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percy-landon · 2 years

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[kiss], [anger], [hide] (nate&percy) [training], [shield] (hunter&percy) here is an selection for you to pick from good sir

𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

[kiss], [anger], [training], and [shield] for Percy Landon

[ KISS ]: sender pins receiver against the wall and kisses them passionately.

Percy glanced over, seeing movement from the hallway. He had been buzzing around the kitchen for the past half hour, and the entire apartment smelled like maple syrup and bacon. Although all they could afford fresh out of Blackwell was a tiny studio apartment, they made it work. The both of them being ‘art kids’ likely helped too. The wobbly, dinky little kitchen table had two plates set up and chairs pulled out, complete with a mug of coffee and ice water. In their bite-sized kitchen, Percy– for some reason– decided to try and do as many things at once as he could. He figured he might as well bulk-cook all the bacon, too. Easier that way!

Eggs, pancakes, bacon, sliced fruit set up for smoothies…and Percy in that stupid, stupid apron. It was a Saturday morning, and they had just finally got the cable set up in the apartment the day before. Percy beamed at Nathan as he lingered for a moment in the hall separating the living space from the bedroom and bathroom, hair a mess and still half asleep. The smaller boy, conversely, looked fresh as a spring daisy. “Hey Nate,” He chirped. “Breakfast smell wake you up?”

When he didn’t answer and just gazed at him, he blinked. Percy’s first thought was that he must’ve forgotten something– did he tell Nathan he was gonna do something important this morning, like fix a pipe? Percy turned and switched the burner off. Oh– well, he’s up now, might as well start getting the food on the plates. “I made your coffee how you like it,” Percy offered. Nathan finally approached from the hallway, though didn’t stop at the pulled-out chair. He kept going, and his hands found Percy’s sides. Percy’s back soon, gently, found the wall, and Nathan’s lips found his. Slowly at first, drowsily, though Percy winding his arms around Nathan’s neck had the same effect as coffee. The food was cold by the time they finally sat down to eat.

[ ANGER ]:�� sender pins receiver against the wall out of anger.

“If you just thought for a second, you’d know how bad that was gonna g–”

To the shock of many, Percy and Nathan didn’t fight often. Not because they rarely disagreed- no, they disagreed often! Just as much as any couple. Maybe a lil’ more, considering how much they had to work on, but the lack of actual fighting was owed to individual idiosyncrasies– Nathan didn’t like opening up or addressing anything, and Percy was a compulsive peacekeeper. When it came to big issues, big ones-- love made them push past themselves. The two were committed to making this work.

But sometimes…buttons were pressed, and sometimes those buttons led to a domino-train of even more buttons. Percy had just found a particular one that resulted in firm, angry hands clenched around his forearms and his back thudding against the wall.

Nathan, in turn, had also found a button of Percy’s– but an entirely different kind. The noise the smaller boy let out when Nathan pinned him was just about the last thing he expected and utterly deleted the anger from his system. Percy’s gray eyes blasted open when he recognized what he did a second later, looking as if he was caught red handed committing a crime he wasn't even aware of until the handcuffs were on. Neither of them felt like arguing after that. Honestly, they were in the mood for something else!

[ TRAINING ]: during a sparring match, sender ends up pinning the receiver against the wall.

It was going to take a lot of sparring and training for Percy to actually hold his own in a fight. More than any scout in the coven’s history– because no other witch got into the coven with ‘issues’ like he had. Thus, here they were– multiple times a week, for hours at a time, beating the crap out of each other in the Emperor’s coven training room. ‘Each other’ was charitable though, it was mostly Percy.

Again, and again, and again, he found himself staring straight down Hunter’s glowing red staff, immobilized, or otherwise exhausted to the point of conceding. It could definitely be worse though– at least the feedback he got from the Golden Guard was constructive. A very very low bar! Glandus affected him far more than he realized. After several smack-downs in quick succession, Percy pulled himself back up with renewed vigor. He had to last a few more minutes this time– he’s not learning anything from getting his ass handed to him in thirty seconds or less! Dodge, dodge, counter, shield, attac–

WHAM.

The moment Percy went on the offensive, his back hit the wall. Trying to wriggle away revealed that he was pinned. The Golden Guard wasn’t letting him go anytime soon. After round and round of spars, and now his brief second wind, Percy was utterly drained and struggling for air. To his surprise, he wasn’t the only one winded. With barely a coherent thought bouncing around his skill, he gaped dumbly back at the golden owl mask inches away from him. Percy gulped. They’ve…never been that close before, have they? Was Percy warm and flushed from exertion, or…?

“You– ..you got me,” He muttered, officially conceding. He certainly got him, alright!

[ SHIELD ]: in order to protect them from physical harm caused by a third party, the sender shoves the receiver against the wall and shields them with their body.

It was easy to forget this job was dangerous when you were partnered up with the Golden Guard. He made everything look like a walk in the park. What helped was just how careful Hunter was being with Percy at his side, not that the smaller witch recognized this.

Percy carefully made his way through the alleyway, hands tense with spells prepared to fire off at a moments notice. Looking left, and right, and left again, he was on the look-out for anyone lunging from corners or shadowy places. However, he wasn’t looking up.

Hunter did. He saw the unidentifiable witch, he saw their sigil, and he saw them aiming a spell right for Percy. Something surged through him, lighting his veins on fire. In the blink of an eye the space between him and Percy vanished and he was shoved into the wall, flattened against the brick and sandwiched between Hunter and the cold stone. A heartbeat later and a great BOOM rocked the alleyway. The two boys felt a rush of heat– though Hunter significantly more so. Luckily, his armor was heat resistant. Nevermind the fact that Percy had shield magic– even Hunter knew how to cast a shield spell! There were a million spells Hunter could have cast, but instead, he rushed ahead and used his body.

Percy whimpered and turned his head against the brick, trying to get a glimpse of anything. “W-Wha– Golden Guard? Ho-Holy Titan, what happened?”

“Are you okay?” Hunter wheezed– armor or not, he still reeled from the sudden rush of heat.

“Am I– Are YOU okay?! Dude!”

#familiaanteomnia #(prompt answer)#(muse: percy landon)#[OH LORD THIS IS A LONG ONE HELLO]#nsfwish cw #[im not the most happy w how these turned out however my standards are comically high]#[cHANCE i hope u enjoy these]#(verse: lis)#(verse: owl house)

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cizzisblog · 3 years

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some things about bnha 302:

-endeavor literally just fucked off like “I have work I can’t watch Touya” and left Rei to deal with it herself for five years lmfao??? 1. what a fucking coward and 2. Rei showing again that even if she can’t necessarily do anything to fix it, she’s still more in tune with her children’s emotions than he is, she knows Touya wants Enji’s acknowledgment! I don’t know why people are acting like she just ignored Touya’s existence in favor of Shouto???

