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notsowrites · 3 years

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No Place Else I Could Be (But Here In Your Arms)

A 3x10 Malex Coda

I got an anon prompt asking if I could write the couch sex. This is not that... well, not exactly. There’s sex, just not that specific sex. So I wrote this, and then in typical fashion, worried about it until I remembered something someone told me once: "in the time you're spending worry about it, they've already taken their pants off.”

{AO3 Link)

So here ya go, enjoy! <3

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Michael wakes slowly, acutely aware of Alex sleeping next to him. Legs tangled, Alex has his face buried against Michael's shoulder, tiny exhales as he sleeps blowing cool air across Michael's skin. They'd somehow managed to fall asleep on the couch afterwards, the afghan pulled over their naked bodies.

He’s beautiful, he’s perfect, he’s home, Michael thinks as he watches Alex sleep.

Last night had been different from anything that had happened before between them. Michael had made the decision, especially after everything with Alex the last couple days, and particularly in regards to trying to learn how to let go of his anger with the past, to finally tell Alex this is what he'd been working towards, this had been the mission he'd referred to the night he'd kissed him at the Pony. To finally be able to answer the question Alex had posed in the song he'd sung a year ago, to finally be able to say he was home.

Max, Isobel… Dallas - they were family. He knew he'd only just met Dallas, but after their talk on the pier, he wanted to get to know him more. To explore that hope Theo had expressed that they would form their own triad.

It's all broken without three, Max had once slurred out in the midst of a bender on their 21st birthday. And maybe Michael hadn't realized it at the time just how true that statement actually was. Because he had a triad, he's had Max and Isobel since the moment they emerged from the pods. But he also had another triad in Isobel and Dallas, one that was brand new and he couldn't wait to explore more.

Alex had been right, he did need to start letting go of his anger about his childhood. But he's relied on it for so long, it's been a constant companion to him almost since the moment they came out of the pods. It's not going to be easy, but he had realized today he needed to start putting in the work. And in the bunker, Alex had listened as he'd broken apart, giving him the details he'd never shared before about that part of his life. As the tears had fallen down his cheeks, Alex had been there to wipe them away. To remind him that the past didn't define him. He'd rolled up the sleeve of his jacket, exposing his arm and the faded scar of a long healed burn. Alex had reached out, fingertips tracing along the skin.

I'd thought it was just a junkyard accident. I never asked.

Michael also knows that before today, he never would have answered with the truth.

He'd seen his own pain reflected back in Alex's eyes, a kind of tether between them he still didn't fully understand. Because it wasn't the first time he thought it appeared as though Alex was able to feel the pain he was experiencing, though it's the first time he thinks to explore it and understand it. It was one of the reasons, on the list of many, that had kept him awake at night over the last decade, curious about their connection, about what it meant and how to exactly describe it.

Cosmic had fit the way no other word had. The vast reaches of the universe, the galaxy, the cosmos. There was too much of it, it was impossible to truly put into words, to quantify - and that's how his connection with Alex felt.

Indescribable and infinite.

Dallas had asked, afterwards. He's more than the guy who fixed our parents' machine, isn't he. Michael had, at first, been floored by the recognition. That Dallas had picked up on that already. But for the first time he's eager to answer in the affirmative, to be able to say that, yes Alex is more than that to him. It's the way you look at him.

He'd told Alex later as they'd sat here, how easy they were for everyone else to read. And he'd watched as Alex had smiled as he spoke, staring back at him with a bit of a knowing look. You should ask him about it, next time you talk. At first, he hadn't understood the meaning, why he needed to ask Dallas how he knew, why it mattered. But as the night progressed between them, it wasn't until they were skin to skin, coming down from their orgasms, that it hit Michael.

Dallas has his own Alex.

He hears the change in Alex's breathing a moment before Alex is pressing his nose to the skin of his chest, slowly waking up himself.

"I love the way you smell," Alex says, the words spoken against his lips. "Like after a rainstorm, but with a hint of motor oil and grease. The rain always makes me think of you."

"Every time it rains?" He knows Alex has mentioned the smell before, made a joke about it that day they'd been investigating at the Long Farm. But no one else has ever said anything, commented on the way he smells before - well, about the grease and motor oil they have, sometimes a comment about how he would smell better if he showered more. But Alex is the only one to mention a rainstorm.

Alex nods, propping himself up on Michael's chest so they can look at one another. Michael reaches up, pushing Alex's hair back off his face, watching as Alex leans into his palm.

"In a way, I was glad it doesn't rain very often in the Middle East. It meant something of you didn't follow me to distract me."

Michael smiles. "I'm a distraction?"

It's the way Alex smiles in return, it's the way he leans forward and pushes their mouths together, pulling Michael's lip between his own. It's the way Michael has his arm wrapped around Alex, his hand resting on his back, slowly moving up and down against his skin. It's the way Alex trails a hand down his chest, fingers dancing across his chest hair as Alex continues kissing him.

Alex wraps a hand around his dick, palm against the sensitive skin, their lips still moving together, and Michael can't stop the gasp that escapes at the sensation. He reaches up, his hand going to the back of Alex's neck, pulling him in and closer, closer, closer as Alex's hand moves. Their foreheads stay pressed together, they breathe the same air as Michael feels his dick harden under Alex's careful motions.

It disappears in the next moment though, Michael opening his eyes just as Alex is pushing up and off his chest. He's about to protest, about to ask what Alex is doing, when Alex straddles his hips.

"Alex," he whines, hands immediately moving to Alex's hips, fingers pressing into the skin and muscle. He watches helplessly as Alex reaches behind himself, a second later feeling Alex's hand on him again, his dick pressing against Alex's hole. He's about to protest, because he would enjoy nothing more this morning than being able to finger Alex open, to hear his particular moans and groans, when Alex pushes down, because Michael is unable to focus on anything except the feeling of tight muscle and heat, and Alex.

Closing his eyes, he gives himself over to the feelings, fingers tightening slightly on Alex's hips before he feels a set of hands on his face. He opens his eyes to see Alex in front of him a moment before their lips collide, their foreheads pushing together. He kisses back, pulling Alex's lip between his own, sucking on it, running his tongue along it. Slowly, Alex starts to move, small gyrations of his hips, and Michael slides his hands down to grab onto the flesh of his ass, urging him, encouraging him, to move faster.

But Alex keeps his dizzyingly slow pace, their lips pressed together, and Michael goes. He gives himself to the heat building low in his belly, the way he can feel his balls tightening. Focuses on Alex's lips against him, Alex's body against his, until he can't take it anymore.

He pushes up, guiding Alex with him, and gently flips their positions on the couch. He pulls Alex's legs up around him, and pushes back into him, sealing their lips back together as he thrusts forward.

"Michael-"

He doesn't answer, not with words, just holds himself above Alex as he chases every feeling that is building up inside him. Michael feels his arm shaking again, they'd done the same thing last night when he'd been overwhelmed by everything happening as he’d held himself up above Alex. Because it's been months upon months since he's had Alex like this. And if he's being honest, also never quite like this. Everything feels better now, he doesn't have the impending sense that when this is done, when they're sated and letting their bodies cool, that it won't mean one of them is planning their escape. Because he's home, and neither of them are leaving now. There was last night and waking up this morning and Michael knows that there is going to be a tonight as well.

A future.

He leans down, pressing his lips to Alex's chest, to the space near his heart where he'd been injured by the crazed bootmaker. Michael slows his thrusts enough to find the scar - small and barely visible but another constant reminder of how close he came to losing Alex forever - and kisses it again. He doesn't know if Alex knows what he's doing, until Alex slides a hand up his neck and into the hair at his nape, guiding him up to kiss him again that Michael thinks he does.

"I'm right here," Alex breathes against his lips, short kisses over and over, their foreheads pressed together tightly. "I got you."

His hips jerk faster, and he feels Alex tighten around him as he spills onto his stomach. Michael presses down towards him, keeping their foreheads pressed together, catching every sound that escapes Alex’s lips. He feels Alex’s hands on his back, gripping his ass, fingers digging into the skin and muscle, urging him on. It doesn’t take much longer before Michael’s own orgasm hits, ripping through him with one final thrust, Alex holding him still as he spills into him. He chokes out an embarrassingly loud moan into Alex’s mouth, overwhelmed by everything he is feeling, before sealing his lips around Alex’s own.

Neither moves right away, and Michael feels Alex’s hands on his back, fingers tracing patterns along the skin as their lips continue to brush together. Gently, he falls forward, his arm no longer caring to support him, and he tucks his face into Alex’s neck, pressing a kiss to the underside of his chin. Alex shifts his arms, one hand moving up to bury itself in his curls, and Michael leans into the touch.

He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to stop touching Alex, not yet. Maybe not ever. But there’s cum cooling on Alex’s chest, and Michael allows himself to be pulled back to the present, that they should probably clean up first.

But it's that thought which has him thinking about last night again, and this morning, and how eventually they're going to get dressed, and they're going to have to face whatever the day brings. But tonight, when it's all said and done - he won't be going back to the junkyard to an empty trailer. No, tonight will be different. Tonight will mark their new beginning, new steps forward in their relationship.

On the coffee table, his cell phone buzzes from where he'd left it last night. Whatever and whoever it is can wait a little longer, he thinks. He has something - someone - more important to take care of first.

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #notso writes fanfic #hope you like this anon <3 #itried.gif

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esamastation · 3 years

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Here's a sneak preview of fic I'm currently working. Working title is Loose Ends and it is post AC 3 and post the original Yu-Gi-Oh Duel Monsters manga and anime. I guess spoilers for both. And Ac Valhalla, a tiny bit.

"You know you have to take care of it."

Desmond hesitates, hand stilling over golden threads of probability, glowing in the grey darkness. He hadn't gone over even a fraction of them yet, and there are probably a million things that need taking care of, now that Juno and Minerva aren't here anymore to literally pull the strings, but… he doesn't need to ask which it they're talking about here.

"I will," Desmond says. "...as soon as I find a way in, I will."

Clay scoffs. "You're not looking very hard."

No, he isn't. He'd been distracted by alternate realities, watching Ezio marry Christina and Altaïr enjoy quiet life with Maria and – and there's just a lot of stuff to look at, to see, to be… vaguely jealous of, sure, but –

"You know that time is still passing out there all linear like, right?" Clay points out. "Abstergo is still looking for Isu tech, and anyone with any ancestral memories about it – if they find out that someone figured out how to make the damn things –"

"Juno blurred those genes," Desmond says a little defensively. "They're literally been hidden from me. And everyone else too, so, even if Abstergo knew about them, which they don't –"

"That's not going to work forever and you know it. Minerva's protections already wore down – as soon as Juno dies, and let's hope it won't take her too long, her manipulations will go too. The genes will become visible again – Animus readable. Like a program, restarting backup after shutdown."

Desmond sighs, unable to argue with that. His hand wavers indecisively, and then he lowers it, shaking his head. "I know – I am still looking for a way in. I just don't have any ancestors in the area at that specific time. Do you?"

"Look harder."

Frowning a little, Desmond lets his shoulders sag a bit before shaking his head and looking at the threads of probability instead, where they rise in front of him into a magnificent glowing tree with infinite branches.

Look harder – look where? Into his ancestry? He has, Desmond is so aware of his lineage that it's a bit uncomfortable – had he missed something…?

"Think about it," Clay says, sounding almost bored now. "Juno wouldn't have wanted to give those memories to you, that data, so it's not in your DNA – but you do have some ancestry in the area, don't you? Even if it's the wrong time, you have ancestry everywhere. And this was thousands of years ago, and with your lineage…"

Yeah. Minerva had collected his genes from all over the world, putting Desmond Miles together like a puzzle. He has a wider spread ancestry than the average… so looking for who he isn't related to is almost easier than the opposite. The data must still be there, though. The Isu are hoarders, when it comes to genetic memories – they wouldn't have let something as big as this just die out. So somewhere there is someone with that connection – someone with afoothold in the right time period…

Concentrating, Desmond gathers the threads of his own lineage – and then dismisses them. There would be no connection there, he can't find this information from within. It would be somewhere else, obscured, hidden… He'd looked at some of the lineages in the area, and none of them connected to the right time or location either. It smacks of Minerva's obfuscation, she'd lead the bloodlines elsewhere probably, hiding them in the distance as well as time...

Something tickles at Desmond's fingers, just for a moment – without thinking of it twice, he wraps his hand around the thread and pulls –

– and gets pulled away with it.

The lineage has protections in place, it turns out – there's a trap. Pulling on that thread tweaks Desmond's own probabilities, and for a while he finds himself in a maze of chances and statistics, all of them leading him wrong. It's incredible – almost physical, like an endlessly folded space of million overlapping staircases and doors leading into more mazes, leading nowhere. Whoever wove it wasn't an Isu, can't have been – it's way too imaginative.

It takes Desmond a bit of manoeuvring to get through even some of it. Luck is on his side, though, even with tweaked probability – the trap isn't active anymore. A bit like Minerva's protection, the maze is unravelling at the edges, because probability isn't an easy thing to tame and it doesn't like to sit idle. Still fascinating, though – definitely a learning experience. If he could learn to weave likelihoods like this –

"Hello?" echoes a voice in the maze of false possibilities, and Desmond freezes. "Is – is someone there?"

… what are the chances of that?

Turning, Desmond finds himself in a sort of hall, surrounded on all sides by stairs and doors – facing a... short asian man with a partially bleached spiky hair. He looks a bit like a punk, with ripped up vest and studded bracelets – there's a belt around his neck and everything. Kinda goth punk. Huh.

"Uh," Desmond says, stunned. Definitely didn't expect that. "Hi…?"

"Hi," the other man says, frowning. "Who are you – how did you get in here?"

"How did I – how did you get in here?" Desmond asks. Desmond at least has the excuse of being a disembodied bundle of genetic data – he can just do that, now. This guy is… not that. "Do you know what this place is?"

The Asian guy frowns, looking at him and then glancing around. "Do you?"

Swallowing the urge to say asked you first, Desmond looks the guy up and down, and then peers inside. Or tries to – and it clicks.

"Oh shoot, this is yours – we're in your head?" Desmond asks and glances around with new appreciation. It's like a – a load screen, an Animus headspace. "Aw man, I'm sorry, I didn't think you might be aware – I thought this was all automated, I wouldn't have just barged in like this if I thought it was all in someone's head."

The Asian punk blinks with surprise and then relaxes a little. "Oh. Well, if it wasn't intentional – and you're not here to harm anything, I guess it's alright?"

"No, no harm intended," Desmond assures. "Sorry – hi, I'm Desmond. Desmond Miles."

"Mutou Yugi – or Yugi Mutou, I guess. Yugi is my given name. It's… nice to meet you?" the punk says and clears his throat, looking him up and down. "Um, how do you end up in someone's Soul Room accidentally?"

Have written 2 chapters currently, aiming for the total of 5 or less.

#Fanfiction #Crossover #assassin's creed #Yugioh

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clusterbuck · 3 years

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wishing, wanting, yours for the taking

(1.8k, rated T, complete. vampire!buck au.) read it on ao3

@911week day 3: "whatever you do, please don't look." + hurt

Eddie sits in the parking lot outside Buck’s apartment for a long time, trying to decide whether or not to go in.

He wouldn’t even have to think about it, most of the time, would just walk right in. He has a key, after all. But their last call had been rough, and Buck had been quiet and withdrawn for the rest of the shift. Eddie had asked if he wanted to come over, but Buck had said he’d needed time alone.

That had set off the first alarm bells.

The next ones had come moments later, when he’d overheard Chimney and Hen talking about the fall Buck had taken, how they could have sworn he’d been impaled on the rebar sticking out of the floor of the abandoned apartment building.

“Trust me, I know my rebar injuries,” Chimney had said, and Hen had elbowed him, the way parents do when their kids say something inappropriate.

But Buck had gotten up and walked out of the building, which isn’t something people tend to do after being impaled by rebar, so Chim and Hen had let it go.

Eddie, however, knows better. At least he thinks he does. He doesn’t know how all of it works, exactly, but there is a very real chance Buck could, actually, be impaled by rebar and walk away. He’s just a little worried about the aftermath.

So now he’s in his truck wrestling with the fact that Buck had wanted to be alone, but every instinct Eddie’s ever had is telling him that he should probably check up on Buck anyway.

He gets out of the car.

Buck’s door is locked, but Eddie lets himself in with his key. None of the lights are on, and he doesn’t see Buck, which must mean he’s upstairs.

Eddie stands in the entryway and listens for a second, but the only sounds are his own breathing and the keys in his hand. He starts up the stairs, calling out for Buck as he goes.

“What—Eddie?” he hears, Buck’s voice somewhere between a mumble and a groan.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Don’t—” Buck says, and groans again, swallowing the rest of whatever that sentence was going to be.

Eddie reaches the top of the stairs and sees Buck in his bed, mostly hidden under a blanket. The sheets look bloody, and there are torn pieces of plastic littering the ground. They’re bloody too.

“Eddie, don’t—” Buck says again, and pulls the blanket further over his head. “Just—whatever you do, please don’t look.”

But Eddie doesn’t turn away. He doesn’t know how to not look at Buck.

Instead, he crosses the room and sits on the bed, somewhere in the vicinity of where Buck’s waist is under the blanket. He reaches for the top of the blanket and tries to pull it down, but Buck’s grip is surprisingly firm for someone who got impaled by rebar less than two hours ago.

Eddie isn’t surprised.

“Buck,” he says, channeling the gentle but firm tone he uses on Christopher when he’s being difficult. “I know you’re hurt. Let me look at you.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t even try it, Buck,” Eddie says, and pulls the blanket back.

Buck doesn’t look good. He’s paler than usual, almost chalky, and his hair is sticking in every direction. There’s blood smeared around his mouth.

“You can’t be here,” Buck mumbles. “I’m—”

“Hurt,” Eddie supplies. “You need help.”

“No, I mean…” Buck trails off and takes a deep breath, then shudders, like it’s hurting him. “I’m—” Either he can’t say it, or he doesn’t want to, because all Buck does is open his mouth and let his fangs slide out.

“A vampire,” Eddie says. “I know. Now will you let me take a look at you?”

But Buck is frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at Eddie. “You—you know?”

“Christopher has been really into the supernatural,” Eddie says, matter-of-fact, as he pulls down the blanket. “I put it together.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You weren’t harming anyone,” Eddie says, and gestures to the torn-up blood bags littering the floor. “I figured you’d tell me in your own time.” He moves Buck’s shirt aside and runs his hands over his torso, searching for the wound. In any other situation he’d be taking his time, cataloguing every inch of skin stretching across Buck’s stomach, but he isn’t clear on exactly how Buck’s healing situation works. He doesn’t know how much time he has.

He finds the wound on Buck’s left side. It looks like the rebar went clean through him, and from the placement, Eddie estimates it might have hit his spleen, maybe the large intestine.

“You’re telling me you got up and walked away after this?” Eddie asks, and he can’t tell if he’s annoyed or impressed.

“I thought it would heal,” Buck says, gasping a little when Eddie probes the exit wound at his back. “And I—ah—I couldn’t risk them taking me to the hospital again. I think they’re starting to get suspicious.”

“Why isn’t it healing?” Eddie asks, running through options in his head. He knows what he’d do if Buck was human, but he’s pretty sure none of that applies here.

“Rebar is steel,” Buck says. “Steel is mostly iron, and iron is a big no-no.”

“Why is that?” Eddie asks, momentarily distracted by the realisation of how much he doesn’t know about Buck and his… condition? Species?

“Can we do the whole walking vampire encyclopaedia bit later?” Buck groans.

“Right, sorry. So… the iron is blocking your natural healing?”

“I think so, yeah.” Buck gestures weakly at the blood bags. “I haven’t fed in a while, so I thought it would help, but…”

“Does the bagged blood usually work?”

“For feeding, yeah, but it’s not as—I don’t know the technical terms, but it’s not as—potent, I guess? They freeze it for storage, I guess that does something.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“What—what are you doing?” Buck asks.

“Is my neck okay? I don’t—I’m not too familiar with vampire lore, but a vein’s a vein, right?” And part of Eddie thinks it should feel weirder, negotiating where to let his vampire best friend drink from him, but—it’s Buck. If there’s something he wouldn’t do for Buck, he hasn’t encountered it yet.

“Eddie, you can’t—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” Eddie says, and he reaches for Buck, helps him sit up and scoots closer so Buck can reach his neck. “You need help, so shut up and let me help you.”

Eddie doesn’t know how to say take me, take all of me, there’s no part of me that isn’t already yours. But this part he can do: he can offer up this part of himself, let his blood heal Buck.

“But—” Buck tries to argue, even as his fangs slide out again, and he leans closer, like he’s drawn in by the beat of Eddie’s pulse beneath his skin.

“But nothing,” Eddie says, and cups the back of Buck’s neck, pulling him closer until Buck is cradled against his chest, his face buried in Eddie’s neck.

There’s a moment where nothing happens, then Eddie feels twin pricks on the skin of his neck, and a strange kind of pressure as the blood starts flowing. Buck’s cool lips against his skin send shivers down his spine, and if he closes his eyes he can imagine Buck’s lips on him in a different situation, one where they’re doing this because they both want to and not because Buck might die otherwise and Eddie is pathetic enough to take advantage of it.

