#considering how shitty clay’s life would be

[teecupangel]

I've been seeing Wesker fanart on my dash lately (Resident Evil) and, I don't have any direction I intend for this to go but, what if Wesker was Clay's older cousin? Who has always come off a little weird and creepy to Clay, but feeds into his need for *someone* to acknowledge how smart and capable he is. And then one day Wesker goes to check on the boy--bright, worthless father, keep an eye on for future potential--and he's just, vanished. Eye witnesses say an older gentleman began visiting him at his work site, and then he just disappeared, never to be seen again.

Well. Wesker can't very well let that stand, now can he.

It is time for me to dust off my knowledge of Resident Evil lore!

So…

The thing about Wesker is that he’s actually part of a project to genetically modify children into becoming ‘superhumans’, the next step to human evolution. Children were adopted (more or less) and given the surname Wesker and then they were experimented on.

Albert Wesker is simply one of the ‘successful’ ones.

And, and, and…

If we take in consideration that Albert Wesker’s birthdate is around 1960s, Clay being born in 1982 means, for this to work, Wesker isn’t Clay’s older cousin.

He’s Clay’s uncle.

And there’s really no information about Wesker’s life before he became a ‘Wesker’ so we can play around with it.

Let’s say he was Clay’s father’s younger brother, the brighter of the two, the apple of their parents’ eyes. He was taken from his family because he showed potential, told the parents that they would take care of him, make him live up to his potential, the whole propaganda.

So Clay’s father had to live in his younger brother’s shadow the entire time. Perhaps his family fell apart after Wesker’s ‘adoption’, maybe the cycle of abuse started when Clay’s father couldn’t be the child Wesker had been. It does not excuse what his father did to him. It does not excuse the pain that Clay had gone thru.

But it’s what drove Wesker to check up on him.

Call it lingering sentiment.

Call it a weakness.

Call it the possibility of another ‘child’ that Wesker wanted to check before he begins the final stage of Uroboros.

Either way, he introduces himself as Albert Kaczmarek and they start to talk. Clay thinks he wants to build bridges with his father but Albert had long thought of his older brother as a lost cause.

But Clay?

Clay had potential.

And Wesker always liked to have all the cards.

So when Clay disappeared?

Well…

The other projects Wesker had in hand could be pushed for now until he finds his dear… nephew.

Unorganized Notes:

RE and AC lore needs to be played around. The most ‘pressing one’ would be the timeline of events as Uroboros is meant to be finished in 2009 and Clay was approached by Bill in 2010. That’s easy to do. Just make Uroboros have a few more setbacks and delays because Wesker got ‘distracted’.

As usual, all the viruses are derived from failed Isu experiments.

Considering ‘superhuman’ is more or less connected to the Isus in AC lore, this means Spencer was trying to recreate Isus using children.

This also means that Wesker has higher than normal Isu genes (those glowing eyes? Yeah, definitely him having some form of Eagle Vision)

It would be so, so easy to make Umbrella = Abstergo but to change things up, let’s make Umbrella and Abstergo rivals, the two big pharmaceutical companies (it really says a lot about humanity that pharmaceutical companies are easy targets of “yeah, those guys! Definitely evil corps!”)

Umbrella knows about the Templars and the Assassins but they’re in the whole “I stay in my lane, you stay out of mine”.

This does mean that the world of AC would know about bioweapons and all of Umbrella’s dirty secrets but that’s fine. I mean, Wesker is more or less doing shit on his own anyway.

Ngl, I like the idea of Clay meeting Jake just for the sheer exhaustion and sass Clay would do as he becomes Jake’s minder I mean cousin.

Oh. This means Wesker is Ezio’s descendant………

#ngl #considering how shitty clay’s life would be #it’s possible he’d willingly help wesker #until he realizes just how fucked up wesker’s plan is #ask and answer #i would just like to say #dc douglas… you will always be my albert wesker #and i will always remember your global saturation #assassin's creed #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #fic idea: resident evil #fic idea: crossover #resident evil #albert wesker #clay kaczmarek

[hippodamoi]

recently i’ve been thinking about the confines and pressures of society. how much women smother their own ideas, talents and interests to force themselves to do things they don’t want to. that simply was never for them. just for the approval of society. stupid faceless strangers as well as overbearing relatives. 

 the societal pressure to fit in. to not rock the boat or make others uncomfortable. the natural human yearning to just belong. both are intensely strong compulsions. young girls will fake crushes on boys to be like the other girls, teen girls will force themselves to date boys they dislike or are bored with for the same reasons, or to convince themselves that this is what they must do to belong. we’ll dress, shave, talk, fake interests and mold ourselves like clay to be like the others. to be what’s expected of us. students will enter majors they have no interest in, or professions they hate because it will translate to social capital. there is almost no greater anxiety and fear for a young person than to not belong. young women will try and try and try yet again to find a man they love, convinced they’re the one who’s lacking or wrong and harming themselves, sometimes irreparably, in the process. 

those very compulsions keep women in the chains of matrimony. in the bondage of motherhood when they never wanted responsibility for anything more than a houseplant. in relationships with shitty men where they have to do all the chores; the dishes, the laundry, the vacuuming, the mopping, the dusting, the changing of sheets, the cooking, the shopping, the emotional labour, the childcare, the care for the elder members of the household, because they were lied to. society told them this was the path to happiness, to stability, to being a functioning member of society when all it does is smother them. drain the light from their souls and kill their creativity. 

i mourn the women lost on the path prescribed by society. by their parents, their fathers, their religious communities and leaders. how much poetry, how much art, how many novels, how many statues, how much architecture, how much technological, psychological, social progress have we been robbed of. how many bright and vivacious and beautiful girls have withered away under the weight of matrimony, their lifeblood drained away by parasitic husbands and children. 

i consider with kindness those that spent a lifetime uncertain and searching. those that knew - those whose fingers itched and ached to draw, to paint, to write, to argue, to hold a scalpel or a gavel, but smothered their souls and selves into nothing knowing there was no space for them. those who never had the opportunity or even thought to question themselves and their path - who just lived with the resignation that life was just like that. it is what it is. dreaming about things you can’t have will hurt more than just accepting reality.  how many women lived with guilt, shame, fury and the void inside of their chest thinking that, that was all there was or ever would be to love. to life? 

#shut up #i'm emotional about it #can society leave women and girls alone #that'd be great actually

[cryptidcalling]

Nobody knows how Firbolg age scales and it’s THROWIN’ ME OFF. I initially got confused because people kept calling Caduceus Clay “Mentally a teenager” which confused me. 30 is adulthood for Firbolg, so if he’s between 80-100 shouldn’t he be older mentally? I kept looking, and then I was seeing people say he’s mentally anywhere from 20-25. Young, but definitely not a teenager. So here’s my shitty math trying to work things out. Keep in mind I’m rounding a lot of numbers here for simplicity. This isn’t a college essay, it’s an DND Bisexual doing math on Tumblr. This isn’t supposed to be perfect; The idea is to help people understand the mental ages of Firbolg for the sake of aging their own OCs. 

Tl;wr: Here’s a link to a google spread sheet of the ages. 

If you wanna see my thoughts (and disclaimers in the hopes CR fans aren’t gonna get mad at me), see below the cut!

In a lot of fantasy media I know, fantasy races tend to get through childhood faster than humans do. For example, let’s say a human is fully mature at 18 and live on average for 82 years. That means roughly 22% of a human life is spent as a child. The only confirmed numbers we have regarding Firbolg ages is that 30 is adulthood and they live on average for 500 years. That means roughly 6% of a Firbolg life is spent as a child. If we wanted things to be more proportional, 110 would be the adult age for a Firbolg. But that’s not where we are. Where we are, there’s a lot of gap we need to fill, so we have to slow things down mentally. Firbolg spend a lot less time being children, so they need to spend a lot more time being adults. 

Here’s another age to consider, which is being elderly. 65 is considered elderly for a human. So a human will spend roughly 22% of their life being elderly. This is the same amount of time spent being a child. So I’m going to apply that same logic to Firbolg and say that they’d spend 6% of their life being elderly. This would make any Firbolg the ages of 470 and above elderly. One more easy anchor point to find is mid-life, 41 and 250. 

So here’s our numbers so far laid out:

-18 = 30

-41 = 250

-65 = 470

Now, that’s an even 23 years up and down for a human and 220 up and down for a Firbolg. When doing my math the sides got a little out of count because I didn’t want to be working with decimals, but with a bit more dividing, subtracting, adding, and rounding we can roughly get the chart seen above. The process was basically a repeat process of subtracting, dividing, and adding. For example;  250 - 30 = 220. 220/2 = 110. 30 + 110 = 140. 250 + 110 = 360. 

110/2 = 55. 30 + 55 = 85. 85 + 55 = 140. 140 + 55 = 195.

So on and so forth until I got to adding my 3/2 (rounding and adjusting to avoid decimals) on the human side. 

So THAT is my comprehensive Firbolg age chart. It’s obviously not perfect, and I’m sure a much better mathematician could easily explain all the millions of ways I goofed it up, but I think it’s better than working from raw fractions due to how disproportionate early and late life are between races. 

And before anyone gets upset: I am NOT trying to argue that people are wrong about Caduceus’ mental age. 1: This is a fantasy world. The math between mental age and lived years isn’t important, you can make it whatever you want. You’re playing pretend and you can pretend however you want. 2: Caduceus is a character from a STORY. The hypothetical numbers are not nearly as important as how he is shown in that story. Cad is meant to be a young man leaving his home and seeing the world for the first time, adjusting his worldview as he does. It’s about learning to grow up as a young adult and realizing what your parents told you, and what you’ve experienced in your niche part of the world, isn’t always true when applied to the big picture. Cad’s relative age matters with how his story is told, not technical numbers. The discussion of his age is just what made me question the age chart. 

What I saw most often was the simple division of 250 = 42, 125 = 21. I just didn’t like the logic that 3 years for a human would suddenly equal 90 years for a Firbolg, only for the next 21 years to equal another 125. That’s not slowing the rate of of mental aging, that’s slamming a brick wall and then running around it. So the numbers I came up with just seem more evened out to me. 

Anyways, I hope at least one person find this helpful!

#If you actually read all that I applaud you #it's midnight shgasad #Anyways this is all to say that my PC Fen should be 113 yrs old NOT 60 hgsfjahg #I dunno what the fuck math I was doing when I made him that young #Should I send this to my DM while he's on vacation? Probably not #Will I? ....maybe #I can bother his gf with it tho >:33 (she's in the campaign with us and also my friend) #dnd #Dungeons and Dragons #firbolg #firbolg ages #firbolg age chart #dnd age chart #not gonna tag cr or cad bc whyyy would i do that to myself

[authorautumnbanks]

Wish I Could Curse You (12)

Series Master List

Satoru side eyes the man with stitches across his forehead, not that the man would be able to tell since Satoru has his bandages wrapped firmly around his eyes.

Something isn't right about that man, but he can't put his finger on what it is. The man's eyes are shifty. Though, what sorcerer doesn't have shifty eyes? Sorcerers are truly just con men at the end of the day. And his smile doesn't fit his face, but there's no malicious intent coming from him. Either the man is just naturally a shitty person, or he realizes he's outclassed.

Outnumbered.

Or maybe it's both.

His muscles tighten. All he needs is a single twitch. A look. Anything, really, and Satoru will end this man's life.

"Please enjoy your stay," the man says, bowing. "Should you need anything, please do not hesitate to find me." He bows again and then leaves them alone in the room, which could be bigger considering the Lord of this estate says they are esteemed guests or whatever.

Or maybe this is the best that they can do? A couple of sleeping mats and a divider, as if they are going to use that.

"He smelled funny," Shippo says, wrinkling his nose. "Not full-on zombie like Kikyo did. But hers was more like the smell of clay."

"Kikyo? Have I heard that name before?" Satoru questions. There's been a lot of names thrown at him these past couple of days that he can't keep track of who he should have beef with or not.

"Oh, InuYasha and Kikyo were lovers," Shippo answers. "But she died, and some witch reanimated her using part of Mama's soul."

"And she's at rest now," Kagome interrupts. She crosses her arms and leans against the wall. "We have bigger problems." She sighs and looks at Suguru. "You were supposed to find an estate that didn't have an evil spirit."

Suguru laughs. "It wasn't on purpose. Though I don't think we have to look far. That sorcerer may be a curse user." Suguru cracks his neck. "Is he leaving?"

Satoru tugs at his bandages just enough to reveal one eye. "Seems to be that way. Must've scared him off."

"We can sleep here, or we can leave and make camp," Suguru says.

"You want to go after him?"

"Not really. It's late…unless Kagome wants to."

Kagome blows out a breath. "Satoru, you can track his energy, right?"

He nods. It's not a big deal to go after the curse user, though a small part of him wants to stay here and get more information out of Shippo.

"We could ask around, gather some more information. If something is amiss, then we track him down. Shippo, you said he wasn't really like Kikyo. Was he like Rin or Kohaku?"

Shippo scrunches his nose. His bushy tail swishes back and forth. "Yeah, I'd say like them. He's died before, but isn't quite like Kikyo."

"Then he wouldn't need the souls of the recently deceased to survive."

Satoru frowns. He glances over at Suguru. All this soul talk is making him itchy. Kagome and Shippo are far too flippant about souls being snatched, living off half of one, and now there's a difference in how a dead person smells?

"So this Kikyo needed the souls of other people to survive, but you didn't?" Suguru asks.

Kagome tilts her head. "Well…most people would have been dead."

"Yeah, Mama is super strong," Shippo says, jumping up and down. "She even pulled her soul back. And when Kanna tried to steal what she had left, it was too big to be contained."

Kagome closes her eyes and sighs. "Point being, I'm an anomaly on that front and Kikyo was too." She opens her eyes and pins Shippo with a look. "Most wouldn't need to collect the souls of the recently dead because they would have taken the soul of someone else. And probably be at the mercy of whoever rose them from the dead." Kagome pushes away from the wall and sits down on the bedding. She blows out a breath. "Someone like Rin or Kohaku, though, came back to life with their souls and not someone else's. It's a different process and I believe you can't be dead for too long for it to work. Kikyo was dead for 50 years."

50 years? Satoru scratches his head. "InuYasha and Kikyo were lovers, though? He got with a zombie?"

"Uhh, no? Kinda." Kagome presses her lips together. "InuYasha is like over 200 centuries years old. Shippo wasn't lying when he told you his age."

Suguru bends down and squints at Shippo. "You're older than me?"

"And more handsome," Shippo quips.

Satoru doesn't bother to hold his laughter back. Suguru turns and flips him off, which only makes Satoru laugh harder.

Kagome stands and walks towards the door. Satoru reaches for her, grabbing her wrist in a loose hold. She pauses and when she looks at him, he swears she takes his breath from him.

"Hi."

"Hi?"

"You come here often?"

Kagome blinks and then rolls her eyes. "You're the most unserious man I know."

"A shame you know other men."

"Hey!" Suguru walks over to them and flanks Kagome's other side. "You forget I knew her first."

Satoru snorts. "Let's ditch the wannabe monk," he says. "Besides, Suguru got to spend time alone with you earlier and I didn't."

Suguru narrows his eyes at him.

"Is this how you two flirt?" Shippo asks.

Satoru whips his head back. Shippo sits on the floor with crayons in hand. Huh. Shippo really likes drawing. Maybe he should get him a sketchbook to keep all his pictures together? "We aren't flirting. It's called establishing dominance."

Suguru makes a choked sound.

"Establish away," Kagome says, pulling her hand back. "I'm going to talk to Lord Kitagaki and see if we can't get some more information on what's been going on around here. If that guy is up to no good, then I can't just stand by and turn the other way. He could have been the type those monks were after."

"Sesshomaru may want to kill them. They didn't want to listen to reason," Shippo chimes.

"…That too."

"You're gonna go talk to some man that is obsessed with you, wearing that?" Satoru asks, readjusting his bandages.

"What's wrong with my outfit?" She plants her hands on her hips and leans forward. Satoru shivers. This shouldn't be turning him on, but the fire in her eyes makes him want to add more wood to the flames. "This is a traditional priestess garment."

"Nothing's wrong with it…it's just…" He bites his lip. "Shippo, don't you want your own room?"

"Uh, no?" Shippo replies. "Why would I want my own room when this place is creepy?"

"Not you too, Suguru?" Kagome looks over her shoulder.

Suguru shrugs. "I think Shippo should get his own room after we confirm there is no danger here."

"I'm not leaving this room," Shippo says with a huff. "I'm sleeping with Mama."

"Awww, you want to cuddle with me?" Kagome turns and holds open her arms. Shippo puts his crayons down and runs forward, leaping into Kagome's embrace like a cat. Er…fox. Whatever. Either way, it's not fair.

"He is a grown man," Suguru mutters. Kagome gasps and cuddles Shippo closer to her chest.

"Shippo is only in his 60s, he's a child," she admonishes. "You have to watch what you say to him. He's delicate." Kagome runs her hand over Shippo's hair and mock glares at Suguru.

"…." Suguru exhales. "Right. Right. Shippo is a poor, innocent child who did not have a trap lying in wait for someone to walk into it and get crushed by some fox statues."

"Papa Suguru likes to tell crazy stories," Shippo chimes. "Maybe he's getting senile with his old age."

"I think so too," Kagome sighs.

Suguru splutters. "You were there when he had the trap laid out."

"Oh Papa Suguru," Shippo says, shaking his head slowly. "I would never do such a thing. Why I'm the best kit ever. I never cause trouble and I definitely didn't do something to your hair bottle."

Satoru covers his mouth and wheezes. Now he wants to know what Shippo did to the shampoo bottle. Suguru glares at him and flares his nostrils. Ugh. Fine. "Shippo," Satoru says, doing his best to not laugh. "You shouldn't play tricks on Suguru without me."

"What? I thought we agreed that tricks would be played on Satoru only?"

"Papas, please. I have enough tricks up my sleeves for everyone. You don't have to beg me to scam you." Shippo shakes his head again. "Mama, where did you find these strange humans? It must be that cursed energy of theirs. Got them going crazy."

Wait a minute! Satoru snaps his mouth shut. How the heck did Shippo turn it around like that?

"Okay. One of us needs to go investigate and it can't be Satoru, since he's supposed to be blind." Kagome blows out a breath. "If we could get this taken care of before dinner, that would be great."

"So, me?" Suguru asks, but he says it more like a statement. "And Shippo." He grabs Shippo by the back of his shirt. Shippo rolls his eyes. His tail swishes back and forth like an annoyed cat.

"I mean, I was going to go," Kagome points out.

"Best if you don't. I might end up plucking that lord's eyes out," Suguru says, straight-faced.

"You wouldn't pluck his eyes out," she scoffs. "Whatever, investigate away then." She waves Suguru and Shippo off as she heads back off to the bedding. Satoru bites his tongue. No way is he about to open his mouth and ruin this opportunity.

He waits until Suguru and Shippo leave the room and places his ear against the door, listening for movement. He could simply track Suguru's cursed energy, but for this he wants all of his senses put to use.

"What are you doing?" Kagome asks.

"Making sure they're gone." He turns and stalks towards her. Kagome squirms. Ah, now she realizes the predicament she's in. He grins. A big, wide Chester's grin. "What's wrong, Gome-chan?" He drops to his hands and knees before her. "I'm just trying to be a good concubine and make you feel good."

"A good concubine knows how to keep their mouth shut," she teases.

"M'afraid you'll have to keep this disobedient concubine's mouth busy." He leans forward and kisses her. Kagome wraps her arms around his neck and falls back on the bedding as he cages her in. Satoru breaks the kiss and sighs. He places his head between her breasts, careful to not put his whole weight on her.

"How are you feeling?" she asks after a moment. Satoru lifts his head. "About everything that's happened."

"I've got the love of my life and my best friend." He tilts his head. "And a son that likes to play tricks." He eases off her and lies on his side. "Hoping for another one." Satoru places his hand on her stomach. Actually, he blames Suguru for this. He wasn't thinking about having kids at all until Suguru started scheming.

"You two are serious about this?"

"Mhmm. Suguru is strong, but he's not cut out for jujutsu work, so having him home with you brings me a sense of peace. I'm a clan leader and one of the strongest, so I have a lot of enemies." And he wasn't there for Suguru back then when he needed him the most. He will not turn his back on Suguru now.

"Are you referring to the darkness in him?"

"Darkness?" If she means how fragile Suguru's mind was back then, then sure. "I mean, you have to be a bit insane to be a sorcerer." He interlocks their fingers. "I can see his cursed energy, but I don't think that's what you're referring to."

"No." She shakes her head. "It's been settling down since I've started addressing it. I just wanted to check in with you. You've been more unhinged since we've been here."

Satoru shifts. The tips of his ears burn. "Is that a bad thing?"

"…No. I guess you can't go all out in our time." She bites her lip. "As long as you're fine, then that's all that matters."

"Speaking of unhinged." He smiles at her. "Can I rip this off of you?"

Kagome gives him a flat expression. "No. What happened to being a good concubine?"

Satoru sighs. "I don't want to be a good concubine. Can't I just be your husband?"

Kagome flushes.

"Oho? You didn't think I'd just make you a baby mama? Thought it was a given."

"I haven't been doing much thinking lately," she huffs.

Satoru laughs. She's cute when she's flustered. "I'll talk to Suguru, but on paper, you should be my wife for more protection."

"I don't need protecting."

"Everyone needs someone watching their back. Besides, you'll have twenty kids to watch over. You'll need all the help you can get."

"Twenty!"

His brows furrow together. "Did you want more than that? That'll be too much on your body."

Kagome jerks her hand back and sits up. "You are ridiculous."

"In love," he coos as he reaches for her leg, pulling it into his lap. "When we get back, I need to take you out on a proper date."

"You mean you want to take me out on a date."

"There's no wanting with you. I need you."

The door slides open. Suguru's expression is murderous. Shippo twitches in Suguru's arms.

"What happened?" Satoru asks, rising.

"We're leaving."

"What?" Kagome stands and scratches her head. "We just got here and we haven't—"

"Kagome," Suguru interrupts. "We're leaving."

Kagome stares at Suguru for a beat and then turns to gather her things. Satoru exhales. He's not sure what's going on, but Suguru isn't the type to talk to Kagome like that, so it must be serious.

Suguru packs the rest of the items and stores them in the worm curse while Shippo clings to his back. Satoru blows out a breath as he slides open the back door.

"Can't we just fly to Sesshomaru's?" Shippo asks.

Kagome shrugs. "It's fine. I guess."

Suguru summons a giant bird curse that bends and spreads its wings. "You can ride in my lap, so you aren't directly on the curse," Suguru says, stepping in front of Kagome. "I can explain on the way there."

But Suguru doesn't explain. He doesn't say anything the entire flight unless it is to direct the curse to follow Shippo's directions.

They land a little way from the estate. Kagome slides out of Suguru's lap and stretches her arms.

"I nearly killed him," Suguru admits.

Satoru clucks his tongue. Ah. So that's it.

"Why would you nearly kill Lord—"

"He asked to buy you."

"He didn't want me?" Satoru pouts. His fingers clench at his sides. Of course, that man tried to buy Kagome. With how he went on and on about the Shikon tale, he probably sees Kagome as an object and not a person.

Kagome blinks. "That's all?"

…That's all? What does she mean by that's all? Shouldn't she be a little angry? Or annoyed?

"Mama gets proposed to all the time or someone kidnaps her to make her their bride. That lord was pretty tame," Shippo says. "But Sesshomaru says that wandering eyes should be eaten." He throws up his hands and shrugs. "But if that were the case, then Miroku would just be dead because he used to have wandering eyes, and hands, and his mouth was loose too."

"That's demon customs," Kagome says. "Suguru, you'll drive yourself mad if you try to go after every male or female that approaches me."