-when Touya looked up at Endeavor and Shouto on the balcony he just looked sad?? maybe vaguely annoyed? what is up with the “he gave an evil look to Shouto” shit? Are people just looking to demonize everything this 13 year old did? He’s a kid goddamn

-Also in the same chapter he says he was wrong for going after Shouto??? He didn’t even say anything that was incorrect he is not “manipulating” Natsuo for his evil purposes jesus christ he’s THIRTEEN and Natsuo was his ONLY confidante he’s looking for comfort and crying he’s THIRTEEN JESUS

-On that note Touya isn’t really..being necessarily misogynist by saying “the girls can’t understand”. Like from his perspective they don’t understand why he needs so desperately to gain Enji’s approval and of course he’s going to react negatively to “find something else other than being a hero” no matter what good intentions they have. This isn’t their fault and it’s not his either. (cough it’s endeavor’s cough)

-Rei says “you’re going to the hill again” which leads me to think going to the hill to train is something Touya does often. And he’s very resistant to her asking him to not go, being fairly disrespectful to her (again, not his fault he’s that way) and talking back. Again, Rei is more in tune with what he’s actually feeling, she can see he’s in pain because of his obsession, and I can only imagine what she felt if she talked to him before the LAST time he went to the hill and never came home. (But also Endeavor literally just didn’t fucking go??? He couldn’t get off his ass for five minutes to go see what Touya was up to??? How is he escaping blame for the incident? Rei is shown trying to convince him to acknowledge Touya, so it’s not at all out of character to say she probably begged him to just go. But Enji chose not to.) But still, it kind of blows my mind that people think it’s Rei’s fault that he went. Like, what do you expect her to do? Use physical force to stop him and potentially make things even worse? Instead of taking any responsibility for 1. causing the obsession in the first place, 2. ignoring Touya when he has no use to him, and 3. failing to use any of his actual professional ability to help Touya control his Quirk and prevent disaster, Endeavor just comes home and blames it all on Rei, in true abuser fashion. (He literally just abandoned Touya’s training cold turkey, he didn’t even keep up with trying to at least make sure he could control it? You can’t tell me specialized training or counseling for self destructive Quirks doesn’t exist??) Which is also what the fandom’s doing lmao. She really was out of options at this point...she couldn’t convince Touya not to go and she knew it, and I’m sure she felt like a failure of a mother for it, but Enji really was the only one with any power to sway Touya’s decisions. He could have committed to spending time with his son and taking responsibility at any point, but instead focused 100% on Shouto. Rei was in the very difficult position as a parent that many mothers are put into in real life- parenting their children in an abusive environment is made even more difficult because of both the lack of support from their spouse and their children growing resentful or disrespectful towards them because of the behavior they see modeled by the abusive partner. Enji literally, directly undercut Rei’s ability to parent at all; this is literally not the same as Rei just being “neglectful” and I’m tired of seeing people say she was “passive and complicit” in what he did. Literally this whole flashback she’s been trying to help Touya, but because she couldn’t and acknowledged that she couldn’t she’s somehow taken as this bitch who didn’t try at all. the bnha fandom really takes misunderstanding abuse victims to a whole other level. “She could have told Endeavor” literally as soon as he found out (possibly when she actually did tell him after he found the burns) he just fucking beat her and continued to do nothing about Touya. What options did she have to employ to help Touya when Enji continued to ignore and hurt him?

-This panel is...kind of interesting to me. This is another line people are bashing Touya over for supposedly being misogynist. But I really don’t take it that way? I think he’s lashing out because Rei doesn’t understand him, and yeah he may want to say something to hurt her, but I feel like that’s more of a subconscious urge? It really feels more like he’s trying to say “You’re being a hypocrite, you aren’t using your own advice; you were also used, but don’t understand me.” I don’t think he’s literally blaming her for being “bought” (even though, emotionally, he may place some blame on her for him being born in the first place, because emotions themselves don’t have to be ‘rational’). I think this is just another thing Dabi blames Endeavor for.

-in summary the whole “cancel Touya because he’s misogynist” is both stupid and batshit lmao y’all are wild do you ever go outside have you ever spoken to any 13 year old

-Both Endeavor and Rei mention that they didn’t know how to talk to Touya, but it blows my mind people are treating them the same. Rei acknowledged she didn’t know how to talk to Touya, but she still tried. The disconnect between her and her child was directly caused by her husband. Enji literally fucking ignored him on purpose??? Just because Enji feels bad about it now and wants to make an excuse, doesn’t change the fact he was really just running away all along. Rei literally calls him out on this lmao.

-Literally why are people demonizing Rei for saying the issue is all of theirs to bear? That scene doesn’t read at ALL as if she’s saying “it’s literally all our fault this happened”. She is not blaming her toddler children for past events. She’s acknowledging that they all have to deal with it now as a family, which is just, facing reality to be honest. None of them can just close their eyes and pretend Dabi doesn’t exist. She knows her kids feel guilty about Touya too and is acknowledging that running from it will only make them feel worse. Do you think Shouto would listen or feel better if his mom told him “this isn’t any of your concern, so don’t think about it”???? You know he wouldn’t and she knows that too.

-“Rei didn’t say anything about Natsuo and Fuyumi in this one single conversation when she praised Shouto and used him as an example of a hero (maybe because that’s what he’s trying to become) that means she doesn’t care about the abuse they endured” lmao this is so dumb and the weirdest take I’ve seen I’m not even gonna talk about it. Where is the reading comprehension. Do people know conversations take place off screen too do they know Rei talked to her children when they visited her in hospital. What the hell

-I cannot physically believe people are referring to this scene as a “fight.” “The kids were hiding from Enji and Rei fighting.” Lmfao what the fuck is wrong with you? This is a direct parallel to the other scene involving Enji physically abusing Rei and Shouto being present. You think a woman is cowering on the floor with her confirmed abusive spouse towering over her for fun? No, he fucking put her there. Baby Shouto even says stop bullying mom. People are so desperate to act like Rei wasn’t abused and the misogyny is so ironically clear for people complaining about one or two supposedly misogynistic comments a little boy made. The kids were hiding from Endeavor abusing their mother. They were hiding from Enji.

-In conclusion, I didn’t think the bad takes about Touya and Rei could get any worse but boy I was fucking wrong.

#bnha #bnha spoilers #bnha 302 #rei himura #touya #todoroki family #dabi #shouto

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flowerfan2 · 3 years

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This fic would not let me go to sleep until I wrote it. A follow up to today’s Ted Lasso episode, 2x11.

More Than A Comment. Read on A03.

About an hour so after Trent gets back the “no comment” text from Ted his phone rings.

“Off the record?” Ted spits out.

“Yes,” Trent replies, the sick knot in his stomach tightening at the sound of Ted’s voice.

“You can’t tell me this.”

“Tell you what?” Trent lowers himself to a chair in the kitchen, one elbow leaning on the table, the other clutched around his phone.

“That it was - him - you can’t tell me who your source was. You aren’t allowed to tell me that. I might not know much about journalism, but don’t folks go to jail and such for revealing their sources?”

Trent wishes the practice were that formal, at least then he’d know what type of sentence he is facing. “No, Ted. Journos go to jail to protect their sources, when they are being pressured to reveal them.”

“Still - how could you tell me this?” Ted’s voice is strained, and Trent can imagine the look on his face. It’s bad enough that he had to write an article revealing Ted’s secret, now he’s lost his respect as well for his lack of ethics.

“I had to.”

“But won’t it ruin your reputation if it gets out that you revealed your source after promising that he would remain anonymous?”

Trent sighs. “I suppose. Or it will just enhance it, you never can tell.” He never should have let his editor promise Nate anonymity. He should have pushed back harder.

“You don’t really mean that - this is gonna get you in trouble.”

It’s not as straightforward as Ted seems to think. Trent strongly doubts Nate will sue him for breach of contract, not when keeping Nate’s betrayal in the public eye will hurt Nate as much or more than everyone else involved. And if he does, well, Trent knows some good lawyers. What it will do is cause any source he’s promised anonymity to in the past to dry up, and make it harder to cultivate new ones. But no matter what happens, there will still be people like Nate out there, willing to take a chance and betray their friends to Trent in hopes of bettering their own position in life.