He still has a hand on the back of Buck’s neck and he slides it into Buck’s hair, holding him close. After a moment, Buck starts moving, like life is slowly flowing back into him. He lifts one hand to the other side of Eddie’s neck, and Eddie knows Buck is probably just trying to keep him steady, but there’s something infinitely tender about the way Buck’s fingertips tickle the back of his neck.

Buck’s other hand goes to his waist, his fist clenching in the fabric of his shirt.

It’s more intimate than it has any right to be, for a random Wednesday afternoon in July. It’s not even dark out, and lazy rays of sunlight filter in through the crack in Buck’s curtains.

Eddie wants to live in this moment forever.

Finally, Buck pulls away. There’s fresh blood around his mouth, stark against the dried rust-coloured stains from earlier. He ducks his head, looking away like he’s embarrassed, and before Eddie knows what he’s doing he reaches out and grabs Buck’s chin.

“Don’t go weird on me now,” he murmurs, swiping at some of the blood with his thumb.

“Is this really your threshold for weird?” Buck asks.

“All of this is weird,” Eddie admits. “But—Buck, I came here knowing exactly what you are, and I came to help you anyway. You don’t need to hide it from me, any of it.”

“What am I?” Buck asks, like this is the part of Eddie’s sentence that he’s stuck on.

“You’re Buck,” Eddie says, because in the end, that’s all that matters. “And, okay, I have some questions, but they can wait. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie’s pretty sure that every word he’s saying is telegraphing every single thing he feels, but if Buck picks up on it, he doesn’t say anything. Which is fair, Eddie thinks—Buck’s been through a lot today.

Besides, to the extent that he’s ever planned on telling Buck how he feels, it’s never taken place minutes after he saved Buck’s life. If they ever do have that conversation, Eddie wants to be sure that Buck isn’t being influenced by anything else, like the fact that Eddie knows he’s a vampire, or that Eddie just saved his life.

It’s not that he thinks that conversation is going to happen. Nothing Buck has done has ever suggested it would. But a guy can dream.

Buck is silent, and the longer he doesn’t speak, the heavier the moment grows. Eddie knows what it looks like when Buck is about to spiral over something that isn’t worth spiralling over, so he says the first thing he can think of.

“Okay, I do have one urgent question.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks, and when he looks up he’s a little wary, like he’s worried about what Eddie’s going to ask.

“I saw you take down, like, an entire loaf of garlic bread at the station last week. Shouldn’t that have killed you?”

“God,” Buck grumbles. “Don’t believe everything you read.”

“Wait, you can say god?”

“It’s—” Buck starts, then cuts himself off. “No, you know what, if we’re gonna do Vampire 101, I’m gonna take a shower first.” And Buck’s grumbling, but Eddie sees him smiling as he heads into the bathroom, and he thinks they’re going to be okay.

#911week2021 #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #vampire!buck au #vampire lore is a construct and i literally just picked parts i wanted tbh #shush emma #emma writes

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five-rivers · 3 years

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Face Your Dreams

Almost forgot to post this here as well! @anthropwashere

Phic Phight 2021

Prompt from Anthrop: Any flavor of the Reverse AUs that strike your fancy. Who gets the ghost powers? Who becomes the ghost hunter? Who gets ghost magick'd into the villain of the week?

Danny’s phone was dead. Which was just typical, really. His parents were brilliant, wealthy inventors that played with the fabric of reality on a daily basis and had managed to turn, not one, but two of Danny’s best friends into half ghosts, but they couldn’t be bothered to get Danny a phone that was actually reliable. Although they hadn’t intended to do the half ghost thing and didn’t know about it.

Probably.

Maybe.

(Honestly, Danny didn’t know. His parents were weird. And Danny suspected they were keeping secrets.)

Back on topic. Phone. Not working. Which was a problem because Danny was something like ninety-percent sure a ghost had been following him for the last block or so and he couldn’t call for help.

Correction, he could call for help all he wanted, he just wouldn’t get any that would be any good against a ghost. If he got any at all. It was the middle of the night.

He should have taken up Sam’s offer of a flight home. Or Tucker’s. But, no, he had to be sulky about how both of them were developing yet more really, incredibly cool powers and Danny was still just…

Himself.

Faceless, boring Fenton. Only notable for the number of bullies he attracted and the people he was related to. No special skillset, no dreams he had any hope of achieving, no triumphs. Nothing to contribute. Not in and of himself. Only useful to enemies that wanted a hostage.

He was about to be murdered by a ghost and he was still sulking. God, he was pathetic.

(Not all ghosts were evil – Sam and Tucker’s stories had taught him that much, on an intellectual basis. Was it too much to hope that he could reach home without the ghost attacking? Too much to hope that it was just watching?)

White noise tugged at Danny’s ears. It reminded him of the sleep CD Jazz played when Mom and Dad were being loud.

… and, also, oddly, of a video he’d once watched about what stars might sound like, based on how they vibrated.

Danny shuddered, his heartbeat redoubling as he picked up speed, reaching a run. If he could get home, he could turn on the ghost shield and call Sam and Tucker from his home phone. They’d be annoyed that he was bothering about a ghost so long after a patrol, but he was freaked out enough to not really care about their teasing.

(He’d been freaked out enough for the past two blocks.)

His breath began to catch in his lungs, his side burning. He splashed through a puddle, dark, oily liquid sticking to his right sneaker and pant leg. It glittered in the light of the waning crescent moon.

Wait –

It hadn’t rained for weeks.

He slipped and fell, skinning hands, knees, and chin on the sidewalk. Something wet, sticky, and smooth as silk spread over the pavement beneath him. It bubbled like a tar pit, and captive stars shone from within.

Danny tried to push himself up, but the liquid held on to him, pulled him back down.

He was sinking.

He flailed for the sidewalk, reaching, trying to stay afloat. It didn’t work. His elbows were below the level of the sidewalk, and inky, glittery black dripped from his front. It seemed to be eating through his clothes.

Forget useful help. He’d take any help. He screamed.

And he fell.

“You have such lovely dreams,” said the masked man, his horns curling into galaxies. “Impossible dreams.”

Danny couldn’t breathe. He was in freefall. A vacuum. No ground in sight, only the cold, heartless stars, perfect in their beauty.

(And his eyes. Oh, god, was this really a ghost?)

It was his dream, to be an astronaut. With this little twist, it became a nightmare, and yet—

Yet.

“You feel faceless,” continued the masked man. “But there’s freedom in that, is there not?”

Danny shouldn’t be able to hear him. There shouldn’t be any sound in space, and there wasn’t. Not except for his voice.

“Freedom,” said the man, “to follow your wildest dreams, unshackled from responsibility, from reality, from reasonability. No longer dependent on those that call themselves your friends, who claim to be your family, who walk over your dreams for the sake of theirs.”

Suddenly, Danny hit the sidewalk, and he could breathe again. Something thick dripped from his nose, his mouth, his eyes. He pushed himself to his hands and knees. His clothing was gone. His limbs were painted with the night sky in all its glory. He froze, staring.

From Danny’s shadow, the masked man rose, towering over Danny until he felt like little more than a shadow. “Don’t you want to have the chance to see your dreams come true, child?”

Danny blinked. It was hard to force his eyes back open. They seemed to want to stick closed.

“Who are you?” Danny asked, words garbled by the dripping stars trying to force their way past his lips.

“I am Nocturne,” the ghost said, leaning closer.

“You’re like,” Danny choked, “like Desiree. I don’t want—”

Nocturne scoffed. “Desiree. A creature of wishes, of momentary things. I do not care for what you wish for. What matters is that you dream.”

There was something in Nocturne’s hand, round and white and moonlike. It looked small, held between two of his fingers, but it had to be the size of Danny’s face.

“Don’t you dream of flying?” purred Nocturne. “Of being among the stars? Don’t you dream of a peaceful world, where your friends are safe, and the accident never happened? Where you’re a friend, not a weapon supply, a sidekick, or a damsel in distress?”

Danny had been thinking something so close just minutes ago and he couldn’t—

“There, there, my child. No need to cry.” He brought the round thing closer.

Danny could see, now, that it was a mask. Just his size.

“Close your eyes,” said Nocturne, gently, cupping Danny’s trembling shoulders with his other hand. “Close your eyes and dream. Let your face go, for a little while.”

(Danny did as he was told.)

“Hi, Sam,” said Mrs. Fenton, her voice crackling slightly through the phone speaker. “Have you seen Danny today?”

“I haven’t seen him since last n—Since yesterday,” said Sam, correcting herself halfway though. Mrs. Fenton didn’t know about their nightly escapades, and for good reason. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know yet,” said Maddie. “He just… I haven’t seen him either. He usually says goodbye before he leaves.”

He didn’t, but Maddie didn’t need to know that.

“Have you checked with Tucker yet? Sometimes they hang out without me. Guy things.” This… was also not entirely true. Danny and Tucker hadn’t had a ‘guy thing’ for ages. They’d been smoothly replaced with ‘ghost things’ like most everything else in their lives.

Sam… might have felt a little bad about that. All of their normal friend activities being replaced by ghost things, that is. Often ghost things that Danny couldn’t really participate in, because Danny couldn’t fly or shoot lasers from his hands.

He did do a good job of setting up obstacle courses and covering for her and Tucker’s—

Wait, no, not the point.

“He hasn’t seen him, either. Jazz doesn’t know where he is. I don’t—” She broke off, sighing. “Call me if you see him. Or tell him to call me.”

“I will,” said Sam, opening the window and preparing to take off.

“Thank you,” said Maddie. She hung up.

Sam went ghost with a burst of green fire. She floated up and out of the window, fading out of visibility as she dialed Tucker’s number.

“Starboy’s missing,” she said.

“Yeah, I’m already searching for him,” said Tucker, the microphone crackling with static but otherwise clear. Tucker’s powers both did and didn’t mesh well with technology.

“Any luck?”

“No,” said Tucker. “This is one of those times when I wish he did have friends other than us. Then we could ask them about where he is.”

“Do you think he’s been taken by a ghost?” asked Sam.

“I mean, maybe? There was that whole thing with Desiree…”

“And the second thing with Desiree,” added Sam.

“And Skulker.”

“And the second thing with Skulker.”

“And Spectra.”

“And the second thing with Spectra.”

“Not to mention Vlad.”

“What a freak,” said Sam.

“Are you picking up a pattern here?”

“Yeah, maybe. Who’s only kidnapped Danny once?”

“I’m not sure… Maybe it’s a new guy? We do get new guys now and again.”

Sam sighed. “Never mind that,” she said. “Where have you looked so far?”

“Not too many places. Do you want to meet up, or…?”

“No, we’ll have more luck going separately. I’ll check in with you in a bit.”

A whole day passed without any sign of Danny. They did, however, find a lot of ghosts with stitched-shut eyes, which they decided was probably related and also incredibly creepy.

By that time, the police got involved. Danny was officially a missing person.

But they were distracted. Didn’t have the manpower to search for just one missing person.

Why?

The sudden surge in coma patients.

“I don’t get it,” said Tucker. “Is that more of a, you know,” he lowered his voice, “doctor thing? Like, if it’s a bunch of people, don’t you think it’s a disease or something?”

“The police think that someone poisoned ‘em,” said Sam.

“How do you know that?”

“How do you think I know that?”

“Dude. You have to stop eavesdropping on the police. I’m, like, ninety percent sure that’s illegal.”

“Not for ghosts, it isn’t.”

“Okay, I’m one hundred percent sure it is. You’ve read the anti-ecto acts, haven’t you? I’m not the only one who did that, right?”

“It was, like, fifty pages thick. And stupid. The only reason I’d read it would be if I wanted to break the laws more efficiently.”

“Seriously?”

An alien world spread out below Danny, a place to explore to his heart’s content, the sky twinkling above him. He couldn’t see it, but he knew it was there, in the nameless, infinite way you knew things when you were dreaming.

He was an astronaut. An adventurer. An explorer.

He was doing everything he had ever dreamed of.

The only thing missing were the people. His friends. His family.

But… He could bring them here. He knew that, too, in the same way.

He just had to reach out and touch them. Feel them. Take them.

(A bit of black and starlight in their eyes, a touch of the gift given to him.)

(Nocturne whispered in his ears. A song only for him.)

They found the ghost responsible for the comas. And maybe they should have realized a ghost was causing them, but Danny was the one who usually put the pieces together, and he wasn’t there. Which was the problem.

(What Sam wouldn’t give for some kind of reliable ghost-detecting power. Or even technology.)

(No, the Fenton Finder didn’t count.)

It was small, human proportions, human skin tone, where it wasn’t covered with some kind of ghostly paint that mimicked the night sky. Its hair was colored the same way, and a blank mask covered its face. Seemed to be directing the green stitched-eye ghosts somehow, despite not saying a word. So. All in all, typical ghost, if somewhat more annoying due to his lack of witty banter.

Then he shrugged off the thermos beam like it was nothing. Almost like he was human.

Then Tucker froze.

The ghost was carried away from the fight by its minions, faster than Sam or Tucker could go.

“Tucker! What was that?”

“Birthmark,” gasped Tucker.

“What?” asked Sam.

“That was Danny’s birthmark.”

“Oh my god,” said Sam. “Did he really get himself transformed into a ghost again?”

“This seems different than Desiree,” said Tucker. “I don’t… Were we really fighting him?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Let’s go get the Ghost Catcher.”

The Ghost Catcher was not in evidence in the Fenton basement.

“What now?” asked Tucker.

“Beat it out of him?” suggested Sam.

“That is a terrible plan. No, I can’t even call it a plan. It’s just bad.”

“Do you have anything better?”

(Tucker did not have anything better.)

(And Danny still couldn’t find his friends, to show them this dream come true.)

When about one in ten people in Amity Park was in a coma, things managed to get even worse. The people who were asleep began to sleepwalk. And sleep attack people.

Sam and Tucker were used to fighting ghosts. Not humans. They didn’t want to hurt anyone.

Especially Danny who was especially vicious. And also seemed to be targeting them.

Danny was so close. So close he could almost touch them. He could feel them, electricity and green things and dreams of power and justice. He could feel them, feel them, feel them, and he was so, so close to inviting them into the dream and he needed it, needed them. Wanted them.

His dream, the dream, his dream, it just wouldn’t be complete without them at his side, wouldn’t be right.

He reached for them, reached for Sam, brushed her sleeve and—

A meteor shower threw them apart.

Tucker dragged Sam away from Danny’s hand and the sleep-inducing liquid it was coated in.

“We have to go,” he gasped, looking out at the veritable horde of ghosts and sleepwalking humans.

“Yeah,” said Sam. “Yeah, we have to – Have to regroup.”

They retreated to the Ghost Zone, and, predictably, were separated.

The ghost’s name was Undergrowth, and he was interested in Sam. Interested enough to offer to teach her.

His power was the same as hers. Nature. Plants.

His rage against humans was… much greater. Overwhelming. Too much, too far, to extreme. She was glad he didn’t see her as human, didn’t seem to know that she wanted to protect humans.

(That she wanted to save Danny.)

Tucker already knew Technus. Had met him, fought him, beat him. More than once, even.

So, he had to ask why Technus was suddenly helping him.

The ghost fixed Tucker with a look that managed to be both incredulous and flat.

“Ghost child,” warbled Technus, “I, Technus, Master of All Things Electronic and Beeping, know what being electrocuted feels like! By the very power we both now wield!”

“Oh,” said Tucker. “Yeah, that makes sense. You were saying?”

Sam and Tucker stood in front of the portal, side by side.

“Ready to be a wake-up call?” asked Tucker.

“You’d better believe it,” said Sam.

Danny was caught, trapped in Sam’s vines.

“This isn’t working,” said Tucker, lightly shocking Danny once again. The ectoblast didn’t help, either. “Usually, this’d zap the ghost out of him, but…”

“Maybe we could try to overshadow him?” asked Sam, dubiously.

“Ugh,” said Tucker. “My least favorite power.”

“It could be the only way to find the ghost actually responsible.”

“Let’s do this.”

Danny was thrilled! He’d finally found his friends. True, he couldn’t move, but—

The stars shuddered. Shifted. Blinked.

Nocturne was angry.

Sam was knocked out of the sky at full speed, making a crater in the dark ground. People were gathered nearby. Amity Park people.

This couldn’t just be the inside of Danny’s mind (overshadowing had never worked this way before, but, well, it wasn’t like they experimented with it a whole lot), it had to be some kind of shared dream. A special power of the ghost, perhaps?

Sam fired up her powers, reaching for the nearby plants. They didn’t respond.

Crud.

This was a dream. They just looked like plants.

Then Tucker lit up the sky like a dying star, electrocuting everyone in range.

Danny woke up, throwing Sam and Tucker out of his body, something metallic clanging against sidewalk pavement. Out of his mind, out of his dream. Out of that dream, the one Nocturne had made for him.

Oh, god. He’d just spent the last week—Had it been a week, or longer? —out of his mind, in that dream, reality at one remove, if that. He’d been blind and—

He reached up to his face, to that mask and he pulled. It stuck. He pulled harder, and felt the goo sticking it on give, the mask coming away while dripping thick strands of ooze. He gasped. And it felt like the first breath he’d taken in—

How long had it been?

He opened his eyes just in time to see Nocturne rise out of his shadow.

Both Sam and Tucker had more of an advantage out here in the real world, without having to worry about hurting people. Well, without having to worry about hurting people more than usual. Wrecking buildings and missing with ectoblasts were still concerns.

“Draw him towards the park?” called Tucker, once they got close enough to confer with each other.

“You grab Danny?”

“I don’t—” started Tucker. He dodged a swipe from the large, starry ghost. “He might be safer, if—”

A column of blue light strobed into the sky, and Nocturne was pulled into the Fenton Thermos. The Fenton Thermos held by Danny Fenton. He coughed, black liquid dripping down his chin.

“Hey,” said Danny. “Thanks.”

“I’ve got to stop losing that thing,” groaned Tucker.

“I think the more important thing here is getting Danny some clothes,” said Sam, shielding her eyes.

“Yes, please,” said Danny.

“Glad to have you back, man,” said Danny, landing next to Danny and transforming. “Honestly, without you, we kind of suck at the whole investigation angle.”

“What?” asked Danny, taking the sweater Tucker offered him.

“We missed you,” clarified Sam. “A lot. We kind of… don’t do to well at anything about ghost fighting. Or life.”

“Yeah, our social life sucked even more than usual.”

“Oh,” said Danny, wrapping the sweater around his waist. “That’s cool.” He spit some of the black liquid out onto the sidewalk. “I need a shower.”

“Yep. Hugs are going to be deferred until then.”

“I’m okay with that,” said Danny. “I kind of… don’t want to be touched, for a while.”

“Ah,” said Tucker. “Well. I’m depressed again.”

“Just. Until the shower,” said Danny.

Sam reached out as if to pat Danny on the shoulder, then drew back. “Do you want a flight back home? Or to, uh, Tucker’s house? To shower. And get some clothes.”

“How is that different from a hug? You’ll still have to carry me.”

“It just is,” said Sam.

“It really is,” said Tucker.

There was a long pause.

“I lied, I want a hug so bad,” said Danny.

His friends practically flung themselves at him.

#Danny Phantom #phic phight #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #nocturne #reverse trio #void!danny

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facepalming-since-chernobyl · 3 years

Text

Beard analyzing anon here, bow to me and my awesome power!

I called it, this time and I called it last time that he’d return for the 100th episode judging from David’s “watch this space” and the Legacies beard and the MOTU beard and beards do not lie, people, and I can see what they say! I have the gift of prophecy* and you should all bow to me and my infinite knowledge**, bwahahaha!

*okay, it’s not prophecy, just logical thinking based on facts*

**been watching too much Stargate SG-1, excuse me**

In all seriousness, this development came about on a day when I got absolutely slammed at work so I haven’t had full time to read/digest everything. I said some things already, but here are my thoughts on what probably happened if anyone cares but more importantly why I really do think this means karamel endgame:

My guess is based on everything we’ve heard and the rumors: they wanted Chris to return for season 4 but he didn’t want to stick around, for whatever reason I won’t speculate. So they said to him, okay, fine, but he had to be open to being written back into the show for an appearance and karamel endgame toward the end. Notice they undid his death in the episode with Reign, laid the groundwork to show how much he still means to Kara and vice versa in episode 100, etc. And yes, they didn’t mention him much in s4 but to be honest, I think just wanted to give some time because maybe they hoped the supercraps would finally simmer down a bit (fat chance) and they were biding time till they could bring him back and they did mention him, though in a very poorly-written line.

Then they test the waters with episode 100’s return and the majority of sane fans loved it. So they proceeded with their plan to give karamel endgame in the finale and meantime distracted everyone with Dull Reporter Dude who was never meant to be endgame, but rather, was supposed to be the Pete Shanahan of this story (hillshollow will get this reference but for non-Stargate SG-1 fans, basically means the dull and completely ordinary guy very ill-fitting for a superhero to marry but she’s desperate to make it work because she doesn’t want to admit she’s in love with someone else). So they keep DRD around but keep throwing out stories showing how Kara will never be herself around him and he’s not a serious contender for endgame. Plus - cue the Sweet Home Alabama theme - she gave away her heart a long ago [to Mon El], and she never got it back.