Satoru twitches. Male or female? Now he has to worry about females making a move on her too? He rubs his forehead. At this rate, he'll be going insane too. A surge of energy sweeps over the area. Satoru grits his teeth. The hell is this? This is nothing like the demonic energy he's encountered so far. Kagome beams and heads towards the surge. This energy is oppressive. Shouldn't Kagome be more sensitive to it than him? Or does it not affect her as much because she has holy energy?

"Sesshomaru wants to know why we're standing around," she says over her shoulder. Shippo bounds after her.

Satoru takes a step, but Suguru reaches for him, so he drops infinity. "What's up?"

"That man with the stitches wasn't doing anything that I could find."

"Did he return then?"

Suguru shakes his head. "He must have left because of Kagome. May have suspected her to be in cahoots with those monks."

Satoru frowns. Something about that man still doesn't sit right with him, but he hasn't given him a reason to go after him. They walk side by side, keeping some distance from Kagome, though Satoru suspects Shippo can hear their conversation. He should test out how far away Shippo can hear them.

"Do you want to go after him?" Satoru asks.

"No. He didn't do anything to the people there. They said he's been here for years and were shocked that he was suddenly gone. Said it wasn't like him to leave, but those monks being so close to the village is no coincidence."

Satoru hums. "Anything else, or did we really leave because that lord wanted Kagome?"

Suguru stops. "It was that or kill him. I chose to remove us from the situation. Didn't trust that he wouldn't try something." Suguru resumes walking.

"Why are you two walking so slow?" Kagome asks, turning around to look at them. She crosses her arms. "Come on, before Sesshomaru gets cranky."

"Sesshomaru is just a friend, right?" Suguru asks, keeping his expression easygoing. Satoru snorts. Now Suguru wants to ask that?

"No, he's family."

"…I see." Suguru sighs.

"What's up with you?" Kagome raises a brow. Shippo crosses his arms and mimics Kagome's pose.

"Just a little wound up from today's events is all."

"Oh." Kagome smiles. "Don't worry, my room leads to a private hot spring. So you can relax when we get there."

"Can we take a family bath?" Shippo asks.

"As long as the family bath comprises us and not Sesshomaru," Satoru quips, though truthfully, he wants time alone with Kagome and Suguru. As fun as Shippo's company is, he's damn near busting at the seams to have quality time with Kagome. Once they go back to their time, it's going to be a headache. Jujutsu society will probably freak out on him for being sick for so long and then Suguru is stepping away from that cult of his.

Suguru's 'family' may be a problem, but they can handle it together.

"This Sesshomaru would not lower myself to bathe with a bunch of humans."

Satoru's muscles tighten. He didn't even hear this demon approach. Sesshomaru steps out from the shadows. Satoru grimaces. He looks over at Suguru, who wears a similar expression.

This is Sesshomaru?

Satoru snorts. He's much better looking than this demon.

"What are you talking about? I'm human," Kagome says, rolling her eyes. "Sesshomaru, this is Satoru, and that's Suguru."

"You don't count," Sesshomaru says. He sniffs. "Two mates?" He sniffs again and then hums. "Come, I will have the servants attend to you." Sesshomaru turns on his heel and flicks his long silver hair back.

Suguru catches up to Kagome and reaches for her hand. "Did you bathe with him?"

Satoru frowns. He would like to know that too.

"Ah, not intentionally. I didn't realize he was already in the spring. But that was so long ago." She shrugs.

"Anyone else I should have on my hit list?" Suguru asks as though he is teasing, but Satoru knows Suguru is serious about this hit list. He should speak up. Put a stop to it.

But.

Damn. His list is growing, too.

"InuYasha saw Mama naked plenty of times. Sometimes he'd lie and say there was a demon attack, but there was no demon," Shippo says. "And then Miroku used to spy all the time. He even asked Mama to have his children, but he is with Sango now, so I guess Sango didn't mind his perverted ways. And then there was that pig demon that—"

Kagome bends down and places a hand over Shippo's mouth. "Do you want me to read you a story after you eat dinner?"

Shippo squints and then nods his head.

"The priestess has many would-be suitors," Sesshomaru says, "As far as hit lists…. This Sesshomaru will test you in the morning."

"Test us?" Satoru and Suguru parrot.

"The priestess doesn't always have the best judge of character."

"Hey!"

"And should you prove to be weak, this Sesshomaru will simply kill you for wasting the priestess's time."

Shippo runs back and jumps into Suguru's arms. He cups his hand over his mouth and whispers, "That means you guys have partly won him over. If you were a regular human, he would have just killed you."

"He would have killed us and not respected Kagome's wishes?" Suguru asks.

Shippo snorts. "Mama…." He sighs. "A weak male could not handle Mama. She gets into so much trouble."

"I do not," Kagome says.

"The last time the priestess was here, a lowly cat demon tried to kidnap her for breeding."

"And I defended myself!"

"There was also that tribe of imps—"

"Thank you, Shippo." Kagome sighs.

Suguru and Satoru share a look. Kagome is far too nonchalant about these things. A normal person would have broken under the trauma, but Kagome waves it off as though these occurrences are nothing more than an annoying insect bite.

"We'll do your test first thing in the morning and then we'll be on our way," Suguru says.

Sesshomaru doesn't respond, but instead leads them to the estate, where the overwhelming energy of demons oozes out of the cracks. Though it's nothing to the amount coming from Sesshomaru himself. Satoru grits his teeth. His cursed energy swirls in his gut, wanting to rise and flare back against the oppressive energy.

They eat in a dining room with a table long enough to sit several families. Shippo jumps and squirms in his seat. He's far more excited to be here than he was at that human lord's estate.

"Why is there so much on my plate?" Kagome grumbles, staring at the massive pile of meat. Satoru squints at his own. It's nowhere near as much as what Kagome has. No way she can eat all of that.

"Because you'll need the energy." Sesshomaru sips from his drink. "Rin and Kohaku have left to visit InuYasha's whelp. They may have already left the village to patrol the area."

"Speaking of patrols," Kagome says, picking at her food. "We ran into some monks. I think the same ones that tried to rescue Rin. They attacked Satoru and Suguru for having cursed energy."

"Most with holy energy go after those with cursed energy. It has been this way for centuries." Sesshomaru sets his drink down. "Perhaps if those with cursed energy weren't so secluded then they could have taken the place of monks and priestesses in the eyes of the villagers." Sesshomaru looks at Satoru and then at Suguru. "It's rare to come across those with energy, such as your mates. Most of them are weak."

Satoru shrugs. That isn't new information to him. Most sorcerers are weak. They die too early.

"Mama, can I have that bed-time story now?" Shippo yawns as he pushes his empty plate away. Kagome's plate still has a massive amount of meat and no vegetables on it.

"Of course." She stands and then looks around the room. "Jaken!" A green imp waddles into the room with giant bug like eyes. Satoru grimaces. This Jaken is one of the uglier demons he has seen.

"Human, do not call me as though you are my master. I only respond to Sesshomaru-sama."

Kagome rolls her eyes. "Please show Satoru and Suguru to my room. I'll be there after I get Shippo settled in."

Satoru perks up. Shippo has his own room? He nods his head in agreement. Suguru covers his mouth with his hand and yawns to hide the smirk that keeps trying to snake its way along his face. They thank Sesshomaru for his hospitality and follow Jaken as he leads them to the North wing.

Jaken grumbles as he stomps away. Satoru shrugs and walks into the room. Oh. That bed is massive. He rests his arm on Suguru's shoulder.

"That bed looks modern," Suguru points out.

"That's what you care about?" Satoru huffs. "Give me the stuff so I can get the room ready." He takes the bags from Suguru and sets the lube on the vanity. He's no history junkie, but Suguru does have a point. Some of the stuff in this room does feel modern. Kagome either instructed them on how to make it, or demons are more advanced than the humans of this time.

"I was just making an observation," Suguru says. "This room is specifically tailored to Kagome, even though she's hardly here. Sesshomaru must care a great deal about her." He makes a fist. "I have a lot of questions. Why would a demon consider a priestess to be family?"

Satoru scratches the back of his head. "I don't think it's so much that a demon considers a priestess to be family, as it is so much that you can't help but love Kagome."

Suguru unclenches his fist. "She truly is something." He smiles gently.

The door opens and Kagome walks in. She blows out a breath and leans against the door. "Shippo wanted me to read him three books, but luckily he knocked out mid-way through the second one." She shakes her head and then freezes. "Why are you guys looking at me like that?" She takes a step back, but there's nowhere for her to go.

"Hey, Gome-chan, your barriers are soundproof, right?" Satoru asks, going for nonchalant, but failing miserably.

"Kagome," Suguru calls. "Come lie on Satoru's back."

Satoru glares over his shoulder, but Suguru quirks a brow, challenging him to do something. Kinda hard to do something with a cock in his ass though.

"Don't listen to him," Satoru says. "You can lie down in front of me." He wets his lips, pleading with her to do just that. He needs to see her. Needs to taste her.

Needs Suguru to stop trying to monopolize her.

"I asked first." Suguru grips his hips and slams into him.

Fuckkk. Satoru breathes out his mouth. Kagome bites her lip as she approaches. She swings her legs over and uses Satoru like a chair.

He groans. Suguru is always hogging Kagome. Whatever happened to sharing is caring or whatever?

"Good girl," Suguru praises. "Now lie back and touch yourself." He snaps his hips and Satoru squeezes his eyes shut.

This is bullshit.

"Like this?" Kagome murmurs.

"Shit yeah," Suguru breathes. "Baby, you're so wet."

Satoru turns his head, but he can't see shit, and this is complete and utter bullshit. Suguru is a dick. He wants to see Kagome too.

"Give me your fingers, I wanna taste," Suguru commands. He hums. Suguru's cock twitches while Satoru's balls tighten.

This is bullshit. This is bullshit. This is bullshit. He chants to himself, gnashing his molars.

"Kagome, please," he begs as his body rocks forward. Suguru's fingers dig into his hips. "Kagome, please." He's whining now.

She slides off his back. "What is it, Satoru?" There's a twinge of concern in her voice. He swears Kagome is the only one that considers his feelings around here.

"Ride me," he says.

Suguru scoffs as he pulls out. He slaps Satoru's ass. "Turn over, brat."

Satoru sighs as he does that. He reaches for Kagome and urges her to climb on him. His cock twitches. So close and yet so far away from what he wants.

"You're so needy," Kagome breathes, gripping his cock with one hand as she eases down on his length. Her eyes roll back. "Fuck. Satoru you're so…"

Suguru tugs Kagome's head back by her hair, forcing her body to arch as he sinks his cock into Satoru's ass.

"He is needy," Suguru agrees. "But so am I." Suguru pounds into him. His balls slap against his skin in tune to Kagome rocking her hips.

His body doesn't know what to focus on. The pleasure of Suguru's fat cock in his ass, or the way Kagome's pussy grips him like a vice.

"Shit," he breathes, forcing his eyes to stay open. Kagome is arched so beautifully with her tits in the air. Suguru lets go of his hold on her hair and wraps an arm around her neck.

Kagome cries out. One hand on his abdomen and the other on Suguru's bicep. Shit. She fucking likes that. Satoru lets out a shuddering breath. He didn't think she could get any tighter.

"So close," she slurs. "He's feels so good."

Satoru's nostrils flare. When she says shit like that, it drives him crazy. He digs his heels into the bed as she rides him. He's close too. Gonna fill her up until she's leaking all over the bed with his come.

Suguru pulls out and lifts Kagome up and off Satoru's cock. His mouth pops open. That mother fuck…

Kagome gasps. Her hand wraps around his cock as her head rests on him. Her body jerks forward. Suguru grips her hips and snaps his hips into her.

Damn.

Suguru is fucking her like he seriously wants to brand his name on her. Satoru swallows. His cock twitches, needy, in Kagome's hand. Damn. He was close.

"Get over here, Satoru," Suguru barks out.

Satoru huffs. "Excuse me?"

"Get your bratty ass over here and eat my ass," Suguru snaps as he pounds into Kagome, whose eyes roll back.

Shit. She looks drunk. Dick drunk. And Suguru expects him to move from his spot and miss out on this view?

Kagome lets go of him and tries to lift herself up with her arms, but Suguru only pounds into her harder. Suguru's eyes snap to Satoru's.

He grumbles as he shimmies out from under Kagome and moves around to the end of the bed. "How the hell am I supposed to do this?"

Suguru looks back at him and pants. His long hair sticks to his back. "You're a genius, aren't you?"

Cheeky bastard.

Satoru grins, but it's all teeth. He lies on his back. "Can't believe I'm letting you sit on my face," he grumbles, before licking Suguru.

"Sug—ah! I can't—"

"I know you can," Suguru growls. "You can and you will take it." He hisses.

Satoru reaches down and strokes his cock as he eats Suguru out. He would much rather be eating Kagome out. The way she tastes when she comes on his tongue has him wanting to go back for seconds, thirds…at this point, he'd gladly put her come in a cup so he can taste her every time he gets thirsty.

Suguru lifts, so Satoru sits up. He turns around and forgets how to breathe. Suguru clamps down on the spot between Kagome's shoulder and neck.

Oh shit.

Suguru is trying to brand her.

His Adam's apple bobs. Fuck, now he wants to brand her. He needs everyone to know just who she belongs to at first glance.

Suguru wraps his arms around Kagome, keeping her upright and keeping her flush to his body as he dominates her. It's the only other description Satoru can think of. Suguru isn't just fucking Kagome. No, he's dominating her and leaving no room for misinterpretation. Maybe it's something in the air or maybe it's from being around nothing but demons—dog demons—in this estate, but something primal has taken over Suguru.

Something primal has taken over him, too.

He hops off the bed and grabs the lube, squirting a generous amount into his palm. Satoru strokes his cock with the lube and then squeezes a bit more into his palm. He doesn't want to hurt Suguru. At least not this time. Satoru climbs back onto the bed and fingers Suguru's ass, preparing him.

Suguru freezes and then shudders. Not once does he let go of his hold of Kagome. Satoru smirks as he adds another finger. He bites his lip as he pulls his fingers out and guides his cock in.

"Really?" Suguru huffs.

"I'm not the only taking it up the ass tonight," he quips, wrapping his hand around Suguru's hair.

"F'ucking brat," Suguru pants, rocking forward as Satoru snaps his hips forward.

Kagome groans. "You two aren't seriously arguing right now."

Satoru's eyes roll back as he pants. His balls tighten. Kami, even her groans of exasperation, gets him off. "Keep talking, baby," he grunts out.

Kagome squeals. "Suguru!"

"Ah, I'm not sorry," Suguru quips.

"Fill her up," Satoru commands, tugging harder on Suguru's hair. His hips move back and forth erratically. He's blindingly chasing that sweet pleasure. He's so far gone, he doesn't even care about releasing in Suguru. The night is young. There'll be plenty of time to come in Kagome before the morning light. His curse energy surges within him, seeping from his gums to his teeth.

"Sa-to-ru!" Suguru grunts, falling forward. His arms shoot out, caging Kagome in.

Satoru inhales. He doesn't know what's going on with him, but he clamps down harder on Suguru, imbuing him with cursed energy. He continues to thrust into Suguru, causing Suguru to rock into Kagome.

"Shit," Suguru breathes. "Feral bastard."

"You love it," he quips, raising his head. He swipes his tongue along his lips. "Kagome loves it more."

Kagome laughs, but it turns into a low whine as Suguru wraps his arm around her, pulling her flush against him. "How about I love you both?"

"Mhmm, you should love me more," Satoru says. His eyebrows pinch together as he lets go of Suguru's hair and grips his hips. "I love you more than Suguru."

"Fuck off," Suguru grunts.

"I'm trying to."

"It's okay," Suguru huffs. "My love for you is more than enough to fill in the love you have for Satoru."

Satoru narrows his eyes, pulls back, and surges back into Suguru one more time. He comes with a sigh. His head rolls back. Suguru groans and pulls out of Kagome right as Satoru does the same. He catches his breath and then tightens his hold on Suguru's hips and not so gently tosses him to the side.

"Satoru! You fucker," Suguru yells, from the floor, but Satoru brushes his cursing off like water. He has more important things to do. Satoru reaches for Kagome's legs and hoists her up, pulling her cunt closer to his face. He dives right in, humming in pleasure as his tongue plunders inside of her.

"Satoru," she half squeals. Her legs tremble. Kami, she smells amazing.

"Someone has to clean ya up."

"You're a fucking glutton," Suguru says, climbing back onto the bed. He runs a hand over Kagome's hair. "You want to take a bath after this?"

"Mhmm, yeah."

"Who said I was done?" Satoru complains, pulling his face away to grab Kagome's leg. He lifts it up and nudges her on to her side.

"Y-you're not?" Kagome's eyes roll back. "Sensitive."

"Hope you weren't planning on getting sleep tonight," he quips.

"What?" Kagome tightens around him and he breathes out of his mouth. "Suguru! You're on my side, right?"

Suguru strokes his cock and then kisses Kagome. "I'm always on your side." He licks his lips and then makes eye contact with Satoru.

"I'm not going to survive the night," Kagome grumbles.

Satoru and Suguru laugh. Oh, she'll survive the night alright. He won't guarantee she'll be walking properly in the morning, but that's a problem for tomorrow. For now, he wants to savor this moment. Satoru pulls back and thrusts back into her. Her breasts jerk from the action, and he has to bite his lip.

Yeah, he's gonna savor this alright.

***

A/N: This chapter ran away from me. Kenjaku is only a problem in the modern world. He wasn't in a body fit for fighting and even if he was, he wasn't gonna try to take them on. Normally I write a chapter in chronological order, but the sex scene actually came to me first (I'll see myself out lol). Next update will probably be Accidental again since I have some of that chapter drafted and then I'll update One Night.

"Was Sukuna part of this lore too?" - No, only because Sukuna didn't know about Satoru's CT at first so I figured that meant the big three clans didn't come into play until after Sukuna had already split his soul.

"If she's pregnant by the time they return to the present, will passing through the well affect the fetus?" - I don't see why it wouldn't since that would mean the baby is constantly being exposed to outside magic.

"Do I know about the JJK x Disney crack ships?" - Yessss, those tick toks had me in a chokehold for a while lol.

"Where am I publishing the original story?" - On Tapas and Scribblehub because they have a schedule option. I'll start posting it in April. Chapters will be free to read and I'll have a ream (like ) for early-release chapters.

Hope you have an amazing weekend! Stay safe and warm. Drink your water and take your vitamins. Refill your well and make sure you are taking in media that brings you joy. Take care and see you next week!

#gojo satoru x kagome #getoxkagomexgojo #geto suguru x kagome #crossover pairings #jujutsu kaisen x inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction #crossposted on ao3

[frostops]

I have some thoughts about how FGO has handled trans and trans-adjacent characters, and I’m frustrated how many people talk about the mishandlings without discussing the transmisogyny in it, but this is long as fuck, so its under the cut.

Its a good thing that FGO is having more characters with the genderless trait who aren’t given that trait for shitty reasons, but framing this as FGO being better at handling nonbinary characters, while technically true, ignores what caused many of the early issues. That cause is often transmisogyny.

Transmisogyny has been an issue in the game since Da Vinci’s introduction. Da Vinci doesn’t have the genderless trait, but she’s still important to discuss to understand FGO’s mishandling of trans characters. Mash and Romani are both angry at the idea of Leonardo Da Vinci not being a man, and call her a pervert, among other things. This is immediately after both find out King Arthur was actually a woman, but neither seemed to care then. Its understood by the writing that some believed to be a man turning out to actually be a cis woman isn’t deserving of malice, but that person turning out to be a trans woman is. The writing surrounding Da Vinci slowly got better, with characters being less shitty about and eventually respecting her gender. While Da Vinci initially describes herself as beyond gender, she says so in response to Roman and Mash’s reaction to her gender, where as whenever she is referred to as a woman (Lancelot saying he couldn’t hurt a beautiful women in Camelot, Napoleon calling her mademoiselle in LB2), she eats it up. Her early description of being beyond gender feels more like a tongue-in-cheek way of degendering a trans woman. While overall the writing treats Da Vinci better now, there are still times where it gets shitty, even as recent as the event where Van Gogh was introduced, where Hokusai talks about both Da Vinci and Van Gogh having an inherent maleness that bleeds into their art. This event did have a guest writer, but it was still allowed into the game.

The first character to have the genderless trait is D’Eon. Historically, D’Eon was intersex and trans feminine, and very likely a trans woman, but the fate version is introduced saying they were crazy in life, intended to be in reference to how they presented their gender. They are also presented as caring more about loyalty to France than what gender they are seen as, when the real D’Eon blackmailed the king into legally recognizing them as a woman. Transmisogyny, as well as intersexism, is pretty obviously what made Type-Moon take reduce D’Eon to just jokes about gender. D’Eon feels degendered in way similar to how Da Vinci is at time, though D’Eon gets it worse

Astolfo debuted in Apocrypha, where their presentation is used for a joke where Jeanne, believing Astolfo to be a girl, freaks out when she sees that Astolfo has a penis. The joke is that it is such a horrible thing to find a penis on some you think is a girl. I shouldn’t need to explain the transmisogyny behind that, or that Astolfo ostensibly not being a trans woman doesn’t make the joke less transmisogynistic. There are other, better things about Astolfo in Apocrypha, but most of their writing in FGO is in the same vein as the joke with Jeanne. This is crystalized in Agartha, where both Astolfo and D’Eon were used for many transmisogynistic, intersexist, and homophobic jokes. 

The third, and for a long time last, character to have the genderless trait was Enkidu. They are given this trait due to changes to their myth. In Fate, Enkidu is made of clay, and had a nonhuman appearance until meeting Shamhat, and modeling their appearance after her. They don’t have a physical sex, but, due to originally being a male character and appearing feminine in fate, the writers and fans alike treat them similarly to how they treat Astolfo and D’Eon, though less aggressively. Usually when Enkidu appears in a fate work, one character has to talk about how they can’t tell whether Enkidu is a man or a woman, before settling on neither, but only reach that conclusion because they don’t have a physical sex. The transmisogyny isn’t as strong in Enkidu’s writing, but its still there.

Until LB3, no other character would be given the genderless trait, and what all 3 of them have in common is being AMAB or originally male characters who present femininely. Technically Da Vinci fits this description as well, but her body is considered female by Type-Moon’s standards, so she gets the female trait. Also, with the exception of Astolfo, have bodies that wouldn’t considered male of female by most people. In Deon’s case, this is the result of intersexism, and even more frustrating when you remember that D’Eon blackmailed the king to be seen as a woman. I’d wager the reason Astolfo is grouped with the other two is itself a continuation of the joke from Apocrypha. It’s a coy “We all know what Astolfo’s ‘real’ gender is, but we’ll play along with the joke.” 

I think this also explains other characters who, arguably, could be included in the genderless trait, but were not. Nezha, like Da Vinci, only got a “female” body after dying, so they get the female trait too, despite not really being comfortable with any gender labels. Mordred, who consistently gets violently angry at being called a woman, and whose bio states that they don’t like being referred to as a man either (though this wouldn’t be implemented into writing until LB3, where they are clearly far less bothered by being referred to as man) also  has the female trait. King Hassan’s bio has his gender listed as “?????” but he is treated as male by the game and has the male trait.

None of the newer genderless servants fit the same description of amab/originally male and presenting femininely, which does show a more nuanced understanding of gender identity and expression, but it doesn’t show anymore respect towards trans women and transfems. Both Shi Huang Di and Douman have somewhat androgynous presentations, but we still don’t really have trans fem character whose gender and presentation is treated respectfully other than Da Vinci, and that’s frustrating. For the most part, though, these characters are all pretty well handled. 

Two of them, Mao Nobu and Romulus-Quirinus, are new versions of characters who already had the female and male trait respectively, meaning the game has at least someone moved away from equating the genderless trait to a character’s physical sex, but not entirely since part of the reason Shi Huang Di has the trait is their inability to reproduce.