“I just don’t understand why you told me,” Ted goes on, working himself up further. “And what am I supposed to do with this juicy piece of gossip, huh? What do I do now? Confront Nate? Then he’ll tell the world you told me, and off we go, more misery for everyone.”

“I’m sorry, Ted,” Trent says, because he is, and he isn’t sure what else he can say at this point. “I admit that when I imagined how angry you would be about my message to you, I hadn’t thought that you’d be quite so focused on the effect it would have on <i>my</i> reputation.”

“Oh. Fair point.” There’s a pause, and a sigh, and Trent imagines that Ted has just flopped onto his couch. It certainly seems like he’s settling down. “I read the article.”

Trent’s stomach clenches, brought back to reality again. “You did?”

“Mmm.”

“What did you, um, think?”

Ted takes his time answering, leaving Trent hanging precariously. “It’s very well written.”

“Yes.” If Trent was going to stab Ted Lasso in the back, at least no one could say he dangled any participles in the process.

“So humble.” Ted clears his throat. “But, um, it really wasn’t so bad. What you said.”

“Having a panic attack isn’t a personal failing, Ted,” Trent says.

“Feels like it sometimes,” Ted says bitterly.

“I know.”

“But what you wrote about anxiety and depression being more common that people realize among athletes and celebrities and such, that, um, that was good.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“And the part about recognizing the signs, and how to get help. I was right glad to read that. People need to hear it.”

“Thank you.”

“Not that I’m gonna say thanks for writing the article or anything,” Ted says quickly. “Paints me in a pretty bad light. For not telling, I mean.” There’s a pause. “For lying. I don’t much like the feeling of being judged for that. Not that I’m saying you’re judging me. But people who read your article will.”

“They shouldn’t,” Trent responds. “You shouldn’t be judged for keeping that information private. You had every right not to advertise your mental health issues.”

Trent hears Ted suck in a breath, and he hopes he hasn’t used the wrong phrase. Or, rather, he knows it’s not the wrong phrase, but it is a sensitive one. Understandably so, given the way the world views mental health issues.

“And you had every right to reveal my <i>mental health issues</i> to the world?” Ted sounds like he’s trying not to cry, and it makes Trent feel like doing the same.

“It’s my job,” Trent says sadly. “If I didn’t write it, someone else would have. Probably not with the same treatment. And besides that, the wellbeing of Richmond’s head coach is arguably matter of public interest.”

“So why the blazes did you tell me it was Nate?” Ted asks, returning to his initial question, like a dog with a bone. Usually that’s a trait that Trent admires, but it’s not as much fun when it’s aimed at him.

Trent bites his lip and considers deflecting, but he finds he doesn’t want to. Not anymore. “Because your wellbeing is of interest to me. Personally.”

Ted lets out a huff. “First you say you respect me, then you say you care about me? While simultaneously revealing my Achilles’ heel? Who are you, a Trojan prince?”

“It’s bewildering, I know,” Trent says. He can hardly parse the logic himself, and he’s the one responsible. “And I’m no prince.”

“Some might disagree.”

Trent can’t tell for sure, but he thinks he hears a note of fondness in Ted’s voice. He will never stop being surprised by this man. It’s one of the things that’s drawn him to Ted from the beginning. Conversations with Ted Lasso are never dull.

“What are you doing right now?” Ted asks. “Besides talking to me, I mean.”

“Sitting alone in my flat, feeling awful.” Truest thing he’s said all day.

“Why don’t you come over for a drink?”

Trent feels his heart skip a beat, but doesn’t trust it. Surely he must have misheard. “Why should I do that? Do you have your footballers waiting outside your place, ready to do me in?”

Ted snorts into the phone. “No. But I’m sitting alone in my apartment feeling awful too. And if you came over, well, that would fix at least one of those problems.”

“Not both?” Trent asks, his traitorous heart letting the words fall out.

“Don’t want to count my chickens too soon. Come on over and let’s find out.”

#Ted Lasso #Trent Crimm #2x11 #Episode 2x11 #Ted Lasso fic

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kyber-queen · 3 years

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to build a home (rex x jedi!reader)

Summary: A slight rewrite of the ‘ARC Troopers’/Invasion of Kamino episode in season 3, where reader is a Jedi general who has worked alongside the 501st in the past. After a dramatic battlefield encounter, the reader confronts questions of the clones’ place in the universe as well as their own burgeoning feelings for a certain clone captain.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Medical stuff, mentions of drowning, mentions of blasters, rex is awkward and fives is a lil shit, slight suggestive content, a kiss perhaps

Author’s Note: this one’s for the lovely @porgnugget !! this was originally gonna be a quick blurb to pull me out of my writer’s block but oops anyways I hope you enjoy!!!

***

You stared out the bridge port, watching as ships emerged one-by-one from hyperspace to surround a watery-blue planet. With each new starship, your heart sank. This battle wouldn’t be easy, but then again, easy battles were hard to come by these days. You’d been temporarily assigned to the 183rd, and your men were already weary from two months of slugging their way through the outer rim under Separatist fire. They had been eagerly awaiting their return to the capitol, but after your head communications officer received word of an imminent Separatist attack on Kamino, just about every man in your unit was eager to come to the aid of his brothers.

You heard rustling from behind you, followed by the two consecutive thuds of standard-issue boots fixing themselves to the ground. The trooper they belonged to issued you a respectful salute.

“Sir, the Council requests you answer their holocall immediately,”

You had figured your weak excuse for rerouting your unit wouldn’t hold for long.

“Transfer them through,”

As the stern blue faces of the Jedi council materialized before you, you steeled yourself in preparation for their reprimands.

“General, you’ve received explicit orders to return to Coruscant at once. Why, pray tell, is your starship about to breach the Kaminoan atmosphere?”

Master Windu glared down at you expectantly.

“With all due respect, Master, this is the home of the men we fight alongside each day. The 183rd has expressed their commitment to defending this planet, and it is my job as their interim General to honor their desires whenever possible. I and the 183rd will be assisting with the defense of Kamino,”

Windu glanced at Master Unduli over his shoulder. Before another Council member had the chance to speak, the transmission crackled. The Separatists were jamming your signal. Your comms went dark.

You glanced over to the officers piloting the ship. Their hands danced from button to button, working to maintain communication with the ground forces on Kamino. The comm failure had settled it—you were going in.

“Prepare for entry,” you called. A stiff nod from your commander reassured you that the officers had heard you. You turned in a swirl of deep brown robes and made your way to the armory. You had troopers to prepare.

***

You hit the ground from about twenty feet above, using the force to cushion your fall. Confident that the LAATs would find their way into the heart of the battle as planned, you set off on foot for the nearest row of battle droids. As you dodged the seemingly endless stream of blaster fire, you took note of the troopers already facing off against the waves of separatist droids. You recognized the grey armor of the Kamino guard, as well as the deep blue of the 501st. You’d worked alongside the 501st several times before—you searched for a certain familiar face in the crowd.

You were already sure General Skywalker and General Ti were nowhere in sight. You deflected a few blaster bolts while planning your next move. You spotted four troopers aiming for a new line of droids, close to the edge of the platform. One of their brothers lay motionless behind them—they were probably in need of backup. You would make your way over there after you took down a few more rows of droids.

The adrenaline of battle roared through your veins. Your saber swung with a precision you were only able to master with the cacophony of blaster fire rattling in your brain. You heard shouting in the distance, but it didn’t seem to register. All you could focus on was the glide of your saber’s blade through the unforgiving metal skin of the nearest droid.

As you neared the small squadron of troopers, their shouts gained clarity.

“…we’re cutting it close, here. Steady trigger fingers, men,” one of them called.