Hence them returning Mon El for karamel endgame in the finale. I really think the evidence is rock-solid for this to happen: they wouldn’t bring back a serious love interest who Kara said “I LOVE YOU” to just randomly, finale or not. They wouldn’t unless they plan to make them be together for good. Yes, you can argue that James is back but we all know James was never a serious love interest and they never loved each other, he really was nothing more than a puppy crush when Kara was still searching for herself, her identity, the real love of her life who is not only a hero in his own right but can stand alongside her like equals. And thus far, the only one we’ve seen who fits that bill is Mon El. (Just like the only one who could ever be on equal footing in SG-1 with Samantha Carter was Jack O'Neill, the head of SG-1, the man who fought alongside her for years and understood her life and her world unlike all the love interests she had throughout the show.)

So you heard it here first and this time you might even believe me: KARAMEL ENDGAME INCOMING, BITCHES!!!!! XD

Assorted thoughts I already shared today:

1) I do think the funeral is Papa Zor-El’s most likely, sorry. I thought maybe it could be Dull Reporter Dude but it makes no sense to have Mon El or Winn there for it, they never knew him and I would guess his family wouldn’t want randos who didn’t even know him at his funeral.

2) I don’t think melwood is going to stay in Vancouver so my guess is any special appearances or crossovers they make with S&L will be few and very far in between if any at all.

Anyone else see any concrete evidence for karamel endgame, feel free to pipe in here. On a closing note, I would say something about supercraps, but they don’t deserve any more of my time or my headspace, so screw that.

A standing ovation, please:

I agree? Totally. I think a lot of us, more or less, had and have similar thoughts. Just we keep in mind that we talk about the SG writers who love to screw everything, not only ships, but generally speaking - EVERYTHING.

But yeah, it makes sense. I don’t think that the pandemia screwed Dullara that much,because he could have been developed outisde of Kara and their so called relationship, and he was not.

1)The funeral is William’s, it looks like. Staz was not in that scene also Lobotomzier is founding some journalistic school with his name, so it probably means he is dead. I think Legion could have come for another mission, William died and they stayed for teh funeral to support Kara and the rest superfriends.

It’s not Zor El. Papa Zor is with Alura on Argo. End of story.

2)Yeah, they have a house in CA and there is nothing that will keep them there after finishing shooting.

Bitch, don’t force me to start watching SG-1, I have other things to do =____________=’

@hillshollow @peggystormborn @raisedbyfandomwolves @madeunmexico @chelseaellie @adazzlingsakura @msclockwatcher @i-am-aci01 you may find in interesting :D

#submission #karamel #spoilers #s6 #beard kickass anon

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 3 years

Note

I know you guys are always swamped with requests and asks but can you do more vinca fics or hc fluff or smut plz? I feel like Vinca is a underrated character other than waiting till the day she gets a route

Pairing with: Vinca realizing she had fallen in love with SWM MC when Yvette asked her about MC

Yvette smugly tells Vinca that the latter totally has romantic feelings for mc. Pride continues to deny it until got kicked of home out cuz Greed want her to go to the bike shop to confess to mc 👀👀👀

Vinca taking care of MC sick?

...

Written by @an-awkward-ghost

“You seem excited for tonight’s show, Vinca.”

“When aren’t I?”

“No, I mean… more than usual.”

Vinca’s eyes flick upwards, instantly wary when she sees Yvette’s lopsided smirk, the one she gets when she’s planning something that will ultimately unveil in pure chaos she can smugly observe from afar with amusement.

She pauses the videogame she’s playing, squinting at her best friend.

“Out with it, Yvette.”

She looks down at her gloved nails with false nonchalance. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You don’t get to play that game with me. Be direct.”

“I have nothing interesting to say, Vinca.” A small shrug, which tells Vinca she definitely has something interesting to say. “I just think you should know MC just texted me. She can’t make it to the show tonight.”

There are several things wrong with that statement. Vinca narrows her eyes without realizing, hand snapping up towards her phone before she catches herself. There’s a sudden, strange, burning feeling in the pit of her stomach that makes it hard to think clearly.

“Why?” Slips out of her like a bullet. She freezes for a split-second, and then adds, perhaps a bit too hastily. “Pff, I knew she was bluffing when she said she could endure whatever I threw at her during the show.”

Yvette’s smirk remains in place. “There’s always next time.”

“If she couldn’t gather enough courage for this one, I don’t have much faith in the next one.”

“Then again, the act you had planned for tonight was specifically for her. If the guest of honor won’t show up, I’d say there’s not much sense in your part of the show for tonight.”

Vinca blinks at her. “Someone else can volunteer-”

“But it wouldn’t be the same, would it? You want that act to be for her and her alone.”

“…The pipsqueak is hardly that important, you know. I didn’t plan that act only for her.” Except Vinca had pictured MC’s face under the spotlight, expression fierce and defiant, spirit blazing and unwavering despite the hundreds of eyes that would be on her. Her eyes would be fixed on Vinca’s, tracking every little movement with a concentration that would make a hunter jealous. She had been looking forward to the banter that would spark between them with the same energy of a crazed storm, something Vinca couldn’t get enough of.

She hadn’t even considered the act with anyone else, and when she tries to imagine, everything falls apart. There’s no point. No excitement. The volunteer would be a jittery mess and Vinca wouldn’t get anything out of it. It’d be plain boring, because it wouldn’t be MC standing on stage.

The entire show would be plain boring. It wouldn’t be the same without MC watching. Vinca had expected to spend quite some time with her, too, after the show, ready to mock MC’s inevitable failure in the act despite the fight she would give her.

Yvette didn’t need to know that.

“I can still do my part of the show.” Vinca says, shoving her thoughts aside. Despite being the one with the mind-reading abilities, Yvette could be unnervingly sharp when she wanted to, and Vinca preferred not giving her anything to work with. “I have plenty of acts to work with.”

Yvette pauses. Gives her a pointed glance from her side of the couch when Vinca resumes her game, obviously considering the conversation over.

“You can take the night off. Lazareth and I can handle the show just fine.”

Vinca huffs. “You aren’t trying to kick me out, are you? Besides, what the heck would I do for the night? I’d just bore myself to death here. There won’t be anything interesting to watch on TV.” The casino wouldn’t even offer a great distraction anyways, since Vinca would just be too stuck on the ‘could have been’ to properly enjoy it.

Yvette’s glance turns into a full-blown stare.

“What?”

“You won’t stay here.”

“Oh yeah, sure, kick me out of our house just like you kick me out of the show, no hard feelings-” Vinca pauses, suddenly realizing where this is going. “You want me to go see the pipsqueak?” She pauses the game, suddenly grinning as a plethora of ideas come to her mind. “Of course! I can go mock her for chickening out! Oh, it’ll be glorious-”

“You’re excited again.” Yvette notices, as if it’s a world-changing observation.

“I mean. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh yes.” Yvette’s smirk turns predatory. “Why wouldn’t you be excited to see your crush?”

Vinca stares at her. Yvette’s words don’t click right away, because the idea seems too ludicrous and definitely not the right thing someone as sharp as Yvette should come up with. But the clock ticks away in the background and Yvette’s expression remains unchanged, and Vinca feels like she should rectify this horrible misunderstanding before it gets out of control, because honestly, falling in love with the pipsqueak of all people?

Vinca snorts. She has better tastes than that.

“Uh, hello? This is MC we are talking about. The girl who crashed her bike during my shoot and forced us to do the whole thing over again? The girl who can’t take two steps without breaking something? A rock has better fashion sense and finesse than she ever could. That girl?”

“Yes, the girl you are always visiting.”

“That’s only because she gets in so much trouble. You’ve seen it, she attracts demons left and right.”

“The girl you’re always talking about during dinner.”

“C’mon, I always let you vent when someone gets on your nerves, why can’t I do the same?”

“The girl who you know wouldn’t cancel something like this without good reason.”

That makes Vinca pause, because it’s true. The whole reason Vinca had even gotten the idea for the act was because she knew MC was up to the challenge. That she would rather give up a limp than back out and give Vinca the satisfaction of winning.

That burning feeling was back. Vinca swallows.

“Is she okay?”

If something had happened, why hadn’t she told Vinca? Why did she text Yvette instead? Did she think Yvette cared more than Vinca did? Why would she-

“Nothing plenty of rest can’t fix.” All hints of smugness are gone. Yvette’s expression is carefully neutral, her voice gentle. “But you should go see her, if you’re worried.”

“…Thank you for telling me, even if you were annoyingly slow about it.” Vinca says, half-way to the door before Yvette can finish speaking. “I just- want her to be in the show, is all. I’m not doing this any other reason.”

“Sure.” The faint amusement Vinca can detect in her response makes Vinca huff and quicken her pace.

…

She knows something is wrong when she enters the shop and sees Joyce on the counter, chatting with a costumer. MC usually takes the morning shift on Thursdays.

She’s tempted to fish around Joyce’s mind for an answer, but the idea makes her uncomfortable, just like reading Yvette and Lazareth’s minds made her feel. She blinks, equally parts annoyed and surprised. Since when had she begun to care about other people’s privacy? Was it just because Joyce was MC’s mom? Joyce wouldn’t even know if Vinca read her mind, and their relationship was rocky enough that it wouldn’t surprise her if Joyce flat out refused to tell her what was going on.

…so it would make it all the more special if she did tell her on her own volition. Not that Vinca hoped she would.

“Vinca.” Greets the older woman, voice less warm than it had been a second ago.

“Miss.” Is all she says in return, meeting Joyce’s gaze in kind, refusing to back down.

“You’re not here to buy a bike, are you.” It’s not a question. She almost looks resigned. When Vinca shakes her head, she pauses for a second, like she’s mulling something over. She lets out a long sigh. “Fine. Go on upstairs.”

Vinca blinks. She hadn’t been expecting this to be so easy. It usually wasn’t. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Joyce narrows her eyes and gives her another look. Her stern expression melts into a small smile. “It took me a while, but I can see you care about her. Go. Her room is down the hall.”

Vinca shuffles awkwardly, not sure how to process this new development. She nods mutely, infinitely grateful, and makes her way upstairs. She still doesn’t know what was up with MC, but if Joyce didn’t look overly worried, it was probably nothing too serious.

She frowns again, deeply bothered by the fact that MC hadn’t texted her. She’s in front of the door to the apartment in less than a second, emboldened by her need of answers and growing concern.

She goes in without knocking.

MC’s head snaps towards her, so startled that she loses her grip on her phone. It falls and bounces on floor with a dull thud, cat videos on full display for the world to see. Vinca smirks.

“What… Vinca?!” She splutters. Her expression is pure gold, all wide eyes and open mouth. Vinca doesn’t get to admire it for long, instantly distracted by her pale, miserable complexion. There are dark circles under her eyes, like she couldn’t sleep well, and her voice sounded wrong, as if she were holding her hand over her nose. “What the heck are you-?”

“Shut up, pipsqueak.” Vinca hisses, leaning down to retrieve the phone. Her eyes roam over MC’s body, taking in the sweat on her skin, the way she’s shivering. “You’re sick. You should be in bed.” Her eyes shift to the pot in MC’s hands, and she instantly reaches out to take it. “Let me take care of that.”

“No!” MC takes a step back, glaring. “Why are you even here? I can take care of myself just fine.”

“You’ll just get worse. Look at you, you can barely stand.”

“Don’t exaggerate, I can-”

Vinca pokes her directly in the chest and watches her flail around, trying to recover her balance. She steadies her with a pointed glare.

“You were saying?”

“That’s… I wasn’t…”

“Go back to bed, I’ll make you something.”

MC freezes under her hands, looking up at her warily.

“What? Are you deaf now, too?”

It feels natural to offer this. It’s something Vinca would do for her friends and sister in a heartbeat, without really thinking about it. Only when MC continues to stare does she realize what just happened.

When had she begun to care so much for her, anyway?

“I mean. I-if I want you to recover for the next show, I need to…” She trails off, feeling stupider by the second.

MC’s lips curl into an amused smile. It’s so similar to the one Yvette gave her earlier that Vinca instantly looks away, annoyed. They usually only smile like that when they know – or think they know – something Vinca doesn’t.

“Need to make sure you… don’t do anything stupid. It’s a cold day. You should be in bed.”

“You won’t poison it, will you?” MC says.

“If you keep bothering me, I will. I’d be doing the world a favor, anyway.”

“Maybe I should stay. I’ll go quicker if we both-”

Vinca grabs her by the wrist and drags her down the hallway before she can finish, ignoring her protests. She needs some time alone to process everything, anyway, and MC would just make everything worse. As per usual.

“Rest.” She barks, all but closing the door in MC’s face. She hopes she shoved her in the right room.

The next half-hour goes by in a blur, but it’s enough time to ponder the strange effect MC has on her. She doesn’t know how, she doesn’t know when, but MC had become someone important to her. Almost as important as Yvette and Lazareth were, just in a different way. There was something else there. Something that made her yearn for presence, for her witty responses, for the way her eyes sparkled, for the way she laughed. The sound has been with Vinca for ages, stuck in her head, refusing to come out.

And now here she is, skipping both the show and whatever lame thing would be on TV at this hour, just because MC was sick and Vinca cared too much.

Vinca scowls down at the soup. Swears loudly.

Vinca’s tastes must be shit, because she definitely is in love with this insufferable pipsqueak. And that’s another thing Yvette – or anyone, for that matter – didn’t need to know.

#unlady-like-12-25-36 #answered #lovestruck #sin with me #lovestruck sin with me #vinca wren #vinca x mc #lovestruck vinca #swm vinca #fluff #sporadic sunday

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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years

Note

can you do some rowaelin content based on invisible string by Taylor? pretty please

I love TS!!! Invisible String is so pretty and I had the perfect idea for it immediately. The whole bracelet thing was a real thing where I grew up, so it was nice to write about it. Enjoy!

Invisible string

May 1993

Aelin didn’t believe in love at first sight, but the first time she saw Rowan Whitethorn, she wanted to.

She had barely turned fifteen, just two days before, when she saw him for the first time. Then, she didn’t know his name, his age or anything about him, but she wanted to.

She was sitting down on a shaded spot on the green grass. Lysandra and Elide had dragged her to the park in the morning to watch the early Beltane commemorations. Every year on Beltane day, the kids were provided a series of games and prizes in the Centennial Park, and at night the adults would come, light up the fires and dance until the sun shone in the sky once more. Aelin loved Beltane, it was her holiday. Her family used to joke that it made sense that a girl that had so much wildfire inside of her had been born so close to Beltane.

Her spot in the grass gave her a direct view into the yogurt shop on the other side of the park. And there, standing in a ridiculous pink-and-blue apron and white hat, was the silver headed guy she couldn’t stop staring.

“You know who’s the guy working at Emrys’s?” She nudged Lysandra with her elbow, and her friend sat up and looked to where Aelin was jerking her chin.

“The silver headed?” Lys asked, her nose scrunching up. “Rowan Whitethorn. He’s in your cousin’s class, turning seventeen in a few months, I think.”

“Hum.”

“Oh, no. I know that look. Whitethorn is bad news, Ace. Stay away from him.” Lys warned and Elide nodded from where she was laying down.

She nodded vaguely, but her eyes didn’t leave Rowan. Even for his age, he was already tall and toned. His teal shirt was rolled back at the sleeves to reveal a tattoo sneaking up his arm from his wrist. He was completely serious, not smiling at one costumer and seeming infinitely bored.

Rowan Whitethorn looked like bad news, and Aelin was attracted to it like a moth to the flame.

However, she didn’t go up to him. At that time, as much daring as she was, she still possessed that teenage natural shyness, and talking to a boy two years older than her who looked like he wanted to smash everyone’s skulls wasn’t really her area of expertise. She watched him every now and then, though. The morning ended, giving away to a hot afternoon. At some point, a few kids started running around with buckets, giving away little strings to everyone.

“It grants you a wish.” The little boy told her when he stopped by her tree. “You tie it around your wrist and when it falls down naturally, you can make a wish and it comes true.”

“Oh, really?” Elide, always the nicest one of their trio, asked sounding genuinely interested.

“Yes. Anything you wish becomes true. Sometimes it falls after days, sometimes it takes years, my daddy told me. But it falls eventually and you get a wish.” The boy sounded extremely excited. Aelin guesses that being eight and going around giving magical strings did that to a kid.

“I’ll take one, then. Who doesn’t want a wish, right?” Elide said and the little boy nodded eagerly, handing her a purple string.

“I’ll take one too, of course.” Lysandra smiled, receiving a green string and tying it around her ankle.

When the little boy turned to Aelin, she grinned at him. “I wouldn’t waste the opportunity of having a wish come true, would I?”

The boy smiled back at her, giving her the only gold string inside his bucket. He was running off to the next group of people before she could even thank him. She laughed under her breath, starting to tie it around her wrist. As she gave it the final knot, she looked back at the yogurt shop. Rowan had, surprisingly, also accepted a string from a little girl. He gave her a little smile as he knelt near her, and when she sauntered off, his eyes roamed around the park, stopping on her.

Aelin thought she was mistaken, that in no way in hell he was staring at her, but as Rowan finished tying his string, he raised his wrist and winked.

Aelin could only stare at the equally golden string on his wrist.

———————————

October 1996

Rowan was celebrating his twentieth birthday just the way he planned: getting drunk.

He and his friends had been planning this trip to Los Angeles for months now, and they had ditched a whole week in the university to do it . It was completely worth it, though. They had spent the last three days doing fucking nothing other than drinking and playing some shitty videogame. Rowan had watched Fenrys flirt with every woman that talked to him, watched Lorcan and Aedion scowling and Connall and Vaughan acting like the loving couple they always were.

Things were normal and they were good.

“Man, how the fuck did you find this restaurant?” Fenrys muttered, taking a sip of his beer. Rowan had to agree, the pub’s entrance was almost unnoticeable, and if it wasn’t for Aedion, they would have never found it.

The food was great, the drinks were great and whoever was in charge of the playlist had impeccable taste. Rowan couldn’t think of a better place to spend his birthday.

Aedion scoffed, putting his phone down. “I didn’t find shit. My cousin has been to LA a thousand times and pestered me about coming here. She said, and I quote, that it was her favorite pub in LA, that the food was divine, the beer didn’t taste like piss and, even if the two latter statements weren’t true, the amazing music makes up for it.”

“You are Aelin’s cousin!” The waitress exclaimed, a heavy Scottish accent making the words roll out of her tongue. She must have heard what Aedion was saying when she was walking back to their table to ask if they wanted anything else. “You have her face, and I’ve heard her say those words every time she visited us. Lovely girl, wicked smart, too. Tricked poor Rolfe into letting her buy beer at the age of seventeen! We all though she was twenty two until she was tipsy enough to reveal the truth.”

Aedion grinned. “Sounds exactly like my cousin.”

The waitress laughed out loud, looking at the rest of them. For some reason, her eyes stopped at Rowan. “Beautiful girl, isn’t she? Gets prettier every time she comes by. Looks like one of those American singers.”

He smiled politely at her, but didn’t answer. Rowan had never spoken to Aedion’s cousin. Actually, he had only seen her once.

Rowan looked down at the worn string on his wrist. All his friends had lost theirs already, but Rowan’s was still standing strong. He didn’t believe in any of that bullshit, but he had to admit he had grown fond of the soft scrapping the string gave him. The mention of Aelin and the vision of the golden string only helped him remember the only time he had seen her. It had been Beltane little over three years ago, he was just sixteen and working with yogurt because he really needed the money.

He would have never wore a blue-and-pink apron otherwise.

The day was terribly hot, and Rowan hated interacting with people. Hated small talk and it looked like every person that came by decided that they didn’t want only yogurt, but also a five minute talk with him.

Absolute fucking torture.

When the kids had come around with the strings, it was the first time Rowan wasn’t pissed at the need to talk to someone. The kid had been lovely; a little girl explaining how he would be granted a wish if he wore the string and let it fall naturally. She grabbed the only golden one inside her bucket, running away as Rowan tied it on his wrist.

He looked around mindlessly, but his gaze stopped on a golden haired woman looking at him. Being so far away, Rowan couldn’t identify who she was exactly, but there was something familiar about her. And even from afar he knew that the girl was drop dead gorgeous.

And then he noticed the golden string on her wrist. If it was any other color it might have been something he would have missed it, but the golden thing caught in the light and shined, just like the one on his own wrist. Rowan never understood why he did it, but he raised his wrist to how her his string and winked at her.

Later he discovered why she had looked familiar. She was his best friend’s cousin.

“Ace does get prettier every year.” Fenrys’s voice rang, taking Rowan out of his memories. “Much to the dismay of anyone who has to deal with her ego.”

Vaughan laughed at that. He and Fenrys were the only ones besides Aedion who had any contact with Aelin.

Still staring at the golden string, Rowan almost opened his mouth to ask Aedion for her number. He didn’t know why, the thought had come all too sudden to his head, and he bit his tongue to stop the words.

He didn’t know Aelin one bit, and just ask for her number after a waitress said she was beautiful sounded like a way to pick a fight with Aedion who was extremely protective of his younger cousin.