There is some disagreement about how Caenis is handled, and I do have thoughts on that topic, but if I talked about that this would be twice as long. The short version is that the necessity to make characters fit into fanservice, something which negatively affects all of the characters I mention here, limits the ways in which Caenis’s relationship to their gender can be explored. Its also why we have Caenis and not Caenus, and why Caenis is rarely allowed to where a shirt.

There is also Dioscuri, who is two characters, one man and one woman, who are collectively on servant, so even though they have the genderless trait, they're not really relevant.

We do have more originally male characters now in female bodies. Vritra and Van Gogh, who were added recently (Vritra’s bio says she was originally male and now has a female vessel and Van Gogh is Vincent Van Gogh in Clytie’s body), Kama, an originally male deity possessing Sakura’s body, is being added to NA this year, and even back in part 1 we had Quetzalcoatl, another male god in a female vessel. All of them are given the female trait, and Quetz in particular seems to be very comfortable being a woman, but this still feels like what happened with Nezha, where the “physically female” body matters more than the identity of the character, especially with Van Gogh, who had no choice in being put in Clytie’s body. 

Mechanically, the gender traits only affect certain skills and nps, having extra or stronger effects. The genderless servants are exempt from the extra effects, with one exception. Once of Blackbeard’s skills has an effect for female servants, but D’Eon and Astolfo (And maybe also Enkidu, but I don’t remember) were included in this effect as well. The joke here was that Blackbeard is written to be reflective of  the worst qualities of weebs and otakus. many of whom would refer to those two as traps, a transmisogynistic slur, so Blackbeard is into them in the same way. Servants with the genderless trait added afterwards weren’t included in this effect, even though some of them (the ones who transphobic fate fans consider to be women) would still be seen as attractive by Blackbeard. So rather than coding each one individually to be included, they added a new trait, the female looking trait, for Blackbeard’s skill. The genderless servants included in this one all present feminine, but the inclusion of this trait is to make continuing a transphobic joke easier, which almost feels like a step back from some of the previous progress in handling trans characters.

I also think some people are a little too eager to give FGO credit when it may not deserve. For instance, a lot of people liked Douman being included in the genderless trait, and on its own it fine, but the my room line where Sei talks about trying to check under Douman’s robes concerns me. Many people took it as Sei just being horny for Douman, but it could easily be intended as Sei trying to check what’s really in his pants, especially since the canon reason Douman has the genderless trait is that he combined himself with some spirits and deities, one of which is female.

None of this is to say its wrong to view any of these characters as nonbinary (I do view most of them as nonbinary), but I don’t think we should view the genderless trait as equivalent to nonbinary. Not only are there characters included in it who probably shouldn’t be (like D’Eon) and characters who don’t have it who probably should (like Nezha), doing so treat nonbinary as a third and wholly separate gender. And if you’re going to talk about the transphobia of FGO, please be willing to use the word transmisogyny.

#transmisogyny #transphobia #fate grand order #fate/go

[stxvercgersslut]

Why today?

Request: @teller258316 hi! can i request a jake jensen x reader where she goes into labor when hes on a mission?

A/n: I kinda took so long writing this because I didn’t wanna ruin such a brilliant request. Thank you so much for requesting this.

Warning: Language, lots of fluff

Temporary tag list: @jtargaryen18 @et-lesailes @chuckbass-love @t-stark35

Description: Jensen prayed he wouldn’t miss the birth of his baby, but when he’s on the other side Of the world to where you were, that seemed like a pretty possible outcome.

3 months. 3 whole damn months away from his one and only. To make it worse you were pregnant. Not only were you pregnant but by now you were 9 months pregnant. Which unfortunately meant that you were just days or may less from going into labour. Making it even more difficult to be so far away from the one that he well and truly loved. His heart aching every time he even so much as thought about you or even how your unborn little baby girl was doing. Picturing you all alone in your small shitty shared apartment just seemed to make his stomach twist uncomfortably. He never would have even agreed to go on this damn undercover mission with the guys if he’d of known it was going to rip him away from you for 3 months of your pregnancy. Then again if he hadn’t of been there to help with the technical side to the job then there most certainly wouldn’t have been a job to do in the first place. Not that that would have been a bad thing of course. The ‘nerd’ wanted nothing more then to be home holding you in his arms with his hand cradling your large baby bump as your little unborn baby girl occasionally kicked directly on his hand, letting him know that everything was going to be okay. Moments like those always seemed to sooth him. Which was why, during those traumatic 3 months, he had missed you like crazy. No amount of text messages, phone calls, photos or occasional FaceTimes would make up for any of this. At least you had contact with him. Thank god he was good with technology. He would have lost his mind if it wasn’t for the fact that he was at least able to check that you and the baby were okay.

When the two of you had first found out about your pregnancy of course there were some understandable concerned about how exactly the paid or you would even be able to raise a baby together. With Jensen always leaving for missions with the other ‘losers’ it would most likely be insanely difficult for the baby to even grow up knowing the father. Oh but the added worry was the fact that unfortunately poor Jensen always seemed to get himself into dangerous situations that could have safely been avoided (it’s safe to say that you weren’t at all thrilled to see him when he came back home one night to inform you that he had in fact gotten shot and was almost murdered.) Maybe being the girlfriend to Jake Jensen wasn’t the smartest of decisions but you adored him. This man really was the love of your life. The way he was so protective over you seemed to fuel your burning desire to be with him. You were both so different yet so perfect for each other at the exact same time and you’d be dammed if you were going to let this gorgeous nerd leave you. Like you’re mamma always used to say “keep that boy on a tight leash or you’ll lose him”

After several weeks (6 to be exact) of carefully considering all of your options the pair of you finally decided that you were in fact going to have this baby. Jake, being the one more excited then you, couldn’t wait to tell his friends the brilliant news. However, not everyone seemed totally thrilled for you guys. In fact only Pooch and Couger seemed to be happy for you. Not that you really expected anything different to be totally honest you understood that it wasn’t the greatest it timings or settings to bring a baby into the world that wasn’t at all safe. Not that that seemed to deter either of you. Clay most certainly protested against the pregnancy, believing that it would just mess with Jensen’s mind. If Jensen wasn’t fully set on the task at hand then that could have extremely dear consequences.

However, no one (not even Clay himself) could break Jensen’s excitement for this baby. And believe me, he really was unbelievably ecstatic to know that you were carrying his baby. For the first time in forever Jensen finally felt like he had found where he belonged, years on his own ‘travelling’ with Clay, Pooche and Couger had always been what he had decided to settle for. But now? Now that he had found you, the girl of his dreams, whom of which he as little engaged to, well he finally found his home. The life that he wanted was staring him right in the damn face and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to grab it with both hands and hold it as close as physically possible.

Currently you were sitting alone in your 3rd floor 2 bedroom apartment in New York that Jensen had been paying rent for for the last 3 , laying in yours and Jensen’s shared bed with one hand on your stomach as you calmly continued to sleep. Even though it was a whole lot harder to sleep now that you were 9 months pregnant and could literally pop at any second, you felt calmer knowing that you’d soon be back in the arms of your fiancé. Thankfully today just so happened to be the day that he was travelling home from the mission. After 3 torturous months without him, he was finally coming home. But due to the fact that he was literally on the other side of the world he would most likely be home for a few more days. Even if that were true, at least you could feel happier and at comfort knowing that the man of your dreams was on his way back to you and that soon the two of you could cuddle back up in bed together like you always did. Due to the fact that you were I fact quite a light sleeper however, you were awoken to the sound of your phone buzzing 3 times in a row signaling that you had finally gotten messages from your beloved.

Jensen: morning baby ❤️ or maybe it’s afternoon for you? Xx

Jensen: How’s little baby girl Jensen doing? Is she still kicking a lot? Xx

Jensen: We’ve just gotten to the jet so we should be on our way back in an hour. Until then please keep me updated on how you and our baby are doing? I can’t help but worry Xx

Those three texts messages sent in a row, hardly giving you a second to respond to each one as they all can through, seemed to melt your heart. Of course they did. More so since you found worried and caring Jake Jensen to be the most adorable version of your fiancé that you could ever see. It was just so cute to see him all flustered and worried for you, making you realise just how special your man really was. Oh he was a definite keeper. As you wrote out your reply to his several questions you couldn’t help but laugh as the three little bubbles appeared at the bottom of the pile of messages, indicating that Jensen was once again typing. Yeah it could get annoying sometimes when he began to spam you in order to get a repsonse, but most of the time he was doing so out of love. Which made your heart swell even more then you ever thought that it could. This man really did love you and it showed.

Jensen: Baby are you awake? I’m sorry for pestering. I just need to know you’re okay Xx

You: Yeah I’m awake Jensen and our baby is fine. She’s been happy to spend some more bonding time with mama whilst you were gone. But now we really do miss you. Can’t wait to see you again. Xx

Jensen: I miss you too ❤️ Not long now baby girl and we can cuddle again. Xx

You: Can’t wait to see you! Xx

Jensen: Neither can I. Look I’ve gotta go since we’re bording soon. I’ll see you later baby Xx

You: Okay be safe! Love you Xx

Jensen: Love you too angel Xx

Those last little words that showed up on the screen seemed to bring a extremely bright smile to your face, well...that smile didn’t last long Since after a couple of seconds you felt a very uncomfortable wetness fall on to the bed. Unfortunately that just so happened to be your waters breaking. “Seriously? You couldn’t have just waited two more days for daddy to get home?” You asked of course fully knowing that the baby couldn’t hear you and you definitely couldn’t control this. But it was still awful timing for this little baby girl.

It was a struggle, but after around 10 minutes you’d managed to call your mother who of course got you to the hospital in record time. Which was why you were currently sitting in a very surprisingly comfortable private hospital bed with your phone pressed to your ear as you continued to try and get in contact with your beloved fiancé. But unfortunately, no matter how hard you tried he just wasn’t answering. “I’m not doing this without Jake! I’m not doing this” you spoke breathlessly as you pathetically attempted to stop yourself from pushing, too afraid of your fiancé missing the moment that he’d been waiting for this entire pregnancy. But unfortunately it was too late you were already pushing and your heart was thumping way too fast in your chest. Was Jake really about to miss the birth of his very first child? The answer to that was uncertain. Well that was until: “You don’t have a choice Y/n this ba-“ your mother began before being interrupted by a very familiar males voice echoing through the room “Rosie....her name is Rosie... our...baby’s name is Rosie Jensen” it was none other then Jake. He was finally here.

But you were far from impressed right now as you didn’t even bother speaking, you just held out your hand for him. Pulling him closer when he finally took a hold of your hand trying his hardest to sooth you. Well, he tried but nothing was working. So instead he just stood there, squeezing your hand as you pushed with all your might. And after 3 more minutes your little baby Rosie Jensen was born. Well it was safe to say Jensen had made it just in time.

#jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen x you #jake jensen x y/n #jake jensen x female reader #jake jensen x female! reader #Jake Jensen x Pregnant! Reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #jensen x wife! reader #jake jensen x wife! reader #Husband! Jake Jensen x Wife! Reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x pregnant!reader

[synnefo-nefeli]

I really love the scene in Heard Your Heart Beating when Apollo and Klavier sleep after drinking and Apollo wakes up at some point and looks at Klavier and thinks about him and Daryan and Kristoph. Idk I really like the vibe of it and also Apollo is really fond of him and you can see it lol

This is for the DVD Commentary Author Ask if there is a scene from any of my works you’d like to see a DVD commentary on, send me an ask!

Yesss this one of my favorite scenes so far in HYHB.

So there are two things going on in this scene- one is a payoff moment when Apollo figures out the significance of Valentine's Day is to Klavier, and the other is the emergence of the theme of " Safety". This chapter also functions as a transition point from Klavier and Apollo moving from work colleagues into a closer friendship. There is still a giddy nervousness at the beginning of this chapter that is usually associated with moving to the next step.

I wanted to express that almost frenetic nervous energy when inviting a new friend/date/etc into your personal space for the first time. And Apollo, despite him stating repeatedly that the hangout is platonic/feeling guilty about appearing to move on from Clay /trying to keep that boundary that’s existed so far between them, allows that boundary to fall.

By the end of the chapter there is now a comfort and deeper trust between them so that their relationship can continue to develope organically over the next few chapters without Apollo being constantly flustered every time Klavier teases him or there still being awkward feelings between them. They’re still in the “getting to know you” phase of their friendship but they’re at the point where coffee breaks and after work drinks no longer suffice. They now want to hang out as much as possible.

More under the cut so I don't spoil people for this chapter

Before I get back into the Safety theme I want to reiterate the meaning of the story’s title. It comes from Florence + The Machine’s song, “Cosmic Love”. The lyric goes:

“ I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too-So I stayed in the darkness with you”

This lyric aside from Comic Love being a big mood inspiration for the story, this lyric refers to Klavier and Apollo finding eachother after going through a really shitty and traumatic year and a half.

They recognize that the other is a source of some comfort as each of them understand what the other is going through a little bit better than the others around them.

This scene is the first confirmation to the reader that yes, Klavier is actively seeking out Apollo for comfort.

So far in this story we know *something* is bothering Klavier- he’s actively avoiding someone and he’s been kinda timid in reaching out to people without having his glimmerous persona constantly on. In the following chapter, Klavier mentions that he’s been asked to be in Edgeworth’s wedding.

Apollo attempts to commiserate with Klavier about this as Phoenix has just asked Apollo to be his best man.

Klavier tells Apollo that Apollo shouldn’t be shocked about being asked to be Phoenix’s best man- considering how much Apollo means to Phoenix. He has to point out to Apollo how much Apollo means to Phoenix and Trucy as well as how Apollo impacted Klavier’s choice to return to the legal world full-time.

And while Klavier is honored that he’s been asked by Edgeworth, his being asked is more of a surprise than Apollo being included in the Wright-Edgeworth nuptials. There is no way that Apollo wouldn’t be included after all he’s done for Phoenix and Trucy and how close he is to the WAA. Klavier had a different dynamic with Edgeworth. Part of this because, well, it’s Edgeworth. But Edgeworth has formed close bonds with Gumshoe and Kay...but Edgeworth just spent the last few years chasing down a Phantom Criminal in order to save Simon from Death Row. So Miles and Simon had a closer dynamic.

Klavier unfortunately comes with a lot of baggage-most of it being from things beyond his control. It was his debut that resulted in Miles’ partner from being disbarred and disgraced. There is everything with Kristoph. Combine the canon stuff along with this story establishing that the Gavins and the von Karmas have a bit of a family feud going on, it’s no wonder why Klavier admits to feeling that he’s still needs to figure out if and where he belongs.

He’s always looked up to Phoenix and Miles and wants to spend his career under them, but he thinks he needs more chances to prove himself to rebuild trust.

Of course- the obvious signal Klavier is missing, is “Hi, the Chief Prosecutor has asked you to be in his wedding party. If the grooms didn’t like you, you wouldn’t have been invited let alone asked to be IN THEIR WEDDING PARTY” ...and he misses it right after he’s finished telling Apollo, “how could youthink you’d wouldn’t be included, Herr Forehead. Jeeze.”

Like I said- Klavier is shit at taking his own advice. I’m not being mean to Klavier, but because Klavier is anxious about trusting people and letting people in, he prefers to do things on his own terms and under his control just in case he needs to get out if he gets rejected.

And even though he reached out to Apollo first with his condolences for Clay’s death he didn’t expect anything more than a thank you note, but Apollo not only acknowledging him, hunting him down to his apartment and even offering his company to Klavier, was a happy surprise to someone who has been very lonely.

He’s been wanting to get to know Apollo but he’s felt awkward due to the fallout with Kristoph and the continuing dark age of the law of which he was apart of the two major catalysts.

Apollo over the last few weeks is appearing to be a safe space for Klavier.

However Klavier wants more confirmation and a chance to suss things out (re: Kristoph). So when Apollo says he doesn’t have plans and was oblivious about Valentine’s, Klavier pounces on it. He spent Valentine’s alone the previous year and it spiraled his depression so he was not in the mood to again this year.

This scene was meant to be that very comfortable state between two people with a budding friendship. Once you get drunk with someone while having deep conversations, it tends to push you more into the friendship category.

It was also important to get some of the serious topics out rather than dragging it out. Having this quiet evening is something they both needed, and it allowed them be vulnerable. Especially since Apollo was already upset from the phone conversation he had with the Terrans earlier in the chapter.

Apollo needed a night in with the only person who has never treated him with kid gloves, even before Clay’s death. And Klavier needed a night in with the only person who has never put him on a pedestal.

When discussing Kristoph, it was important to remind the reader that Kristoph is a human being- it’s what makes him a compelling villain and why his betrayal of both Apollo and Klavier’s trust strikes an emotional chord with the player. Before the events of AA4, there was a time where Kristoph gained Apollo and Klavier’s love and loyalty, where he was a normal boss, a dog-dad, a good older brother. There were good times and happy memories- which is why when Kristoph is exposed, Apollo and Klavier are disillusioned- Klavier moreso. But another reason as to why Klavier finds Apollo to be a safe haven, is because, Apollo knew the Kristoph Klavier loved. They both wanted Kristoph to be proud of them. They respected him and wanted Kristoph to be proud of and acknowledge them.

Klavier has been wanting to talk to Apollo about this for awhile and I believe so has Apollo. Apollo is never going to say to Phoenix, “hey Mr. Wright, Mr. Gavin was a good mentor to me too-“ it wouldn’t go over well, even though Kristoph was a good mentor to Apollo-his only flaw was thinking that Apollo would happily be a lickspittle and easy to manipulate. So when Apollo gives Klavier that reassurance that Klavier can talk about those happier moments of his life involving Kristoph, Klavier sees that Apollo wants to take that awkward stress away from Klavier but also Apollo wants to get to know Klavier better.

Klavier is so used to people researching his celebrity persona and forming opinions based off of his former lifestyle, that it’s refreshing to find someone who wants to organically grow their relationship without preconceptions.

Yes, Apollo initially wrote Klavier off as being a fop and glimmorous- but those thoughts were due to Apollo being self-conscious. By the end of Turnabout Serenade, Apollo admits that Klavier is pretty cool and in DD, Apollo remarks that Klavier is different than most prosecutors and how dedicated Klavier is towards his job.

It was also important in this chapter to allow for Apollo to discuss Clay and his relationship with Clay’s family. You’ll notice in this story that Klavier is the only person Apollo will share anecdotes about Clay with and freely grieve about Clay. It’s not that Apollo hides it from The WAA, he does share some things with them, but right now, Klavier is the only close peer Apollo has, and this comfortable vulnerability they’ve trusted eachother with allows Apollo to express himself with out him fearing that he’ll appear fragile. He’s tired of people walking on eggshells around him, but Klavier hasn’t and never will.

Likewise, I made sure to have Klavier fish for information about Apollo. Yes they’ve been hanging out for weeks at this point and worked a case together (sorta), but those coffee dates have been more talking about work, general topics like Trucy’s shows, etc.. they’ve been light in topic. So dinner and drinks at someone’s home gives way to deeper conversations about value-systems, love lives (even though Apollo isn’t entirely truthful lol), etc. And it works really well to the point they get more comfortable than either had anticipated.

I loved writing the discussion about how Klavier will never ever do a performance of “The Guitar’s Serenade” where he’s singing Lamiror’s words. It was such an organic moment while writing too- Klavier just started talking about how he’s feel like an imposter to sing those words because he’s never experienced a lost true love...and he hopes that he’ll never know what that feels like. It’s an honest moment that puts to rest any assumptions Apollo may have had about if Klavier is just a flirt not to be taken seriously in the romance department.

Hearing that Klavier is pretty private in his love life, isn’t a player, and has pretty much admitted that he tries to date with the intention of marriage, shows Apollo more into Klavier’s serious and introspective side. A side that Apollo’s only known in the context of their work. It makes Apollo realize that Klavier is human and is wanting of things like love and companionship. More importantly, Klavier will take those things seriously should he be so lucky to receive them.

There is also a bit of humor here- because c’mon Klavier lives to be playful when he can, and he wants to know more about Apollo’s views on love and relationships. Apollo is adorably flustered because he doesn’t want to admit he’s still a virgin. But in this portion I wanted to start laying down the idea that Apollo is demisexual. Part of the reason he hasn’t fallen in love or felt desire is because he’s fullfilled by his relationships with those he holds dear, but also no one has been interested in Apollo and stayed long enough to bond with Apollo in a way for desire to to bloom.

Because they’re starting as friends-particularly a friendship made as adults- this is going to give Apollo that chance to realize he wants more from Klavier. And for Klavier who wants a true friend and companion after the betrayals he’s suffered, Apollo is a perfect match for him.

The most important thing for me while writing this scene was to show Apollo and the reader that Klavier is suffering and grieving just like Apollo is, (and to establish early that Klavier is super bad at taking any of his own advice) and for Apollo to start drawing parallels to himself while wanting to dig into what’s going on with Klavier.

Apollo is interesting because he’s more likely to say what’s exactly bothering him but fails to realize his feelings about others.

Whereas Klavier is very aware of his own feelings but will hide what’s bothering him from others.

They’re also two people who now need reassurance about where they fit in and how others consider them in their lives.

And if you were wondering: yes, at this point Klavier does have a crush on Apollo haha. So getting invited to sleep over was a bonus for him...despite it being labeled as a “platonic sleep-over”, because at this point in the story, it is a platonic sleep over. Klavier is good at reading the room (even when drunk) to know that Apollo isn’t making a move on him and neither should he.

The comment Klavier makes about Apollo’s bed’s size is a homage to my favorite BL manga, FAKE. In the manga, Ryo who has just started as a detective at a new precinct and met his new partner, Dee- has Dee over that same day for dinner and Dee winds up staying the night. Ryo has a large bed for a single guy (according to Dee) and Dee makes a comment “that’s a big bed you got there, do you have a girl to go with it?” because Dee the little shit that he is, is trying to see if Ryo is single (and yes, they sleep in the same bed that night. How is that fir team building haha...it’s totally platonic. It takes Dee 7 volumes to get that. Please read it it’s a classic). Klavier is totally asking to get a rise out of Apollo because Klavier suspects that Apollo exaggerated his experience because Apollo’s pivot was not smooth at all XD.

Finally the last aspect of showing safety is them sleeping in the same bed together. We know from descriptions of Klavier that Klavier has not been sleeping well. Something is keeping him up at night and his mood has been less glimmerous. When he arrives at Apollo’s that evening; he wasn’t able to really conceal the dark circles under his eyes. Apollo has been missing Clay, who would usually sleep over and share the bed with Apollo,’s company.

Sleeping next to someone, especially falling into a deep sleep in a bed that is not your own, is a sign of trust. Yes they were sleepy from the alcohol, but they went to bed together easily, slept for hours, had brunch, and went BACK to sleep. Neither minded, nor did Klavier feel that he should leave after they ate. They are comfortable and too hungover to even think about anything except getting more sleep XD Also it’s not as if Klavier is in a hurry to get home when he eventually saw the text from his land lady.

Sorry if that was a rambling response but I have a lot of love for this scene in particularly and I’m so excited to give a behind the scenes look at it!

#ace attorney #klapollo #apollo justice #klavier gavin #head your heart beating #dvd commentary #behind the scenes #thank you Anon for letting me sqwee over this chapter

[rockhoochie]

Title: Anything and Everything

Link: On AO3

Square Filled: Tongue Fucking

Pairing: Dean Winchester/YN

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Fingering, Oral Sex (M/F), Tongue Fucking, Squirting, Unprotected Sex (seriously, just be safe), Marijuana, mention of prescription narcotic.

WC: 8,290

Created For @spnkinkbingo​

A/N: Well...this escalated quickly! The story is told in alternating POV between Dean and Reader -  Reader’s is regular text, Dean’s is italicized. I debated on splitting this into parts due to the word length, but...well, I’m impatient, and I’m really excited to share this with all of you!  Plus, I think it flows better if it’s read all in one sitting  😉

This fic is dedicated to @fangirlxwritesx67​ - remember that drabble prompt you sent me like, two months ago, that was Dean and reader laying on a comfortable floor, listening to music, and he starts playing with her hair, and they have a first kiss?  Well, here’s your drabble 😄 Thank you for the inspiration!