A glance over your shoulder caused your stomach to flip. The voice belonged to the trooper in the center of the formation—his single pauldron and jaig-marked helmet identifying him in an instant, even through the blaster-fire haze of the battlefield. Rex. A formation of super battle droids closed in on the position his men struggled to hold. You deflected one last blaster bolt before charging in their direction.

You watched what happened next in slow motion.

A droid raised its fist at a trooper in all-white armor. The man didn’t even seem to notice. He raised his blaster, aiming at a droid to his left as his right side remained open for what had the potential to be a deadly blow. The droid swung. Rex dove. He yanked the trooper out of the droid’s trajectory, though the side of his helmet failed to escape its swing. The metal fist landed its blow with a sickening thunk, Rex’s body falling limply at the edge of the platform as his helmet clattered uselessly to the side. His unconscious form slipped. You jumped.

The three other troopers watched in awe as you leapt over a row of battle droids and into the churning Kaminoan waters. You hit its roiling surface feet-first, searching the whitecaps for a glimpse of white plastoid. Clone armor was built to float, right? You took a stroke to your left, dragging yourself through the water urgently when you spotted a glimpse of Rex’s blue pauldron through the waves. You vaguely felt your outer robes drift away, carried off by the tumultuous current. Your hand latched onto the blue plastoid, and you pulled hard. Rex had landed face-down in the water, you realized. You gulped.

Pulling his back to your chest, you kicked backwards as hard as you could in the direction of one of the durasteel supports. You called on the force to be present—you were going to need it if you were going to successfully haul Rex’s unconscious form forty feet upwards. You ducked underwater, shifting your grip on him so he was held in a makeshift fireman’s carry. You secured his body to yours with the force, invisible hands gripping tightly to the arm and leg slung around your shoulders. You grasped the first rungs of the ladder. You climbed.

With aching hands and trembling muscles, you hauled yourself foot-by-foot to the top of the platform. As soon as your fingers curled around the last rung, it was as if all the strength had been sapped from your system. Your chest burned with exertion. You rolled Rex onto his back, crawling beside him as you began your examination.

“He took a hit to the head, fell into the water. I was able to pull him out, but I need a medic,” you explained.

The three troopers stared, shocked. Had you really managed to drag a 200-pound man forty feet into the air from the water?

You glanced up from Rex’s face, noting the lack of movement from the three other men.

“I need a medic, now,” you ordered.

One of the troopers charged off. Satisfied that he’d retrieve someone far more qualified to administer first aid than you, you turned to the man before you. Rex’s face was pallid and sickly-looking. Alarm clawed at your insides. You felt for a pulse, and to your relief, the beat of his heart rose to meet your fingers steadily. His breaths were shallow and inconsistent, though—they sounded to be thick with seawater.

Remembering your training, you pinched his nose closed. You used the index finger of your other hand to tilt his jaw open, before taking a deep breath and sealing your mouth over his. You exhaled, watching carefully as his chest rose in response.

“Wake. Up,” you urged.

His pulse still beat strongly against your fingertips. A good sign, if nothing else.

You leaned down once more, praying to the Maker that he would breathe already. You exhaled, channeling much-needed oxygen into his flooded lungs. Minutes passed. His pulse grew steadier against your fingers.

You administered a final rescue breath, leaping back as if stung when you felt a splutter of air and water against your parted lips. Rex’s eyes fluttered open. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but curled in on himself as a coughing fit overtook him.

Scooping a hand around Rex’s shoulder, you pulled him onto his side, straining against the dead weight of his body. His chest shook as he expelled a sizeable puddle of water from his lungs.

You looked up at the rest of the battle for what felt like the first time in hours. There wasn’t a functioning droid in sight. Several troopers, their armor adorned with 501st blue, stared unabashedly at the scene before them. You looked back down at Rex, your cheeks warm.

“You gave us all quite a scare, there,” you murmured.

He stared at you with wide eyes, his face growing red. Panic jolted through your system. Was he choking?

“Rex? Are you alright?”

He blinked, shaking his head to himself as he hauled himself into a seated position.

“Yeah, General, I’m alright,”

His voice was rough and wavering, almost grating against his throat—from the saltwater, you assumed. You fell silent, focusing just a little too intently on his face.

Sensing that the imminent danger was over, chatter erupted from behind you.

“Some first kiss, eh, Cap’n?”

“Just like a fairy tale,” another trooper added on with a chuckle.

“Always thought you’d be the knight in shining armor, though—the General here dove after you before we even saw you fall,”

Blood rushed to your cheeks. You glanced at Rex out of the corner of your eye before quickly looking away.

“Fives, Hardcase, enough,” Rex grumbled. He made a move to stand up, rising shakily until you slung his arm over your shoulder in support. He stiffened for a moment at the contact before leaning into you slightly.

“Do you know where your medic is?” you questioned quietly.

Rex nodded over to his right. You ushered him through a few stumbling steps before the medic—Kix, you recognized—swooped under Rex’s other arm. Rex turned to you, his lips parting as he mulled over what exactly to say. His brows furrowed, and a new round of flush colored his skin.

“I—thank you, General,” he murmured. His eyes met yours for an instant, just before Kix pulled him toward the Kaminoan medbay.

***

You saw Rex again a few hours later.

A gentle knock sounded against the durasteel wall of your temporary quarters. With a wave of your hand, the door slid open effortlessly.

“Sir, I have your copy of the casualty reports,”

You turned around sharply. Your expression softened. Rex stood in your doorway, extending a stack of flimsi in your direction.

You took it with a quick nod of acknowledgement. Rex lingered in the doorway—you knew he could have easily asked a subordinate to deliver the reports, yet here he was. A wistful half-smile graced your lips—you were glad he came. You had missed him. You motioned for him to take a seat at the small table near the corner of your room, murmuring something about ‘old times’ sake’.

The two of you quickly fell into the routine you had established for yourselves when you worked alongside his unit—after a tough battle, you always seemed to end up together. At first, Rex tended to sit quietly alongside you. He wouldn’t offer much in terms of conversation, but his presence was always strangely comforting as you both silently mourned those you had lost that day. You weren’t quite sure when it happened, but eventually, the two of you began to share little fragments of your lives with each other. Your friendship grew stronger. Just before you were reassigned, you found yourself seeking him out daily—it was almost strange for you to admit just how reliant you had become on your conversations with the Captain.

Rex pulled out a chair and settled himself down.

You talked for an hour—you hadn’t seen him in months. Wartime seemed to stretch out the days until they felt endless, and you were both eager to hear how the other had spent their time. You explained your experiences in command of the 183rd, and Rex discussed his increasing responsibilities as Captain. He actively skirted any discussion of the day’s rather tense events.

“You did well today,” you offered. A couple of the men had quite generously filled you in on their Captain’s heroics after he was carted off by the medic. “I know it mustn’t have been easy, with your home planet in danger,”

“Thank you, but Kamino’s no home to us,” Rex responded. “It’s where my brothers are, and it was them I was protecting. Not Kamino. The Separatists threatened the one thing I had that’s worth defending—my family. It sure wasn’t easy, but it was a necessity,”

You nodded.

“I understand, in a way. I was taken from my parents when I was young, and the Order filled the void their absence left. We aren’t allowed partners or children, so the Order’s all I really have. If they were threatened, I suppose I’d put my life on the line for them, too,”

Rex propped an elbow up onto the table.

“What’s it like?”

You tilted your head in confusion.

“Having the Order as your family?” Rex clarified.

You smiled softly, memories both blissful and bittersweet flooding your mind.