No, Rowan thought, better to just leave things as they are.

——————————————

New Year’s Eve 1999

Aelin never thought she would be spending New Year’s Eve in a dive bar with her friends and her cousin’s friends.

Usually for end of the year celebrations, her parents would organize a gala or some shit that would force Aelin to wear a boring dress. This year, however, her parents decided to go travel to Europe and spend two weeks there.

And because of that Aelin was wearing a mini red dress, extremely high stilettos, listening to obnoxiously bad music in a small dive bar as she and her group drank beer of questionable quality.

It was fucking great.

She toyed with the dull string on her wrist, the thing probably just hours or days from snapping. After almost seven years, it was about time. She had thought about simply cutting it before, but could never go through with it. It had become a friendly bracelet, one she twisted when nervous or distracted. It had been in all her photos since the age of fifteen, and it would be strange when it fell.

“So I wasn’t the only one who didn’t get their wish yet.” A man’s voice came from behind her, and Aelin turned around to stare at her teenage crush.

Rowan had been attractive at sixteen, but now at twenty three he was straight up hot. He had grown even more, his body looking just as defined. Even with the heels, Aelin tipped her back a little to look at him.

They had never talked, never even looked at each other after that Beltane celebration. Every now and then Aelin would consider asking Vaughan or Fenrys for Rowan’s number, but that would have been strange. She had even once looked him up on social medias after a nasty break up with a man named Chaol. Rowan had no idea who she was, but a small part of Aelin would never be able to forget him.

He had been the crush of her teenage years, even if they had never interacted.

“I’m almost.” She said, raising her wrist the same way he had years ago. “Never thought I would enter the two thousands with this thing still on my wrist.”

“Looks like the golden ones are really lasting.” He showed her his wrist, an equally worn golden string laying there. “I’m Rowan.”

“Aedion told me about you. I’m Aelin.” She extended a hand, and he grabbed it with a smile on his face.

“Aedion has told me about you, too.”

“I tremble just from thinking about exactly what Aedion has told you.” She shivered and he laughed. He didn’t look like the angry teenager she had fallen for in secret, but like an easy going man that she would have no problems talking to.

Oh no. We are not going back to our fifteen years old crush. We have grown out of that.

“Want to go to the bar grab a drink?” He asked.

“Sure.”

Fucking idiot.

Aelin almost told her brain to shut up out loud.

“So, what have you been doing? Still with the whole yogurt shit?”

He smiled at her as they walked to the bar. “Fortunately have left those days behind. Most miserable job I have ever had.”

“The blue-and-pink apron and fake smile really did it for you, though.”

He laughed out loud and Aelin smiled, sitting on a stool.

“Was I that memorable, Galathynius? You saw me only once.”

And at that moment, a doubt she had for the past years had been answered. He had seen her that day, and the wink had probably been to her too.

“The sight was ridiculous enough that I could never forget, Whitethorn.” Her grin became wider. “And the little white hat on your hair was the cherry on top.”

Rowan was trying to scowl, but Aelin saw how he had to bite the inside of his cheeks to refrain from laughing. The moment he opened his mouth to reply, Fenrys threw his arm around her shoulders, taking all attention to him.

“My two favorite people.”

“You’re drunk.” Aelin deadpanned as Rowan sighed.

“It is my happiest state of mind, my dear.” He booped her nose. “I’m so glad the two of you started talking by yourselves. I thought I would need to introduce you guys.”

Aelin knew she would regret it immediately, but she asked anyways. “Why would you bother, wolfie?”

“Well,” he started, suddenly trying to act serious. Aelin had to bite her lower lip at the impatient look on Rowan’s face. When he looked at her, his eyes were almost pleading.

As if I could stop him now. She mouthed to him.

Wishful thinking, Galathynius. He mouthed back.

“Three years ago I thought it would finally happen, you know?” Fenrys continued, oblivious to Rowan and Aelin’s silent conversation. “Me and Vaughan always thought the two of you would get along. Same music taste, same movie taste, and bla bla bla… Three years ago,” hiccup. “Three years ago I thought Rowan was finally going to ask Aedion for your number after Aed said that you had been the one to choose the pub Rowan had loved. But he didn’t.”

Fenrys turned to Rowan, scowling deeply. Rowan’s ears were red, his cheeks slightly pink.

“And Aed was a prick and didn’t offer it himself.” Fenrys looked genuinely pissed. “And then tonight I learn from Lysandra about Aelin’s teenage cru—“

“Ok!” She said a little loudly, her own cheeks on flames. She tried not to look at Rowan, hoping Fenrys’s drunk words had been misinterpreted. “It’s two minutes for midnight, Fenrys. Go find someone else to make the last minutes of the century miserable.”

As if he hadn’t been about to drop one of her biggest secrets and embarrassments, Fenrys simply gave her a peck on the cheek and walked away.

She stared at his back, not wanting to look at Rowan.

“What was that, Ace? I didn’t catch it right. Teenage what?” He asked, but by the tone of his voice Aelin knew that he knew exactly what Fenrys was talking about.

She was going to kill Fenrys. And then Lysandra for telling him. And the Aedion for buying Lysandra the alcohol that made her tell him.

“I was young.” She said through clenched teeth. Her cheeks were burning.

When she turned back to him, he had a grin on his mouth.

“You liked me?” He sounded dopey.

“Fuck off.”

He laughed loudly, almost doubling over. Gosh, she wanted to open a hole on the ground and never see civilization again.

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the heartbreaker, had a crush on me?” A little bit of laughter was still on his voice, the smile still big on his face. “I’m flattered. Honestly.”

“Please, please shut the fuck up. And never talk about it again.” She pleaded, looking at the big clock on the bar. One minute for 2000. She was going to spend the last minute in the century dying of embarrassment. “Gosh, I want to kill you right now. And Fenrys, and Lys. Anyone with the information.”

“I remember when I heard that you had made Archer Finn cry when you broke up with him.” Rowan said as if she hadn’t said a word. “And you were head over heels for me.”

“I wasn’t head over heels for you, you insufferable bastard.” She grunted, crossing her arms and standing up. “And Fenrys said you were going to ask for my number three years ago, so stop gloating about me liking you.”

“I was.”

“I know you were gloating, I fucking heard you.” She raised her chin, looking at the clock again. Thirty seconds.

“I was going to ask for your number, I mean.” He explained, still smiling. Aelin didn’t know what to answer at that, so she only stared at him. He sounded so much more comfortable talking about it than she was. “You think these things accept me getting my wish before they fall?”

“What?”

Twenty seconds.

“Like, I get my wish now and when it falls I don’t wish for anything.”

Fifteen seconds.

“I don’t know?” Aelin replied. “I’m not really an expert on fake strings’ magic.”

Ten seconds. Everyone started the countdown.

“Well, let’s pretend then that it was an invisible string.”

Nine, eight, seven…

“Huh?”

“An invisible string. It broke right now and I get a wish.”

Six, five, four..

“An invisible string?”

“Yeah.” He smiled at her, and she instinctively smiled back at him.

They just stared at each other during the next two seconds, and when everyone screamed “one”, Rowan put his hands on Aelin hips and dragged her forward, placing her in between his legs as he bent down and pressed his lips to hers.

Aelin sighed, putting her arms around his shoulders and kissing him back. Rowan’s mouth was soft and warm against hers, and Aelin could feel his smile against her lips. She smiled too, and he took the opportunity to shove his tongue inside of her mouth, deepening the kiss. One of his hands went to the back of her head, holding her in place was his lips moved on hers, as his tongue moved against hers.

“Happy New Century, Galathynius.” Rowan murmured against her mouth, the screams around them sounding muffled by his voice.

“Happy New Century, Whitethorn.” She murmured back, smiling against his mouth as they kissed, not caring for anyone else, or anything else, as they focused on each other during the first minutes of the new century.

——————————————

December 2008

“And she had the biggest crush on me when she was fifteen.” Rowan whispered.

“Rowan Whitethorn, I swear to the gods that if you are telling them I liked you when I was younger, I’ll become a widow today!” His wife’s voice rang from the kitchen, and Rowan fake winced.

His kids only laughed at their parents, bright and happily.

Aelin’s golden head popped out of the kitchen, showing him her tongue. Rowan only winked at her, the same way he had when she had been fifteen. Her face morphed into a soft smile, and she came to them. Aelin sat on his lap, turning to their kids. Rowan pulled her back against her chest, putting his nose on the crook of her neck and breathing in.

He had been wrong eight years ago. The invisible string between them hadn’t snapped.

His wish did come true, though.

Tags:

@abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass

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marvelousmarvelimagines · 4 years

Text

Angry Kisses

Pairing - Peter Parker x Reader

Summary - Based on a request and the prompt angry kisses. Peter Parker has been your best friend in the Avengers for years now. After risking his life to save yours though, you can’t help but be pissed at him.

Word Count - 2,090

Warnings - Language and steaminess? They don’t actually do anything, but there’s a bit of thigh riding and clothing removal. Also this takes places when they’re both in college so around 19/20.

People had told you that instead of a resting bitch face, you had a resting murder face. It was one of the reasons you thought you and Bucky Barnes got along so well. Never before had it been an attribute that you were proud of, but right now, you were directing every bit of that resting murder face straight at the boy sitting across from you.

Peter Parker was not an easy guy to piss off, but from the look on his face, he was as mad at you as you were at him.

“All right you two, it’s time to work this out.” Bucky said, glancing from you to Parker, with an annoyed look on his face.

“I’m not speaking to him.” You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest and avoiding his gaze.

“Fine, you don’t have to speak, but you have to fight.” Natasha said. “You’re both acting like children, and you need to get this anger out somehow or we’re not letting either of you back in the field.”

That sure caught the attention of both of you. “What?! You can’t do that I -” Peter backtracked at the look on Natasha’s face. “Ma’am,” he added, looking down at the ground.

You snorted, still finding it hilarious at how intimidated he was by her.

“And no powers.” Natasha added, fiddling with the tablet in her hands as the lighting in the room changed.

It was something that Bruce and Tony had been working on for some time, a way for everyone to be on equal ground when sparring. They had only got it right about a month ago, and you hadn’t had the opportunity to try it out yet.

You already didn’t like it. “Nat, that’s not fair! We never have to fight without our powers!”

“You’ve been training with Barnes for months now. You’ll be fine.” Natasha said, brushing off your worries.

“You know what you’re doing.” Bucky assured you. “Now, we’ll leave you two to it.” He said, giving you a little smirk before he and Natasha left the gym, leaving you and Parker alone.

The two of you sat there and stared at each other, tension and irritation on both of your faces. With how stubborn you knew you both were, the amount of hours Peter and you could sit there staring at each other were infinite. The thing was, you didn’t want to do that. Not being able to feel your powers made you uncomfortable, and you wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, so if that meant fighting him, you would.

You stood up and Peter did the same. Keeping your eyes locked on him, you reached for the tape to protect your hands. You weren’t about to bust them up for him. You did forgo the gloves though. While he did the same, you stepped forward to the inner circle on the mat, waiting for him to finish.

“This is dumb,” Peter said, tossing the tape aside with more force than was necessary.

“Agreed,” You replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Fighting isn’t going to stop you from doing stupid stuff.” He added.

You? You doing stupid stuff? Was he fucking kidding? You let out a scoff. “I hope you’re joking, because we all know who is the King of doing stupid stuff here, Parker, and I’ll give you a clue in case you didn’t catch on, it’s not me.” You snapped.

“I was trying to help you!” He replied, his hands waving in the air in frustration.

“I didn’t ask for your help!” You said, just as angry. “You know what, maybe this isn’t such a bad idea at all. I kinda want to hit you now.”

Peter scowled at you. “Fine, go for it.”

And you did. Bucky had taught you a great deal in the amount of time that you had been training with him, and it showed. It was clear at the beginning that Peter hadn’t expected it as he struggled to stop your punches and kicks. Within a few moments he got into a rhythm as well, and you found yourself on an equal playing field until he got a kick in, knocking you down on your back.

For a moment, Peter looked panicked. He hurried over to you and crouched down beside you, glancing over your body for injuries. “Are you okay?” You could tell no matter how angry he was at you, he hadn’t wanted to hurt you. He never did.

Then you swiped your foot out and knocked him on his back as well. You stood up, crossing your arms over your chest. “I told you. I didn’t need your help.”

Peter stood up then, his jaw tense and eyes narrowed. “If you didn’t need my help you never would have been in that situation in the first place!”

“And think about how much help you were! You almost got yourself killed!” Flashes of him falling from the sky . . . the bloody slashes across his suit . . . the sound of cracking bones as he hit the concrete wall . . . Just thinking about it sent a wave of anxiety through your body. You had thought you were about to lose him. It scared you so much that you had been hurt because of it. “All you did was distract me!”

The fighting started again, swinging punches so fast it was hard to keep up. It was clear that your words had pissed Peter off more, and his movements became faster and harder to predict. “How do you think it felt?! Watching you almost die?” You almost got hit, you were so surprised by the emotion in his voice. You didn’t even notice he was pushing you back into a wall. “I can’t watch another person die on me! Especially not you!” Peter exclaimed.

You grabbed the fist heading towards you, and you both froze. Your gazes stayed locked on each other as you slowly guided his hand back down to his side, both of you breathing much heavier than you had a few moments before. The tension in the room was palpable, and there seemed to be something lingering there under the anger. Something that had been there for a long time, but neither of you had ever acted on. Now though, it was simmering under the surface. Peter’s words made his feelings clear if you chose to finally bring that realization to fruition. “I can’t lose you either dumbass.” You said, almost a whimper, the terror you had felt at the thought of it leaking into your voice.

The dam broke. Your back hit the wall and his hands grabbed your hips in a bruising grip that had you gasping into his mouth as your lips met for the first time. It was like you said, a dam broke inside of both of you. There was no gentle, soft, barely touching lips like you had imagined your first kiss with Peter Parker might be like. No, it was as if emotions in the form of water crashed over you and spilled from your lips. The kiss was demanding, not allowing your attention to drift elsewhere, not that it could with him invading your senses like he was.

Your hands gripped the soft, slightly damp cotton of his t-shirt, squeezing your fists into the fabric, making sure that he stayed right where he was. You didn’t want him to go anywhere, now that you were finally getting to learn what being kissed by him felt like. His lips felt so smooth against your own as his mouth slanted over yours, and you were surprised by the technique in them, even more so when his tongue slipped into your mouth at the same moment his body pressed entirely against yours. A whimper left your lips at the feeling, your knees going weak at the intensity. It was almost too much, too hot, too passionate for it being a first kiss.

At the same time, it was also perfect. You wanted more, you wanted more of his lips, his tongue, his skin, you wanted to curl your fingers in his hair and tug until he groaned. The image you had only dared to dream about filled your head, and your hips jerked against his, startling him so much that he pulled away for a brief moment.

Peter’s eyes were dark, his face flushed, lips swollen and red, and you didn’t think he’d ever looked more attractive than at this moment. The way he was staring at you as well made your toes curl with desire. No one had ever looked at you like that. Like you were the most beautiful thing in the world. Then, in contrast to the bruising kiss from earlier, he ducked his head, trailing a line of kisses from your jaw to your collarbone in a way that had you gasping for air.

Still it wasn’t enough. You pushed him away just far enough to breathe, and taking charge, you gripped the bottom of your tank top and lifted it over your head. You threw it to the side, leaving you in your leggings and sports bra. Following your lead, Peter’s shirt was next to go.

You took in the sight of him, and felt a flash of heat weave through your whole body. Of course you knew that he was . . . well, built, but seeing it in person? He seemed to be having the same thoughts, your skin flushing as you watched his eyes trail over you. Unable to stand it anymore, you grabbed his hands, pulling them all the way around you until you were both chest to chest, skin to skin. Once his hands rested on your back, you reached up to run your fingers through his hair like you had imagined. His eyes closed at the tenderness of your touch, and he rested his forehead against yours, his breath caressing your lips while his hands stroked your back.

It felt like you were melting into his strong arms, feeling more safe than you had all day. You wished that you could stay in this moment forever with him, all soft and sweet, but then his mouth met yours again, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth. The sensation had a groan leaving your lips and your hands pulling on his hair.

He grunted, and heat went straight to your core at the sound, pleased that you pulled it out of him. Faster than you expected was possible, he had gripped your ass and lifted you in the air, settling you back down on one of his thighs, the pressure causing you to let out a gasp. At the sound, Peter pulled back, looking concerned. “I’m sorry, is that - is that okay?”

You nodded. “Definitely okay,” You told him with a soft smile before leaning forward to meet his lips again. As good as the kissing was earlier, it was even better now with the added pressure against your core. You ground against his muscular thigh, desperate for an increase in friction as his hands splayed across your back.

For so long you had only dared to dream of a moment like this. Peter had been the unattainable crush, the best friend who’s relationship you didn’t want to lose, the person you had never thought returned your feelings for him. However, it turned out that he did, and it was better than you could have imagined.

Until the door opened.

“What the hell?!”

The two of you jumped apart just in time to see Sam and Bucky staring at the two of you. Sam was covering his eyes, reaching out his hand to find his way back out the door that he couldn’t see while Bucky looked close to throwing up.

“When I said you two needed to work this out, this is not what I meant.” Bucky said, before heading back out the door. “If you’re not out in thirty seconds I’m coming in again!” He called, picking up your shirt from the floor and tossing it to you.

You grimaced, slipping it back on and turning to Peter who looked even more embarrassed than you did and was tugging his own shirt back on. “So um . . . do you wanna go get some takeout? I think we should talk.”

A little smile formed on Peter’s face, and he nodded. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Maybe almost getting killed was worth it after all. You thought to yourself as Peter took your hand, slipping his fingers through your own.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #marvel imagine

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #242: “EASY COME... EASY GO!”

April, 1984

“Okay Avengers, the party’s over!”

Being a buzzkill, party-hating Cover Vision!

Hmm. Something about this cover makes it feel like from an older era. The returned Mighty Avengers logo or maybe the inking? Or perhaps the Silver Age DC superdickery energy to it? I can’t put my finger on it but this feels like a cover you’d see in the 70s instead of the 80s.

Last time on Avengers: Well, they went to San Francisco for a two-parter where they fought Morgan Le Fey to save Jessica Drew’s soul. As ya do.

Vision has also been a tube boy after he walked into a null field. Starfox hooked him up to the Titan supercomputer and that didn’t fix him, it did overclock his robot brain and let him broadcast giant holograms of his own head. That’s almost as good.

This time:

Some guy: “HOLY GEEZ!”

An interesting note, this guy has only ever seen Quinjets in pictures and never thought he’d see one in person. Tells you how often the Avengers hang around Ottumwa, Iowa.

We start with the Avengers in mid-return from California.

In one of the Quinjets, She-Hulk is telling Starfox that she wished they could have spent more time before returning to New York so she could have shown him LA.

Starfox: “Ah, well... I’m sure another opportunity will present itself, She-Hulk! Besides, the scenery around her has plenty to offer!”

Wanda looks like she’s trying to astral project away from Starfox putting his hand on her shoulder but she’s really just distracted thinking about Vision.

The Avengers on the Jessica Drew mission radioed back to the Mansion that they were bringing Hank Pym home but Wanda suggested that Hank could examine Vision and maybe fix him. But Vision rejected the idea and Wanda is at a loss for why he’s determined to overcome his robo-paralysis on his own.

I’m also a little confused why they didn’t call on Hank Pym sooner to examine tube Vision but then again that would have been super awkward for Wasp and Reed Richards, that hack, said Vision should have recovered quickly.

Speaking of super awkward, Hank and Wasp are alone together in the other Quinjet.

Hank is also baffled that Vision turned down his help. He repaired him once before! Remember? He got super tiny and had a fantastic voyage inside him? In Avengers #93?

Jan comments that she hasn’t heard Hank sound so confident in years and he confirms that devoting his time fully to SCIENCE and taking superheroing off the table as an option has done wonders for his emotional outlook.

He also reiterates that he never felt cut out for the superhero life. Aw, enjoy it while it lasts, bud.

And he thanks her for calling him Hank instead of “Dr. Pym” like she did at the hospital.

Wasp: “Oh... That. Well, when you flew out at my request to help save Jessica Drew’s life... after all we’d been through... the divorce and all... I’m afraid I slipped into my stuffy Avengers chairwoman voice. I thought it might make things easier, but it didn’t... For either of us. I’m sorry, Hank.”

Hank Pym: “That’s okay, Jan. I understand. Your ‘stuffy chairwoman voice,’ huh? Heh-heh. How often do you have to use that?”

Wasp: “Wellll... Most of the time the others will go along with ol’ ‘dingaling Jan’ -- but sometimes, I have to get tough. That never fails to grab their attention!”

Hank Pym: “No doubt! Once, I was the only Avenger who knew how tough you really were! I’m glad the others are learning.”

Wasp: “I guess that none of us are ever too old to learn, Hank.”

Feels like Hank is rewriting some things in his memories since Jan often had to diminish herself to make him feel better but then again it didn’t always work so maybe the idea is that he knew all along how strong she was?

Either way, nice to see these two interacting so amiably.

Also, I like that she’s able to be an effective leader while still being ‘dingaling Jan’ since it doesn’t change how smart and capable she is. And the contrast if she has to get serious only helps.