And thank you everyone for reading!  Drop me a line, let me know what you think - I love hearing from you ❤ ~Sarah

(’Lay Lady Lay’ music and lyrics © Bob Dylan, 1969)

I set a kettle on the stove to boil.

Thank god Donna has this place, and thank god that we were so close.  We’ve been here for days now, nursing our wounds: Sam had a bruised rib and a nasty gash on his torso. Dean had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder. I'd been flung against a wall - I don’t remember much because I'd been knocked out hard, unconscious for hours - but by some miracle managed to come out of it with only a few ugly bruises and a migraine. Not our worst injuries by a longshot, but we’d figured since we had a home base, we may as well take advantage of it. We’d packed up yesterday,  planning on heading out this morning, but an incoming snowstorm kept us from venturing out - it was half a day's drive, and even Dean couldn’t deny that the Impala doesn’t handle best on icy roads.

I like it here. It’s so quiet. And dark. No sirens or traffic, no various and questionable motel noises. No glare of city lights marring the night sky. The only light outside is coming from the moon, the only sounds are the ones I make. I look out the window, wondering when the storm will move in - the moon is full, its brightness gleaming off acres of driven snow that glints and glimmers against an indigo sky. Normally, a stillness like this is a warning, a silence this pure a screaming harbinger - but I don’t feel any threat here. No forebodings, no gut-nettling intuitions. 

It’s peaceful. I’m peaceful. If I ever leave this life behind me, if I’m lucky enough to dodge all the bullets and claws and teeth and blades, I’ll settle somewhere up here, find a small house on a lake that’s tucked away from the rest of the world. He’d love that. And we could just be, live out our days and years together, work stupid pedestrian jobs to pay stupid everyday bills. I’ll plant a garden and he can restore classic cars while we raise a family and just...live...

The kettle sings and hisses, and outside, snow begins to fall in fat, feathery clusters. I pour the boiling water into a handmade, slightly lopsided clay mug that proudly proclaims “I Love Auntie Donna” in a childish script, dip and drown my tea bag, and shuffle back to my spot in the living room - my little nest in a gorgeous, hand-crafted rocking chair next to the fireplace. Donna told me her grandfather had made it, and every time I look at it, it astounds me that another human being created something so beautiful with his bare hands. Every nitch, nock, and spindle carefully considered and meticulously carved. Some of the stain has faded, and patches of lacquer have dulled, but that only adds to its beauty - you can tell this chair was loved.  

The fire I’d built earlier is down to embers. I sit and stare into the blazing coals, sipping chamomile and scrying for answers to questions I don’t know. The room is warm, but I need something over my shoulders, need the weight of something wrapped around me.  There’s a flannel draped over the back of the rocking chair...one of Dean’s flannels. And it’s my favorite of his, the dark red one that brings out his freckles and the deep jade of his eyes. I take it and slip my arms through the sleeves.  It smells like him...like whiskey and wintergreen, leather and cotton, copper and cordite... 

I catch myself before I start to fall too far.  I need to pack up these thoughts and put them away where they belong before they start making me hopeful again. 

I used to let myself get lost in them, let myself wander through giddy daydreams and float among sultry fantasies...I’d close my eyes at night and pretend Dean was by my side, just an arms reach away. I’d imagine it was his fingers pumping inside of me instead of mine, hear his voice in my head as I made myself come. Or I’d simply think about spending a day with him - walking through a park in autumn, stargazing on a summer night, cuddling and kissing on a rainy spring day. But after a while, when I’d accidentally found myself in love with him, I’d put all those dreams on the shelf; I'd only take them down when I was at my lowest and loneliest, grasping for a reason to keep going. There were a few times I’d thought about telling him, making a move...but Dean Winchester doesn’t need another complication. None of us do.

~*~

The shitty thing about being used to four hours of sleep is that when I actually get the chance for more, my brain doesn’t get on board. I came up here a couple of hours ago and I can’t seem to keep my eyes closed. Just keep staring at the ceiling and thinking about things I shouldn’t...

I love this place. It’s cold outside and the wind’s howlin’, but it’s damn cozy in here. If Hell ever gets a blast of Minnesota weather - and I can pack it in, leave the life - I’m getting a place like this. Hell, I’d build it myself, make it just the way we want it. We could move out here, where it’s almost backcountry, leave all the bad times behind us. It’s gonna be on a lake though - I’ll get a boat and go fishing all the time, teach our kids all the tricks to hooking the big ones...

Jesus, knock it off, Winchester. Like she’d let you screw up her life more than you already have.

YN's moving around downstairs. I should see what she’s up to, see if she’s feelin’ okay or wants any company...nah, I should just leave her alone. She got her bell rung bad the other day and it scared the shit outta me...I kinda lost it and yelled at her like a total asshole. I don’t get why I do that. Gun to my head, I guess it’s cause it seems simpler that way - rather piss her off and keep her from getting too close, instead of admitting out loud how I feel about her and watch her run for the hills.

She was in and out of it for almost two days, and I’d stayed with her as much as I could, at least till Sam would bark at me to eat or sleep. She’d used herself as bait - again- and I fucking hate it when she puts herself in the line of fire like that. I can’t stand it when she gets hurt, and this last time was...pretty bad. But she’s stubborn as hell, can’t be talked out of anything she’s already set her mind to. Actually thought she was gonna punch me when I got in her face, but I escaped with only a “fuck off, Dean”. 

And I suppose those are some of the reasons my dumb ass went and fell ass over tea kettle for her - her grit and her style, the way she can dish it as good she takes it, how she handles either a gun or a blade with this almost unnatural grace... one day, I watched her make salt rounds for an hour and it was one of the most spectacular things I’d ever seen - she was in this total zone, her forehead creased in concentration, and lips mouthing the words to a song I can't hear, growling out the cutest “fuck” or “son of a bitch” if she messed up.  

She’s the best part of my day - whether it’s seein’ her all cranky and bleary-eyed in the morning, passed out over a pile of books in the library, or bent over a pool table while she hustles townies  - I can’t think of a better sight. And her laugh is goddamn music to ears. Her eyes, her smile...her anything and everything keeps me going. I can be two seconds away from checkin’ out, but one look at her reminds me that it's all worth it, worth every drop of blood, sweat, and tears.

Christ, just thinking about her like this is making my dick twitch. Doesn’t help that she laid in this bed the last few days because I can still smell her. Her perfume or soap or whatever she uses is fucking delicious, a mix of spice and spring flowers and brown sugar that sticks to her skin and practically makes my mouth water, makes me wanna taste her…

Fuck, now I’m hard. I think about jerking off for a minute, but instead I think about that time Cas showed up in my car naked and covered with bees and swing my legs off the bed. No sense in just layin’ here, thinkin’ about things that’ll never happen. I grab my duffel and pull out my flask (not much left in there, maybe two or three shots) and some clothes. Gonna check out the room down the hall that’s got one of those old school record players. Maybe some good tunes will calm me down, get my mind off things. Off of her.  I turn to leave but then I remember- there’s a little something in my bag I’ve been hangin' on to. I dig through all my crap and find it in the inside pocket. Awesome. Screw consciousness, I’m gettin’ high.

~*~

I hear footfalls against the ceiling - one of them’s awake. It could be Sam, but I know it’s Dean - I know his stride, his tread. And I also know Sam conceded to the pain and downed an extra dose of Percocet, so he’s all but dead to the world for the next six hours.

We all have problems sleeping, each have our lion’s share of blood-and- gore-laden nightmares, but Dean’s always seem worse. They take a bigger toll on him. He wakes up screaming more often, drenched in a cold sweat with his sheets flung from the bed. Sometimes I hear him shouting in the middle of the night and it breaks my fucking heart.

Maybe I’ll go see if he’s alright, if there’s anything I can do for him... I hope he’s not still pissed at me for what happened on the hunt. Sam told me it was just because I’d scared him, because he cares about me, that it’s just easier for Dean to blow up instead of break down. But dammit I wish he’d open up, just a little. There were a couple of nights he and I had spent just hanging out together, nights where whiskey was flowing and secrets were shared...but right when it seemed like he was going to let me in on what was really going on in his head, he’d stopped himself, drained his glass, and said goodnight. 

I know what he’s been through. Or rather, I know of what he's been through. It would be sacrilege for me to even try to begin to empathize. I know about things he’s done, his devils and deeds that are unforgivable in most circles but necessary in ours. 

Dean is a good man. Everything he’s done has been a labor of love, a sacrifice. I know he doubts himself constantly and I know he hurts, vehemently and deeply.  But if he’d just let me in, if I could love him the way he deserves, I’d do anything and everything I could to take all that pain and somehow dull it. Sometimes I can actually get a smile out of him and it’s one of the most marvelous things I’ve ever seen - when the corners of his green eyes crinkle and his teeth peek out from behind those ridiculously perfect lips...god, it’s beautiful. He is beautiful, inside and out and I wish he could see that. 

Now I’m wide awake. My tea’s gone cold, and I’ve spent too much time wallowing in these thoughts that shouldn’t be wallowed in, and I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. I glance out a window and watch the now steadily falling snow, listen to the wind whip and whistle through the frigid night air. Sitting here in the dark alone with all of these thoughts has become too lonely. There’s a  room upstairs,  a little den with a couple of chairs and one of those huge console record players...I’ll grab that book I’ve been meaning to read and hang out in there, let some music fill the quiet and the story busy my brain. 

I take my mug to the kitchen, place it in the sink, and pull Dean’s flannel around me tighter. Hopefully, he won’t mind if I borrow it for the night. This way, I can be close to him without ruining things.

Music echoes down the staircase and I recognize the tune as I get closer to its source. Bob Dylan. Nashville Skyline, I think. Dim, golden light beckons me to follow and leads me to a doorway. I look down and find him lying on the floor, with his ankles crossed, and one arm bent behind his head, blowing a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.

“Hey,” I whisper, and he turns his face toward me, looking up at me with mellow eyes and an easygoing smile.

“Hey yourself. Can’t sleep?” 

I shake my head. “Thought I’d come in here and check out Donna’s music collection. But I see you had the same idea, so -”

“So? Come on in, stay awhile.” He pats the floor beside him, then holds up the joint fastened between his fingers. “It’d be a lot cooler if you did.”

I should really go, leave him to his own devices, avoid torturing myself. But before reason has any chance to intervene, I find myself lying next to him. He’s more of a drug to me than the smoke I’m sucking through my lips. I want to stay away, I should stay away, but I can’t fucking help myself. So like a good little junkie I give in, tell myself this is no big deal, that I can go back to not thinking about him tomorrow.

~*~

I’m so glad she decided to stay.

I don’t know if it’s the weed or the cold, dark night or what it is, but when I saw her standing there, all I wanted was to just have her near me. Even if all I get to do is hear her voice or just feel her presence next to me...well, I’ll take it. It’s not like this anything new, we’ve hung out like this plenty of times...though it’s times like this when I get so comfortable around her, that I really gotta reign it in and make sure I keep my damn mouth shut. And it never seems to get easier - like right now. She’s humming along to the music, making up her own words here and there and playing air guitar and it’s friggin’ adorable. She really is one in a million and if things were different, I’d hold on to her and never let go.

Somethin’ Sam said a while back pops into my head - somethin’ about finding someone who knows the life - and for a second I think maybe things don’t need to be different. Maybe we could make it work. But then I remember I’m toxic. Even for a hunter I drink too much, have too many fucked up thoughts, done way too many fucked up things. No, she deserves someone good, someone better than me. I can’t even believe she’s stuck around for this long. Sometimes I just look at her and wanna scream, “run”, before she gets hurt. I’ve accepted that I’ll never get the happily ever after but she shouldn’t. She can still get out, have a real life, meet someone who’ll give her everything and make her happy. Never in my life will I be able to give that to anyone - it just ain’t in the cards for me.

Then she looks at me, passes me the joint with this sweet smile, and all those thoughts just fade away. And I wonder - like I wonder almost every night - how her lips would feel against mine. 

Sam keeps tellin’ me that I’m an idiot, that she really likes me, that I should go for it. And for a minute, I actually think about it, cause the way she’s lookin’ at me right now is downright incredible - she actually looks happy to be here, with me. 

Is she? 

Truth is I'm selfish. And a bit of a coward. I'm too afraid to love anyone because I'm too afraid to lose them. Everyone I've ever lost took a piece of me with them and I ain't got much left. If anything ever happened to YN, I’d be done. She’d take the last of me.

I’m feelin’ a little goofy. Not stoned or anything, but definitely running out of fucks to give. Then I glance at her and notice she’s wiggling out of her button-down.. .my button-down. She rolls it up, tucks it beneath her head, and stretches back out on the floor. Her tank top is creeping up over her stomach a little bit, and it’s stretched tight over her tits and she’s got nothin’ on underneath…

I swallow hard and bite down on my lip cause I’m this close to just flat-out telling her I love her.

~*~

Part of me wants to tell Donna she desperately needs to redecorate this room...but the other, the part of me that's stretched out on the floor, listening to classic 33s and getting high with Dean, is perfectly content with the old-school kitsch. The shag carpeting we’re laying on is surprisingly comfortable; The color (what is this, ocher? Chartreuse?) - shouldn’t be allowed to exist, but the long polyester threads sprawling beneath us are soothing in a way. The light is low, flickering from two vintage oil lamps that stand on each end of the console, and casts shadows beneath its warm glow.  

Dean looks like he’s about to say something, but the last song has ended and skipped into a static scratch. He hoists himself up to flip the record, and I perch on my elbows and just...admire him. He’s different here. I’ve seen him lounge around the bunker during downtime but tonight he actually seems powered-down, carefree. There's something almost magical about what the calm does to him, how it lifts the weight he carries. His shoulders are relaxed, his movements languid, unhurried and uncalculated, eyes bright and serene. And he looks so fucking good, wearing a well-worn and well-fitting Zeppelin t-shirt that he must've had since before he’d built up his muscle. Softened and faded jeans cover his bowed legs and hang low on his hips, and I don’t think he’s got anything on underneath because I get a glimpse at the cut of his abs and...  

I wish I could tell him how amazing he is, how much he makes me smile, how much I love him; I wish I could show him, hold him, kiss him and just love him with everything I have...

The music starts back up and oh my god… he’s dancing. It’s really more of a slow-motion Elvis maneuver, but it’s the closest thing to dancing I’ve ever seen Dean do. Every tick of his hips pulls the fabric of his jeans perfectly across his ass, and I shouldn't be thinking about him this way but he’s just so mesmerizing…

And then he turns and faces me with his best impression of his best Bob Dylan.

Lay lady lay, 

Lay across my big brass bed

Lay lady lay, 

Lay across my big brass bed...

I throw my head back and laugh, not because he’s being ridiculous, but because he’s being so goddamn perfect. And the joy I thought I’d lost the day I cocked my first shotgun is bubbling up and making me giddy. Or it’s him. Or it could just be the pot. This is a side of him that no one gets to see, not even his brother. I can give him this, a place to let go of it all and just be Dean Winchester for a little while. He’s easy here, content, and he actually seems happy that I decided to stay.

Is he?

He claims his spot beside me again, settling in just a little closer. He's still singing to me and I'm still giggling…

Whatever colors you have in your mind

I show them to you and you see them shine

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Somehow his hand found mine, and he's tracing my knuckles with one calloused fingertip. I take it in mine and glance down at the connection, marveling at how small my hand is in his but how perfectly it fits. His hand is so gentle, warm and solid...it’s hard to believe how often his palm has bled, how many triggers his fingers have pulled, how many bones his fist has shattered.

He shifts, rolls to his side, and gazes down at me while he keeps up his serenade.

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

Until the break of day

Let me see you make him smile

I grin as he brushes my hair from my face, tucks a few strands behind my ear, winds a section around his fingers. Then I see something in his face that’s never been there before - a shade of color reflecting from his eyes that's deep and rich and vibrant…

His clothes are dirty but his, his hands are clean

And you are the best thing that he's ever seen

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

The way he's muttering the lyrics...it’s so sincere, like he means every single word.  The warmth of his body is just out of my reach, and the low timbre of his voice begins to resonate through my veins, nestling into a locked corner of my soul.

Why wait any longer for the world to begin

You can have your cake and eat it too

Why wait any longer for the one you love

When he's standing in front of you 

He’s still playing with my hair, pushing any stray strands from my face…my eyes flutter closed and his touch becomes something warmer, softer. Delicate, intentional kisses pepper my cheekbones, my temples, my forehead...

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

I feel his thumb and forefinger catch and tilt my chin, and I open my eyes. He’s so close now, close enough that if I rolled on my side I’d roll into him, that if I lifted my head just an inch...

I long to see you in the morning light

I long to reach for you in the night

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

The silent formation of the last few lyrics are the first thing I feel and then his lips are fully on mine, barely grasped between his and I've never felt something so tender and genuine carry itself with so much force. He's cradling my cheek and his kiss feels tentative, uncertain - but at the same time teeming with need, as though he’s waiting for my approval while praying with everything he’s got that I’ll grant it. So I lean into him, slide my fingers along the short hairs on the back of his neck, and pull him closer. 

~*~

Maybe it was the weed, the music, the way the light reflected off her… whatever it was, it just took over. She looked too soft and too damn perfect, layin’ there and smiling that smile. And I thought about the other day when she was lying unconscious on that blood-stained, concrete floor, and the way my guts twisted at the thought of losing her…

I just couldn’t do it anymore.

I couldn't go one more night without telling her exactly how much she means to me. And it was a cheesy way to do it, singing to her like that, but Bob knew all the right things to say.

I actually can't even believe she's kissing me right now, that she pulled me close and wrapped her arms around me. Part of me thinks she's nuts - she's gotta know I got nothing to offer her, that she deserves so much better- better than me, better than this life. I can’t promise her anything - can’t promise a future or comfort... but if she lets me, I can promise to love her, to kiss her with everything I’ve got every chance I get, to hold her close and protect her... even if it’s just for tonight. 

She makes a little sound and arches her body into mine. I don’t know how far this is gonna go, but I’ll take my time getting there. This may just be a fluke, a one-time thing. Or maybe it’s not, maybe I’m the luckiest bastard on the fucking planet...either way, I want to savor every second.

I keep the kisses slow, open-mouthed and gentle. But then I feel her tongue slide along my lower lip and I can’t help but slip mine against hers. This feels so good, just kissing her like this, tasting her and feeling her beneath me. She’s running her fingers through my hair, rolling her hips every now and then, sliding her hand down my side and across my back. I kiss her harder, deeper. She’s moving more, breathing faster, making these quiet little whimpers. I break away and look at her, smoothing some of her hair away from her beautiful face. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are half-closed and right at this moment she could ask me to shoot the moon and I’d kill it dead. 

Her hand brushes my cheek and she pushes into me, silently begging me to keep going.

“You sure?” I whisper in her ear, kissing the space just behind it.

She nods and mutters “please,” and I move my lips down her neck. Her body trembles when I land on the spot where her neck curves into her shoulder - I give her skin there a little nip and she gasps... fuck, I need to hear that sound over and over.  I’m gonna map her entire body, figure out just the right way to touch her. Run my hands over every point, plane and curve, find every spot that makes her moan and quiver and sigh. I wanna drown, lose myself in her. I want her to know that I know how special she is, that I get how lucky I am to be with her tonight, that I understand what she’s giving me. I kneel between her legs, take hold of her wrists, and slowly push her arms above her head.

I need to see and feel and taste every single inch of her and I’m not gonna be quick about it.

~*~

First kisses are usually awkward. Heads bump, teeth collide, hands float and fumble while they try to find a comfortable place to land.

So I don’t know if it’s dumb luck, or just that I’ve practiced this so many times in my mind, but we find a rhythm instantly and we fit, like we’ve known all along exactly how to kiss each other. It’s so perfect that I almost laugh out loud, dumbfounded that I ever thought that we shouldn’t do this. Our kiss is absolute, passionate and all-consuming, and sending every neuron in my brain firing into a tailspin. 

I never want to stop kissing him. 

My arms are above my head and he's teasing me, softly kneading my breasts over my top, flicking at the stiff peaks of my nipples. I lower my hands to pull at our shirts, to let him know I need to feel his touch on my bare skin, but he gently curls his fingers around my wrists again and guides them back up.

"Let me," he murmurs, sliding his palm down my breastbone, over my stomach and finally beneath my top. “Just... let me…” 

Right as he cups my breast and traps my nipple between his fingers he’s kissing me again, swallowing every sound he’s pulling from me. I melt into him, into his kiss, into his touch. He pushes my tank top over my head and then his lips are on my neck, my collarbone, my shoulders. My forearms and fingers are dotted with kisses, along with my hips and navel, and then he’s peeling off my leggings, never once taking his eyes off of me. I’m completely bare beneath him and he’s biting his lower lip, running his hands from each of my ankles to my calves, my knees, my thighs...he looks as though he can’t decide if he wants to ravish me or revere me.

He settles for a smooth, easy assault, touching and kissing me everywhere, lingering whenever I cry out or sigh. I’ve never felt like this, never felt so...worshipped. His fingers and lips glide along my body as though I’m a delicate thing - carefully, thoroughly, and completely. My skin feels taut, chilled and tingling, but my blood is pumping hot and fast beneath. And when his tongue swirls around my nipple, and he takes it between his teeth, I swear to god I’d come right now if he told me to. 

I know I’m wet, I can feel it, hot and dripping and my cunt is clenching, clit throbbing with a deep, insistent  ache that almost hurts. Dean is everywhere, exploring and marking and claiming, until I hear myself begging, pleading...I need to feel him inside of me. I need him to unravel me, to make me come undone.

~*~

The way she looks right now is so goddamn glorious, she doesn’t seem real. She’s ruddy and glowing, twisting beneath me, chanting my name and begging with kiss-swollen lips. I let my hand slide between her legs, run a finger between her folds and christ - she is so fucking wet. She lifts her knees and spreads wide open for me and I dip just the tip of one finger inside. She ruts forward and I push two fingers all the way into her tight, hot pussy and fucking hell, she feels smoother than silk. I keep it slow, steady, loving the way her eyes roll back when I flick my thumb over her clit, and the way her tongue darts between her parted lips as I twist my fingers inside her cunt, searching for that spot...

Her eyes go wide when I find it, and her neck arches back and her hands fist the carpet. She’s quietly moaning and cursing and pushing herself down, fucking herself on my fingers. I catch her scent and some animal urge takes over me; I pull my fingers from her, bring them to my mouth and suck them clean. She's like fucking nectar and I’ve never tasted anything so good and all I want is more…

I pull my shirt over my head, push my jeans off, press her thighs as far open as she can spread them - god, her pussy is perfect, so pink and slick - and take a long, slow taste. She moans, low and long, breathing out a desperate “fuck, yes…” as she cards her fingers through my hair. And I growl, I fucking growl like a goddamn dog, and drive my tongue into her dripping hole. She hooks one leg over my shoulder and tilts her hips and I grab on to her ass and hold her up.  I lick her deep, thrusting and flicking and swirling my tongue, filling my mouth with the flavor of her, then I peer up at her and...My. Fucking. God, she’s a vision. She’s shaking, twitching and gasping when my nose bumps her clit...

I slip my tongue from her cunt, ease her down and spread her open with my fingers, lapping at her folds, her entrance, her clit. Then  I take that sensitive little bud between my lips and suck and holy shit, the fucking sound she makes...I gotta make her come. I need to see it, feel it, hear it.

But first I drag my mouth up her body, stopping to nip at her neck before landing on her lips. She licks into my mouth instantly, sucks at my lower lip, pushes her tongue against mine and I can tell she’s about to lose her mind.

~*~

I'd been in more than one motel room next to Dean's. And I'd always rolled my eyes, convinced that whatever girl he'd brought back with him was just putting on a show, playing porn star with their over-the-top wailing. 