“It’s different, I guess. The Council can be cold, sometimes, but the Order did its best to raise an honorable Jedi. I do my best to remember the lessons my master taught me. The temple was my home for a long time—though not so much anymore. What about you?”

Rex thought for a moment before chuckling to himself.

“The closest thing we clones have to a home is 79’s. Kamino’s got a lot of bad memories attached to it—the longnecks were indifferent to us at best, but most of ‘em just treated us like livestock. At least you feel human at 79’s,”

“What’s it like, there?” you questioned.

“Loud,” Rex grinned. He sobered after a moment, his gaze drifting as he lost himself in thought. “Civvies’ll show up from time to time—makes it feel a bit more normal—but they’re only ever there for the spectacle of it all. Most of ‘em are just there to find someone to spend the night with. I’ve never been able to…” Rex trailed off uncomfortably, directing heavy eye contact towards the back of his hands. “…but some of my vod will. They know they’re being used, so they use ‘em right back. For most of us, there’s no real chance of a family outside our brothers—the Republic’s made sure of that,”

Disdain tinged Rex’s tone. It was rare for him to express anything other than loyalty to the Republic, but thinking back on the regulations preventing the clones from entering relationships, or having children, or even showing their faces to civilians while on duty, you couldn’t say you blamed him.

You hummed in acknowledgement.

“But it’s not always like that, is it? So meaningless?”

Rex shrugged.

“Most of the time, it is. I’ve only met one brother who’s been able to get out, to build a life and a family outside the GAR. I’m happy for him, sure, but I won’t lie and say it wasn’t hard to see that other path and still follow the one that we clones are meant to follow. I think it’s the hope that’s worst in the end—hoping this blasted war will end, hoping someone other than your vod and a handful of Jedi’ll understand that you’re human. Unless you’re really in the thick of it, unless you really see that we’re flesh and blood, you just don’t care,”

You nodded, reaching across the small table to hold one of Rex’s hands in your own. Your heart ached for him. His expression softened slightly as he looked down at his hand in yours.

“I’m sorry about my brothers, by the way. The teasing today was—”

“It’s alright, Rex. I did what I had to do,”

You instantly regretted your phrasing when Rex’s hand fell slightly slack between your own.

“You saved my life,” he murmured. “I can’t thank you enough,”

He squeezed your hand before gently resting it back on the table. He rose from his seat, glancing at the chrono on his wrist.

“It’s getting late—I should get back to the barracks,”

Your gaze lifted to trace the sturdy lines of his face. His eyes met yours, his expression indiscernible, and in an instant, something clicked. The absence of his hand in yours felt like the loss of a limb.

He took a step towards the door. You stood up from your seat.

“Rex, wait—just…” you trailed off, reaching forward to catch his hand lightly in yours.

A hand—your hand—rose to cup his cheek. His breathing slowed in response. Taking a cautious step forward, you leaned in just close enough to feel the warm exhale from his nose against your cheek. You paused. You would leave it to Rex to close the gap.

After a second that felt like an hour of hesitation, Rex’s lips met yours. Maker, he was soft—yet still steady in his movements. You loved him, you knew it in an instant. Little fragments of each other’s lives had never been enough—you needed him, in his entirety, in every sense of the word.

Just as your thumb traced the sharp line of Rex’s cheekbone—just as Rex realized that he was finally kissing you and you were kissing him back—he pulled away.

His brows knotted in confusion.

“You didn’t mean to—”

“I meant it,”

You realized your hand was still intertwined with Rex’s. You held it like a lifeline.

His eyes—oh, his eyes—glimmered like the flicker of a flame in the dim light of your quarters. He didn’t back away. In that instant, Rex knew that he’d remember this moment for the rest of his numbered days. You meant it.

As his lips met yours for the second time of many, Rex figured there were an awful lot of ways to build a home.

***

Taglist: @peacefulwizardfox @a-lil-perspective @marvel-starwars-nerd @nelba

#rex x reader #captain rex x reader #clone trooper x reader #arc trooper fives #clone trooper hardcase #captain rex #my fic

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nejiraez · 4 years

Text

checking in | bakugou katsuki

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO HIMMM / more to come on this blessed day

genre: fluff/comfort

summary: bakugou goes visits your house to check up on you, as a good boyfriend would. you’ re doing anything but fine, but that’s alright. that’s why bakugou’s there//inspired by ‘🥺anon’ and an ask in my inbox!

word count: 2,008 (luv that year~)

"I don't think Aizawa-sensei is telling us the whole story."

Bakugou doesn't look up from his notebook, still jotting down notes onto his page for his class in world history. "You think?"

Despite his friend's guarded demeanour, Kirishima still pushes on with the subject. Your absence in school was a little odd, but Aizawa reassured the class that you were staying home due to "quirk complications". "Yeah, I mean, three days straight is a long time for someone to be gone," he says, "especially for (Y/N)."

There's an unexplainable expression on Bakugou's face that Kirishima couldn't quite read. Worry lines formed near his brows due to how tightly they were scrunched. And his eyes, his eyes were vacant. Almost as if he were lost in thought. "I know."

"You've recently spoken to (Y/N), right?"

"Yes," Bakugou hisses. His writing comes to a complete halt and instead, he opts to play with the lead in his pencil absentmindedly. Your curt responses to his text messages and slight avoidance of the topic him bringing up your well-being threw him off. It wasn't like you.

"And you know what's happening?"

"I have an idea of it, yes."

Kirishima leans against his chair and rests his elbow on the backing of it. Bakugou doesn't like that look on his face. The way the corner of his lips curl into a small smile as if Kirishima knows something about him that he doesn't.

"You know," Kirishima says, "it's okay for you to say that you're worried." He knows that pride was an issue for Bakugou. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he did care. "I think it'll do both of you some good if you just went to their house and—"

Bakugou's expression immediately sours, "Don't tell me what to do." He packs up his belongings and shoves his work into his bag. Disregarding the fact that his papers may be crumpled due to his negligence. "I was gonna do that anyway."

Ah, there he was.

'It'll do both of you some good if you went to their house.'

And that's just what he did.

The minute the bells rang at the end of the day, indicating that students could go home. Bakugou made no waste of time by elbowing his way past his four idiot friends and went straight on the path to your house.

'Just be patient. You can't expect (Y/N) to be in the best of moods when you arrive.' Kirishima's words echoed against the walls of his head. Another piece of advice he shoved into Bakugou's head before he left school.

Pressing the doorbell to your house, Bakugou waited for a solid three minutes before you answered the door. And when you did, he was taken back a bit. He hasn't seen you for the majority of this week and you just look... different.

"Bakugou?" Your hair was dripping wet and, the water droplets soaked the hem of your white tee-shirt. You looked a bit disoriented at the fact that your boyfriend has shown up at your house. "What are you doing here?"

Biting the inside of his cheek, Bakugou adjusts his grip on the bag of food he was holding. He replies, "Checking in on you."

"Oh?" You exclaim, a bit confused at his comment. You weren't expecting this at all. "Then that's alright."

There's an uncomfortable pause of silence that hangs thick in the air. You still stood at the door, unmoving, almost as if you didn't want Bakugou inside. For whatever reason.

Bakugou frowns at how you were still standing at the doorway, unmoving. "You gonna let me in or what?"

"You... want to come inside?"

At this point, your unusual behaviour was wigging him the fuck out. "Isn't that the whole point of what 'I'm coming over' means?" He questions. "Didn't you read my text?"

You open the door and give Bakugou entry, "I was showering." His scarlet eyes flit over to your hair again, now it made sense why your hair was soaked.

The house was empty, save for the furniture and all. However, there were no signs of your parents being home, to which Bakugou assumes that they were at work.