I think overall I like that her leadership style is so uniquely her and that when her character was retrofitted to operate outside of being ‘Hank Pym’s partner’ she still remained recognizably her.

We have a whopping several women on the Avengers at this time (glorious) and Wasp, She-Hulk, Scarlet Witch, and Captain Marvel all feel like different characters.

Since Vision declined Hank Pym’s help, Wasp drops him off back home in Central Indiana.

Once these two were husband and wife, friends and lovers. But they were very different people and, without meaning to, they hurt each other very much. Today, they have perhaps put a small bit of that hurt behind them. Today, they have again become friends.

Daaaaw. Friends.

Wasp returns to Avengers Mansion to discover there’s a full-on party going on. There’s even streamers and a Captain America who seems incredibly enthusiastic about streamers.

(In another fun bit, Monica knew about the party already because she flew ahead to the mansion before joining Wasp in the Quinjet after she dropped off Hank. And she was bursting to not tell Wasp what was going on as they landed.)

Wasp is even more surprised when she learns that the party is celebrating Hawkeye’s marriage.

Wasp: “Barton? You mean Hawkeye? Married?!?”

Hawkeye: “‘Fraid so, Jan! I’d like you to meet my bride... Mockingbird.”

Mockingbird: “How do you do?”

Wasp: “Oh... fine. You’ll have to excuse me. This is... quite a surprise.”

A reaction that Mockingbird says she’s getting used to because she’s seeing it from all of Hawkeye’s friends!

Hah!

Hawkeye asks Cap on the sly whether he made the right move, getting married, but Cap is very supportive, saying its the most responsible thing he’s ever done.

Hawkeye: “What?! Cap, you cut me to the quick! Haven’t I always acted in a mature, responsible manner?”

She-Hulk: “Look who’s talking... the man whose proudest achievement is the invention of the water-balloon arrow!”

Provided She-Hulk isn’t just making stuff up, there’s some serious off-screen shenanigans that we didn’t get to see, possibly involving Hawkeye shooting water balloons at She-Hulk all day.

But... CLINT. YOU INVENTED AN ANTI-GRAVITY ARROW!

Why am I the only one who remembers that?

Thor shows up at the party next, back from his own solo adventures, and offers his own congratulations to Hawkeye.

Mockingbird is undergoing some culture shock here, as she’s astounded that Hawkeye calls Thor “Goldilocks.” And when Thor turns his Thor charm on her, and blesses their wedding, she’s rendered briefly speechless.

Its fun that we get this side of her. I think she was similarly blown away when they met Cap on the subway.

But even though she was a SHIELD agent and then a freelance superhero, she doesn’t seem to have a lot of exposure to your Avengers types so Hawkeye pulling her into those social circles is a lot of fun.

She’s going to get used to it though. I know that she Avenges herself in the future.

Also, look at Thor’s flagon of mead. Holy shit. Its as big as his whole torso.

Jarvis is really dedicated!

Over in a quiet corner of the party, Wanda tries to convince Vision to let Hank Pym take a look at him but Vision dismisses the idea.

Vison: “Please, Wanda, let’s not spoil this happy occasion! Surprise parties are all too rare, and few of them are party to as many surprises as this one!”

And instead of explaining what he means, he turns his hologram off.

Well, okay.

AH HA HE WAS REPAIRED AND JUST DIDN’T MENTION

For reasons of surprise.

What a whimsical turn for the Vision.

Aw, that panel of them kissing and everyone cheering is sweet. That’s how I like to remember them. Not, err, later developments.

(I also like Mockingbird being confused whether or not he’s still a hologram because of his intangibility)

Everyone congratulates Vision for being bipedal again.

Vision: “It’s good to be moving, Jan. But my recovery shouldn’t come as that big of a surprise. As I told you a few days ago, it was just a matter of time before I isolated the cause of my body’s motor dysfunctions -- and initiated the proper repair systems.”

But he tosses some sweet cred to Starfox, for hooking up to an alien supercomputer. It’s like matchmaking but with networks.

The surprise of his surprise recovery pales compared to his next surprise, as he announces (without consulting Wanda at all, geez) that its imperative that she and him stay with the Avengers full-time.

All I’m saying is communication is important, Vizh.

And maybe you should have brought this up with Wasp too? She is the chairwoman and as Cap points out, the team is already pretty packed, especially with Hawkeye and Thor back.

Vision: “Yes, the ‘chairman’s privilege’ limit! But you’re not the leader now, Cap... the Wasp is! And she’ll just have to change that limit -- or the membership roster -- to include Wanda and myself! We will be needed in the upcoming emergency!”

Kinda dropping a lot of surprises on this surprise party, Vision! I don’t know if you really get the concept wholly? You’re not supposed to save up all the surprises for this one day.

Also, Vision’s speech bubbles have changed. They’re still rounded rectangles but they’re not yellow anymore and the font is a bit italicized. Hm. Wonder if that means anything.

Anyway, Vision announces that while he was a tube boy, he detected two major fluctuations of Earth’s electromagnetic fields by some “unknown energy of near-infinite power.”

He’s secretly been working with Reed Richards on this and neither of them have been able to track down what this nonsense is. But until this malevolent mystery is uncovered, he and Wanda as two of the more powerful reservists must obviously be active Avengers.

But how does he know its malevolent if he hasn’t been able to uncover what it is? Deductive reasoning and intuitive presentiment!

Pffffft.

I think this might be my favorite recent punchline from this book.

But Vision has more than just bad vibes to be given a frighten by this upcoming ominousness!

Vision: “The energy I detected goes beyond the limits of any known to man! The power flux showed on our screens for a mere fraction of a second, and then disappeared without a single trace. That concerns me... And it should concern all of us! If we cannot discover the source of this energy, there could be catastrophic consequences!”

And to show how seriously he’s taking this, he makes this horrifying face.

He looks like he’s trying to eat Wasp.

I do not care for this. Either the specific panel or the overall idea of someone eating Wasp.

Anyway, Vision and Scarlet Witch goes off to check the super advanced equipment he installed in the monitor room without asking anyone. He’s doing that a lot lately.

Wasp is both annoyed that he went over her head and impressed with his initiative in doing so.

But she has other matters to attend and asks Thor and Cap(tain America) head down for a private meeting with her.

And now the party is kind of over!

Yeah, you ruined it, Vision! You put too many surprises on the surprise party! You could have saved some for later!

Vision and Scarlet Witch went off to the monitor room. Wasp, Cap(tain America), and Thor went off to have an executive meeting. And Hawkeye and Mockingbird slipped away from their own party not long after that!

Leaving Captain Marvel, She-Hulk, Starfox, and Jarvis to stand around awkwardly wondering where the party went. They didn’t even cut the cake yet!

Dammit Vision!

Hawkeye snuck out to the garden behind Avengers Mansion that’s been there all along. And Mockingbird followed to see what’s bugging him.

Hawkeye: “I’ve always loved this spot. Great tree, isn’t it? Ya know, it’s not easy to get an apple tree to grow this big in the city!”

But Mockingbird sees through that and asks what’s really his beef.

Hawkeye: “Aw, it’s just that I can see another membership shuffle in the works!”

Mockingbird: “So?”

Hawkeye: “So, I’m the one most likely to get bounced!”

I like the range of Hawkeye emotions here.

Hawkeye says that since he has a life (marriage) outside the Avengers now, he doesn’t mind so much being cut from the team. But if they’re going to be facing the latest and greatest menace of all times, he wants to face it with them!

Mockingbird: “That was pretty profound... for a guy who’s supposed to be a butt-head!”

Hawkeye: “Well, thank you, Mrs. Butt-head!”

Aww.

This is a fun bit too.

Mockingbird asks if Hawkeye wants to go inside and get some cake but he shoots an apple from the tree and offers Mockingbird one.

Pretty slick, Clint.

Over at the monitor room, Vision is really into monitoring whatever is upcoming. Super into it. So Wanda has to ask a question.

Scarlet Witch: “Darling... Are you sure you’re all right?”

Vision: “What sort of question is that?”

Scarlet Witch: “You’ve been acting so peculiar lately!”

Vision: “Wanda, how do you expect me to act? I’ve just recovered from spending what seemed like an eternity in a life support tube, able to move about only as a holographic image! Before that, my body was possessed by the dying sorcerer, Necrodamus. And that was almost immediately after I’d gone through the agony of losing an arm. Thankfully, the Inhuman scientists of Attilan were able to restore my limb. But you must admit we’ve both been through a score of trails these past few months! And now, I’ve detected something which could be the biggest menace we’ve ever faced! All things considered, is it really so surprising that I’m acting this way?”

Huuuuuh. I mean, he has a point. That’s a lot of shit in a very short time frame to endure.

This could very reasonably be a reaction to it all.

That’s a very unnerving smile though.

Over at the not-secret but private just Wasp, Thor, and Cap(tain America) meeting, Wasp, Thor, and Cap(tain America) are meeting.

Well, really, its more that Thor is recapping the tale of Beta Ray Bill for the other two. But we, the readers, just get an editor’s caption telling us to read Walter Simonson’s Thor (and I don’t need to be told twice) and Thor summing up to the salient point that Donald Blake is gone forever and is definitely never going to come back multiple times.

What Cap takes from this is ‘hey i hope that means you’re back on the team then!’ which Thor affirms.

Thor: “Aye, Captain America! Some of my finest hours have been as an Avenger. It would be the greatest honor to continue my service in your company... if you will have me!

But Wasp isn’t going to dump Thor from the roster!

Problem being, what the heck is she going to do with the roster? She doesn’t want to dump anyone off it, she doesn’t want to tell Vision to eff off, but she doesn’t want to lead an unwieldy team either. Six is a good number of Avengers!

I love Wasp’s note paper where she’s scrawled various roster ideas, clearly getting more and more frustrated with the exercise.

Cap suggests that maybe a temporary expansion would be the best move, if there even is a menace!

He’s somewhat doubtful of Vision’s story but wouldn’t you know it, as soon as he says that, the priority alarm goes off because Vision has detected the Ominous Energy Readings again.... IN CENTRAL PARK!

And lest anyone doubt Vision this time, an enormous and blinding flash lights up the Manhattan skies.

Cap: “I... believe you, Vision.”

Hah.

The Avengers head for Central Park with devices that Vision has created that will help them trace the energy but he could have saved the time.

There’s a big obvious structure that wasn’t there before. Odds are pretty good that that’s the anomaly.

Hmmm... Y’know, that structure looks familiar. As if I’ve seen it somewhere... But wheeeeeeeeeerre. I guess its a secret to everyone.

The sudden appearance of a large structure right after a massive flash isn’t even the weirdest thing going on. As Reluctant Science Guy Starfox waves around the detecting device, he realizes that the Ominous energy isn’t coming from the giant structure. It seems to be coming from everywhere. But it dips as you get closer to the structure.

Starfox posits that the energy is being focused on the ring from another location.

Curiouser and curioserer.

The Avengers poke around some more. Hawkeye calls attention to an arch built into the wall of the structure. It’s just real interesting. It’s super, incredibly interesting. Plus, the air is nice in the arch.

And it’s an arch. It looks like it’d be a doorway or tunnel to the middle of the structure but it doesn’t go anywhere.

Huh.

How fascinating.

She-Hulk, Cap(tain America), Captain Marvel, Wasp, and Thor join Hawkeye in the arch and agree that it’s a pretty interesting arch.

Perhaps this arch was made for them.

As soon as they join Hawkeye in it, there’s another blinding flash of light and those Avengers vanish in a curl of smoke.

Wow.

I can’t believe Hawkeye, She-Hulk, Captains America and Marvel, Wasp and Thor are dead.

Huh. And Wasp was just complaining about having too many Avengers!

Everyone is appropriately shocked by this, especially Vision because there were no energy emissions coming from the thing so it should have been inert.

Scarlet Witch and Starfox wonder whether the missing Avengers have been teleported somewhere, into some other story... or destroyed.

But before they can investigate the structure for clues, or see if it’ll strike again?, the whole thing vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

The plus side is that it makes Starfox lean toward ‘teleported’ which still doesn’t answer where the Avengers have been taken or who would do it.

If it’s the Collector again, I swear!

Here we go... Follow @essential-avengers because I thought I had more time! Oh geez, I don’t know how I’m going to handle this... Also, like and reblog because I like to think I do good work.

#Avengers #Ominous Energy #the Wasp #Captain America #Captain Marvel #monica rambeau #the Vision #Scarlet Witch #Thor #She Hulk #Hawkeye #Mockingbird #Starfox #Vision ruins a party but not how you'd think #Jarvis is the world's best butler #Everyone's shock and alarm that Hawkeye got married #frequent culture shock for Mockingbird #Essential Avengers #essential marvel liveblogging

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jiamour · 4 years

Text

christmas in july

pairing: johnny x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2k

summary: domestic christmas dad johnny, that’s it, that’s the summary

a/n: i wrote this two years ago so its not great and its bullet point which is annoying but im posting it because i was thinking about domestic dad johnny

・。.❆.・。❅.・。❉ ・。.❆.・。❅.・。❉ . 。・

“suh soojin stop throwing snow at your brother we have to go!” you spoke loud and stern trying to get everyone in order because you were already late

you were going to the christmas concert in the park that started 10 minutes ago

you had everything perfectly planned out

or at least you did until your son, hyungsik, refused to leave the house without hot chocolate

or your daughter somehow breaking all of your thermoses the night before while having a tea party

or your fucking husband johnny who existed only to wreak havoc and start a seemingly endless snowball fight

you felt johnny’s arms wrap around your waist and his head rest on your shoulder

“come on yn they’re kids let them play” he hummed into your ear his tone smooth and sweet

“no” you shook him off and walked towards your kids clapping your hands as you spoke “we have to go i am not missing the concert for the fifth year in a row because of you guys”

finally they listened, swishing their mittens together to get rid of the snow and running off in front of you with their infinite supply of energy

you lived in a small town so the concert was about a 10 minute walk away if your family didn’t decide to take any detours

something of which was inevitable

you were stopped first to buy santa hats for the whole family which johnny said we’re absolutely essential

then obviously you needed candy canes

and of course marshmallows for the hot chocolate

but other than that it was a no distractions walk

you walked into the park and to your relief the band was still playing christmas music that you’ve already heard 1000 times that month

you and johnny sat on a hay bale set out as seats at the very back while your kids played in the snow right behind you

you listened intently as a loud rock version of deck the halls blasted from the speakers on the small stage

for about 3 minutes

and then the song ended

the lead singer took the mic off the stand and began to speak once the scattered applause from the frozen people in front of you ended

“that’s the end of our show thank you so much for coming. merry christmas everyone”

they left the stage

your head dropped into your hands

you had missed another year

at this point you don’t know why you kept trying

johnny softly moved your hands away from your face and lifted your chin so your eyes met his

“next year okay” he said in a soft mutter, his nose and cheeks tinted pink from the cold

you nodded with a sigh and went to get up and walk all the way back home

before you could move johnny grabbed the ends of your scarfs and pulled you into him

he kissed you softly trying to cheer you up

and of course it was working

even though it was happening while you were sitting on itchy cold hay and groups of loud people were leaving around you

it was nice

or at least it was until your daughter chucked a snowball at the both of you

when you turned to look at her she was glaring a hand on her hips “there’s children around, y’know! no one wants to see that!”

ah the homemade cock blocks strike again

johnny leaned down and rolled up a snowball with his bare hands tossing it back at your daughter

“this means war soojin” he said in a over expressive triumphant voice making your daughter laugh and begin to stock pile snow balls into her pockets so she could have quick ammo

johnny got up from the hay bale and ran towards your son getting an “alliance” as he called it before picking him up on his shoulders handing him snowballs so he could throw at both you and soojin

one badly aimed snowball by johnny went flying past you and hit an old lady in the distance who glared back in surprise

when her eyes met his he ran.

child on his shoulders and all

“sorry” you waved to her hearing an angry mutter in response

your head fell into you hands again

once again your childish husband embarrassed you in front of the whole town

・。.❆.・。❅.・。❉ ・。.❆.・。❅.・。❉ . 。・

it was 9pm when you got off work and driving home in the snow was a pain

it was almost pitch black when you pulled up to your house, you sighed as you got out of your car hating the extreme cold

you hit your boots against the edge of the door to get the snow off before opening the door and entering your warm cozy house

while you were gone johnny and the kids had decorated it

which is why it looked a little bit of a mess

but you still loved it

shivering from the chill of the cold you shrugged of your jacket and took off your boots

quiet christmas music played in the front room where you assumed johnny was still decorating

a box sat on the stairs filled with decoration so you decided to help

you were about half way through the box when you heard johnny’s angelic voice begin to sing

outshining the song on the radio

“oh holy night, the stars are brightly shining”

his voice made your heart skip a beat

it was so peaceful and beautiful that you didn’t want to interrupt

you continued decorating swaying to the music as you went along

“fall on your knees, oh hear the angels voices. o night divine, o night when christ was born”

how did you get so lucky

eventually his voice brought you closer to him wanting to hear more

he was hanging the last of the decorations on the tree not hearing you come in

quietly you walked over and hugged him from behind, arms around his waist and cheek against his back

he jumped a little but relaxed into your touch

to your dismay his singing stopped leaving only the quiet radio

“hey baby” he hummed turning around so he could hug you back and rest his head on top of yours

“keep singing” your voice was slightly muffled from the sweater on his chest “you’re going to make me a christian”

he laughed and paused for a second listening to the song before singing again

“chains shall he break for the slave is our brother and in his name all oppression shall cease” he sung beautifully swaying both of you slowly back and forth

“fall on your knees, oh hear the angel voices o night divine, o night when christ was born o night divine, o night, o night divine” the calm aura and his honey smooth voice made your eyes droop and his arms tighten around you pulling you even closer

he kissed the top of your head before singing again until the song ended

“i love you a lot” you hummed into his chest and you felt his heart speed up as well as his small loving chuckle

“i love you too”

・。.❆.・。❅.・。❉ ・。.❆.・。❅.・。❉ . 。・

johnny took a sip of coffee adjusting his over sized and useless glasses as if they actually helped him see (he claimed they made him look like an intellectual) as he looked through the flyers

he shifted the flyer over to you pointing to a robot at the top “don’t you think hyungsik would love that”

“johnny we got all their gifts, we still need to get something for your parents and we’re already over budget” you yawned out rubbing your tired eyes and taking a sip of your own coffee to try to wake you more

“but yn~” he whined, even though he was a grown adult and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes “okay, i don’t appreciate the sass”

“you’re such a child” you scolded playfully and kissed his pouting lips

“don’t you want our creations to be happy baby” he asked still pouting despite the the kiss, holding the flyer right in front of your face

“oh my god fine” you huffed grabbing the flyer and folding it up, he did a silent cheer “but you have to find something under $50 for your parents”

“that’s fine my mom just knitted you an ugly sweater” he said laughing at the end and your mouth fell open in a shocked oh

“MY MOM KNITTED YOU AN UGLY SWEATER TOO” you yelled out happily, hoping you didn’t wake the kids

“we’re going to look so awful this christmas” johnny laughed out “this is amazing”

“i can’t believe your mom hates me that much” you laughed as well, taking a bite of toast

“what? no. she doesn’t hate you, she just loves knitting” johnny stole the toast out of your hands and took a bite but after a second he choked “wait a minute..”

“does that mean your mom hates me?” he cried out a frown gracing his face “i thought we had something special”

you shook your head in response “she doesn’t hate you she’s just pretty sure you’re an alien and she doesn’t trust you”

“yn what the fuck”

・。.❆.・。❅.・。❉ ・。.❆.・。❅.・。❉ . 。・

he had strategically planned this out

watching your patterns when you walked through the house

analyzing trends and odds to figure out where to put it

well actually he just placed mistletoe everywhere

obnoxious christmas music blasted through your house

people were everywhere with mugs of eggnog and hot chocolate

his plan was perfect

and yet he couldn’t find you

“what are you doing man?” mark came up to johnny who was standing alone placing his left hand on johnny's shoulder, a mug in his other

“searching,” johnny answered immediately his eyes refusing to stop scanning the room to look at mark

mark hummed in response then took his hand away from johnny’s shoulder “wait, why?”