They weren't screaming loud enough.

“Can you taste yourself, baby?” he purrs between kisses, "You taste how fuckin' delectable your pussy is? So hot and sweet...” and I moan into his mouth. He slips his fingers back inside and curls them, nudging my sweet spot. “Want you come, YN…wanna make you fall apart..."

I'm biting my lip to keep from crying out too loudly, stifling the urge to scream because the pleasure he's giving me is so complete and consuming. I swear he knows my body better than I do. He's found places on me and inside of me that feel like they've never been touched until tonight. I'd thought maybe I was hypersensitive, so eager and thrilled that this was finally happening, but no - everything he does is deliberate. He finds a spot and knows whether to bite or kiss, push or pull, grind or slide, when to do it all at once or not at all. Every touch, every stroke sparks my nerves and ignites my cells and I'm down to my last fragments of control. I am utterly at his mercy, reduced to a writhing, wanton mess as his fingers slide inside of me, hitting my g-spot with incredible marksmanship. Then his lips land on my clit again, and...oh God. Oh my fucking god…

It starts in my belly, a molten heat simmering in my core, wavering a scant wavelength away from a fever pitch. It’s hot and thrumming and growing in speed and intensity until it can't be contained anymore. It bolts through me, hot and hard like an electric current and I go rigid as I come, the torrents of bliss saturating every molecule of my body. And then Dean is up on his knees, three fingers deep in my sodden cunt, his other hand laying flat on my lower stomach and muttering "Come on baby,...let go…let go for me…" Either I'm still coming or I'm coming again, hard and completely, and a quiet pull snaps from someplace deep inside... I completely shatter, so stunned with the sensation that I open my mouth in a silent scream as my cum splashes against his hand.

~*~

I tuck back down between her legs and softly lap at the stray drops sticking to her thighs. I’m about to go crazy - I’m hungry, starving for her, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking hard in my life. 

I lay beside her, trace shapes on her collarbone, and watch her as she comes down - the way her tits rise and fall with every breath, the way her throat flexes when she swallows, the way the lamplight dances off her sweat-sheened skin. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly opened, and her tongue sneaks out every now and then across her lips. Of all the ways I’ve ever seen YN, this has to be the absolute, bar-none best. She’s like a living statue or a painting, some kind of work of art. A goddamn masterpiece. 

I don’t want to stop touching her. Right now, I don’t even think I could. She shudders and opens her eyes when I gently trace a wet finger along her cheek. Then she grabs my wrist, pulls my hand to her mouth, and wraps her lips around the fingers I used to fuck her. She sucks and licks, and all I can do is groan as my fingers slide along her tongue. I gotta distract myself or I’m gonna shoot off right now like a teenager…

I take my fingers back and move to hover over her, and catch her lips in mine again. Kissing her is so...it just feels right. Like hers are the only lips I ever need to kiss again. If this is all we do for the rest of the night - hell, for the rest of our lives, I’d be one hundred percent happy.  But as we kiss, she starts to whimper, moan...and then I feel her fingertips skitter down my torso and brush against my cock. And I can’t help it, I grunt out a “fuck, YN” and chase her touch. She drags her thumb, then her palm against the tip of my dick, smears precome around my shaft then wraps me in her fingers. I bite my lip and rock into her fist while she strokes me, trying like hell not to lose it any time she gives the slightest squeeze. I can feel her breath on my face and I’m starting to fall into the rhythm, getting lost in her touch and the heat of her body beneath me…

Then in the flash of a second, she hooks a leg around my waist, shifts her weight and turns, and has me on my back. She's straddling me, and I watch her slick pussy drag along my cock while my hands slide up her thighs and grip her hips. My eyes wander, slowly, up her body, marveling at her shape and color and just the mere sight of her swaying over me. My eyes meet hers and then...I'm trapped. Hypnotized. Being here with this woman is like nothing I've ever seen or felt before, and there's some part of me that knows I'll never feel this way about anyone ever again.

~*~

My gaze meets his and I'm struck...with exactly what, I don't know. It's thrilling and terrifying at the same time but most of all it's certain; This is exactly where I'm meant to be, astride this beautiful man who’s lying beneath me, stripped of all his layers, and I can feel the moment he surrenders. His mind and his body, his control and his chaos, his pleasure and his pain, all together unfettered and unfurled. 

Potent and fervent primal desire sets in and overtakes me; I want to claim him, feel his skin between my teeth, taste the salt of his sweat.

I shift to my knees, slot myself between his open legs and lean forward, pressing myself against the solid heat of his bare chest, and catch his lips in a quick but ravenous kiss. He tries to chase it but I pull away, letting one hand slide up his sternum, splaying my fingers over his throat. I fist his hard, dripping cock in my free hand and stroke. He breathes out my name with a curse and his head hits the floor as my mouth latches on to his neck.

Releasing my hold on him, my lips move from his neck to his collarbone, down and across his chest, following the blueprint of bruises, scratches, and scars until my nose brushes against the thatch of dark hair between his legs.

I flatten my tongue and lick his thick cock from base to tip, then take just the crown between my lips and gently suck. The taste of his precome fills my mouth and he moans and trembles, exhaling a long, deeply held breath as he laces his fingers in my hair. I take him all the way then, as far as I can, until I feel him hit the back of my throat. I hold him there and swallow, let him feel the soft flex around his shaft. I slide up and down slowly, stroking the inches that can’t slide down my throat with one hand, and cup his balls in the other. He whimpers, high-pitched and desperate, and the mere sound of that sends drops of arousal trickling down my thighs while my cunt clenches and quivers. His grip on my head tightens and I keep steady, caressing and taking him deep, and let the tip of one finger press against his perineum. 

His body tenses and I peer up at him - the muscles of his abs are twitching, his neck is arched back, the tendons there strained and taut, jaw clenched, and teeth bared...he’s holding back, trying not to come. He hisses out a breath and gently tugs my hair, urging me to let him slip from my mouth. “Fuck, YN”, he breathes, and I walk my hands alongside of him, gliding my body against his and brush his lips with a gossamer kiss. 

We both breathe hard, panting, fingers tangling in each other’s hair, hips rolling, hearts racing. His hard, thick length is sliding against the soaked lips of my pussy, the head of his cock nudging my throbbing clit. I look into the dark forest of his eyes, he places his hand on my cheek and suddenly there’s a surge - a swift and commanding energy that surrounds us, tangible and unconditional. 

Our gaze locks as I raise my hips. He grips his cock, lines up at my entrance, and I sink down slowly, relishing every inch that stretches me open, my moan echoing his until I’m completely filled with him. 

~*~

It’s almost too much.

She’s so warm, so wet, and so fucking tight...I swear I blackout for a second. It’s taking everything I got to hold on, and every ounce of control I can muster when she starts to move. 

She’s groaning and sighing, and the way she’s breathing my name is like a siren’s song. I let her set the pace, tilt my hips to push into her as she rides me, find her hand and lace my fingers through hers. She fucks me slow, lets her head fall back and lays her free hand on my chest. Reaching up, I slide my hand between her tits, pinch and tug one nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and she lets out the most beautiful cry I’ve ever heard. And that sound wakes up the damn animal in me and I thrust into her, as deep as I can. I want her to fucking explode, feel her cunt throbbing tight around my dick and soaking me with her cum.

She pulls her hand from mine and moves it between her legs. I pinch her nipple again and she gasps as her body trembles, and I know she’s getting close. “Gonna come for me, YN?” I snarl, and she stills - her head falls back again and her fingers work faster, and I’m so caught up in her that I just start babbling. “Fuck yeah, YN, fucking come all over my cock…that’s my girl...” I pound into her faster as she gets tighter and wetter and then I feel it, her walls clenching and her cum dripping, her body finally going rigid as her orgasm tears through her. 

I slow down and ease her through it, trace my fingertips over the curves of her glowing body and take in how absolutely stunning she is right now - her hair all mussed and tangled, her skin flushed pink, her lips bright red and swollen. Her eyes open and she grins down at me, the lazy roll of her hips picking up speed and I just...fucking...can't anymore.

I throw my arms around her and pull her against me, kissing her sweet lips as I roll us over. She arches into me, takes my face in her hands and purrs "...want it all inside me...I wanna feel your cum dripping from my cunt…" and holy goddamn shit, I'm gonna give her everything she wants.

She raises her knees and hooks her legs around mine, digs her heels into the back of my thighs, squeezes the walls of her pussy around me and I’m gone - all I feel is her silky wet heat, and all I can smell and taste is her sex and I drive in, fast and steady until I can’t hang on anymore. I let go and my world stops, every living fiber of my being at a standstill as I come with a shout. I thrust hard and deep and spill every drop inside of her, pumping her full as she fingers herself to another climax.

I rest my forehead against hers as we both catch our breath. She curls one hand around my waist and the other around the back of my shoulder, raking her fingernails gently along the base of my scalp. I kiss her, soft and quick, and pull out of her, rolling on to my back while I gather her in my arms. 

I glance out the window. The snow’s still falling and the sun’ll start rising soon. The record is long over and skipping, and YN grips me tighter and shivers. “Hey, sweetheart...let me up,” I say, kissing her forehead. She groans but lets me go and I sit up, lean down to kiss her again and hop to my feet. I lift the needle off the record and find a quilt that’s tossed over one of the chairs. YN's curled on her side, and I can hardly wait to get back to her. I cover us both, pull her close, and I stare at her until I just can't keep my eyes open anymore. We drift off in each other’s arms and the last thought I think is a little prayer - that this is how I’ll fall asleep every night for the rest of my life. 

~*~

I can’t remember who said it first. All I know is that it was suddenly there, as though it always had been, free falling from our lips as we moved and moaned and came together. 

We’d awoken several times, one of us roused by a kiss or touch from the other, neither of us willing nor able to let it end without making love one more time.  

The storm has finally passed. Sunshine beams across an azure sky and reflects with blinding brilliance off acres of freshly fallen snow.  I peek out the kitchen window and catch a glimpse of Sam standing near the garage, up to his knees in icy white powder.  

I set a kettle on the stove to boil. 

“Look like we ain’t goin' anywhere any time soon,” Dean says, coming up behind me and circling his arms around me. He moves my hair away from my neck and nips at the exposed skin.

I lean against him and cover his clasped hands with mine. “Can’t say I’m all that disappointed.” 

He hums and kisses my cheek, then moves his hands to rest on the swell of my belly.

“Your old man's gonna teach you how to make the best snowballs, kid. Knock your Uncle Sammy right off his ass.”

I giggle and spin around, draping my arms over Dean’s shoulders. “Big talk coming from the man who got a black eye during last year’s snowball fight.” 

“That was a fluke. She had an unfair advantage.”

"She's less than half your size!” 

“Exactly.”

The door opens and Sam trudges in, shaking and stomping the snow from his legs, laughing as he's nearly knocked over by a whirling, bright pink dervish of weatherproof polyester.

Our daughter runs over to us, cheeks rosy and nose runny from the cold, her apple-green eyes as big as sledding saucers.

“Mommy, Daddy, guess what?! We had a snowball fight and I won!”

“Ho ho! That’s my awesome little girl!” Dean cheers, scooping her up in his arms and swinging her through the air. He rests her on his hip, and they trade an Eskimo kiss. “Let’s go tell your Auntie Eileen and your baby cousin all about how you kicked your Uncle Sammy’s a - uh, butt.”

He sets her down and helps her unlace her boots while she tosses her hat and mittens to the floor. “Yeah, I kicked his ass!” she beams, and the three supposed adults in the room have to bite back their laughter.

“Yep,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Definitely a Winchester. No two ways...”

Once she's out of her boots and winter overall, she runs to Sam, grabs his thumb with her small hand and pulls him through the kitchen. Her tiny footsteps pelt up the stairs, layered with gleeful giggles. Then, with all the vivacity of her five years, she shrieks in triumph, “I beat you again, Uncle Sammy! I win again!”

Dean grins wide, pulls me back into his arms, and catches my lips in a kiss that teems with the same intense passion as the first one he ever gave me. And in seconds I’m melting, into his kiss, into him... into memories of a snowstorm and shag carpeting, the smoke of purple kush and the flicker of oil lamp flames, the pedal steel guitar riff of Lay Lady Lay and Dean’s hip-swaying serenade...

He breaks away, brushes a section of my hair away from my brow and tucks it behind my ear. Then he looks into my eyes with unwavering conviction and repeats the promise he’s made me every day since he took my hand in his - a promise that's as simple as it is complex, selfish yet altruistic,  sometimes dubious but always definite, and anything and everything in between: 

“I love you, YN.”

~Fin

Rock Hoochie’s Master List

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[tired-college-student-writing]

Tim’s Secret Weapon Pt. 4

I’ve been slightly obsessed with @ozmav​ ‘s Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng pairing as of late, and just saw a post that has inspired me more than anything else has in months, so I felt the need to write it

Summary- Tim has always seen the numbers floating above people’s heads, been able to perceive their threat levels with a single glance. After being a hero for so long he thought he was desensitized to seeing high numbers above people’s heads until Damian brings a new friend home.

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4 (HERE)

Part 5

_______________________________________________________________________

“Yup!” Jason popped the ‘p’ before holding up the book Tim had given him, “Who’s ready for storytime?” 

“What do you mean Tim is afraid I would throw him out?” Bruce pushed even as Jason led them towards one of the desks, “I want to help him with-”

“Yeah I’m gonna stop you there,” Jason cut him off, eyes hard as he set the book down with an uncharacteristic amount of care,“Tim was very offended by what we thought was going on with him and it just made him more sure that all of us were going to leave him behind as his shitty parents did. So let’s just cut to the chase and cool off before he seriously decides to run off before we can go talk to him because I’m pretty sure even after talking to him for twenty minutes, he’s still around seventy-five percent sure that’s going to be a better option than waiting around.” 

Jason had never seen the energy of a room shift so fast, the anger and bloodlust that had been suffocating since Dick uncovered the file on Marinette vanished into a deep rippling uncertainty. If there was one unspoken rule of the household, it was that no previous trauma will knowingly be replicated. It’s why Jason always makes a point of leaving his guns in the cave and never points them passed Bruce unless it’s life or death. Why no one touched the trapeze unless Dick was going up with them and they always used a net, no matter how good their aerial skills were. Why no one spoke to Jason in angry or stern Arabic. No one told Damian he was overreacting, especially when it was about illness or injuries. 

No one was allowed to make Tim think they were abandoning him.   

Dick looked stricken at the very idea, “Jay, why is Tim so scared?” 

“Short answer? Tim’s Meta.” 

The whole room froze, eyes flying wide, making Jason chuckle, “Yeah that was my response to.”

“How long?” Bruce asked, hand gripping the back of his chair so hard, Jason wondered if he was going to break it. 

“From what he said, he was born with his power, it’s always on and pretty impossible for him to block out.”

Damian’s face scrunched, “And father always made it clear that he doesn’t like Metas in Gotham.”  

“Fuck,” Dick swore, turning to punch the cave wall, “How the actual shit did we miss this? We’re fucking detectives goddamn it!” 

Seeing Dick lose it like that made Jason pause. It was rare to see the carefree brother truly get mad about anything, let alone for him to cuss up a storm, he always did prefer those filler cusses that make the rest of them groan. 

But then again Damian looked pained and Bruce was sinking into the Bat-computer chair looking lost as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I never meant it like this,” Bruce whispered, “I just didn’t want anyone else coming to Gotham expecting to be able to fix it overnight. Did I really come off anti-meta?” 

“I…” Jason winced, stopping to think, “I never thought so, but I can see how Tim thought you might be. We all need to talk to him, but I promised I’d explain some of this shit like Tim did to me, and look through his book so that we don’t all bombard him with questions.” 

The four shared a look before they all surrounded the table as Jason began. He told them of the numbers, the skill Tim had that he never shared. After they opened the book they found that it was more complex than just that. 

The entries started off very rudimentary, clearly written by a small child, the dates claiming that Tim began this journal when he was merely six years old. They detailed the color, font, and number of the person he had met. A few of the higher ranks having little ideas next to them on the cause, but as the list grew and the handwriting even outed, there were itemized lists on the reason for each number above a 5. 

By the time they reached Bruce’s they were pretty dumbfounded as they read through Tim’s confusion and fear at the number that broke the code he’d knew through his whole life, his reason section was filled with sentences of ideas, instead of the short bullet points, trying to ration it out. 

The most confusing part of it was he ruled things out that he couldn’t have known, insider trading and corruption would have been a logical conclusion for him to draw of the Billionaire he knew nothing about but he ruled them out instantly, not even bothering to consider they might be part of the reason. 

Not to mention when he actually put it together. 

“His power works on broadcasts as well?” Bruce mused, “I know I never saw he was never on the streets when I was out during this time period,” 

“Adding it to the list of questions,” Dick said as he typed it out into the sheet he had made when they started asking too many questions only Tim could answer.  

“Never mind that,” Damian brushed off, “Look at the traits he listed, all listed at the same time from the looks of the ink but if the date is to be believed, this is from before Todd was debuted as Robin, how did he know you had a mastery in hacking, spoke multiple languages and stunt flight?” 

All of them froze at those words, hunching over it to look at the words. 

There was no logical way Tim could know any of those things. Most of Batman’s skill set could be guessed through out the rumors and gossip that flew since the caped crusader started his reign of the city, but those skill sets still weren’t widely known to the public. 

“I…” Bruce shook his head, “Add it to the list, we have a lot more of the book to get through to worry about this now. We should try and finish the book. 

But the issue popped up again and again as the pages went on, each hero he met he knew their skills down to the littlest detail, things he shouldn’t be able to know, especially before he became the third Robin. 

He knew Clark was Superman when he met the reporter first.

He knew Diane was made of clay before the woman had ever given away that little tidbit.

He knew that Barry was a wiz when it came to criminology before the speedster had ever given up his identity. 

He knew Arthur had low-level empathic abilities that went beyond sea life before Arthur was even considered a hero. 

They were only two-third of the way through the book, arguing over how The Commissioner could possibly know their identities, let alone why it would make his number rise so quickly when not even Bruce’s number had done so when he learned the other League member’s identities, when a stern voice cut through their thought. 

 “Gentlemen, There’s a bit of a situation that Master Tim and I discovered that could use your attention.” Alfred cut in, making them turn, stopping when they saw Tim practically sprint to the Bat computer, pointily looking at the wall to avoid looking at them, his shoulders so tight they shock.

“Tim?” Dick asked, concern dripping from his words as he started towards the younger man only to freeze as Tim visually flinched away from the word, curling inward as he frantically typed away on the keyboard. 

Before any of them tried to break the silence again the giant screen lit up to show a battle play out. A young girl dressed in a red and polka-dotted outfit flipping and twisting out of the way of the pages thrown like ninja stars at her, a yoyo used to propel her, eyes filled with laughter behind her mask. Her moves were agile and practiced, as another figure, a boy her same age dressed in skin-tight black leather entered the frame. 

“I figured out why Marinette is a 15,” He finally managed out, making the bats’, minus Jason, heads snap to him.

A 15? 

The brat couldn’t just have a normal girlfriend, could he?

No, he had to have someone that shattered Tim’s power completely.

 And he had no idea why, until now. 

They really couldn’t blame him for being obsessive. 

“I couldn’t find out why Mari was so powerful,” Tim rambled on, “But Alfred helped me realize that she’s a hero too. A hero with the power of the god of creation on her side, which makes sense for why she completely broke my, uh, my power. She’s been-” 

“Tim,” 

“-fighting a supervillain,” Tim just continued as if he hadn’t heard Bruce, his voice skipping up a few pitches, “ who also uses the power of a god to help him make others into villains to do his bidding. They’ve been locked in battle for years now. Years! We really should have noticed before now, but better late then never right? Heh, she has some allies though so it’s not like she was fighting on her own or anything, and-”  

“Drake,” Damian cut in, ducking past Dick to grab Tim by the shoulder to spin him, staring into his eyes with the type of harsh determination only the demon spawn seemed to be able to, ignoring the quacking fear in Tim’s own eyes, “I am the byproduct of the daughter of one of Father’s greatest enemies drugging him. I was raised will one goal in mind, to be the ultimate weapon to take down all that stood in the way of the League of Assassins, and yet Father, Grayson, Todd, Pennyworth and you gave me safety and taught me why my grandfather was wrong. Todd was murdered by a clown with psychopathic tendencies, was brought back by the magic that my grandfather has a monopoly on, went crazy with Lazarth sickness and thought the best course of action was to become a crimelord in the very city he vowed to protect, going as far as trying to shoot Father, the man he saw as an older brother and you, the boy he was convinced Father had only brought into the circle to die as he had, and yet once the sickness faded Father welcomed back in with open arms, shedding tears for the child he thought he had lost. Father may have made it clear that he’s not a fan of metas operating in the city, but you’re a moron if you believe for a second that means he’s going to disown you or take Red Robin away from you. You’re also lost all my respect if you think this means I or any of the others that dawn the bat moniker are going to feel any different about you for having these powers.” 

Tim’s mouth opened and closed several times after Damian’s speech had come to a close as the others waited for him to break the silence of the cave. All he could feel was his hands trembling as his eyes welled up. 

Damian was still looking at him before sighing, “You really are an idiot,” 

He wanted to retort, wanted to bite out a response as he blinked back the tears but he suddenly found Damian’s arms wrapped around his waist, a tight grounding embrace, the younger boy’s chin resting on his shoulder. 

Tim wasn’t sure he was breathing, his whole body shaking like it was trying to shatter into a million pieces. The brat, Damian, the one person he thought would gladly cast him aside given the slightest of reason to was… 

“You’re family, Tim,” Damian stern voice cut through his mental frenzy, “If I’ve learned one thing since moving to Gotham, it’s that you don’t give up on family, not for anything, and certainly not for something like this.”   

Tim felt something inside him break and the next thing he knew he was sobbing into Damian’s shoulder the pair on their knees in the middle of the cave, gripping Damian back like he thought if he let go the boy would vanish. Slowly as he felt his breathing calm down and his sobs fade he could feel more arms surrounding him. The entire bat family was surrounding him, silently holding him through his breakdown. 

He pulled back, scrubbing his eyes as his family slowly untangled from around him. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, voice scratchy from the tears, “I guess I should have known none of you would hate me but… I’ve been so scared that I’d lose you guys too. I didn’t want to risk it, I couldn’t risk it.” 

He flinched slightly when a large hand squeezed his shoulder looking up into Bruce’s eyes, softened by a love that could destroy the world if his child was hurt. A love that none of the Waynes needed to put words to because of looks like this. 

Glancing back to his brothers he saw the love in Bruce’s eyes reflected in theirs, all of them accepting him and loving him still. 

The weight Tim had carried for as long as he knew to grow lighter as a small smile worked its way onto his face. 

His eyes burning with the same intense love for his family back at them. 

For the first time in a long time, Tim knew without a doubt 

It would be okay. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Tim couldn’t stop the whimper from falling from his lips as Marinette’s class came pouring out of the doors of the school.

All of the Wayne boys had decided to surprise Marinette by showing up at her class when it let out, in addition to not wanting to wait to reveal they knew her secret. It wasn’t hard to get all of them to Paris merely days after Tim’s secret came to light, especially since Bruce was planning on checking up on the Paris branch of Wayne Enterprises the following week before everything happened. Expanding the trip last minute to include all of them had taken little effort, and all of their suits were tucked away in their hotel suites, waiting to be dawned once they got Marinette alone. 

Tim was ready to turn back now though and for a very good reason. 

 In the normal sea of threes and fours, normally Marinette stood out with her overwhelmingly soft pink 15, but now...

The tanned girl that had hoards of kids surrounding her had an obnoxious copper 9 floating above her, the font looking like a tiger had scratched it into the very fabric of space. 