Before he forgets, Bakugou grabs your arm and plunks the bento box he's made for you into your hands. "I brought you something..." he mumbles, fighting back the urge to acknowledge his pride. It was a real habit of his.

You take a quick peak inside to examine the contents, and realize that he brought your favourite meal. Stir fry. "Thank you!" You say, smiling for the first time since he's arrived. "Here, come with me. I'll take you upstairs."

He kicks off his shoes and follows you up the steps towards your room.

Once the two of you step inside, you feel Bakugou’s hand catch your wrist.

In an abrupt fit of sudden affection, he smooths down the stray strands of hair away from your face. "You shouldn't be answering the door for people with your hair wet," he catches a droplet of water that was trickling its way down your neck with his thumb, "or you'll get sick."

You nod your head and ignore the pressing feeling of Bakugou's eyes on you. You knew that he came here for the sole reason to check up on you. And it made sense, especially your absence at school lack of response to your friends and him. "I know, I was getting to that."

"When'd you shower?"

Bakugou watches as you pat your head dry with the towel that was on your desk. You shrug, "About an hour before you came."

Well, that was fucking odd.

Another question bubbles in his throat, but he decides to let it slide and doesn't press any further.

Why did it take you so long to dry your hair? He doesn't know, but Bakugou wasn't a complete fucking idiot to continue pressing on the matter since you were giving off clear social cues that you didn't want to be bothered on it any longer.

Ever since that dreaded Kamino incident, the annoying task of listening to people's concerns hasn't gone away. God does he knows what it's like to have people on his back. Constantly questioning on his wellbeing and current state. Almost as if they were pitying him. Something that he fucking hated.

There was only so much Bakugou could do, but he understands where you're coming from. Which is why he dropped it.

"Are you doing okay?" He asks, watching as you pace around your room, tidying up the clothes on your floor and throwing them into your hamper.

Bakugou is aware that you're able to fend for yourself. That you weren't helpless brat who needed to have their hand held through every tough decision. He knows what you're capable of and has seen you at your best.

However, the condition that you were in now was anything but that, and he was troubled by it.

Your once tender and vivid (e/c) eyes, were now deprived of any emotion. Bakugou focuses his eyes on your damp hair and the drained expression on your face. All things he found to be chilling because it wasn't like you at all.

"Could be better, but it's alright. I'm fine." You mutter, dropping yourself onto your bed once the floor was clean. You scootch over and make room for Bakugou so that he could sit beside you rather than stand at your doorway.

When he does finally join you on the edge of your mattress, the extensive number of wrappers on your comforter take him by surprise.

"Are you eating?"

"Yes, this - " You're about to lift one of the granola bars as proof that you did eat, but Bakugou was having none of it. He pushes down your hand and fixes you with a piercing stare.

"Real. Food."

An exasperated sigh escapes you once you notice the unimpressed look on Katsuki's face. "You brought me rice and stir fry, so I'll eat that, won't I?"

That didn't answer his question though, which made it clear to him that you haven't been eating. Casting your stubborn nature aside Bakugou decides that he wouldn't beat around the bush anymore.

Saying that you weren't hungry is one thing, but blatantly putting your health aside and disregarding your needs was something Bakugou refused to swallow.

"Look at me (Y/N)," he says, his hand presses against the outline of your jaw and cradles it. The scent of caramel fills your nose while the pads of his fingertips glide across your skin.

"I know it's hard. Trust me, I fucking know baby." Bakugou was nervous and on edge. He's never done this before and has always been on the receiving end of comfort. But now's a better time than ever to try.

"But you're not gonna get yourself anywhere if you continue like this."

You cast a watery glance away from him and offer a slight nod. "I know..." His hand slips from your cheek towards the back of your head so that he could card his fingers through your hair as a means to placate you.

"I know." You reiterate for a second time with much more force, trying to convince yourself once that stinging pressure in your chest throbs against your ribcage like a war drum.

Bakugou pushes your face into his shoulder, sparing you the distress of him seeing you cry and your situation as a whole. "I'm not good at this, but just know that I've got you." He ignores how the collar of his uniform absorbs your tears and the lasting effects of your shower. "So quit thinking you're bearing this alone because you won't, as long as I'm here."

And that's more than enough.

Maybe it was the overwhelming wave of emotions being released all at once which made you cry. But it was strange. To be crying yet feeling so relieved at the same time. To know that Bakugou would be there to support you if needed.

Through your sobs and tears, Bakugou doesn't make any comment on it. Rather, he sits there unnaturally quiet, taking into consideration how you must have felt the past few days.

There's a moment of unspoken words shared between you both before you pipe up. "I'm going back tomorrow," you say, wiping away any trace of tears on your face before you face Bakugou. "It's what I originally had planned."

"You are?" He holds his eyes with your own, looking for any hesitation but backs off once he sees there wasn't any. The last thing he wanted happening was for you to push yourself when you didn't need to.

"Then your ass is gonna need this," Bakugou says, shoving a notebook into your hands. "So you don't fall behind and join those idiots." You could pick up on how he was trying to lighten the mood by referring to his friends and their poor grades.

Glancing down at the notes that Bakugou had written for you, you notice that there are a few scribbles and poorly drawn diagrams on the page as if he were rushing to get it done.

Bakugou half-heartedly scowls at the sly smile creeping its way onto your face and reminds himself to stay composed, to not lose himself altogether from your shift of mood and the effects it has over him.

A warm and unwinding feeling resides within his chest while he watches you flip through the pages.

"Your writing's a little messy, you know?"

"Well— fuck me for trying to help, right?" He says, snatching the notebook away from your grasp. He tucks it under your pillow and out of view, hoping that you'd drop the subject of his messy handwriting.

"I will," you reply, squeezing his knee. You don't miss the quiet sputter of his words and how he fumbled over them at your sudden brazenness. "Thank you, Bakugou. Really."

You could be a real pain in the ass sometimes. But as long as you were feeling better...

"...Whatever."

That's all that mattered to him.

bakugou’s bday tag list (more in the comments): @tooloudarts @awkwardvampires @lilhemmo @itsbabyysunnyy @charvaughn-writes @lmaobroccoli @bakugoustanaccount @plusultratempo @wynaut @cin-midnight @hipster-merchant-of-death @peachy-yabbay @i-need-to-yeet-right-into-a-wall @wondxrgurl @gaydrowzee @blubblesss @amayau2 @restlessshadow @huntersbunker @thoughtfulpandazine2

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha scenario #bnha imagine

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crystal-moon-101 · 3 years

Text

Ben Gen 10 - Live Reaction Review

Right, so since I’ve finally got my hands on the new crossover episodes, and since my favourite show of all time is Generator Rex, I thought I’d watch it and write down things along the way. Mostly just reactions to things happening as they go, and then probably a simple review at the in another post of what I liked, didn’t like, and maybe what other ways this episode could have gone.

Spoilers! Kind of, for those who haven’t seen it yet! But onto the watching!

Should probably mention I haven’t seen a whole lot of the Reboot Ben 10. Not awful from what I’ve seen, some interesting and well-done aspect even, but certainly not my cup of tea. But I’m here for my boi Rex anyway so…

This is actually quite a cute theme song intro, not gonna lie

Ah, yes, a very American opening in a very American location.

Lol, of course they use Heatblast as the first alien in the episode, got the same voice actor as Rex, nice touch.

Evil...trees? Are these actually villains in the show?

Also, that little girl is precious.

Ben, are you trying to start a forest fire in the middle of the park?!

Ha, Gwen gets it!

Ah, yes, more American stuff.