“i had a perfect plan and it’s getting ruined” johnny muttered frustrated watching another couple kiss under the mistletoe he had set up for you

finally he spotted you happily talking to some friends a small smile grew on his face now that he could go through with his plan

he watched you move around the room from friend to friend beautifully smiling and laughing making his heart skip a beat

“dad,” soojin whined, tugging on his sleeve to get his attention but he didn’t break his eyes away from you

“not now soojin, daddy is plotting” he said a mischievous smile on his face

“you’re so weird” she mumbled before walking away a wave of her hand over her shoulder

it took a few minutes for mark to catch on to what was happening

“you are aware she’s your wife, and this plan is stupid, right?” mark teased

“and your opinion is unwanted” johnny responded

just when he did, your head turned to him having felt eyes on you

you met his eyes and smiled softly, waving, making his knees feel weak, still not used to your charms after all these years

as soon as you stopped talking to the guests johnny walked over to you and tried to gesture you into directions were mistletoe hung but each time you turned and went the wrong way

he didn’t know what he did wrong

he thought he planned this perfectly

but nothing was working out

you noticed johnny’s plan after the first few small pushes in the direction of the mistletoe and from that point on you tried to tease him

you saw his frustration and pout growing as well as him trying to hide his disappointment at the same time

you made sure to avoid the mistletoe the entire time

by the end of the night johnny had given up and stuck to just holding your hand sadly

together you said goodbye to the guest as the all left

mark patting johnny on the back saying a “better luck next time buddy” before leaving

johnny sighed when everyone was gone and began to walk back into the house to clean up

“hey johnny” you spoke quickly before he could walk away gaining his attention

on your tip toes you attempted to hold mistletoe that you had stolen from the walls over his head

he smiled so brightly when he saw immediately falling into a kiss with you

you couldn’t have wished for a better christmas

・。.❆.・。❅.・。❉ ・。.❆.・。❅.・。❉ . 。・

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wolf-555-writer · 4 years

Text

Heating Up Part 3

Still owed you guys this one. Sorry it took, like, a little while. Hope you enjoy though! :)

Read part 1; part 2

Caitlin Snow/Killer Frost x Meta Reader

Summary: Reader gets captured. Will you be able to survive and free yourself? While also searching for the others and trying to escape?

Word Count: 2,717

It's cold all around. Curled up, eyes pinched shut and arms covering your head defensively. You prepare yourself for impact. The impact of sharp, icy air, so cold it instantly freezes everything it touches. Generated by one Killer Frost. Normally, it wouldn't be such a problem. But you're not able to control your 'heat’ powers right now. Is it due to all the adrenaline making you shaky? Or because you're frightened as hell? Or because you let your guard down around KF, thinking you noticed something blossoming between you two?

You don't know. It doesn't matter what the exact reason is anyway, considering in a couple of seconds it will all be over...

Yet... Nothing happens. Did she miss?

“What the hell are you doing?! Let's go!”, you perceive, slowly opening your eyelids and removing your arms away from your face. Frost has grabbed you and pulls you with her. Still able to peak over your shoulder, you notice a guy knocked out cold on the dirty ground. A nasty scar on his face and one fake eye. So, she didn't aim at you but at that guy?

“Wait- What just happened?! Who was that?”, you exclaim in total confusion as KF drags you with her, sensing her cold hand on your arm through your jacket. I’ve never been so unfocused before. You didn't even hear the guy approaching, having absolutely no clue what just went down.

Moving towards a better lit hallway, Frost starts to explain that they (Caitlin and herself) started to work for someone real shady after leaving Central City. “It got out of hand and Caitlin reached out to ask for help. I told her I could handle it on my own, but Caitlin wouldn’t listen. And now look where it got us…”. She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Barry and Cisco both captured by our employer. Idiots”. You look at her hand and back to her. “Um… Frost, you're still, like, holding me”.

She scoffs, “I know that!”, and quickly lets go. She continues: “First we have to free Barry and Cisco. Unfortunately. Got it?”

“Yes, loud and clear”. This is not the Killer Frost you briefly met in the cold, misty woods months ago. The Killer Frost that had attacked her ‘friends’ with real rage and aggression. Angry at them and angry at the entire world around her.

She has changed.

“And what was that thing Caitlin wanted to ask me?”, you remember, returning to the unanswered question from before the sudden ice blast. Maybe there’s a reason Caitlin didn’t ask for my help earlier at STAR Labs. Clearly made visible by the event that had just happened. You’d only be a burden. Besides, why would she choose you over The Flash anyway?

“Oh, that. She first wanted to ask for your help only. But Caity was embarrassed about the shit mess we got ourselves into”. These words make you feel happy but also slightly disappointed. She obviously could have asked you. Out of everybody, you were the last person to judge her.

“You should know, she kind of likes y-”, Frost interrupts herself. “Shhh, quiet”, she snaps at you. But… you weren't even talking?

Both hide behind a large crate now that two suspicious men are approaching. “Can you use your powers?”, KF whispers at you, observing the guys. “No, not from this distance. But I can still fight them you know”. “I bet you can”, she answers while scanning your figure briefly.

Having decided each would take out one, Frost dives from behind the crates and attacks. You do the same and swiftly jump on the other. Creating enough momentum, you throw him over your shoulder and finish up with a high-speed elbow in his face, sending him to sleep for a nice couple of hours. Standing up again, you see KF nod at you with a grin on her face. “Impressive, (Y/N)”

Other thugs follow from the middle entrance. But this time with guns. Killer Frost pushes you away in time, both her hands placed on your chest firmly. The bullets are fired at the spot you were standing seconds when Frost harshly pins you to the wall. Her cold body is pressed against your warm one due the force she used. Warmer than usual… You heat up as her blue lips are close to your red ones. Noticing a teasing look starting to appear on KF's face when she bites her lip. Both staring into each other's eyes and Frost slowly leans in. Then you snap out of it. She has already pulled back and is currently attacking the men with weapons that are not freeze-proof, just as the men. Lucky for Killer Frost.

She knocks them out with a powerful cold blast. Too easy. And finishes by sending a daring wink your way. Impressed by the work she just delivered, Frost gives herself an imaginary pat on the back while eyeing that cute firefighter who’s with her. Who’s actually looking back at her with a rather strange expression...

“Watch out!”, you yell, sprinting towards a distracted Killer Frost, “Behind you!”. But you’re too late. Someone ambushed her. KF is now on the ground and you throw yourself in front of the guy. Anger fueling your body, you knock him out with a combo of three powerful punches and his body hits the ground with a dull thud.

Rushing towards Frost and you take her in your arms. Her hair slowly turns into hazel brown, lips from blue to red, yet her eyes remain closed. She’s turning back into Caitlin. Set in motion by you.

“No… Not now…”, you grunt. Your powers are unwillingly emerging again. Great timing.

Suddenly an electrifying pain shoots through your body, originating from the back of your head. You instantly lose consciousness and black out, still holding Caitlin tight.

///

Waking up with a pounding in your head as if a hammer is hitting the inside of your skull. You cautiously open your eyes and vaguely see the silhouette of a woman. Caitlin. Her beautiful brown eyes staring at you... with a pretty concerned look. Why?

“Can you sit upright?”, she asks with an anxious voice. Carefully doing what Caitlin says, you notice that she’s wearing power dampening cuffs. Yet, you are not. They don't know your powers? Gotta admit you're not as obvious as Barry or Cisco. Perks of not having a superhero-suit, you guess. Your hands are tied though. Turning your head around to take in the surroundings that is an old, dark holding-cell. A hundred percent certain you’re still in the same building as earlier, because the smell is definitely the same.

“How are you feeling?”, Caitlin continues, now next to you with one hand on your shoulder. “I-I don’t know, maybe... a little light-headed?”. Wait- you remember. You got struck from behind with an awfully hard object. Probably got a head wound or something, hence the killer headache. You try to reach the back of your head with bound hands to inspect the injury. Man… your head is really pounding like crazy. Not surprised when you view your hands only to discover they’ve turned red. Blood.

Great. This really is the last thing you need above all the other mistakes of today...

Sensing you’re slipping away, you hear Caitlin again. “(Y/N)! Stay awake, we have to get out of here!”, she says, slightly panicking.

“I-I… yeah, well, what do you want me to do?”, you return a bit slurring, staring into Caitlins worrisome eyes.

“Come on, let me help you up”. Weakly, you put your tied arms around Caitlin so she can support you. Both hobble toward the metal bars that confine you from leaving.

“I was thinking, maybe you could heat up the metal, so that it becomes deformable?”, she suggests with a thoughtful, calm tone.

“I-I can try”. You hesitate. Are you able to use your powers? Especially now that you’re wounded? It’s already hard to fully concentrate on a task, let alone melting a rigid material like metal. You slowly grab the bars, clenching them tight, trying to focus. Eyes closed, you can feel the iron in the palms of your hands. Heat up.

Just heat up!

Nothing happens. The metal remains cold and inflexible. Not even remotely able to bend it in the current state. It’s not working. You open your eyes and turn to Caitlin. “It- it’s… nothing…”, stuttering as you lose all hope. You already messed everything else up today, so why did you expect this would even work? It’s useless. You’re useless. Now I understand why Caitlin didn’t ask for my help…

“No, don’t give up”. A warm hand is placed on your shoulder, squeezing you lightly. “You can do this (Y/N). I know you can”, words spoken with the most tender voice you’ve ever heard. “I believe in you”, Caitlin eases, “I trust you”. You nod slightly, feeling every word she just said when an intense warmth ripples through your body. You close your eyes once again. Inhaling deeply and focusing on the rusted metal in front of you. Exhale. Concentrating on the infinitely many iron molecules packed inside the rods. Inhale again. Blocking everything else around. And exhale. You sense the structure changing. Slowly. Softening. Shifting. And moving.

The metal is heating up, finally, and bent into a shape just wide enough for a person to fit through. But it cost a lot of effort, considering you're badly wounded. You almost fainted, but Caitlin managed to catch you before you dropped down. Quickly escaping, you don’t even notice you’re moving and start to slip away again. Feeling a wave of nauseousness hitting you, probably also having a concussion caused by the forceful blow on your head. But you have to keep holding on, as Caitlin keeps repeating.

With blurry sight you make out a person in the distance who’s wearing a bright red suit. And wearing power dampening cuffs. It’s Barry, with next to him Cisco, also cuffed.

“Caitlin!”, you hear them shout in unison, now feeling loss of contact with the woman supporting you. Carefully placing you in front of the cell where Barry and Cisco are held captive, she kneels down in front of you. You sense her soft hand touching your cheek.

“Try to keep your eyes open for me”, she whispers at you, “okay?”. Skin feeling cold again now that she let go. In fact, your whole body starts to feel cold. You hear Cisco instructing Caitlin to grab something, but his exact words remain a mystery to you. Maybe he knows how to take off the high-tech cuffs. Or at least you’re hoping he knows how to unlock those, because you’re in no state of freeing them too, which leaves the team trapped inside this building still. Or worse...

“We have to get out of here! Stay with me (Y/N)”. You faintly perceive Caitlin’s words, along with the sound of several heavy footsteps approaching. But you’re slipping away again and your eyelids become heavy. Maybe... just close my eyes for a few secon-

Losing consciousness, you’re not able to hear the angry cursing and shouting along with the distressed voices of your friends anymore.

///

A headache. The worst you have ever had. Ugh, my head feels as if it's been used as a basketball... Hold on, you have to wake up. Now. You’re still in danger, as are Barry, Cisco and Caitlin. You open your eyes but shut them again, caused by the way too intense light inside… Wait-

STAR Labs?

Opening your eyes with more caution now, you catch the silhouette of Caitlin, back turned towards you, busy with some medical equipment on a steel table placed against the wall. You want to sit upright, yet all that happens is an agonizing groan escaping your mouth.

“Easy, easy”. Alerted by the discomforting sound behind her, Caitlin promptly moves to the bedside to stop you. “You have a bad concussion”. You anxiously reach for your head and feel it's bandaged up. “Relax, (Y/N). We’re safe now, alright?”, Caitlin eases. As a reaction to your disoriented state, she takes your hands in a soft grip to put them down again. “And I also took care of the wound on the back of your head. You’re gonna be fine”

“Thanks”, you say with a husky voice. Suddenly feeling guilty about passing out before the danger had passed. Before everyone was safe. Much help you provided there.

“No, thank you. You saved us”. She smiles sheepishly and glances at the floor. “You saved me. Again”

“No problem, really”, you answer right away and lock eyes with her, “I said I would always be there to help if you needed any. And I meant it”. Her smile turns into a brighter one, making her brown eyes glint in the still too intense light.

“Um, Caitlin…”, you motion with your eyes down, “you’re still, like, holding my hand”. She blushes a little and replies, “I know”.

By now the others of team Flash have noticed you’re awake and quickly join around the bed. Iris asks how you’re feeling, glad that she called you in to help, but was also concerned when she saw your gaping head-wound when The Flash carried you into The Cortex. Cisco thanks you, and is already discussing potential suit designs with functions you probably won’t be needing. Barry just gives a curt nod, probably pissed he got captured in the first place. Then they all turn to Caitlin because Cisco has asked the question of which they’re all dying to know the answer to. Has she decided what to do now?

“Well…”, Caitlin begins with a thoughtful look, “I think I’ll stay for now. I’ve missed you guys. Missed my family”, she says while looking at the team. But does that include you? Where do I fit in?

As if Iris can read thoughts, she suddenly interrupts. “I think (Y/N) needs some rest first”, she says with raised eyebrows aimed at you. Is there some secret communication going on you’re unaware of? “So we’ll leave you to it, right guys”, Iris continues and takes Cisco and Barry with her, basically dragging the naive boys far enough away.

Caitlin is the last to leave. She stands up and wants to let go of your hand which she was still holding. Yet, you don’t let her. “Wait, Caitlin-”

“Yes?”, she returns expectantly. Perhaps you did pick up on what Iris was trying to tell you after all.

“Is Team Flash the only reason you decided to stay?”, you ask carefully. She stares at you for a second and answers, “Well, yes”.

“Oh...”, you mutter and avert your gaze to the floor, more than disappointed.

However, Caitlin wasn’t done and speaks again, “Because apparently there’s this new member on the team”. You glance back at her.

“Maybe I’d like to get to know this person better”, she suggests. Is that so, you think, staying quiet and patiently waiting for the rest. “A firefighter, with heating powers”.

“Sounds like a good match”, you say with a suggestive tone, “Heat and Cold. Completing one another”.

Before you know it you’ve asked the question that has been occupying your mind for a while now, under the heavy frustration of Iris.

“You wanna grab a coffee at Jitters sometime?”. “Sounds like a date”, she answers with a soft smile, “But first you need to rest”.

Imitating a voice as if following an order, you say, “Yes, I shall rest, Dr. Snow”, when she places a soft kiss on the back of your hand before slowly letting go. Her warm touch imprinted on your skin, you watch her leave until she is out of sight.

Now all alone, you suddenly feel yourself heating up. You close your eyes and immediately fall asleep because you’re so exhausted by everything that has happened today. A warmth ripples through your body, exhausted, yes, but also happy. Drifting away in a peaceful, dreamy sleep...

The smell of fresh coffee beans and the sound of soft chatter from people enjoying a cup or two fills the cozy place. Waiting for a special someone, you’re seated on a couch way too large for one person and gaze at the entrance when the door swings open...

#caitlin snow x reader #killer frost x reader #caitlin snow #caitlin snow imagine #caitlin snow x you #caitlin x reader #killer frost #killer frost x you #killer frost imagine #the flash #barry allen #cisco ramon #iris west #wlw fiction #wlw imagine #fanfiction #caitlin snow fic

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naitiaclo960writings · 3 years

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Day 17 - Autumn Invading

When Sam and Dean officially moved into the bunker, it was in the early fall. Even in Kansas, the wind was cold and biting at that time of year and, although he would never admit it even on his deathbed, Dean had always been of a chilly nature. In the innumerable motels they had traveled throughout their lives, Dean systematically arranged to keep several layers of clothing on him or to ask for extra blankets at the reception. When they had established their base at the bunker and each had inherited a room, it was not long for Dean before finding slippers, a warm bathrobe and the thickest blankets of their fortress.

Sam had noticed his little game a long time ago already, but never said anything. Despite his tough guy looks that Dean wanted to give himself for a reason that escaped him, Sam knew that his brother had a weakness, especially for the rare days when their daily life turned out to be calm and domestic. While he was ruthless with the monsters who gave them a hard time, Dean was also the most inclined to make hot chocolates in front of a wood fire while watching a nice movie. Sam called it his "cocooning period" and Dean, who thought it sounded too much like "a chick word”, just said he liked the simple things of life.

However, although he had so far moderated those moments of lounging to prevent Sam from laughing at him anymore, Dean had always dreamed of being able to spend whole days literally doing nothing. Don’t get him wrong, he was a man of action and he needed his quota of monsters and adventure within a week. Nevertheless, he certainly wouldn’t say no to weekends holed up in the bunker to worry about nothing but eating and sleeping from time to time.

Fortunately for him, the opportunity had almost presented itself when Castiel came to live with them. Definitely, of course.

Currently, Dean was buried under several fluffy blankets in his memory foam bed. He stretched out slowly, feeling each of his muscles deliciously distends before falling back against his pillows in the most satisfied sigh. Despite his blanket fortress and the heating on in his room, Dean was practically naked in his bed, wearing only a large pair of boxers with pizza patterns that he only wore when he wanted to relax. The underwear was so loose that he hardly felt it around his waist. On the other hand, feeling the cotton of the blankets on his freshly washed skin had the talent of putting him in a good mood.

His feet—which had kept cooling on contact with the bunker tiles despite his wool slippers—were now pleasantly warm at the end of the bed, sending delightful waves of tingling in his legs. He felt like he was floating in a cloud of comfort and, for God’s sake, he would like to feel that way for the rest of his life. Dean barely wanted to get up to get food or go to the bathroom. If he had to die here, then so be it. He told himself that he would pass away happily, with a little soft smile. Dean retreated to his comfort nest, his hair pointing in all directions as he tightened his favorite blanket around his shoulders.

The arm that did not hold the blanket, for its part, went on a wander in search of a very different source of heat. When his fingers finally came into contact with warm and familiar skin in front of him, he smiled a little more. Castiel was sitting next to him, leaning on a pile of pillows against the headboard and staring at the computer between them. He was not much more dressed than Dean, but unlike his companion, he did not feel the need to cover up. Angels were not affected by temperature like humans. Also, Castiel was always temperate and, when Dean felt too chilly, he would snuggle to him in search of a human — or almost — radiator. Although, of course, Dean did not always wait to be cold to cuddle with Castiel.

Castiel smiled while feeling Dean’s hand gently caressing his bare and finely muscled belly, his blue eyes leaving the screen to come and rest on Dean’s loving face. He loved to see this expression so open and relaxed on his partner’s face and made it a point to make it appear as often as possible. Since the beginning of fall, he and Dean had multiplied the afternoons in bed to laze undisturbed in the warmth of their room. It was needless to say that Castiel had never experienced such a situation, it seemed to him to be a purely human activity to which he would have lent no use not so long before. But now that he shared his daily life and more with Dean, he had quickly learned to cherish those kinds of shared moments together. It was beyond words. Dean called it "having a good run together" and Castiel loved the sound of that sentence, because he already knew that he wanted to explore every possible and imaginable existence with Dean until the end of his very long life. It would probably be a bit silly if he confessed it aloud to his companion, but he would not hesitate to let Dean know it just to see him blush and mumble two or three swear words under his breath before kissing him gently on the lips.

Castiel cut his thoughts short to get progressively closer to Dean, sinking into the blankets too. He turned on the mattress to face him, placing a warm hand on one of his cheeks and feeling Dean’s zygomatic tends more into a soft smile.

"Are you cold?" Castiel inquired, raising a curious eyebrow while the computer played a series, forgotten between them.

Dean shrugged but nevertheless got closer, planting a wet kiss on Castiel’s nose. They were now so close to each other that they shared the same air.

"That’s alright. Unless you want to give me a little sport to warm me up…" Dean teased while continuing to touch the Angel’s abs, a playful smile on his face.

Castiel hummed gently to the attention before extending an arm towards Dean. He embraced him slowly before drawing Dean to him and share another kiss, deeper this time. Dean let out an amused exclamation in the embrace and then retreated after a while. He smiled.

"Besides, I thought you really wanted to know the end of Breaking Bad before deigning to touch me." He joked before he kissed Castiel again, gently.

Castiel raised an arrogant eyebrow and this time it was his turn to break the contact.

"Maybe my human’s needs come first this time. Well, so I believe." Castiel replied in a teasing tone, easily entering Dean’s game now that he had learned the subtlety of sarcasm and seduction.

Dean shook his head and smiled. He knew that such a dynamic between them would never have been possible before, even in his wildest dreams. Dean had resigned to his unspoken feelings by persuading himself for years that he and Castiel were a relationship doomed to failure and suffering. That they were too different and that their lives would never allow them any semblance of normalcy or comfort. That he shouldn’t be distracted when he was trying to save the world or taking care of his little brother. That it just wouldn’t work, because it wasn’t reciprocal and he’d make a fool of himself, he’d lose his best friend, he’d still hurt someone he cared about.

He had been happy to have decided not to listen to this voice the day he opened himself up to Castiel. Although this was greatly encouraged by alcohol, it was all but unimportant.

"Oh, I see. Well, the human is infinitely grateful to you for honoring him with your luminous presence." Dean answered with exaggeration, rolling his eyes and pretending to be annoyed.

"You don’t complain about it, though." Castiel remarked.

Castiel tried to kiss him again after that, but Dean backed away and gave him a finger. Castiel grumbled and pushed him a little further while Dean laughed softly, not even offended when the blanket slipped from his shoulders. He loved the simplicity that animated their relationship, the fact that he could act freely without worrying about the reaction of the other. Castiel knew him so well now and it had taken more than a few months for Dean to accept the fact that his best friend loved him for what he was and not for what he was supposed to be every day. It was refreshing and oh so restful for Dean. In all these previous serious relationships, although they were not numerous, he had had to keep a part of mystery or even a lie that had systematically left a bitter taste in his mouth. With Castiel, the major difference was that he knew immediately what he was signing up for and accepted it as is.