A trio of students, a bulky boy, a small pink-haired girl, and a dark-skinned nerdy-looking boy, were messing around as pale numbers circled their heads, a pair of stark white 12s over the boys and an icy blue 13 over the girl. 

A pair of girls, one blonde and one of Asian descent, were bickering as they made their way down the steps,  a canary yellow daintily drawn 14 for the blonde and deep burgundy calligraphed 13 for the more stoic girl.   

And the blonde boy Marinette was happily conversing with, looking even more softspoken and sweet than the baker girl.

He had a venomous green 15 swirling over him in it’s rounded bubble-like font. 

His brothers glanced at him warily. 

“Everything okay Timmy?” Jason asked, eyes flitting over the crowed on instinct, looking for the threat that spooked him. 

“I’ll tell you later,” He groaned back, “... but keep an eye on the girl in the orange jacket, she feels slimy from all the way over here,” 

His brothers nodded, but even so, Tim felt a migraine coming on. 

For once Tim wished for an alien invasion so he didn’t have to deal with this bullshit.

_______________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @vixen-uchiha @iggy-of-fans @mewwitch @roseinbloom02 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mochinek0 @royalchaoticfangirl @09shell-sea09 @mystery-5-5 @derpingrainbow @aloha-posts-stuff @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @maribat-archive @blue-peach14 @kae690 @zazzlejazzle @vincentvangoose @be-happy-every-day-please @xxmadamjinxx @celestiacq @peculiarlylostdreamer @dani-ari @melicmusicmagic @themcclan @nyctamaximoff @nataladriana9 @drama-queen-supreme @miraculousbelladonna @urbanpineapplefarmer @graduatedmelon @lexysama @hecate-hallow @ki117h3dr4g0n @vinerlover @interobanginyourmom @bluefiredemon @imanerddealwith @tinybrie @clumsy-owl-4178 @shizukiryuu @whogavemeaninternet @schrodingers25 @lunar-wolf-warrior @urbanpineapplefarmer @xxmadamjinxx @crazylittlemunchkin @littleredrobinhoodlum

#miraculous ladybug #batman #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #Tim Drake #meta!tim #BatFam #Damian Wayne #dick grayson #Jason Todd #bruce wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #miraculous class #numbers AU #Tim is so tired

[forgadgetsandgizmos]

Malex Drabble

* *

No one had seen Alex in three days. 

Which, okay, he left town frequently enough for the Air Force that it could be no big deal. But ever since Alex spent a week in a basement because everyone, including Michael, thought he was at a recruitment job out of town, Alex checked in when he left. Usually with Michael. And Alex hadn’t told Michael that he was planning on leaving, much less checked in.

Michael should’ve let it go. No one else is worried, there’s no dangers around, no lingering threat that could result in Alex being missing or worse. But Michael couldn’t shake the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

And he kept circling back to Alex hadn’t told him that he was leaving.

Which is how he ended up here, standing in Alex’s driveway and staring at the old Christmas lights still dangling from the porch, trying to shake off his paranoia without invading his friend’s private space.

On second thought, that’s exactly what he did last time and he turned out to be right. He started for the door. The game plan that time around had been Find Alex, and okay, it was the same here. Whatever, it was a good plan. At least this time he knows where the spare key is kept.

Michael jogged the last couple steps up to Alex’s front door and knocked loudly. “Alex?”

No response. He stood on his toes to peer inside through the glass in the top of the door. From what he could see, none of the lights were on and no one was moving around inside.

“Alex, I’m worried about you,” he tried. He knocked on the door a few more times. “If you don’t answer, I’m coming in. He backed away to dig the key out of a bottle buried nearby. “Using the spare key,” he added. If Alex was inside, it probably wouldn’t be helpful if he thought Michael was going to telekinetically break his lock.

When he was met with more silence, Michael unlocked the door and took a hesitant step in.

“Alex?”

He made his way around the house. The kitchen held a small pile of take out bags and dirty, plastic containers. Alex was here then, and eating. That was always good, Michael acknowledged.

He walked over to Alex’s bedroom door and knocked quietly, cracking open the door as he did and poking his head inside. A blindness darkness greeted him.

Michael blinked quickly, trying to help his eyes adjust as he took in the room. Heavy, drawn curtains blocked any light from the windows. Two large, empty bottles sat on the bedside table closest to the door. It was too dark to be sure, but the thin, tall neck made Michael think it was tequila. The bed held a pile of blankets surrounding a curled up figure in the center.

Michael let out a breath, his shoulders slumping.

“Alex, it’s me. Can I come in?”

He received a faint humm in response.

Taking that as a yes, Michael slipped into the room and shut the door behind him, careful not to make any loud noises. He slowly inched closer to the bed Alex had buried himself in. He wasn’t sure what the protocol here was. Alex was physically fine; Michael could see enough to make out the movement of the blankets from Alex breathing. Strands of hair peeked out of the fuzz pile and the sunlight in the hall shined back at him from Alex’s prosthetic where it was laying on the floor near the bed.

But Alex obviously wasn’t fine. From what Michael had seen, Alex had apparently spent the past three days of avoiding his friends in bed, ordering takeout, and day-drinking. While Michael may not have much experience with avoiding worried friends, he did have a decade spent deep-diving into a bottle or three in his belt, and multiple empty maybe-tequila bottles did not equal fine.

“Alex, what’s going on,” Michael whispered. He sat on the edge of the bed with one leg still on the floor, hand hovering over Alex’s body as he waited for a response.

After a few seconds, Alex reached a hand out of his pile and pulled the blanket closest to him tightly, framing his face.

“What are you doing here,” he croaked out, eyes still closed.

“I was worried about you. You haven’t responded to me or anyone else in three days.”

“I’m fine.”

Michael caught the blanket before Alex could pull it back over his head. “I see that,” he noted dryly.

Alex huffed and opened his eyes. “I am. You can go now.”

“Not until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding everyone in favor of alcohol and shitty take-out.” Michael kicked off his shoes and crawled over Alex onto the bed. He leaned against the headboard and closed his eyes. “I can sit here all day.”

He opened one eye to see Alex glaring up at him. “I’ll just listen,” Michael offered.

Another huff.

Michael closed his eye again and waited. A minute or two later, he felt the mattress moving under him. He opened both eyes to see Alex sitting up beside him and offered him a smile.

Alex’s lips twitched in response and Michael felt his own widen to a grin.

Michael waited patiently beside him.

“I got a phone call,” Alex started. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor well-away from Michael as he spoke. “I loved being in my squadron. Some of the guys were family in a way I hadn’t had before, you know?”

Loved. Were. Michael stopped smiling.

“Flint and Clay always felt really distant. When I was a kid, I thought it was because they remember Mom. And I love Gregory, but we weren’t super close as kids.”

And Flint and Clay were two peas in a Jesse-spawn pod, Michael wanted to add.

“We has to be together all the time, we didn’t have a choice but to get close. There were four of us that were,” Alex tutted, searching for the word. “I don’t know. Saying brothers feels weird considering my real brothers.”

“I get it,” Michael said softly. He and Max and Isobel, they weren’t actually siblings. But Max and Iz were so important to him, to his life on Earth, and to his past, that calling them brother and sister felt inadequate. “They were real. What brothers should be.”

Alex nodded. “Besides me, it was Hunter, Jamie, and Patrick. Hunter and Jamie died in the same explosion that blew off my leg. Which. . . sucked. But Patrick was okay. He stayed with me as long as he could in the hospital in Germany. He missed their funerals to stay with me.” He took a steadying breath. “He had to ship out eventually. He was assigned a new unit and left for an eight month tour about six months ago.”

Alex looked up to meet Michael’s eyes. He schooled his face, trying to project a sense of calmness and security. He just hoped that the grief and pain and mourning he saw in Alex’s eyes wasn’t echoed in his own.

When Alex spoke again, it was so soft Michael had too strain to make out the words. “Patrick’s new unit chief called three days ago. He - he’s dead.” Alex voice shook as he choked back a sob and leaned into Michael.

Michael gripped Alex tightly and pressed his lips to his forehead. Michael didn’t - he couldn’t comfort this. He had lost a whole world. . . but he hadn’t know them. He lost his mom but, so had Alex. She might not technically be dead, but she had left when he was so young and stayed gone so long that she might as well be. The only think Michael had to compare was Isobel and Max and if he lost them. . . well. He’s sure he would be in the drunk tank in a lot worse shape than this.

“Alex,” Michael said softly, turning to press his cheek against Alex’s head, “When I was a kid, I spent years imaging what it would be like to lose Max and Isobel, either when they got sick of me and left or if they got caught and were killed. I planned out how to be alone, as much as it killed me to admit that, since that implies I wasn’t alone with them,” he chucked lowly.

Michael buried his free hand in Alex’s hair, letting the soft, dark strands run through his fingers. Alex stayed quiet. “I stopped because I met someone who was different. He treated me the same way Max and Iz did and no one had ever done that before. In my experience, people weren’t just nice for no reason. Even Max and Iz treated me like they did because they viewed me as their brother. And this guy, I could never seem to drive him away. And I certainly tried my best,” he admitted, “especially after graduation. He was the fucking sun and he made me realize that I wasn’t better than everyone else. It kinda opened up my world.”

Alex stirred at that. “Life isn’t a rom-com, Michael.”

“Okay, but it is a telenovela. I mean hello, alien from outer space here.”

Underneath him, Alex made a sound that reminded him a baby whining.

“You interrupted. There was more,” Michael chided jokingly. He gave Alex a light flick on the head. “I would still fall apart if I lost Max and Iz. That hasn’t changed. But I would want to keep on going now. Because of you. And you don’t have to get over this or be okay because of me, that’s not what I’m saying-“

“Michael.”

Michael shut up. “Sorry,” he murmured.

Alex finally moved from his half-laying down, half-sitting up position and looked at Michael. “I get it.”

“You do?”

“I do.” Alex smiled sadly at him and let his hand hover over the side of Michael’s face. “Thank you.”

Michael’s eyes lightened. “Thank you,” he returned. They were words he’s been waiting to say to Alex for over a decade. Since they were seventeen and stupid in love. He owes Alex so much.

They weren’t seventeen anymore. Picking a place to make-out that wasn’t the pickup of Michael’s truck was no longer their biggest hurdle. Now, that would have to be a toss up between the giant government conspiracy, the alien-DNA-targeting-bomb, and the various murders him and his siblings were hiding.

No, they definitely weren’t seventeen anymore. But as Alex curdled back up under his blanket mound and buried himself into Michael’s side, Michael knew that, for him, that was the only thing that had changed.

#roswell new mexico #roswellnm #Malex #alex manes #michael guerin #fic #malex fic #rnm #I'm very hopeful for the season 2 finale #but this is admittingly unrealistic #ao3 #my writing #alicewrites

[asterekmess]

1/7 I’m actually a fan of the idea behind Scott and Stiles’ friendship and the story Scott told. Scott and Stiles worked together well when they first started in Season 1, because they were obviously complementary. I even liked how Stiles was able to shrug off Scott’s jealousy and possessiveness and kept putting up with Scott despite Scott treating him like trash (“I just made first line! I got a date with a girl who I can’t believe wants to go out with me, and everything in my life is perfect!

2/7 Why are you trying to ruin it?!”) and ditching him for the popular crowd as soon as he could. It wasn't a perfect friendship, but it worked well enough. The problem, of course, is that through the course of the show, Stiles grew up and Scott didn't. Stiles would lock himself up and sacrifice his own life to save everyone else’s (that’s literally the theme of Teen Wolf Season 3B). Meanwhile, Scott would gladly sacrifice other people’s life to save his own and to keep his true alpha title

3/7 (Scott begging others to do his dirty work for him is literally the theme of Teen Wolf Season 6A&B.) Stiles focused on responsibility and building relationships with other people, while Scott took them for granted; it bugged me how many times Scott would treat people as friends that he could make demands of just because he said so (Stiles, Lydia, Boyd, Danny, Kira) and then abused other people’s patience (Derek, Chris, Isaac, Allison, Malia, Liam.) Scott boasted about being a true alpha and

4/7 smarted off to his enemies because he knew that his friends would have his back. Until the last, for Scott McCall, it was always someone else's fault when Scott McCall fucked up. There's nothing more annoying to me than Pissbaby Scott Getting Pissy in the club in Rave because Allison had the nerve to prioritize saving Jackson’s life over Scott’s jealous fits and temper tantrums.

5/7 There's nothing more pointless than Scott lying about Kira’s fox to control her and then playing up his shitty little chest wound that had long healed just to convince his friends not to abandon him again. Scott was so tone deaf to other people’s pain, traumas and history that it seemed like he was obsessed with minimizing what they had gone through and making it ALL about himself instead. And even that wouldn't have bothered me if they had allowed Scott’s friends to say "Quit it, Scott.

6/7 You're 18, not 8." If they had allowed Stiles to get angry with Scott without portraying it as a crime, or Derek to beat the ever living crap out of Scott for violating and dehumanizing him, or Isaac to clap back when Scott abused him in front of Melissa, or Kira and Allison to shout at Scott when he lied to them. But the production didn't. The show basically said that "Stiles is a hero and a good friend because he lets Scott use him and gaslight him to his heart’s content and doesn't leave.

7/7 The show basically said "Allison loved being yelled at and stalked around so much, she started dating Scott." The show basically said “Derek realized that Scott violated and dehumanized him for his own good, so he doesn’t have to hold it against him.” The show basically said “Isaac accepted being hit and abused by Scott because he deserved it for looking at Scott’s woman.” It didn’t have to be toxic, but it ended up being that way.

A lot of my issues come around to the writing of the show. I honestly believe that we’re a little spoiled in our fandom world. There are so many fics with so much depth. So many writers that put so much effort into making proper foils and character arcs. They wait and wait and wait, revising until they know they’ve got the fic exactly how they want it, and then they post it.

Writing a tv show doesn’t really allow for that. Sure, they write a script and it gets looked over a few times, but there’s no time to stew in it. To consider how that episode’s script and plans interact with previous episodes, to consider how it will effect future episodes and the direction they should go in. The time is crunched, there’s a couple read-throughs and then you get those actors in front of the camera and go. I get it. I hate it, but i get it. My frustration came in my expectations of the forethought that I believe would’ve gone into the show before it ever came out. BEFORE it gets a pilot or green-lit, or whatever the terminology for that is (I’m a stage actor, not a tv actor), it was my assumption, that there would be so much thought out. If I’m working on a series of fics, I have at least a basic plotline for every volume. If I’m writing a 100k fic, I make an outline and I decide on the general plot and then? Then I decide what the character development/arcs will be. Taking a writing class, you get told constantly to think about how the characters should change from beginning to end. You get told to consider turning points in the story. You need to have a concrete understanding of each character’s personality, backstory, behavior, and have a PLAN for what to do with each other them and how you intend for them to grow (be it good or bad)

So when I went to watch this show the first time, I was totally caught up in YEs werewolves! Yes full moons! Yes, fangs and claws and superstrength! YEs even the human gets to do fun stuff! But that excitement quickly faded, because the foundation I thought I was seeing, wasn’t actually there. I saw Scott attacking people and yelling at his friend for trying to help. I saw Derek threatening people and clawing Jackson. I saw Jackson and Lydia being stuck-up and that stereotypical ‘popular’ kind of pompous and cruel. I saw Stiles being vicious and impulsive. Allison showed up as this...perfect person? I saw it and I thought that was the point. That they would all learn and grown and depend on each other and that this show about werewolves that spent so much of Season 1 talking about ‘pack’ would turn these people into a pack. That they would call each other out for their various issues and everyone would grow. That Allison would seem like this beacon of goodness, until she revealed a deep character flaw that she would have to work on like everyone else. And then we got to the second season, and it all just went sideways. Derek just got meaner and Erica and Isaac both joined while being just as mean. Boyd seemed like a decent dude, that voice of reason. And then he was barely there. Stiles kept hitting on Lydia and wouldn’t stop. Scott was awful to Allison. It all got worse and they were suddenly split into Sides. Derek and the other Hales that popped up were never actually a part of Scott’s pack/group. They were always on the outside, even after Derek just sort of...gave in and said Scott was in charge now? It was frustrating and confusing, watching bits of their personalities flip-flop all over the place to suit a plot that felt like it was just trying to cater to the audience, without having any actual backbone of plot. If you write something JUST for other people, it’ll never have integrity. The growth of these characters was constantly either completely skipped (characters going from bad to good in an instant), cut off at its ankles (killed off or sent away), nonsensical (Derek had to lose all his powers to become a full-shift wolf, and that somehow had an effect on his personality??), or it never happened (Scott. And, to some extent? Stiles.)

I find that I have the most fun in this fandom when I take canon and use it as a sort of malleable clay to play with and make my own worlds out of. I get to keep my favorite characters around (Boyd, Erica, and Isaac, and even Jackson sometimes), get rid of characters I don’t like (Ethan and Aiden, usually Jennifer and Gerard, and sometimes Scott), and toss what I’ve got into an au or a canon-divergence and see what they do. I mean, that’s basically what all fandom is, but for this one, it’s a bit like SPN. I refuse to acknowledge anything that happened in SPN after like...season 6 or something. I haven’t even seen past s8 (just like in TW i haven’t seen past S4) and it doesn’t matter. i mold the tv show to make whatever I want.

Canon gave me some good ideas, but I don’t like to stick to it too strictly in my own creative works.

I’m sorry that canon let you down, but fanfic will always be here for you.

#personal #I have no idea if I was completely off topic or something #go for it #anti-scott mccall #Anonymous

[salamanderskin]

Cold Hands, Warm Tea (Caduceus)

Cr//iti/cal R/o/le fanfiction m/m Fjord is becoming aware that his feelings for Caduceus are beyond ‘platonic healer friend who mentors him in a new faith’. It’s harder to hide it when Caduceus is sick and miserable.  A fluffy getting-together sort of sickfic. This one got away from me into 4k of plotless snz and fever because I will go down with this fjucking ship.  Someone please give this a title. 

It’s still strange to have a home to call their own. Strange, but nice. Their own sitting room where they can drink as much as they want, as late as they want, without the intrusion of strangers. Caduceus’ cooking is better than their usual fare on the road. Fjord likes that he can take his boots off and armour off and feel as safe as he ever feels. 

It’s late. The fire is low, the lamps are lit and the remains of dinner on the dining room table have been pushed aside for a game of cards. The only real early bird of the group is Caduceus, who has long since turned in. Caleb is in his room with  a book, Jester is in her room with the Traveller. That leaves Beau, Yasha, Fjord and Nott around the table with some time on their hands, for once, and a lot of shit to talk.  This suits Fjord just fine. He needs a distraction from the changes in his life, something to occupy his thoughts from the Wildmother, and from Caduceus. When he’s giving as good as he gets with Beau, he’s less likely to ask a stupid, revealing question like, “Have you ever been in love? How did you know?” 

They glance up as one when they hear feet on the stairs- a distinctive tread that speaks of a heavy frame that moves lightly. Fjord knows it intimately and looks up with a smile as Beau calls “Caduceus, that you?” 

 “Yeah, it's me.” The firbolg’s voice is deeper than usual and soft. Fjord feels his heart warm at the sound of it. It is a voice that always brings kindness. 

It is unusual to see Caduceus wearing more than a light jacket over his silk shirt. Right now he is wearing a blanket from his room around his shoulders like a shawl, gathered in one fist around him although it’s barely cold in the house. His long hair is loose and mussed, making an untidy, rose-coloured halo. 

“I'm not disturbing anything, am I?” Caduceus asks, ever polite. 

“Not at all. What are you doing up?” Yasha inquires.

The firbolg sighs and sits down on the remaining empty chair. “I'm having a hard time sleeping. I think I might be getting sick.”

Before Fjord can query, the firbolg draws a deep, unsteady breath and gifts them with an expression that is uncharacteristically uncertain- brows lifted, lips parted and gaze hovering near the ceiling-  followed by a soft miserable,. “Uuh- ishhhoo!” of a sneeze. He directs it over his shoulder and returns his attention to them with a sheepish sniffle.

This earns a  “Whoah, alright, we believed you already,” from Beau and a “gesundheit” from Nott. 

Fjord rises and comes to look at him, arm on his shoulder. “What kind of sick, 'Duceus?”

“I don't know, it doesn't matter. I just thought some company would be better than lieing in bed awake.”

“Why don’t you ask Jester for some healing?”

Caduceus wrinkles his nose. “Oh, no need to interrupt her tonight. I’ll see if it develops into any-” His voice goes airy and a tone higher as he tries valiantly to finish his thought “into-anyth-ii-ng-ISSHoo! Heh, excuse me.” 

Fjord cringes and averts his eyes as Caduceus whisks out a bit of cloth and turns to wipe his nose with a sorry sounding sniffle. 

“You sound shitty.” Beau pats the firbolg firmly on the back- a little too firmly, since it makes Caduceus start and cough. This is high sympathy and affection coming from her, and they all know it.

It makes Caduceus smile at least. With his blanket shawl and his long limbs tucked into the slightly too-small chair, he looks worn and sleepy. Fjord watches him shiver, swallow, wince as though his throat is sore. Then Fjord feels like a creeper for watching so closely. It’s been getting increasingly hard not to stare at their companion, no matter what state he’s in. 

“This is medicinal.” Nott holds out her flask of liquor. “And it’ll knock you right out. Best thing if you can’t sleep.” 

 “No thanks.” Caduceus shakes his head, predictably. “Maybe just some water.”

That Fjord can do. He manages not to leap to fetch it, but he’s glad he’s the one who moves first because that means he’s the one who gets to brush his fingers against Caduceus’ as he passes the glass, he’s the one who gets “thanks, Fjord,” and a grateful smile directed his way.

What he’d like to do, when Caduceus sniffles again and rubs his eyes in sleepy discomfort, is to bring him to bed and lay with him until the shivers ease. To give him the same warmth Fjord had received from him when Uk’Otoa’s nightmares raged. Fjord hadn’t felt shy then, but he feels shy now. So instead opens another bottle of ale and deals the cards between himself, Nott and Beau while Yasha chats to Caduceus. Eventually Caduceus clears his throat. “Think I’m going to turn in now. Thanks for the company.”

“Sleep well,” Yasha says. 

Fjord ads, “Night, ‘Deuces. I, uh, hope you feel better.” 

“Hah. Me too."

………………….

Fjord pauses at the door of Caduceus' dwelling, straining his ears for sounds of movement. He doesn't want to wake his friend if Caduceus has managed to drift to sleep. 

Jester, in full cleric mode, has already come and gone this morning, having given Caduceus a healing spell, a potion and a plate of cookies which remain uneaten. Fjord recalls her face scrunched in a pout of disappointment that her spell didn't immediately return to their friend to fighting fitness .She reported that his fever is down from blazing to merely uncomfortable, leaving him drowsy and restless 

"And I was gonna sit with him and read, and sing to him and stuff, but I could tell he didn't actually want me too. He's just suuuper tired right now so if you go see him you gotta be quiet," she told Fjord, eyes serious. "He might like to see you though, you could talk about Wildmother stuff."

"I think I can manage that." Fjord agreed. "If he gets worse, I'll definitely let you know."

So here he is, feeling a little awkward hovering on the threshold of Caduceus' bedchamber.

Fjord has been spending a lot of time in the tower garden but has never had cause to step into the little wooden shelter Caduceus prefers to an actual bedroom in the house. He doesn't want to invade his friend's privacy, but is desperately curious nonetheless. He wants to know everything about Caduceus. 

He knocks very gently and waits for a response.

"Hey." A soft voice and the sound of a body rolling over. 

"Don't get up-" Fjord begins, but the door opens for him.

Caduceus Clay greets Fjord with a pleased smile that is at odds with the gaunt look of his face. Fjord's not sure how someone with fur can be pale, but Clay has managed it, with the exception of a flush of colour high on his cheekbones. His eyes are over-bright and his poor nose looks chapped and sore from rubbing. 

"Fjord!" Caduceus says fondly. "What can I do for you?"