“Don’t wreck the precious monuments” should have seen what you did to Mount Rushmore in your past, Ben.

Sup, Hex.

Music is evil, got it.

So Ben’s aliens are pretty famous already, at least being treated more like celebrities than monster sightings.

“Burn the flute!” A.K.A nearly burn Hex in the process.

And that’s why Ben never passed music class.

And why exactly do you want the world, Hex?

“Hopefully the last one of the summer” Don’t jinx it Max!

Time goes by so fast, doesn’t it Ben? Especially with aliens, villains and timetravel.

Max is secretly an EVO with that kind of growl.

Yes, because as we all know, villains will stop trying to take over the world once summer is over. They must hibernate for the winter.

Also, Max, did you steal those marshmallows?

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…….Ben, you good there?....Did Hex do something to your brain?

Who thought this would be great to animate!?

We all have those existential crises and talk to smores.

Jesus, Rex, got ninja skills I see.

Some homeless kid and his monkey stole my food? Time to kick some ass!

My favourite alien, Canonballoon.

I’ve missed my boy and his chimp.

Awwwww they’re sharing! Also just….feel so bad for them already. Homeless and struggling for food, my poor boys.

So EVOs do exist here? Wonder how that will be explained.

Ben out here really trying to beat up some other kid, lol. What a great hero.

Bobo, you are great.

I feel like...Ben’s going through some issues.

Ah yaaaaaaaaaaa, bring on the EVO powers! BFS!

Look ma, no hands!

Rex 1, Ben 0

Ben really wants to commit murder or assault here, wow.

Overboard is the word I’d use, yes.

The life of a background character.

Nanites confirmed! And now they’re in the watch, that ain’t good.

Huh...not what I thought was gonna happen.

The little girl is still precious.

This would be fun to explain to Azmuth.

This ain’t good.

On the run from Providence I see.

Awww, poor Rex. Really doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

I can’t tell if these people are angry because of the DNA affect them, or they’re really just being angry in general.

See ya, Gwen and Max.

Interesting to see that the Providence aircraft looks straight out of the show.

Evening, Six.

Still a badass like normal.

He said Omega, he said the word!

Also, nice blame game there Ben. It’s not like you provoked Rex by, ya know, trying to crush him like a grape.

Um...Six...did you just….try to kill a kid? He didn’t know Ben had powers, that pillar could have easily crushed a normal human.

“This is how you try to convince me you’re not a threat?” Say the dude who just tried to murder a kid!!”

Oh no, he Naruto runs!

Oh, hello Hex.

Also, what is Providence in this world? What are EVOs and Nanites in this world? None of this has been explained yet.

Ok, so that’s what Providence is...You’d think we would have seen them before based on all the aliens showing up who want to destroy the world.

EVO Generator....I wonder if that means that there aren’t very many EVOs, like maybe there is only a set group from the same lab, and Rex is considered the most dangerous because he can make EVOs.

Ben, do you even know what an EVO is?

Jeez, I know Six is like, the sixth deadliest man on the planet, but he just tackles alien Ben like it’s nothing. This guy should take on Vilgax.

Did he say nib libs?

My boi’s back!

I’m not liking this Six...very much not the character I’ve come to love. Who are you and what have you done with the real Six!

Lol, gotta make sure the kids at home know these aren’t real guns!

Using a net on one kid, and about to beat the crap out of the other, nice.

I do have to ask why Hex was picked to me the main villain, beyond whatever the hell Providence is doing. Why the magic dude and not a tech based villain? Someone who could be both interested in the watch and nanites.

What a covenant spell you have there, Hex.

Again, why do you want to take over the world?

“No, those are my aliens!” I think that’s the least of your concern there, Ben.

Bobo 1, Hex 0

Why is Bobo one of the best-written character’s here? Not that I hate Bobo, but just…

Lol, Rex did you just lay there, the entire time? What was that net made out of?

Ah, right. Let’s attack the children rather the magical manic who clearly stated he wanted to rule the world.

Those nets are fireproof apparently.

Ooof, ah….quite the sore spot there, Ben.

Just let me hug Rex, please…

Are there EVOs are are there not!?

I know this is supposed to connect with older fans, but most of this info would fly over the head of anyone who hasn’t watched Generator Rex. They act like everyone knows what EVOs and nanites are.

Still with the blame game are we, Ben?

Judging by that look, Rex’s parents are also dead in this world. Guess he’s not allowed nice things in this universe either.

That flashback was….so latching in the dramatic department.

Now ya wanna help, Ben.

He’s so scared of himself, noooo!

Ya, but the different between you and him, Ben, is that he lost his parents, his home, got mutated, his memories became hazy, got locked up and called a monster, and now lives on the streets stealing smores. I think Rex has more of a reason to feel scared at being new with the hero business.

Bobo gets it.

Gotta love they added details on Gwen and Max’s alien forms to make them stick out from the rest. Don’t want to confuse anyone lol.

Thinking of a clever comeback on the spot is hard, not gonna lie.

Yes, Ben, drown him.

Again, with the American music, lol. It ruins the fight scene here.

What is this fight scene?

Original Providence agents would have died on screen rather than ditching the fight.

God, everyone’s made Rex feel like everything is his fault, poor guy.

Rock 1, Ben 0

This message and heartfelt moment falls flat, the build-up wasn’t there and it just...kind of happens. It lacks a lot of flavour and impact, and it doesn’t help with how most of these characters are written.

Old people jokes.

Now we shift the blame to Kevin.

Is Fourarms Gwen bigger? Because if so, nice touch, since we know female Tetramands are stronger/bigger than the men.

Ok, so attempted murder is fine when Six and Ben try to do it, but not Rex, got it.

Get in line Hex, you’re not the first who wants to ‘recruit’ Rex. You’ve got Providence, Van Kleiss, Quarry, Black Knight, that one band, and so on so fourth.

Why is this heartfelt moment suddenly happening now? This feels like it could have been placed back when Rex refused to fix the watch.

Ben…”I’ve already tried that!” Bruh, you tried beating him up, telling Six and Providence you saw him, basically acted like he wasn’t a good hero because he refuses to get over his trauma, and reached out your hand once because it benefited you....I get what they’re trying to do, but it just makes Ben look like a jerk. I get he’s ten, but still…

Just...slap him Bobo, please…

Why are we so nervous about Rex’s sword? Ben you have aliens that can burn, cut, smash and so on, and you barely care what you do. Remember how you nearly started that forest fire at the start?...

Yo, what!? What kind of logic is that, Providence? “Whelp, guess earth is screwed, might as well burn it”

Ya, remember that time when EVOs infected the whole world, and Providence decided to just burn everything down with lasers?

Extendo blade.

Huh, so Six’s blades can break down Rex’s builds.

Salamander...don’t you mean...Skalamander?

One ship? What is Providence packing!?

Yasss, Punk Busters!

Rex is crying, how dare you!

Now we got Smack Hands, you’re in for it, Hex!

Ooooooooooooooonnnnn iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitttttttttttttttttttttt!

Ah yes, the sixth most beautiful man on the planet.

Again...what is with the nuking?

Magical cloth fixing, just what I need.

Pure chaos with my boy.

Cracking his neck made me cringe.

Also why the sudden change in heart, Six? This feels out of character for the character who is out of character.

Look, Rex, you’re either gonna fix the watch, or you’re gonna start the self destruct countdown. Everything is going to hell, so might as well take that 50/50.

And it worked!

Ah ya, about that missile.

See’s missile inbound “I can handle it!”

Iron Giant vibes around here.

Screw ruling the world, I’m gonna murder this one child!