Still smiling, Dean straightened up to grab the cup of hot chocolate he had left to cool down until then. He took the drink with a comfortable sigh and wrapped his fingers around the still warm ceramic. A marshmallow floated lazily in the center of the chocolate and Dean melted a little more in the mattress when the liquid touched his lips. He knew that in normal times and with anyone else at his side, he would disown hot chocolate for something stronger. Probably coffee, or whiskey. Or both at the same time. But now, he was too deeply immersed in his trance of total relaxation to care about it and this chocolate was the most delicious there was right now. He let the sweet taste come and tease his taste buds before swallowing it with delight, feeling the still burning liquid slipping down his throat.

When Dean opened his eyes that he did not remember closing, he watched his computer continue broadcasting Breaking Bad in front of them. They remained in silence for many minutes, Dean finishing his cup of chocolate while Castiel played distractingly with the fingers of Dean’s unoccupied hand. When his cup was empty and he felt warmed from the inside, Dean rested his mug on his nightstand and stretched out like a cat again. He was pretty sure that Castiel paid as much attention as he did to their series—that is to say, very little—so he was not surprised when his companion straightened up to hug him on his side and bury his nose in his neck. Dean smiles as he feels Castiel’s warm breath in the hollow of his skin.

"If you keep going, we both know perfectly well that we will never finish the episode…" Dean growled gently while leaning into the embrace.

Time seemed suspended between them in this bubble of happiness that constituted their room, slowed down. Dean sighed quietly, softly sliding towards that version of him that only very few people on this Earth had the right to see. The relaxed and gentle, funny Dean. A little needy, but nevertheless light and easy… The Dean is the exact opposite of this emotionless killing machine that he had to interpret too often to survive. Here, the only weapon he needed was the puppy eyes that he sometimes threw at Castiel to order him another head massage among his tangled hair.

The hours elapsed deliciously between them as the episodes followed one another. Dean felt a little more filled with that warm feeling every time Castiel paid attention to him, whether it was when he rolled the blankets up on a piece of his bare skin or when he pressed a tender kiss down his neck just to feel it shivering. In those days, Dean wanted to do everything and do nothing at the same time. He felt powerful, important, alive.

The sun was certainly declining outside to give way to the long night of winter, but both dared hardly look at the hour for fear of breaking this tacit agreement of total tranquility. Of course, Dean got up at one point to quickly go to cook something before coming back to eat it in bed, and Castiel took the opportunity to take out the controllers of the game console located in Dean’s room after they had finished their series. Castiel won the game, as he always did, because he seemed to be just good at everything he did, and Dean mumbled for form in the face of his traditional forfeit of the loser before indulging in a back massage for his companion.

He savored every trembling muscle under his fingers, every scar that he began to know by heart, and paid special attention to these two reddish marks among the scapula reminiscent of deep cuts. But Dean knew these marks well, and he loved them even more since he knew how to exploit them. Sitting softly on Castiel’s buttocks, he pressed his fingers against the spine of his angel before slowly pulling up each vertebra. He massaged, caressed, brushed and massaged again until he felt Castiel trembling beneath him. Dean leaned a little further forward, so that his breath now came to warm the skin of his lover’s back. He smiles, concentrating his movements on the shoulder blades, teasing the hollows and bumps of his companion’s anatomy while detailing his pale, muscular skin.

"Never have I ever… lost in a video game on purpose to massage you." Dean suddenly said before he came to kiss Cas’s upper back.

Castiel sighed and a fine smile appeared on his relaxed face. It was their game, their way of saying "I love you" without really expressing it… They had developed it at the turn of a drink-fueled evening that had undeniably ended with very few clothes, but their trick had remained and everything was a pretext to reuse it now. It was simple and stupid and simply stupid, everything they needed to know and say what they thought about each other. One said a perfectly obvious fact by beginning his sentence with "never have I ever", to which the other had to answer with a kiss if it were true. To date, no one has stated facts that do not require a positive response. Normally, the game was played in turn, but, engaged in the roll, Dean continued.

"Never have I ever loved the touch of your wings more than anything in this world…"

Another kiss, on one of the marks this time, as if to contradict himself. An umpteenth happy sigh. Castiel did not complain about this brief change of rules.

"Never have I ever…" A kiss. "Loved as much…" Then another. " As with you…"

Castiel practically purred under the attention before Dean slowly retreated and lowered his hands. Like a perfectly repeated choreography, Castiel took the opportunity to take a deep inspiration before a loud "whoosh" filled the air and two huge black wings invaded the space of the room. Dean smiled tenderly, a wide smile full of teeth that wrinkled the corner of his eyes as he leaned forward again to kiss the base of the wings. No feather escaped his attention as he stroked and kissed every bit of plumage offered to him, and Castiel seemed to melt on the mattress.

Seeing the wings of an angel was a true honor considering how intimate the gesture was for the angel concerned. Castiel literally laid bare before him, revealing his purest primal form and putting his life in his hands. The wings of an angel were so fragile, so sensitive and yet so powerful and majestic. Even among them, it was not common for this heavenly race to show their wings, let alone in a moment as intimate as the one Castiel and Dean were living. But the months had accumulated between them and from this love a solid trust was born. Dean would never thank his angel enough for offering him such proof of love, but he could nevertheless try to love him so much in return.

"Cas…" Dean whispered against the heat of a large dark feather.

"I’m here." Castiel immediately replied. Always.

As a result, the words were lost, the gestures became feverish to make room only for the language of the bodies. Although Dean was woefully bad at expressing his emotions, he certainly knew how to show them and Castiel undeniably liked to receive. Nevertheless, of all the means they used to warm up on the cold autumn days, this was their favorite.

* * * @winchester-reload

Hiya! First of all, I’m sorry for the delay in publication. I had several personal things to deal with, a writing block and, among other things, the now imminent end of the show that is beginning to weigh on morale. However, I repeat that I intend to finish this collection on the 31 days of the Suptober! I’m not going to pick up the pace of "one work a day", but things will continue to move forward, hoping you’ll stay tuned for it!

You can find the whole series on Ao3

Tag list /!\ PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU WANT TO BE ADD TO (or removed from) THE TAG LIST so you won’t miss any updates.

@misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @styggtroll @thanks-tacos @petrichoravellichor @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @ladywaywarddsc @hellfire37 @destiel-221b-sabriel @aloha-cowgirl @destielhoneybee @dysfunctional-destiel @ozonecologne @doofcas @castielrisingabove @zoerayne2426 @tibbinswrites @vicmc624 @thegirlofstarlight @berrieseveryday @staycejo1 @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel @bab-spnfamily @lo-mindpalace

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derangedhyena-zoids · 3 years

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I guess now that I featured The Kids in something I can elaborate on them and everything related slightly without seeming completely insane. BIG HEADCANON BLATHER TIME: Raven and Ryss had 2 kids, both boys.

Ryss wasn’t a terribly good mother. She loved her kids but was a little panicked about them at all times, and didn’t really like the distraction they were. Specula was a good mother and did the majority of keeping them out of trouble.

They were also psychic as fuck, but that didn’t show up until they were hitting puberty. I’m sure that was an entire Time.

Ryss literally didn’t think she could get pregnant by Raven. She based this off of both what she’d been taught by Hiltz (humans=/=Zoidians) and the fact that Fiona had never been pregnant despite sleeping with Van for years*. So, once Ryss figured out she was pregnant**, telling Raven was a bit of an event because Raven was under the impression that such a thing wasn’t possible. He also had little interest in being a parent. Ryss also had no idea what pregnancy even entailed for a Zoidian, and neither did Fiona. Again, all she knew was what she’d learned from Hiltz, and it wasn’t as if he went out of his way to teach her the finer points of anything. (Knowledge is power after all, and he wanted wanted to hold as much power over her as possible. What she didn’t know to begin with, she couldn’t know was being withheld. All she knew from Hiltz on the topic was Zoidian pregnancies are of a greater duration than human pregnancies - mainly because he’d irritably snapped about how ‘the vermin’ reproduce faster.) Raven’s main reluctance about parenting had to do with... you know, his massive unresolved parental trauma. Which after some extreme stress he and Ryss managed to work through, largely because they had a lot in common in this department. Afterwards Raven warmed up to the idea of being a father, and was... well, Okay.jpg at it. Let’s just say he had Shadow helping Specula with the kids a lot. ...the kids were raised by Organoids. SO.

An attempt was made to keep track of Ryss and her offspring, especially after Raven’s death and she began to make herself scarce. But nobody expected the kids to be psychic af, and they quickly sussed out that something was up and followed their mom’s lead, making themselves and their families impossible to find. ....

The Guardian Force pretty quickly lost tabs on them, but did know what to “look for”, so to speak.

However, this attempt was never linked up with the information the Empire had on Ryss, mainly because too much time had passed and no one knew to bridge the info.

Anyways. All three Zoidians were aware there were differences between themselves and humans, Hiltz more than most. Hiltz was the only one of them that had an adult level of knowledge from Zoidian times. Fiona and Ryss were literal children and were only ever, at best, taught the very basics about things. Part and parcel of subscribing wholesale to the we’re-the-best group’s newsletter, Hiltz also a keen interest in biology/related, obviously interested in scholars of that group’s discussion on what amounted to Zoidian eugenics. ‘we’re the best, and here’s why.’ Hiltz didn’t even remotely consider that humans and Zoidians could hybridize, nor was he interested in finding out. (though he had well-established to Prozen and the Imperial scientists his “ownership” of Ryss and the fact she was not to be messed with, I’m sure he had to mindfuck and/or sic Ambient on a swath of folks to get them to stop bothering him about jizzing in a cup.)***

Joke’s on him because he fathered *at least* these three:

while living in the small colony with the scholar.

because he, Hiltz, the weird guy, was hot, amazing in bed, and quite DTF. scholar: ... Hiltz: (ツ) scholar: ... Hiltz: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ scholar: ...sure, whatever, what could it hurt anyways ^^^THESE FOLKS HAD A TIME. Unlike with Ryss’s kids, who at least had a slight understanding they were different and some guidance on the situation, any and all of Hiltz’s offspring HAD NO IDEA WHAT WAS GOING ON. And not that any of the fertility restrictions were enacted at this point in time (there’s wars, you live in the wild west, please have kids), but the addition of Zoidian into the mix fucks the inbuilt population-control-genetic-engineering-bullshit straight up, which resulted later in a lot of confusing surprises for people annnnnd is part of why miscarriages became common later down the line.

Nobody expected the spanish inquisition weird side-species fuckery. Nobody even knows to look! By NC0 times there’s just starting to be coherent, unified inquiry into the various vanilla-human mutations running around.

WHOOPS THO: Backdraft & Co have been at this shit for a while and already know a lot about this. Because they have a hard-on for the Empire and a lot of OG Backdraft are basically really rich, bitter offspring from Imperial families who think they’re better in just about every way. Including genetically. When Backdraft became predominantly a moneymaking, black-market, illegal-battling underground enterprise, a rift began and never stopped growing. Backdraft has a strong preference for recruiting folks of Guylos descent (hi, Bit), but in recent memory had stopped turning people away for not being so. Because money. It did kinda... go in peoples’ file though. In the game of historical telephone, Ryss (and Raven’s) bloodline were more or less demoted to the same: ‘from Guylos.’ Alteil was in range of figuring a few important things out. Unfortunately, HE DED. His successor with this information is Layon. Surely nothing can go wrong there. ANYWAYS. A massive and valid concern Ryss had was what would happen with hybrid offspring, since to her knowledge her kid would be the first. Hiltz’s were already adults, they were fine. They were better than fine, they just needed a lot more water and salt than everyone else. So, as we all know, Hiltz uh, actually succeeded in removing a sizable chunk of the human population on Zi. Once everyone had scraped semi-functional society back together, the powers that-were-to-be basically prioritized secure settlements and making everyone feel safe so... you know, they’d have kids. Important for the whole rebuilding society thing. The Zoidian offspring became slightly more statistically relevant during this time, because them and potentially even their kids had all been scared shitless and fled into the hills from the Death Stinger bullshit long before anyone else had. Once there they were good at Not Dying In General, because they had a variety of inexplicable abilities and were just WELL I’M A FREAK BUT I’M ALIVE SO, YOU KNOW, WE’RE COOL.

Greater than zero chance that someone started a cult. Very, very obviously: these folks knew to keep to themselves. Though the original offspring and their mother had NO idea what was going on, over time any kids at least had fair warning, and knew to keep oddity to themselves. When the most blatant expressions of things were bred out, only the subtle but strongly expressed items remained, discussion of familial strangeness subsided. Then you’re left with people like Brad who can basically see in the dark, but thinks everyone can see in the dark, it’s no big deal right? RELATED, BUT NOT: This is technically a spoiler, but not really, because I’m not sure this actually “plays into the plot” so much as it is just “a fact of the plot” annnnnd I sort of want/need to explain this a little because it’s related to all of this. In this hc, the Zoid Eve is a metaphorical hyper-simplification of ‘resources.’

Back in Zoidian times, some scholars - namely those aligned with the group(s) Hiltz was eventually born into - theorized that the Zoid Eve’s power was not an infinite resource as many believed, but actually an incredibly finite one. Not in the sense of it being used up, but the sense of “there are only ‘100′ of these, there will only ever be ‘100′ of these, we cannot add to or take away from this” (sidenote: I subscribe to the idea that the Zoid Eve was some kind of supernaturally-occurring power source that the Zoidians shaped into what everyone now calls the Zoid Eve. They did this so long ago that its origins became unclear; beliefs from various groups ran the gamut from “LITERALLY GOD” to “it was built by us”) The power of it gave life and longevity not only to all Zoids but them too. And it seemed that the more individuals there were, the smaller the “slice of the pie” they received. They began to project apocalyptic futures in which the “slices” were so small that death ran rampant, and Big War would be inevitable. Obviously, nobody wanted this. But unfortunately the group who theorized this also started a huge, lengthy campaign to reduce the population, which - after many years, a lot of societal sabotage and and many smaller conflicts between groups - eventually culminated in ongoing, wholesale slaughter, which led to the big Zoidian-apocalypse nonsense that we’re all familiar with. Cool story bro, right? Well, y’see, those ancient scholars weren’t wrong, though. To an extent that’s actually what led to the hyper-concentration of strength in the DSaurer/DScorpion battle, and why Zero and One are functionally god-tier Organoids. But what this means in modern times, is that the remaining Zoidians - and to a proportionately-relevant extent, the hybrid offspring - are the only remaining folks (besides the Organoids and Zoids) benefiting from the pie anymore. Ryss is the last Zoidian; she’s basically non-aging at this point.

First-gen hybrids? Aging at a complete snail’s pace. Second gen? Still having a very strange time. So on and so forth... Can they die? Absolutely, but it’s pretty hard to kill them. Basically only complete destruction of vital parts works. Does this also apply to Organoids and Zoids? Absolutely. “then why’s Fiona dead” Because the double-bond with Zeke seriously fucked her up. Van dragged her down, hard. “but-” Zeke could’ve pulled away from her at any time and she would’ve lived. Been a nutcase probably, but lived. She suspected it, Zeke was outright in denial; she never called him on it because she cared about him too much and didn’t want him blaming himself for whatever happened. This is what Ryss suspected/understood as well, and likewise didn’t want to break Zeke. “wait, what about zeke?” HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM IN CLOSING: I don’t have names for any of the offspring discussed here, but I have thought about the appearances/other stuff. Obviously. I’ve never specified how many original offspring(s) were running around. But it couldn’t have been too many. So anyone in NC0 times related to either Ryss or Hiltz can trace back to ^^^the folks pictured above, most likely. I actually have no idea how to properly calculate the amount of population vs how much impact a handful of reproducing individuals would have over x generations. So please excuse vagueness there, as I’m both open to adjusting that number when/if it becomes feasible to do so, and also don’t think it’s terribly necessary to have this information nailed down because let’s be real nobody cares and that’s a lot of work. Also as I’ve mentioned before, there’s several serious confounding factors here: -these people can LIVE A LONG TIME. The original hybrids and their kids ARE POTENTIALLY STILL ALIVE. They mature relatively rapidly, but then coast into a very slow aging process. That means that - especially the males - could still technically be producing offspring. -that makes my head hurt and makes figuring out lineages stupid nightmare mode. so don’t expect me to actually do that because I’m not sure how to. The main Facts(tm) you need are: Sara is 4th gen. Vega is 5th gen x2. Brad is 5th gen. Stoller is 7th gen.

that’s the important part, okay. (*’s from earlier: ) *tl;dr the bizarre situation they’d inadvertently created with Zeke wreaked havoc on Fiona’s ability to reproduce. Conversely, Raven and Ryss *almost* had a ‘proper’ setup, so Ryss was fine. Nobody knew this. **Ryss figured this out with Fiona’s help - and who did they both go to, to ask in confidence?

Yep. ”isn’t he-” YEP. ***The Empire knows next to nothing about Hiltz. The Republic, however has AN OBSCENE AMOUNT of information about him. Difficulty level? The data was both classified, and never really tied back to him. Because Hiltz murdered the scholar and burned down his house/lab, the connecting information was all lost. The scholar had moved the material to his house in secret, due to fears of an Imperial spy in their research facility - he was telling Hiltz the truth. The most that the Empire ever learned at that time was that the Republic had “captured” a Zoidian (Hiltz), and that was about it. This drove the fervor which led to them grabbing at the Republic’s continued excavations - eg what happened with Shadow, and presumably them attacking (and IMO, overpowering) the Republic group that’d also seized Ryss. Before Hiltz became involved, Imperial scientists gleaned a lot about Ryss, but as I’ve mentioned before, she wasn’t treated anywhere nearly as poorly as Hiltz had been. She also had Specula, which helped a lot. So, the Empire knew nothing of Hiltz, but a lot about Ryss. Thanks to Alteil and his predecessor’s longstanding obsession with the Imperial military, Backdraft has almost all of the Imperial military’s data from the past few centuries. Ergo...

#headcanon #long post #spoilers kinda?#in this house everything is a MESS

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lifblogs · 3 years

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So I started this story maybe a little less than a year ago, and I meant to continue it, and I still might want to, but this is all I have right now, and the only thing I feel is eternal suffering.

Warnings for gore, and angsty sexy times.

3753 words

This was the last time Castiel would ever kiss Dean. It had to be. Both of them were getting too distracted with each other. In fact, he had no memory of Sam and Jack in this little pocket of time. It was all just Dean.

Castiel, with his dark hair and blue eyes and nearly too-pink lips, breathed in Dean’s scent, inhaling deep, as he slammed him up against the wall in his bedroom. Dean’s green eyes were warm with lust, brown hair already mussed from Castiel’s handling of it, and his muscled body was up against his. Lust was a thing that Castiel now recognized in him, and even found comforting. Dean’s cupid’s bow lips were parted, tongue playing over his bottom one. There was a playful glint in his eyes, but his body was slack against Castiel’s. It was amazing how he became so malleable beneath him, even though they were separated by what Castiel considered too much clothing. Dean was in a T-shirt, flannel, and jeans, and Castiel was in his regular suit. At least his overcoat was off, and his tie had been undone, but there wasn’t nearly enough skin showing for him, not for this act that he wanted. He wanted it because he wanted Dean, wholly, in his heart. And he wanted to please him. Castiel loved when Dean was happy.

His lover tilted his chin up, mouth close to Castiel’s. “Come on, angel. You know you want to kiss me.”

Castiel did, but would he be able to stop if he did? The desires in him were urging him on, telling him that yes, you need Dean, but part of him was saying this had to be it. This had to be the last time.

But touching him would make it too hard to stop.

Dean was irresistible.

While Castiel still thought all this over, he argued, “Maybe I just thought you belonged against the wall.” He raised an eyebrow, making it look like he was staring down at him even though Dean was an inch taller.

Dean laughed, grinning, and he was gyrating up against Castiel. Cas’ knees grew jiggly, weak, and he just about fell into him. This made Dean laugh with even more vigor. Damn, this really wasn’t going to be their last time. Maybe it would last for eternity.

“I do, you know,” Dean told him. “Against the wall, against a counter, on the floor, on the bed...”

He tried to reach Castiel with his lips now, voice having grown softer as he’d spoken. Castiel pulled back.

Something was wrong.

~~~

“Dean! Look out!” Sam called.

Dean barely had time to dodge the stool that was getting thrown at him. Thanks to Sam’s warning, it went over his head as he ducked and crouched down, but it almost got him. He could feel the air of it passing overhead.

God damn it, that was too close.

The demon attacking him apparently hadn’t even truly been aiming to hit him with the stool. It’d successfully distracted Dean, and when he got lunged at and slammed against the bar, he didn’t know whether to blame himself or not.

Dean’s head was slammed back, body bent at a painful angle, but he managed to throw a punch.

Blame the demon, he told himself.

Yeah, he liked that option.

~~~

“What is it?” Dean asked, obviously noticing the frown on Castiel’s face.

His heart had been beating too fast for just a few seconds, blood pumping through him in a way that was almost painful. Anxiety tugged at his gut.

But now, it was all gone.