That selfless, innocent question is so utterly Caduceus that Fjord is stopped in his tracks. It's a lucky thing because when Caduceus wavers, suddenly lightheaded, Fjord is right there to catch him with both arms and bring him in for a hug which is more about keeping him upright.

"Whoah!" Fjord stumbles and swears, straightening them both. "I got you"

The Firbolg takes his own weight back but doesn't disengage from the embrace. His head drops to Fjord's shoulder as he takes a deep breath. The warm huff of air makes Fjord shiver. 

"Oh- sorry- think I stood up too quickly." "Looks like it." Fjord agrees. "Fuck. Come on, sit down." 

The firbolg has only a low futon mattress on the wooden floor, as simple and spare as the rest of the room. The rest of the space is filled with the pots containing seedlings he had determined required a little extra nursing- a sentiment that today describes Caduceus himself. Fjord lowers them both onto it and turns to give his companion a closer look.

He pushes the firbolg's hair from his face and feels fever heat radiating through his fingers and where their bodies touch. Jester's right, he's not in any danger, but he looks miserable, an expression so unfamiliar on his good-natured face that all Fjord can do is hug him again. 

"Mm. S'nice." 

It's more than nice. Fjord closes his eyes, breathing in Caduceus' scent and savouring the moment. They rest in the embrace for a long minute until Caduceus sniffles softly and first and then more insistently.

"Uh oh.." he murmurs, pressing a hand under his muzzle.

"You okay?" Fjord queries.

"Yeah- just-" His expression goes vague and then crumples into a fit of sneezing.

"-ISSHoo-!! hhisSShww!- ISSHwww!" Soft and with hardly a breath between them. 

All Fjord can do is watch and feel the tug on his heartstrings as Caduceus sneezes and sneezes, shuddering hard as he smothers them into his elbow.

He surfaces, apparently finished, and manages to murmur a "ugh, scuse me-" before he is overtaken again. 

Eventually he is able to blow his nose and stop the fit, giving Fjord a sheepish look over the handkerchief followed by an exhausted groan.

"I'm so sorry. Looks like Jester's spell is -snf- wearing off."

"Bless you." Fjord sighs. "You sound rough."

"Yeah." Caduceus agrees softly. That's typical Caduceus, too, neither dissembling nor seeking sympathy, merely accepting the fact. 

"Can I do anything?" 

"Hmm, I don't know." He shakes his head. "I can't think." 

"What about some tea? You always drink tea." 

His ears perk up a little as he considers. "Yeah. Good idea. I- I might need you to heat the water. I don't have any spells in me at the moment."

Fjord agrees at once. He notices Caduceus' tea set and kettle on a little stand but without any means to set a fire underneath. Fjord doesn't have any warming spell himself so he takes the kettle down to the kitchen to heat it the old fashioned way.

When he returns he is surprised to find his friend wandering the garden. He has put on a knitted sweater but his hunched posture still speaks of chill.

"'Duceus?"

"Hey." And a smile.

"What are you doing up?"

The firbolg clearly needs a second to think, visibly reaching through the fog of fever. "Getting some herbs. For the tea." 

"Oh. Can't I do that for you?" 

Caduceus nods vaguely. "Got to get the right ones. For healing. I'll get them. I'll teach you for next time."

Something irrational in Fjord's chest says there won't be a next time, because I'm never gonna let you get sick again. He doesn't know how he'd manage that, of course, but the sentiment remains. That said, it might be good to learn some healing herbs. If nothing else it'll give him a reason to spend more time up here.

Caduceus turns away from his harvesting to sneeze weakly into his cupped palms. He finishes with a whole-body shudder that makes his teeth chatter with cold.

"You should be in bed." 

Thank the Wildmother, Caduceus doesn't argue the point but gathers the handful of leaves into his palm and looks towards his room. "Yes. Yeah. Sorry, I got- distracted- there." 

"It's okay. Come back inside and we'll make that tea." 

Fjord loops his arm around the firbolg's waist to lead him back. He feels Caduceus lean on him in a way that suggests dizziness or maybe just fatigue. He feels the heat bleeding through the layers of their clothes. If it's making Fjord uncomfortable from the contact then Caduceus himself must be miserable with it, even if he's currently in the shivering phase. 

Fjord adds the herbs to the teapot, while Caduceus seems very glad to settle on the bed once more. He collapses all the way down and curls in on himself as he shakes with chills. Even with his hands in his armpits and his legs tucked up like a child's, he can't seem to get warm. Fjord pulls the blankets around him and that helps a little, but he still lets out a soft whine as a wave of chills passes over him. 

It just about breaks Fjord's heart. He goes to sit on the bed as if drawn by a tether, his arms going to Caduceus' back and rubbing heat into him through the blankets. 

"Hey. Hey. It's okay. What do you need?"

"M'okay. M'just cold." 

"The tea's ready. Can you sit up and drink some?"

Caduceus Clay and his family make tea not exactly for a living, but as a byproduct of their profession and their faith. Under normal circumstances Fjord would never dare to make a cup for him, but these are far from normal circumstances. It's not that he thinks Clay would judge his tea-making, exactly, but he wants so badly for the firbolg to think well of him. 

It seems unlikely that Caduceus can taste anything at all right now. He sits with his back leaning against the wall and their thighs touching on the bed. He holds the cup under his nose and breathes the stream. His slender, slit nostrils flare slightly, like a cat's, snuffling more and more rapidly, until he has to pause between sips to scrub the heel of his hand underneath his muzzle. It doesn't seem to be helping much. 

"Can you h-hold this for me?" 

He thrusts the cup at Fjord with a waver in his voice that makes Fjord take it automatically. 

"Thadks-" it's an octave higher than Caduceus' usual bass, drawn tight by a flurry of panting breaths. "heh… ehh…. heh'ISSShooo!"

"Bless you!" 

Caduceus waves a hand vaguely, pressing the other up against his nostrils. "Scuse-" He manages. Oh, his eyes are watering. He looks desperate and sniffly and full of cold, and Fjord can't do very much about it but watch as his breath hitches- hitches- 

"Chiiishhhoo!" And again, eyes slamming shut as his body jackknifes forward. If he'd been holding the tea, it would have been everywhere, that's for sure.

"hah-CHIIShhoo!" 

He surfaces with a watery, apologetic sniffle and takes the teacup back. "Nggh. Thanks, Fjord." 

"Bless you." It seems inadequate for how tired Caduceus seems. 

"Thanks." He says again. He drains the rest of the tea before any other mishap can befall it, and slumps tiredly to one side. This leaves him with his head leaning heavy against Fjord's shoulder. 

"Is that okay?" 

"Of course it's okay." Fjord soothes. He can feel the fever heat from the firbolg's brow and the back of his neck as he shivers. It's not unpleasant, he just wishes he could will it away. What he can do is reach his hands around and smooth the back of his fingers against the firbolg's cheek. He hopes for it to be soothing but his friend jumps in his arms, pulling away with a soft whine. 

"Sorry! Sorry!" 

"Your hands are c-cold."

"They're really not." Fjord sighs. "Come on. Lie down again now." 

With a little hauling and shifting of blankets he is able to settle Caduceus back on the mattress. It's not that 'Duceus is resisting, he's just lax with fever, and seven feet of Firbolg is a lot to manhandle. It's worth the effort to see him sigh in relief, even if it is punctuated with sniffles as he rolls over to bury his face in the pillows. 

Fjord steps back for a moment and takes stock of his patient. Caduceus lies on his belly, smothered by blankets that are not too thick to hide the occasional shudder running through his form. All that beautiful hair is vibrantly, ridiculously pink against the white cotton, tangled from all the commotion. His ears peek out from the strands, low against his head in misery. 

Another set of sniffles from within the covers, then an uneasy "uh oh-"  heralding another sneeze. It doesn't come at once but teases, leaving Caduceus to scrub his face miserably into the pillow and make soft, frustrated sounds on each exhale until he finally works up to a cleansing, "HeYSSSShhuh!" that makes Fjord cringe for his poor throat. 

"Fuck…" Fjord sighs, and tries not to listen as the firbolg blows his nose. It's a sniffly, uncomfortable sounding affair. He tries not to think of Caduceus' physiology as animal, exactly, but his slit nostrils are somewhere between a cats' and a cows', and hardly seem designed to handle the congestion.

"Ugh, I'm sorry Fjord. I'm no good to anyone like this." 

That's the last straw for Fjord's beleaguered heart.

Before he knows what he is doing, he finds himself crawling the length of the mattress and gathering the firbolg into his arms. There is a rush of heat and sweat from the lifted blankets but it is more than worth it to get Caduceus' head cradled against his chest, the weight of his body draped slack across Fjord's legs and curling into the warmth of him with another shiver. 

It feels so Goddamn good that Fjord's chest gets tight. 

Caduceus has gone very still.  The shivers stop as their shared body heat blossoms under the blankets.

"This is… new" He says tentatively. 

"But good, right?" 

"Yeah. It's nice. It helps a lot, actually. I think I needed a hug." 

Of course he does. Caduceus has always been tactile, ever ready with a hug and a kind hand. He never pushes it on anyone else, meaning that Jester gets the bulk of his physical affection. He grew up a big family and then has been alone for a long, long time. No wonder he craves a little comfort when he's not feeling good. Fjord feels like an ass for not recognising it before. 

In a bid to make up for lost time, Fjord presses a kiss to the crown of his forehead. Caduceus shivers again, but perhaps not with cold.

Inevitably, Caduceus’ sickness intervenes again, lest they forget what had brought them together this way. 

"Uh, Fjord…" 

Fjord has seen this cycle enough times to correctly interpret that hazy, ticklish squint and groping hand. He passes a clean hankie just in time for Caduceus to tuck it over his muzzle and shiver a soft, miserable "hhisSShww!"

He can feel Caduceus shudder with it, feel how much it takes out of him in this fevered state. 

The firbolg recovers more slowly now and his eyes remain unfocused. Gods, his pupils are like coins. 

“I think my fever’s up again.” Caduceus adds helpfully.

Fjord snorts. He may not be a healer but the heat radiating from the firbolg's skin is like sitting beside a brazier.

"Shall I call Jester?" There must be more magic they can pour at this problem, surely?

"Needs to save her spells. In case something happens." Caduceus explains. "She's coming this evening."

"Okay." Fjord doesn't like that much but apparently there is nothing to be done. Caduceus is selfless but he isn't a martyr or a fool. If he says there's no quick cure, Fjord believes him. It just really fucking sucks. 

He wishes he had picked up some healing magic along the way, but that wasn't what his patron had in mind, so he does what he knows how to do. 

That involves a cold cloth for the firbolg's brow and another to wipe down his neck and chest. Plenty of water to drink and another cup of tea, cold this time. Ensuring Caduceus always has a handkerchief to hand and a fond blessing when he sneezes. 

Caduceus lies placidly through all of this, a ghost of a smile on his lips in spite of it all. How he remains so good-natured, Fjord will never know. 

Fjord considers leaving him to get some sleep, but when he makes the suggestion Caduceus manages a very good impression of a wounded puppy even as he says, "Oh. Sure." 

So they end up together in the bed again. 

Caduceus is far too warm to snuggle in, but he lies on the mattress with his head resting on Fjord's arm so that the half-orc can smooth his sweaty hair back from his neck. It's almost perfect. Almost wonderful. It's been a long time since Fjord has lain with anyone like this. He watches the Firbolgs eyes weigh shut with a deep tenderness he hardly knew he was capable of, and presses another kiss to that burning brow. 

"You comfy? As you can be?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I-" Caduceus raises his head, looking up at Fjord with big pupils, fever flushed cheeks and a peculiar determination. Looks like Caduceus is steeling himself for something. 

" 'm far too loopy to think now." The firbolg begins, placing each word as if he has to retrieve them individually from the fog of fever and they lay them out before him. "But this is really nice. We should do this again...so I can… enjoy it properly." 

A long speech from someone hazy and half-asleep. Fjord feels his lips tilt into a delighted, probably goofy, grin. He is very glad Caduceus can't see it from this position.

"Yeah. I'd like that too." 

No reply this time. Caduceus Clay is asleep and snoring softly on his chest, and Fjord couldn't be happier.

#sickfic #fever #sneeze kink #let them be soft #I'll never get bored of hurting the healer #it's my favourite

[justjessame]

Avery Emerson Clay: Could I Interest You In A Nice Beating Instead?

I know what most of you are thinking - if Clay were in my position (or Dad, or Hell even Jake) they would probably NOT rush into poking and then fighting the bear that tried to do a reverse Goldilocks in my bed, but you know what? I’m NOT Clay OR Dad OR Jake for that matter. I’m Avery Emerson Von Houton Clay (yes, I DID go full heiress title) and I was PISSED off.

“You’re adorable,” Max scrunched up his nose as he took in me standing next to MY bed, feet shoulder width apart, ready to take on his pansy ass. “I’m not going to fight you, Avery. No matter how badly you want me to.” I glared down at him. “Come here, sit down, you’re cute, but you really don’t want to try me, sweetheart.” He actually patted MY bed, like I was a puppy and he OWNED it. “Come along.” If my eyes got any narrower, I was pretty fucking certain I would be as nearsighted as Jake without his glasses.

I considered attacking him on the bed, but then took a deep breath and realized that the entire point he was making was that we were ALIKE. OK, so Avery, let’s try to BE LESS like this dick. Let’s try to tap into the other part of our genetic makeup - the commando part. Time to play WWFCD? (What Would Franklin Clay Do?) Either the OG or the Sequel would probably try to gather more intel, which meant, as much as I’d rather rip my own limbs off and bleed out - I guess I’d be joining Max in my bed again. Fuck.

Relaxing out of attack mode, I sat down on the edge of my bed. “Avery,” Max sounded like he was bleeding patience and I wished like hell that he was just bleeding. “That doesn’t look very comfortable. Come now, up here next to me.” He patted the spot next to him and I contemplated biting him, since he was treating me like a bitch, why fucking not? He grinned and I had a dark feeling that he knew what I was thinking. “Let’s save the biting for when we’re a little more comfortable with one another, shall we?” I suspected that he was trying to sound seductive, just like Mom had asked if he’d been in the elevator, but all I could think about was how he was a shitty substitute for Jake.

Play along, I told myself, and scooted up to sit next to him against my headboard. “Better?” I asked, and fought against flinching when he reached out and took my hand in his. Linking our fingers, I allowed it, but again his soft and perfectly manicured hands were a far cry from the hands that I wanted touching me. “Will you tell me where my cats and dogs are now?”

“Your pets are fine, Avery.” Again, like with Rose he acted like they didn’t matter - to him they didn’t. “A sedative that I had triple checked by a very expensive vet was added to their food and water - they’re in kennels and they’re being monitored by the best that money can pay for.” But not by me, I thought, and they would be terrified. “You’ll be reunited with them, I promise.”

“Mom and Dad?” My mom’s bracelets, that she still wore after ALL these years, came to me in another flash of terror. Please don’t let this idiot have given her something worse to wear instead. And Dad? God, please don’t let him be TRULY retired.

“Again, safe. Quiet and tucked away.” His fingers were tracing my skin, and I felt like I was being touched by something slithery and gross. “Your father is quite the fighter - I can see where Clay gets it from.” A twist of fear hit me low. “Tranq darts can stop the biggest badasses in their tracks, lucky for him.” Fuck. “As for Clay - and his team.” The icy chill of real terror creeped down my spine. “You have to know, Avery, I cannot let them live. Any of them.”

I thought about what he was saying, what he wasn’t saying as well - while he was touching me and considered Clay and Dad - how we worked in the library even while this asshole and his dunces listened in. I’d done it, clearly, I’d pushed hard enough to get him out in the open. Sadly it worked a little TOO well, but what could I do to fix it?

“Tell me about yourself?” His jacket, folder, file - the intel on Max was miniscule. But he wanted me to think we were MEANT to be - destined - soulmates, right? So prove it. “Who are you?”

“Me?” I nodded, twisting our hands so I was touching HIM now. Tracing the lines of his veins, the lines that the so-called psychics at the carnivals would have called his life lines or love lines, trying to show him that I was gaining interest in US. “What do you want to know?”

“Where are you from? What do you do? Who ARE you?” I looked up at him from under my lashes, keeping myself from batting them - let’s not overplay our fucking hand here. “If you want me to believe that you WANT me, Max, then I should know YOU, shouldn’t I?”

He studied me, clearly looking for any sign that would trigger his bullshit meter, but you know what? Max wasn’t a Clay and he clearly didn’t have the internal lie detector that we were born with, because instead of tossing my ass onto the floor and getting the fight started, he cupped my cheek and started talking. Fucking amateur.

I listened to every single word that Max said, and honest to fuck, once I got his ass talking he seemed to LOVE the sound of his own voice. The epic tale of where Max began and ended went on and on and on - I nearly went fucking batshit listening. But I had to, because I knew, from being raised at the elbow of Franklin Clay Senior and following Franklin Clay Junior around like a puppy begging scraps that every single target will eventually tell you exactly where their weakness lies - all you have to do is LISTEN.

I wasn’t only looking for how to hit him hard, mostly because I knew that if I could do what I really was working toward - Clay would do that - but I wanted to know if MY actual plan would work. If what I wanted to try would have any type of chance in the flames of hell of working. And as I listened, I thought that it might, if only to save one - but I only had to save ONE. Because I knew if I could save ONE - like dominoes the others would follow.

“Pooch,” Max’s eyes locked on mine, I’d actually gotten closer to him by the end of his tale and I was almost curled onto his lap - my hand on his heart and our faces inches apart. “He just became a father.”

“I know,” he looked at me as if he was waiting for me to explain why I’d bother telling him something he knew about and could give two shits about.

I bit my lip and let my fingertip trace his lower lip. “I think it would be incredibly sad for his son to grow up without a father -” he started to argue, but I stopped him by tapping his lips with that same finger. “Aisha is after you for having her father killed, isn’t she?”

Max considered what I was saying. “She’s an adult, Avery, Pooch’s son is an infant.”

“Infants grow up,” I murmured, letting my eyes drift to his lips as if I wanted so badly to taste him - ew - but I needed to keep up the game. “And when boy children grow up knowing their fathers were killed in less than fair conditions -” Plant the seed, water it, wait for it to take root.

He grew quiet and I waited for a few beats, but I knew eventually I was going to have to sweeten the deal. As badly as I wanted to NOT have to. “You think that Pooch’s son could be a threat one day,” before he could consider killing another child, I nodded and then moved in, moving my finger and nudging his nose with mine. Letting our lips meet, taking him off guard, I shut my eyes and let him take over.

I never quite understood that old quote “Shut your eyes and think of England.” Yeah, I get it now. It wasn’t that he was a bad kisser, it was just that I’d rather kiss the ass end of one of my goats. But I had to pretend, and fake it like I’d never in my life faked anything in my life. Giving a slight moan, letting my tongue touch his, even nipping his lower lip - but the entire time I was also telling my stomach to NOT empty into his mouth.

When I pulled away, panting a little heavier than I needed to, Max looked at me like he was thinking he made the right choice and I was thanking God that he was an idiot.

“I think that if you gave Pooch his family and an incentive to live happily ever after with them, he’d walk away and never glance back at you or this entire fucking situation,” I whispered when we both were ‘recovered’ from our first kiss. “Please?”

“Are you bargaining with me, Avery?” Max was smiling, not smirking, not mocking - he was just asking me if that was my game.

“Yes,” I answered with a nod. “I am, because if you want me to walk off with you into the sunset - after you kill my brother and -” I ignored the flash of pain I felt at the thought of Jake. “his team, then ONE new father shouldn’t bother you.”

“One new dad,” his thumbs were sliding under my eyes and I waited. “Pooch for Clay?” I waited. “You would give up your own brother for him?” I didn’t answer. “Alright.”

“OK,” I agreed, swallowing and hoping against fucking hope that Pooch would understand my fucking plan without hearing it.

“But,” he drew my attention back to his face. “We have to finalize it -”

I nodded, thinking we’d shake hands or whatever - I’d sign something stupid.

I wasn’t expecting him to start pulling my tank straps off my shoulders, his lips meeting my skin. “Consummating our relationship is the perfect way to do that, isn’t it, Avery?” FUCK. Literally.

#Franklin Clay #jake jensen x ofc #The Losers (2010) #alternate universe #Mild smut #humor #fluff #Family Fluff #FLUFF AND SMUT

[thecursedhellblazer]

To Hell and Back

Starter for @thedemonconstantine

He had been a fool. An utter, bloody fool. But then again, where was the news? No matter how many times he fell for them, there were some tricks that he just could not recognise. They hit his abused weak spots, causing him to send any sort of logic or rational thinking to fuck off and to run straight in the traps that had been set out for him. Manipulating him was child play for whoever knew him well enough to know which chords to touch, really. And he was supposed to be the one they called “ConJob”, even in down in the literal Hell. Those were the times when he thought that whoever had given him that nickname had overestimated him and his intelligence.

Self-loathing aside, that time his bloody impulsiveness had landed him in really dangerous waters and he wasn’t sure of how he would have managed to get himself out of them. Normally, if you truly were looking for a trip down to the land of Eternal Damnation, the easiest way to do it was to firstly make sure you had lived a shitty life and then kill yourself. You had to consider, though, that there would have been no coming back from such a trip. If, instead, you were planning to step in the Pit while still alive and breathing, before the time for your rotten soul to join all the others, and get back to Earth, now that was way trickier. Opening a portal that could take you from the mortal realm to the lands of Hell wasn’t an easy task. It required a lot of energy and seals that were far more complicated than the ones necessary for an exorcism or a summoning. Not to mention that traveling back was even harder, no matter how many precautions you might have taken.

John Constantine had the back luck of having both the knowledge of how to create such rip in the veil and enough power to do so. Not enough to keep it open, though, also because that would have meant allowing some demonic bastard to sneak out while he went around his business. Moreover, and especially, he had stupidity in spades, which meant that he was the kind of guy who, given the right motivation, would have used aforementioned knowledge and power and thrown himself in Hell, consequences be literally damned.

All it had taken had been a glamour, the simplest trick when it came to illusions, one that even the greenest horns could pull off. The kind that should have been easy to detect for someone like him, with all his baggage of mistrust and experience in the real of magic. However, all he had been able to see when the images had materialised before his eyes had been his former girlfriend’s face, contracted in agony and begging for his help as she was dragged down in Hell to suffer a fate she did not deserve.

If the doubt that it might have been a trick had come to his mind, he had dismissed it before it could even touch his consciousness, because he didn’t remember having any hesitation. He had grabbed what he needed, drawn the seal on the floor of the shitty motel room he had currently been occupying and jumped through the portal the moment it had been opened. Now that he was faced with the reality of what had truly happened, he was wishing that he had at least taken the time to pack a couple of bottle of alcohol and, especially, a full stash of cigarettes, because it looked like he wouldn’t be leaving any time soon.

“Seems like you did get me this time, mate,” he huffed with a hint of distaste and with a confidence he didn’t have. His knees were hurt from where he had landed on them, blood staining the tears that had been opened in his trouser and from a cut on his left temple. Five minutes down there and he was already injured, even if just slightly. Not the best start. “And to think that one of the reasons I made you was to get ‘er out of my head.”

Kit. He had been a fool also for thinking that transferring his yearning for her into some clay monster would have been enough to completely eradicate the meaning she had and would have always had for him. However, finding out that it hadn’t worked had been no surprise. After all, deluding himself into thinking that he could fix things, especially when they involved him in first person, was one of his specialties.

A cutting smirk touched his face. “So, ‘aving fun around ‘ere?” One day his cockiness and arrogance would have got him killed and damned, and said day might as well have come already. He had no doubt of what waited ahead of him. Torture, physical and psychological, till his hour had come and then for the rest of eternity. Unless he managed to find a way out of there.

