and shut up. Don't threaten me. Or my family. Because you're not the only one who knows how to get shit done.”

The older man blinks. His chest heaving with fury.

“Sit down,” Tyler repeats. “Or you'll see just how far I'm willing to go to protect my family.”

#Tyler and Esme series #I Found

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