He looked back at Dean, and ease settled over him.

“Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

He grabbed Dean, hands on his belt, and started pulling him over to the bed. They toppled over onto it, Dean on top of Castiel. Now he let their lips meet.

It was like everything he’d ever wanted. Each kiss with Dean was comforting bliss. And it was something he knew so well now. He knew the shape of those warm, soft lips, not just in his vision, but against his own mouth, against his skin. He even knew what the inside of that mouth felt like. Thinking about it didn’t necessarily make Castiel hard, but Dean straddling him and grinding over his cock certainly did. And their mouths hardly left each other, kisses strong, desperate. Too much saliva was getting in the mix and it dripped down from Dean’s mouth onto Castiel’s face.

Maybe another person would’ve apologized, but this was Dean, and he was with Castiel. They were used to each other. Dean let out a playful growl, and leaned down, licking up the bit of saliva from Castiel’s chin.

“That was your fault,” Castiel told him.

Dean got off to start taking off his clothes.

“I know.”

~~~

Sam was tussling with two demons. There had been another, but Dean had taken them out already. The only reason Sam seemed to be having so much difficulty was because these two were angry. Apparently they’d known some people he’d drunk dry about a decade ago.

Wow, they really knew how to hold a grudge.

But Dean wasn’t fighting for grudges.

He was fighting for something much more valuable than that.

Dean screamed as he grabbed the demon, and slammed them against the bar. He leapt over it, reached back and grabbed a bottle of scotch and broke it over their head. Glass stuck in their hair, and blood flowed freely.

The demon growled, getting up, but Dean let out another fierce cry and grabbed them, whacking them repeatedly against the counter. There were crunches as the cartilage in their nose broke, and blood flew.

Dean got a glimpse of Sam, who was in the corner, having felled one demon, and now trying to get the other off his back.

Dean found a pool ball that had rolled behind the counter with all the fighting, picked it up, and threw it at the demon clinging to Sam. It hit it solidly in the eye, surely breaking the socket.

The demon fell.

No longer getting strangled or having his arms thrown back, Sam stabbed the demon.

It sparked out in a burst of orange light.

They’d stupidly gone into this with only the demon-killing knife. They should’ve had angel blades, maybe even Jody as back-up. But no, Dean had wanted to do this himself.

This was their problem.

It was for their family.

Sam tossed him the knife, and just as the final demon grabbed Dean by the shirt and started hauling him up onto the bar, he stabbed them up through their chin.

The demon fell on him as they died.

Blood spurted into Dean’s mouth.

~~~

When Dean got his belt undone, Castiel rushed up, and he got on his knees before him. Tasting Dean was different from tasting food. It wasn’t like the boring, bland molecules of a peanut butter sandwich. It was more than that.

Dean breathed out, “Oh my god,” and Castiel started undoing the button and zipper on his jeans. He pulled them down, and quickly learned that Dean hadn’t been wearing anything else underneath. What was that called? Dean had taught the word to him, but for now it was trapped behind a wall of unimportance. What was important was the flesh that was laid bare before him. “Cas, you don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Castiel took Dean’s semi-erect cock in one hand, and started pumping him — it was a gesture he hadn’t known could bring pleasure, not before Dean, but now he always did his best with it.

“God, you can squeeze harder,” Dean breathed.

Castiel joked, “Please stop saying my father’s name.”

Dean’s cheeks, which were already heated from arousal, flooded even more with that excellent wash of color. Freckles stood out against the red.

To distract him from his embarrassment, Castiel opened his mouth, and leaned forward, taking the fleshy head into him. And he tasted him. He tasted not just the particles, not just the bacteria that humans were symbiotic with, but his sentience, and the space between the atoms and molecules that created him. In that space lay creation, the cosmos: infinite, and unparalleled. The same spaces lay inside Castiel, connecting him and Dean, even though they were different beings. At heart, they were both creations of God. Castiel was an angel. Dean was the Righteous Man. And Castiel was doing as God had commanded: loving man.

Dean hissed in a breath, hands going into Castiel’s hair. One of his thumbs brushed over his ear, sending a tingle down his neck, and through his torso. Cas moaned at it, and took him in further.

Dean’s inhales were shallow, his exhales hard.

“Oh, Cas…”

Castiel sucked him, bobbing his head back and forth, making him fully harden. When Dean was hot and hard in his mouth, Castiel pulled back and started pumping him again, working the saliva against his skin. He looked up at Dean, who had his eyes squeezed shut, and his mouth open in bliss. Small, but low, noises came from him.

Castiel stiffened in his pants from it all, an ache starting to build up in his pelvis.

When he put Dean in his mouth again, the bedroom disappeared.

It was just black. Nothingness.

~~~

Dean came up, spluttering, shoving the demon away. He hopped down from the stool.

“You know, maybe we should’ve left one alive,” Dean said.

“You did,” a voice called from behind Sam.

Sam turned, hitting them with a powerful uppercut, and then grabbed him by the throat. Dean went over to help, and Sam got him on the floor, a foot on his chest to keep him down. He was snarling at the demon, who in turn, snarled back.

Dean crouched down, and held the blade of the demon-killing knife just underneath the demon’s right eye.

“We heard you know where the Baetylus is,” Sam said.

“Yeah, we were gonna be all nice asking you about it,” Dean began, “then you and your guys attacked us.”

Sam grinned, pressing down hard with his foot. His head twisted slightly, looking menacing.

“Not a smart move.”

“So we’re gonna give you only a couple chances — where is it?”

The demon, who was large, greasy-haired, and just one ugly son of a bitch, asked, “Why do you need it?”

“Strike one,” Dean said.

He dug the knife into his eye, not even flinching as he thrashed and screamed. The demon reached up, trying to fight Dean, but Dean knelt onto his wrist, and Sam stomped down on him for a quick second, breaking the other one.

The demon screamed and flailed.

Dean dug till part of the eye popped out, goopy-white and bloody.

“Where is it?” Sam asked.

“Bite me.”

Sam: “Oh, you don’t want me to.”

Dean shuddered at the quick reminder that his brother used to do that to demons (he was getting too many reminders of it today), but then he was focused on his enemy again.

“Look, don’t be a smartass,” Dean said. “We have the Liber Incatationum, and it has enough information in there for us to know that after it got stolen from the Greeks, it found its way to Hell. The stories say it was guarded by Oruch, and I’m guessing he’s your pal dead on the counter over there. So tell us where it is. We ain’t stupid.”

“Says the boy who’s too pretty to be a hunter.”

Dean set his lips in a stern line, and clenched his jaw. He dug the blade just a smidge into the demon’s cheek, and then looked up at his brother.

“Sam?”

Sam had his foot come down hard on his chest. There was a multitude of cracks, and the demon wheezed.

“I don’t think he felt that. Maybe one more time,” Dean said.

Sam did it once more.

~~~

Shocked, Castiel pulled back, getting to his feet.

“What? What is it?” Dean asked.

Castiel looked around, stunned.

Dean grabbed his face and had him look at him.

The room was back.

Castiel had just had an episode of some sort. Nothing was wrong, except with him. He was here, with Dean.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

Castiel swallowed roughly, but then he nodded his acquiesence.

Dean lightly tapped his cheek with his palm.

“All right, then we’re all good.”

Cas leaned into him, breathing deep, and their mouths met. Dean moaned against him, and he started undoing Castiel’s belt. Cas groaned, putting a hand to the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him close and tilting him back so he could deepen the kiss.

His existence was all Dean.

It was all he needed.

~~~

The demon coughed, and gagged, even sounded like he was choking. Blood came up on his lips.

“Alright!” he screamed out, voice harsh and rough, as Sam raised his leg again, ready to deal another blow. “Alright. Oruch… Oruch didn’t feel it was safe in Hell. So he hid it here.”

Yeah, ‘cause Earth sure is safe, Dean thought sarcastically as he grabbed the demon by the shirt, pulling him close. Now he put the demon-killing knife beneath his neck.

“Where?” he asked desperately, so desperate in fact that spit flew from his lips.

The demon couldn’t raise any hand to point, but he nodded over to the bar.

“Behind there. Under the floorboards. Safe.”

“Give us the combination,” Dean demanded.

“I’m gonna spit on your grave.”

“Fun,” Dean growled. “But there’s gonna be a line.”

He started slicing shallowly into the demon’s neck.

A wet, rattling cry left him.

Sam was whistling nonchalantly, and crouched down, thumb pressing into the demon’s other eye.

Okay, that was enough to make Dean wince.

He was using his actual hand for that?

Ugh!

“When you get downstairs, they’ll put out your eyes!”

“Fascinating,” Sam commented, withdrawing his thumb.

Dean almost gagged as he saw the goop on it.

“Lovely.”

Sam wiped his hand off on Dean’s jacket, and he glared.

“Is this all you can do?” the demon laughed out. “Is this all you got? You want to save your boyfriend, Dean Winchester? You’ll never—”

Having heard enough, vision going red, Dean sliced into his throat, blood spraying both him and Sam.

~~~

Dean was handling Cas with both hands now, having slipped his pants partially off. Castiel found himself thrusting up into him, and Dean pulled away, a smirk on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I really know how to get you going,” Dean commented.

“You always have,” Castiel admitted. “Even that night in the barn.”

Dean grinned, captured his lips for a second, and then said, “Ha, I knew you wanted to fuck me then.”

“But then you stabbed me.”

“Don’t tell me you weren’t into that.”

Castiel grabbed Dean’s hands, pulling them away from him, and he turned so he could slam him down on the bed. He got one leg up over him, and his breath came in pants as he stared at Dean below him. Dean no longer looked so smug. He seemed weak with arousal.

“I’m more into doing the stabbing,” Castiel told him.

It had taken him a few years, but he finally understood how to dirty talk. He didn’t do it much, but when he did it was purely for Dean’s benefit.

Dean looked like he wanted to say something, his mouth hanging open, but instead he started kicking his pants off, and he gripped hard at Castiel’s clothing.

“Clothes off. Now,” Dean ordered.

Castiel did just that, and helped Dean out of his clothes. When they came together again, their bare flesh touched as much as possible. Their kiss turned less heated, and Castiel pulled back, nuzzling his nose against Dean’s.

Dean ran a hand through his hair.

“So what happened earlier?” he asked him.

“I don’t know. It was like… It was like we weren’t here,” Castiel told him, not sure how else to explain.

“Cas, we are here. We’re together. This is us, here, right now. That’s all there ever will be.”

Castiel didn’t question the fervent light in Dean’s eyes and let himself be drawn back to his mouth.

~~~

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed. “We needed him to tell us the combination.”

Dean wiped the blade off on the demon’s jeans and then stood.

“You’re smart. You’ll crack it.”

Sam was muttering under his breath at him, and Dean went to the Impala to go grab salt and oil from the trunk. He put the knife away in a sheath he’d made that was strapped to his thigh. More work had to be done. A lot of demons’ vessels came back as vengeful spirits. They couldn’t have that. It’d be just another problem on their hands.

Plus, Dean needed to get out of the bar, clear his head.

He was all hot, covered in sweat and blood. And there was a dull pounding deep in him. It wasn’t from the numerous hits and punches he’d taken, but something else that hurt inside of him that had made him kill the demon.

Tears pricked at his eyes as he grabbed the oil canister, other hand already holding the salt.

Dean got back inside the bar and set to work. Sam was working in the back. Based on the rubble he could see, his brother had already gotten the floorboards up.

“Dean, I need you,” Sam called.

Dean went over.

“Phone,” Sam said, staring hard at the padlock of a small safe.

“What? Why?”

“Just get it out,” Sam told him. Dean tried to hand it to him, but his brother pushed it away.

Dean looked on in confusion.

“Okay, write this number down for me,” Sam started, hands on the lock. “Fourteen.”

Dean did so, tapping into the Notes app on his phone.

“Now add five.”

“Dude, you think this is math class or something?”

“Add five!”

Dean added five.

His brother was wincing as he turned the padlock counter-clockwise, probably worried he’d make a mistake. Dean couldn’t see or hear what was going on with the lock since he wasn’t up close enough, but he thought Sam might’ve done one full rotation.

He gave him another number and had him add five to that as well.

Dean wanted to roll his eyes. He didn’t see what the point of all this math was.

But, he had told Sammy to crack the safe, and that’s what it looked like he was doing.

Sam stepped aside, took the phone from Dean, and then shoved him towards the safe.

“What?” Dean asked, just a tad outraged.

“You’re the reason we don’t have a combination. You’re gonna open it.”

“But—”

“Already got the first two numbers,” Sam huffed, standing to his full height, arms crossed.

“Fucking brothers,” Dean muttered under his breath. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Try every number. Tug after each one.”

Dean started to do as Sam said, while complaining, “Oh yeah, tugging, ‘cause that’ll get shit done.”

Sam’s foot lightly thumped against his back. Dean grit his teeth.

It took over twenty tries, but he finally got the lock open — though he knew for a fact Sam had done most of the work. There was a click as he pulled on the latch, and swung the door open.

~~~

When he spread Dean’s legs, the feel of him beneath him was suddenly gone. He collapsed to the bed.

Cas opened his eyes, searching around for Dean. He wasn’t there. Not even the scent of him had stayed in the air.

Castiel’s clothes were on him again, like maybe they’d never been taken off, like none of this was real.

“Dean? Dean!”

He whirled around the room — which seemed to be growing darker and darker — looking for his lover.

Nothing.

“Dean!”

His world faded from existence. Black emptiness took over.

~~~

Only one thing sat inside: a dark stone shaped like an oval. Cracks where luminescence shone through were laced through it. Dean picked it up, feeling the cold of it. He turned, holding it up to Sam. After all, Sam was the one who had read the Liber Incatationum, not Dean.

Sam took it, and then stared.

Dean was startled as his brother, letting out a yell, suddenly threw the stone, and it soared across the room before smacking a dent right into the wall. It clattered to the floor.

“Dude!” Dean cried, getting to his feet.

“It’s not the Baetylus. It’s fucking useless!”

Dean wanted to be the one to tell Sam to calm down, but he couldn’t. Suddenly his vision was tunneling, his world darkening. Every breath hurt.

Oh god.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Dean sunk against the counter, head in his hands. There were shards of glass out of the corner of his eye, and he considered taking one and jabbing it into his skull. Maybe that would get something useful done, at least.

Their wild goose chase had led to nothing.

As Dean stood there, all of him weak, the ache in his chest taking over tenfold, Sam was the one who took over salting and burning the bodies.

By the time some of them were set on fire (the building having to go with them because of all the evidence police could find and hold against them), Dean could see straight, but it didn’t matter.

Sam put a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on.”

Dean shrugged his hand off, and straightened. He and Sam walked out of the bar, Dean numbly questioning, “What’s the point?”

“The point?” Sam asked. “We’re trying to save Cas.”

~~~

Clapping sounded in Castiel’s ears.

~~~

Dean was unlocking the Impala now, opening his door. He rested his arms on the roof. Sam was looking at him, wan but forcefully hopeful.

~~~

The voice that spoke to him was Meg’s, but he knew that thing wasn’t Meg.

~~~

“Yeah, and how’s that going for us?” Dean barked. “Face it, Sammy. We’re not gonna save him if we’re just stuck chasing our tails. And what if there isn’t a way? What if none of this works?”

~~~

“Well done, Castiel. Really getting me going there with that show.”

~~~

“It will work,” Sam said. “We can’t give up on him.”

Dean sighed heavily, and then sunk down into his seat.

“Maybe we should,” he said. “He’s gone, Sammy. Gone for good. You and I both know…

~~~

Castiel turned, facing the Empty, the realization of his death sinking upon him once more.

“So, ready to take a million-year nap yet?”

~~~

“...Cas is dead.”

#Destiel #Destiel fanfiction #Supernatural #spn #spn fanfiction #Supernatural fanfiction #tw: graphic depictions of violence #graphic depictions of violence #tw: gore #gore #tw: major character death #major character death #nsft

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tracy-adkins · 5 years

Text

A rant about Rey.

I'm so sick of the entire Mary Sue debate. It's ridiculous! And this bullshit right here is the straw that broke the camel's back!

Here was my response to that dudebro-

Aside from pissing me off, this interaction also got me thinking...

What I told him about her life was absolutely true and it only takes 1/2 a working brain cell to realize that... Rey grew up in hell.

Niima outpost is a bona fide shit hole. It's the kind of place where the most famous ship in the galaxy can be hidden in plain sight... for years! The kind of place where people sell children. Where people ignore a teenage girl being attack in the middle of the city market... or worse, find it entertaining.

Rey is rather plain looking and shapeless when we meet her... and that was not by accident. Daisy is a beautiful young woman who can turn heads walking down any street in the world... but the difference of appearance between her and Rey are as marked as those between a peacock and a peahen.

The heartbreaking truth is, this is as much a defense tactic as it is a statement of Rey's poverty. She's 19... even if she was a late bloomer she's spent, at least, the last few years having to worry about being seen as a desirable woman... because if someone stronger, more clever, or sufficiently devious enough took an interest in her she could and likely would have been sexually assaulted, raped and/or murdered... the chances of her having never been AT LEAST sexually assaulted are very slim...

She fights every fight like her life depends on it. Even when it's a simple robbery... of something worth zero money to her... did you notice how fast she went from "stop that" to complete savage beast mode on the thugs Unkar sent? It was instantaneous the moment that thug grabbed her. That's panic fighting, pure survival instinct. She's been grabbed before... and it's apparently left her with the effects of lingering trauma.

Did you see how she didn't hesitate to attack, with intent to kill, Kylo the first three times that met? She's had to fight for her life before. Enough to have conquered the panic to the point she can fight effectively. That means she's done it A LOT.

Rey is no sweet cinnamon roll, nor some overpowered bimbo... she's a survivor living in one of the foulest pits of hell that the GFFA has to offer.

Sure, she's a decent person... but make no mistake, she is absolutely willing to cut a bitch. She is a stone cold killer. We don"t know her body count, but anyone with eyes can see that she didn't hesitate and she didn't bat an eyelash at killing that first stormtrooper in the forest before Kylo found her. She'd have done the same to him if not for the fact that he was a Jedi.

Which brings me to the point where they actually do meet...

When he took off that helmet and introduced his real PERSON to her you can't help but wonder why the fuck the big bad guy would do such a thing.

But, if you watch the scene that follows you can see him become more and more fascinated by her with every passing second.

I didn't watch him when I saw this movie at the theater, I watched her. She was emoting beautifuly... terror, panic, revulsion... I can see why someone could see this scene as akin to rape... they'd be wrong, but I CAN see how they've come up with that.

Guess who else wasn't looking at him during this scene? Rey wasn't either.

You know when else she wasn't looking at that incredibly expressive face of his?

When he first got a load of her.

The novel states and it's actually pretty easy to see if you look for it, that Kylo Ren was surprised by and impressed with her from the moment she opened fire on him in the forest.

Yup. He was a goner from the word go. He didn't take her because it would be just as easy to get the map from her as it would be to get it from the droid... frankly the data chip would have been infinitely more useful than a 30 second, unfocused memory... no he took her because he felt incredibly drawn to her. He took her because she intrigued him. He could feel there was something different and special about her. He was so distracted by her and elated to have gotten her under his control that he didn't give even a fraction of a shit about finding the droid or Luke anymore... he actively didn't want the droid anymore because that would have robbed him of his excuse to keep her around and investigate her mind... the perfect cover for his sudden, urgent, NEED to learn everything about her and figure out why he felt so "inexorably drawn" to her.

Watch his face after she says the bit about Vader... he's scared shitless... but he's not afraid for his life... he's scared because he didn't find out why he was drawn to her, and now it was a way more powerful draw... and it felt incredible... like nothing he's ever felt or seen or heard or read about...

That my friends, with a shiver down his spine to mark the occasion, was the moment he realized that she was his ONLY equal in the entire galaxy... and he wanted her. Like a trophy, yes, on the surface, where he could acknowledge and accept it - but also on a deeper level... on the level of a unique being who had found the only other of it's type in existence... on the level where Adam wanted Eve.

Rey missed 100% of that... just like a lot of the fandom... just like I did upon first viewing.

In fact she missed every bit of him falling in love with her... allllllllll the way up to this moment

Yep... even says so in the book... she had no inkling that he had actual, real, deep feelings for her.

Not even when this happened-

She was clueless.

And guess what else she didn't know? She didn't know he was physically attracted to her until this moment-

It never occurred to her that he might want ALL OF HER... because she only found out 10 minutes ago (a LONG ten minutes!) that he felt ANYTHING towards her besides a desire to shape and control her Force training and abilities.

It was a lot to take in all at once... especially considering that she was still so terrified of him that she tried to kill him 18 hrs ago!

She had hoped she could convince him to go home to his mother and his family... to return to the light... to fight the good fight... she never even suspected that he had fallen in love with HER... the lonely, scrappy, unwanted, abandoned, flawed, unlovable dessert rat... not her powers.

I think she misjudged him terribly from start to finish.

She has no idea when she closes that door in his face that his feelings were hurt but not changed... that they were real and not some fucked up manipulation tactic.

That naked vulnerability is why they chose Adam Driver... Kylo's feelings for Rey are alive and well... that's why the last time we see him he is bowing under the weight of massive amounts of grief.

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