He chewed the inner side of his cheek, barely noticing when he started to taste blood. It might have sounded like nothing he hadn’t already faced in the past, but there was something terrifying in knowing that he would be suffering them at the hand of someone who was perhaps the only being fully capable of breaking him for good. Himself. A twisted, corrupted version of him, which however, as time had proved, at the end of the day wasn’t that different from the original.

#* Blokes like me? We cheat. * ::ic:: #* I walk my path alone * ::threads:: #v. The Hellblazer #thedemonconstantine #* To Hell and Back * ::thread:: #(( tw: torture )) #(( watch me stealing titles from songs )) #(( I hope this is okay! )) #(( lmk if you want me to change something! )) #(( relax and work flows just fine. ::queue:: )) #sv. Invertigo #blood tw

[bl--ankhaeji]

It all started with a washer(Taeyong)

Pairing - Fashion Design student*TaeyongXCeramics student*Reader

Genre - fluff, slight angst (if you blink it’s gone), slight enemies to lovers(again blink and you miss it), friends to lover, college au, tutor*Taeyong 

Warning/AN - learning disabilities and mentions of shitty parenting, also really abrupt ending cause I had no idea how to end so im sorreh (unedited not like any of my shit is though)

W.Count - 2253

The way you met Taeyong was pretty hectic 

It was 2 a.m. and you both were in the laundry room on the 4th floor of the apartment building

Surprisingly you two weren’t the only ones who needed a late night laundry run

That shit was PACKED 

Well as packed as a laundry room that only has three washers and three dryers can get 

You had to wait in a short line to be able to even get a washer even though all you had to wash were your clothes from the previous week

You had just enough washing powder left to wash the little clothes you had 

You really just wanted to do your laundry go back to your room open a bottle of cheap wine and drink away the pain you had from your Chemistry exam that you’re pretty sure you failed earlier that day or should you say yesterday

*Le Gasp* Finally a washer is open 

You rush to get there before it’s taken only to make there at the same time as some boy

You both immediately turn toward each other to look at the person who dared to steal the washer you so rightfully deserve

“This washer’s mine” 

“This is my washer” 

You both managed to say at the same time only to pull equally incredulous looks at each other

“I got here first” You both exclaim at the same time and that was like the spark that lit the fire

Not the love fire but like a hate fire lol

A stared down like no other between you two fighting for the washer soon commenced and it looked like neither of you were backing down

You both stood there and glared at each other’s face until a whole new washer became open 

The boy saw it and walked to go to that one instead of the one being stolen from him by some girl who looked about as ruff as his scalp is 

Please pray for TaeTae’s scalp...ok

Only for the washer to get taken by some kid 

His only choice was to go back to his old washer 

Once you saw the boy coming back you immediately closed the lid on the washer and turned to look at him with a humph 

“Too late this washer’s taken by its rightful owner”

If that didn’t irk him in the worst way then nothing did 

That slightly reminded him of his little brother’s annoying friend, what's his name...Doeyuck…

“Look ok I just need to wash my clothes so that I can go to my room and splurge on the possibly life threatening amount of sweets I just bought as a reward for passing my Chemistry exam. Can you please just let me share the washer with you?”

You started to consider letting him use the washer with you then you realize what he said….HE HAS SWEETS and he passed the chemistry exam, but HE HAS SWEETS 

“Ok, I’ll let you use it but only if I get to have my pick at two sweets or if it’s candy then one handful. Do we have a deal?” 

You could see the pout form on his lips only be offset by a slow nod of agreement to which you rejoiced with a quick Yes and opened the lid 

When the clothes finished you both realized that meant that you would also have to share a dryer to which you both looked at each other and raised your shoulders

Even though you both still weren’t on the best of terms you still tolerated each other for the sake of your clothing

Later that night after you have taken your pick of treats from the boy whose name you still didn’t know you retreated to you couch with your wine bottle in one hand and the tv remote in the other 

When it’s the next week and you’re in your Chemistry class your teacher passes out the tests 

To which you can see and confirm that you indeed did fail it

BADLY 

Your teacher asks you to stay back once class is over to discuss something with you 

She recommends you a tutor by the name of Lee Taeyong 

Says he has the highest grades in her class

At first you decline until she tells you that you might not be able to pass this semester if you don’t get help 

You begrudgingly agree to meet this tAeYoNg tomorrow in the upstairs private library room

The dreaded meetup is finally here and you walk into the room with anxiety threatening to bubble over to see 

“WASHER STEALING SWEETS BOY” 

You walk over to the startled boy and see that he has irritation written all over his face “Please don’t tell my you’re the girl I’m tutoring”

“Yup That’s Me”

He starts to regret his life choices and wonder ‘Why Me’ 

He gets started on the tutoring only to realize that you...really don't know anything 

If your lost look said anything 

“Do you even pay attention at all in class” 

“I mean I do but its it just it...I don’t know. This is stupid. I’m stupid. I don’t know why I agreed to this tutoring bullshit. I don’t need help.”

You hastily get up and leave feeling as if you just made a fool of yourself 

You walk into your apartment with fresh clay you just got from your class and go into your safe place

Your home pottery room

Preparing your space and getting everything ready you press play on your music, wet your hands, and start moulding the clay 

You’re pretty deep into what you’re doing to the point where you don’t hear the banging on your door 

Once you do it startles you and you almost mess up your creation 

You wash your hands and go to answer the door to see Taeyong 

He’s staring at you like something is wrong and you look down to see that you’re covered in both dry and wet clay 

“What do you want?”

“I’m here to ask why you walked out like that.” He says with a pretty serious look on his face 

“I already said it. I don’t need help, I can pass the class on my own.” 

He holds up your most recent test only to spread his fingers out and it's every test you've taken and you either failed it or were pretty close, “Does this look like you don’t need help.”

“You can’t help someone stupid Taeyong.”

With annoyance splayed on his face he steps into the apartment and sits his stuff on the couch

“Why do you think that?”

“Cause I am, now can you please leave I was doing something.”

He refuses to leave until you explain to him 

You think ‘Fuck It’ and you start to tell him 

You major in ceramics but there’s a special love for pottery 

It helps to calm your mind...you love it..you’re amazing at it  

But that was never enough for your parents who ridiculed and criticized you every chance they got 

You have both dyslexia and dyscalculia 

Your parents who were both renowned scientists couldn't believe they managed to birth a stupid baby 

The only way you were able to get into university was because of ceramics but your parents didn't care

To them you were still dumb no matter what

“So that’s why I’m stupid. There’s no use in trying to teach me, you would be wasting your time”

You looked to Taeyong thinking you would see a disgusted face but you only saw one of sympathy and determination

“I’ve taught someone with dyslexia before but not dyscalculia. I will not leave you behind because y/n you’re not stupid. Regardless of what your parents and others have told you.”

After that you didn't see him for a few days and then one night when you were about to head to bed 

BAMM 

There he was at your door looking like a lunatic 

“I’ve got it.”

After that you and TaeTae(that’s what you call him now) spent every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and sometimes Sunday together

And to say that spending that much time together didn’t have an affect on how you felt about each other would be a fucking lie 

Soon you started to anticipate the days you got to study with him or the time you two would pass each other in the halls 

It would make you feel giddy inside 

Like you were in a shaken up pop can and when you would see him you would combust

But would you ever tell him that. Fuck No  

Sometimes the studying would either take place at his or your apartment 

To say that after study sessions you wouldn’t sit and watch movies the rest of the night and slick(not slick) cuddle would also be a lie 

It’s to the point where you have clothes at each other’s house

You also may or may not have a key to each other’s apartment

Even though you both still irked the fuck out of each other sometimes this tutor and tutoree realtionship had transformed into somethin beautiful

It was getting close to your next Chemistry exam and you were stressing 

Soon enough you had two days to go and you were TERRIFIED 

Taeyong kept trying to tell you that you were gonna do fine but you didn’t believe him 

Your fears were coming back full force 

You had been doing good turning in little side assignments with no problem but this is your first test since tutoring and 

You really didn’t wanna let TaeTae down

“You won’t let me down. I promise”

“You don’t know that. Like I don’t know, I can know everything on there but when it’s in front of my face I just….blank and everything gets jumbled and I get confused and I just give up.”

“Look if you take the test and pass...I have a surprise for you, ok?”

“What surprise?” 

He just gets up and walks out of the apartment

It’s like the two days just flew by and next thing you know the test is right in front of you and you’re looking at it and 

YOU UNDERSTAND 

Even though you’re one of the last to finish you probably feel the most confident 

When you and Tae meet up the day after you guys are chillin in his apartment eating the food you just got delivered 

“Sooo since I'm close with our Chemistry teacher she let me see the grades before she put them out.”

“Really??!! What’d I make?”

“I’m sorry to tell you this…”

Taeyong was gonna pull a trick on you but seeing your face fall and the tears build up he couldn’t go through with it 

“Noo I’m just playing please don’t cry. You passed, you passed I promise.”

When you hear those words you immediately start to beat his ass..literally you start to spank him 

“Why would you do that to me. Do you know how sad I got, I almost cried!!”

He kept trying to apologize but you kept hitting him so he did something to stop you

He kissed you 

The feeling of Taeyong’s lips on yours was euphoric 

Even with the taste of the takeout on his lips his kiss was still intoxicating 

Luckily he pulled back before you could slip too far 

You unknowingly chased after his lips after he pulled away, wanting more

“I didn’t plan on saying it this way but yea that was the surprise. I like you y/n. I like you a lot.”

You took a good look at Taeyong’s face to see an unnoticeable blush spread across his cheeks

Que the Fangirl 

“AHHH you’re so cuteeee. I can finally say that now without feeling like I’ll make things awkward.”

Also que confused Tae 

“Wait so you like me too?”

Uhh duh 

So I was gonna stop here butttttt Why don’t I give yall a lil more fluff shall we 

Immediately start dating after the confession 

Istg you guys are the cutests little shits ever 

It’s disgusting 

Study dates [check]

Cuddle buddies[check] 

Hella pottery dates[FUCKIN CHECK]

You and Tae already stay up all hours of the damn night so why not teach him how to mould a little 

“Oooo are you gonna do the little backhug hand guiding thing they do in the movies.”*insert winky face* 

You do the making he does the designing 

Did I mention that he’s a fashion design major 

Him and his best friend Johnny revamp your entire wardrobe because and I quote ‘As the top fashion design student I will not be caught dead letting my girlfriend walk around looking anything less than Fabulous’ and ‘Who says you’re the top student but anyways you didn’t pass Johnny’s Fashion Evaluation...not my problem’

Oh and better believe he has the couples outfits on LOCK

“This passes the Evaluation”

He makes little cup holders and coasters for the cups you make

For your first christmas together Tae makes you a ceramic necklace with the date you guys started dating thanks to the help from your best friend Yuta who specializes in metal ceramics 

You knit him a scarf out of you guys favorite colors 

The blush you made cross his face when you wrapped it around his neck and used it to pull him into a kiss was totally worth the plenty times you caught a hand cramp trying to make that scarf 

“We’re under the mistletoe.” *insert smirky y/n*

AHHHH I can’t deal 

But yea that’s it for you and TaeTae’s relationship 

#bullet scenarios #first bullet scenario #nct taeyong #taeyong #taeyong x reader #college au #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #dyslexia #dyslexic #dyscalculia #nct #nct blog #nct fluff #fluff #nct127 #nctu #nct u #nct u taeyong #nct21 #nct2021 #taeyongfluff #taeyong fluff #taeyong au #taeyong sm #taeyong scenarios #MY STORIES

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Batman and the Wolf in Shining Armor || Ariana & Sammy/Ace

TIMING: Tonight, middle of the night PARTIES: @inspirationdivine​ & @letsbenditlikebennett​ SUMMARY: After looking for Ace/Sammy out in the woods for the past few nights, Ariana finally comes across him again. Wholesome times ensue. CONTENT: Sibling death mentions, 

The past couple of nights, Ariana had made her way to their spot in the woods, hoping to catch Ace. It’d been a while since she left her last note and she knew it left him a bit worried. Turned out, it was with good reason though not even skipping late night runs through the wood had done her any good. She swallowed back the lump that felt like lead in her throat and slid down the tree to sit on the ground as she waited. If he didn’t show up tonight, she was going to have to check that tunnel out again and try to find where he was. She intended to help him and make sure his situation was safe, as she had that looming feeling present that it wasn’t, but things had just spiraled so out of control. She would follow through for him though. Ace was kind, sweet, and funny-- whatever he was going through that limited how much he could share with her wasn’t deserved. Too many good people seemed to be getting the shit end of the stick and she wasn’t going to let that happen to Ace, too. The crunching of leaves beneath shoes shook her from her thoughts as her head whipped around to see the source. A tired, but relieved smile spread across her face as she jumped up to greet Ace. She immediately enveloped him in a hug and said, “I’m so glad you’re here. Been trying to catch you the last few nights.”

Sammy hadn’t been wandering so much lately. It hadn’t been easy to get out with Lydia having one kind of guest or another. Never reveal your presence to a guest. Well, this one apparently didn’t even sleep. Fuck, he’d thought, but tonight, he’d made it out. Even though he’d seen the eye in the sky, the moon didn’t look too shabby. He’d curled his hands into his pockets, and run. No scratch left on his skin anymore, the rambling excuses about dried clay had barely satiated Lydia, but she hadn’t questioned it too closely. He wandered into the woods, his chest tight, desperate to see Ariana again after the notes she’d left him. But the young wolf caught him by surprised when she jumped up from the tree, and when she hugged him he swung his wiry arms right around hers, effortlessly picking up her up in a bear hug. “Yeah, god, I missed you Ari. You scared the hell out of me.”

Ariana clung to him longer than she normally would have, taking in his earthy scent that always vaguely reminded her of clay and burying her head into his chest. With everything else that happened, it was such a huge relief to see him here alive despite the fact she’d failed to check up on him sooner. As she pulled away, she weakly explained, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” She meant as much, though she wasn’t even sure how to explain what happened. It was terrible and there wasn’t really a way of making it sound less terrible, not that she thought Ace needed her to filter anything, it was just a lot to put on someone who clearly had their own problems. Not that he could talk about them which only furthered the sour feeling in her stomach so she tried to shake that away, though a trace of a grimace was left on her face. “A lot happened, but I’m mostly safe now. Or at least, there’s not anyone actively hunting for me anymore. Are you okay though? How have you been?”

“Woah, hey,” Sammy said, holding her even tighter as she pressed her face into his chest. He helped her tight, ad when she pulled away, he hated the feeling of letting her go. This werewolf had stolen a piece of his heart a long time ago. “Don’t apologise for that, Ari. Never.” He insisted firmly, squinting in the dark to her. “No one’s hunting you anymore? Ari, that’s fantastic! Agh, same as ever. New eye in the sky, same old Ace. It’s been a pretty quiet old time for me. Mainly I’ve been looking forward to all those prom photos you promised me.” 

Ariana let out a breath as she tried to keep herself from grimacing as he spoke. Ace meant well and really was just so sweet, there was literally no way he could have known that prom night had been the worst night of her life so far. If things hadn’t turned out so tragically wrong, she would have even found how eager he was to see photos from the evening endearing. Fuck. “Fantastic, right,” she started, voice not all that convincing as she pulled out her phone to show him some of the photos. She half wanted to just tell him what happened, but a bigger part of her just wanted to have a nice, light-hearted evening with the mysterious friend she’d made in the forest. She scrolled through a couple of the pictures, showing him as she went. Her purple hair had been done up in a bun and black headband that perfectly matched her long, black dress. She’d looked so… happy. Then she realized she went back too far when she came up on the ones of her and Celeste, quickly throwing the phone down and cringing as she heard the sound of her screen hitting the root of a tree. She hadn’t even realized her eyes were welling up as she shakily said, “Shit, I shouldn’t have--” Her gaze fell down to her unsteady hands, completely ignoring the fallen phone, and instantly felt bad for making him worry about her yet again.

It didn’t sound that fantastic when she said it like that. Sammy bit his doubt into his cheek, swinging himself around to peer over Ariana’s shoulder. “You’re right, that dress is amazing,” he commented idly, from what they’d talked about last time. But the more they flicked through a myriad of faces, the more stiff Ari became. The more uncomfortable. He flinched back, heart hammering, when she flung her phone to the ground. For a split second, he’d seen someone else’s rage. But this was Ari. She was… she was fine. “It’s okay. Ari, it’s okay.” His voice didn’t quite sound it. Sammy picked up the phone. The screen was cracked to hell, but the photo of Ariana next to that woman was still there, smiling up at him, like a dream team. It looked, well, normal. Not something that would make someone cry, unless… well, fuck, there were a lot of reasons someone would well up at the sight of an ugly photo. “Ariana, what’s up? What happened? You can tell me.”

All she had wanted was a nice normal night with Ace and here she was throwing her phone and crying over prom photos. Ariana should have known the photos would be a bad idea. There’d been a reason she hadn’t gone through them herself, but seeing the last photo she and Celeste would ever take together had brought on a new wave of grief that she hadn’t quite been ready to ride. Not now. Her breath was hitched in her throat and he seemed so concerned. He deserved an answer for the outburst that had clearly startled him. She tried to keep her breathing even and blink away the tears. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to-- Prom was-- Something bad happened,” she gasped for another breath as if would calm the erratic thudding of her heart in her chest, “I’m not being hunted anymore because they already--” Her voice cracked and she hadn’t realized her fists had been clenched in her lap. She stretched out her shaking hands, trying to force some of the tension out of her body. Trying to find the strength to say the words she hadn’t even wanted to believe. She took a deep breath in and out, forcing herself to say the rest, “Th-they shot me with some sort of weird dart outside the hotel and took me away to some warehouse. The photo was Celeste, my sis-- She’s dead. She died saving me.”

“Ari?” Sammy swallowed, hating how awkward his body felt as he reached for her, faltered. His happy go lucky facade failing him as tears sprung in her eyes. “Something- wha-” THe words kept catching, and none of it was sinking in. They’d already what? They’d already what?? And yet part of him knew. He remembered his first hunt. Thirteen, and only half way through had his parents realised as he crumpled under the weight of a newly risen spawn that he’d been faking all those super powers all along. His family, they weren’t like that, they didn’t just hunt for the sake of it, but when they hunted. Fuck. His body trembled. Shit. There were supposed to clever words springing to his head. Something kind and comforting that would make her laugh in a sad way and then the moment would be over. “Shit. Ari, that’s so shitty.”

“It is,” Ariana managed to choke out as she wiped the tears away from her eyes. When was this going to get easier? Saying the words out loud felt like pouring salt into a still open wound every single time and she hated it. Then here was Ace, normally so positive even throughout whatever his sketchy predicament was, looking so sad for her. So at a loss for how to help because really, there was no helping it. All there was to do was to go through it and feel the loss every time it crept up on her. She took another deep breath in and out, steadying herself again. “I’m--,” she started, but realized he wouldn’t expect her to apologize for this, “I just wanted a normal night together so I didn’t start with that. Well, normal for us.” She added the last part, realizing their meetings weren’t what most would classify as normal, but she always looked forward to them. Always felt a small surge of excitement whenever they actually made it to their spot on the same night.

That’s so shitty. Real man of words there, Sammy. This, as Lydia would say, was why he wasn’t with her for his skill with words. Here was what he could do, though, which wasn’t fucking much at all, considering all his money was stolen from Lydia’s wallet and he could only get out a few nights a month. He could be there for her, right now. “Yeah, well, normal for us aint all that normal. Especially right now. I mean, you saw the eye in the sky, right?” He cracked a wry smile, and then curled his arms round her, ever so carefully. “C’mon. You don’t have to be okay right now.”

Maybe he wasn’t the best with words, but Ariana found herself letting out a chuckle as Ace spoke. Even if there were still tears in her eyes, something about Ace just being Ace was comforting. There wasn’t anything anyone could really do to make things better. She didn’t need better though. She just needed reasons to get up every morning, no matter how big or small they were. Well, Ace was more of a reason to stay out later than she should at night, but still, it helped. “You’re not wrong. Fuck that eyeball sun. All I’m saying is the moon would never.” Her smile and voice were still a little shaky. How gently Ace put his arms around her was welcomed and she leaned into him, feeling her heartbeat slow as she relaxed a bit. “I know I don’t have to be. I’m just so sick of being sad, you know?”

“The moon better not!” Sammy replied, with something that might have been a grin in any other situation, but right now was closer to a grimace. He just squeezed her tighter, cradling her in his arms as they stood in those woods. Trees creaked and at times he thought the shadows had eyes, but holding her tight, there wasn’t much here of which he was frightened. “Yeah, I know, what that’s like. That just doesn’t get rid of the sad. You just get to have feelings next to the sad too.”

There was no escaping the constant ache Ariana felt these days, but in this moment it wasn’t front and center. The feeling of his arms squeezing her even tighter sent something akin to a flutter through her chest. Even with the constant hint of sadness in the background, it was a nice moment. She could relish in the comforting sounds of the woods humming around them and how familiar Ace’s scent was becoming. Even if it was only for a few minutes, she felt okay. “Feelings next to the sad, that can work. Or it’s working,” she mumbled, head still tucked into his arms before looking back up at him, tears mostly faded away, “I am happy to see you and know we’re both okay. I know you’re not able to talk about things and I have kind of a hunch on why, but I do worry about you, too.”

“Yeah, just feel all of it.” Sammy said, tucking his chin over his heads. He held her until she looked up at him, and shit, the heartbreak in her eyes almost knocked him out all by themselves. I’ve got you, he wanted to say, but like hell he did. Only out a few nights a month, missing her half the time. “Yeah. Please don’t do anything with that hunch. I’m safe. Well,” he huffed a laugh, “As safe as any scrawny guy like me wandering these kindsa woods at night before I find my protective wolf in shining armour. Do you have like, shit, pack? Is that the right word? Or people as a whole supporting you?”

There was concern still etched in her features as he told Ariana to not do anything with her suspicions. It was a little bit late for that, but she had every intention to make sure he was not only safe, but free to live his life as he pleased. She gave his arm a squeeze and agreed anyway. It was probably safer if he didn’t know she planned to help him. “If you say so. Please tell me if you do need help though. I pack quite the punch, but I’ve got a lot of contacts, too.” She wasn’t about to lose someone else she cared about if she could do anything to help it. She lightened the mood a little bit with an arched brow and a smirk as she retorted, “You’re not that scrawny. I do like the wolf in shining armor part though.” She intended to live up to it. “Oh, yeah, I have a pack now and a pretty big found family. Lots of wolves, a few witches, a selkie, a zombie, a banshee, and hey, even won over a werewolf hunter because I’m that adorable.”

Sammy didn’t point out that he wouldn’t be able to point out that he literally couldn’t tell her either way, but he didn’t need help. He only liked sneaking out at night, he’d never… leave Lydia, or betray her. “Thanks, Ari.” He gave her another squeeze. Looking down at himself, he snickered. “Uh, yeah, I am. Skin and bones.” He grinned at her. “I like the wolf in shining armor too.” He leant them against a nearby tree, arm slung over the tree. “You know, half that list could be made up and I wouldn’t be able to tell. I’m real glad you’ve got people looking out for you like that, in the day time.”

Ariana had her doubts that he’d be able to tell her if he needed her help, it didn’t matter too much. She was going to look out for him whether he knew it or not. “Anytime,” she reassured. Ace was a bit skinny and she had to chuckle a bit at his own observation. “Okay, maybe a little scrawny, but you’re still a cute forest Batman.” She nudged his arm jokingly, still grinning a bit. “Now I’m disappointed that I didn’t say I have a pet dragon or something. But yeah, I’m definitely safe-- and hey, I’ll know if I’m ever going to die soon because of the banshee. So looks like you’re stuck with me for a while, Ace.” She followed his lead, leaning into him and the tree and found herself feeling content that they’d get to spend this evening together. She’d missed all their late night chats and she had every intention of making sure nothing got in the way of them. For now, she’d enjoy the present moment in their spot under a sparkling night sky.

#wickedswriting #sammy #ace #batman and the wolf in shining armor