My cat’s the same.

REX, DID YOU JUST KICK A MISSILE!?

So that’s his full name?

I think you need to work on those vacation days with your boss, Six.

You are not Six, I will never accept you.

So the episode starts with Rex being alone, homeless and being chased by Providence, and ends with him being alone, homeless and being chased by Providence. What was the improvement here? Self Confident?

Ben even just lets him go, doesn’t even offer him to stay with his family.

Rex deserves better.

Another heartfelt moment that just...falls flat…

“Always be family and be there for you, Ben” Until you go to college without telling him before hand

So!...That was the crossover. Not...amazing sadly. I didn’t have high hopes to begin with, and mostly was just happy enough to have Gen Rex be acknowledged. But this Crossover missed a lot of points, and fumbles quite a bit. It reminds me a lot of the Secret Saturdays Crossover and what was wrong there. But I’m tired and will do a break down/proper review another day, if people are keen for that. Thanks for reading this if you did, it was a rollercoster!

#Interesting to analyze #But I am still disappointed #Welp time for fanfictions and fanart to save the day!#Generator Rex #Gen Rex #GR #Ben Gen 10 #Ben 10 #Ben 10 reboot #Ben 10 Generator Rex #Ben Tennyson #Rex Salazar

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whyyoudothistomecavill · 4 years

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Don't - Chapter 1

Hello everyone! This is my first time writing fanfiction. Chapter one is an introduction to the kind of relationship the characters have and, in future chapters I will fill in the gaps left in this part.

But first, let's see how this one goes.

Feedback is greatly appreciated.

I took the name from a song written by Jewel. Go and listen to it. Trust me, after the first verse, THAT person will pop in your head. Never fails.

Before we jump in, there's a few people I need to thank:

@littlefreya for helping me with the editing since I don't have a beta yet, for encouraging me knowing what a big deal this is for me, and for all the things you already know. I'll always be in your debt.

@mary-ann84 for making me feel welcome since day one and putting up with me and my annoying questions at any time of day. Girl, you deserve an award for patience.

@radaofrivia for taking the time to read my ramblings and giving me the reassurance I needed. For showing up out of nowhere when I was almost defeated by my lack of tumblr comprehension and explained everything to me with the patience of a kindergarten teacher. Greek god Henry sent you my way, I have no doubt.

There aren't words enough to express how big of an inspiration all of you are to me. To be able to call you my friends, fills my heart with extreme joy and gratitude. So again THANK YOU.

I took the liberty to tag some people, to some I asked for their permission, to others I didn't, so if this bothers you in any way, just message me and I'll fix it, there's absolutely no obligation and I won't be offended.

With that being said, let's get to the point.

Title: Don't

Pairing: Henry x female reader.

Word count: 1682

Warnings: Angst, fluff, and if you squint your eyes you might find a bit of smut.

Summary: Henry and reader are a couple living together for 1 year. Reader have struggled with self esteem issues and insecurities her whole life and when she met Henry, she thought she had left all that in the past, but certain events made her realize that her soul is far from being healed.

Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction written by me. Please don't post it anywhere else without my permission. Reblogs here are welcomed of course. Thank you.

"Are you ok, darling?"

"Yes, honey"

"Are you sure? You don't seem ok"

"I'm ok, Hen," you smiled, "I'm just tired. I wanna get home, have a shower and then go to bed"

He didn't seem convinced but he didn't ask again. The rest of the ride home was silent, you looked out the window and prayed for the strength to act like everything was normal, while he concentrated on the road and hummed along to the radio.

But you knew better. You knew that this man, the most gorgeous man on earth, the man you called your boyfriend, the man every woman (and a lot of men too), thirsted for, was also the smartest, the most affectionate and that he paid attention to every single thing, especially you. He could notice the smallest change in your demeanor, he could tell when something was wrong and this time was no difference. He was just giving you time to process whatever it was upsetting you before you could talk to him, but in no way was he buying the "just tired" bs. And you knew it.

You entered the house and discarded your shoes and purse. Henry was taking Kal out of the car and into the house when you said "I'm gonna take a shower," and quickly rushed upstairs without waiting for an answer, you needed to be alone so desperately.

You got into the bathroom and took your clothes off without even glancing in the mirror, you didn't want to see anybody, much less yourself.

The hot water was bliss to your sore muscles, too bad it didn't make a difference to the pain in your heart. You rested your forehead into the tiled wall and felt the water gently massaging your back and legs. You were so immersed in your thoughts that you didn't hear the bathroom door being open. Henry was already behind you, his strong hands caressing your back as light as a feather and his mouth on your ear, "may I join you?"

You turned around and looked at him, at those eyes bluer than the sky itself, at those curls that did things to you just by looking at them, and that smile, the most perfect and genuine smile you had ever seen, it was literally impossible not to smile back at him, it was contagious.

He didn't wait for an answer, he lowered himself to put his arms around your waist as you put yours around his neck and kissed you deeply and tenderly. You knew he did that so you wouldn't have to be on your tiptoes to kiss him, he was so damn considerate and perfect it infuriated you sometimes.

So you closed your eyes and kissed him like there was no tomorrow, he sensed the heat in your kiss and grabbing your behind, lifted you up still kissing you, putting your back against the wall. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him and he broke the kiss to look at you, his hair was tousled all over from the water and your hands. His lips were swollen from the kissing and his eyes were dark with lust but also full of love. Oh,so much love.

"What do you want?" He said, "Tell me. What do you need? I'm here, I'm yours".

Something inside of you broke, it was too much. "I want you, Henry. I need you. Now. Inside of me. Please".

He didn't wait for you to ask again, maneuvering you as if you weighed nothing, he made you descend on his length without breaking eye contact, until you were completely full of him. He started to move, slowly and leisurely making you moan and clung to him for dear life.

He didn't know about the battle that was going on inside you. You wanted him to crawl within you and fill the emptiness eating your soul, you wanted to hold him and never let go, you wanted to stop time. Or maybe go back in time, or just disappear. But for the time being you were just grateful for the water running over both of you, not letting Henry notice that your tears were running as well.

Even if you were shattered inside, your body would always succumb to him, there was no point in resisting, and as he kept moving in and out of you, whispering sweet nonsenses in your ear, the orgasm hit you like a thunder lightning crying out his name, his release following moments later triggered by your loud moans.

He held you still between him and the wall while you both recovered your breath, filling your neck with open mouthed kisses.

He lowered you and you held him tightly, putting your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. It always soothed you. You both stayed that way under the shower in silence, until you started to feel the boiling inside you rising again. "I'm gonna get the towels" you said, "I got it" said he and with a swift move of his long arms, he reached for the towels and started drying you, hair first, then your body, slowly, caressing every inch of it and leaving light kisses everywhere his hands would pass.

He was kneeling in front of you, drying your legs and slowly going up, your eyes were fixated on him and his movements, not saying a word. He looked up, saw you staring, and reaching up, caressed your face so softly it made you lean your head in his hand, closing your eyes. It was like time stopped and you were there alone just savoring that moment, keeping it in your memory forever and you couldn't help the single tear rolling down your cheek into his hand...

When you opened your eyes, you saw the look of concern on his face, "What is it baby? What's wrong?"

You needed to make a choice, so you chose the truth. At least the one truth that wouldn't hurt him: "I love you so much".

"And that makes you cry?"

You chuckled a little, "No, I sometimes get overwhelmed by all these feelings, I'm sorry for being so sensitive" you said, wiping your eyes and smiling through tears.

He stood up and crashed your lips with his, taking you by surprise and lifting you up, carrying you like a bride to your bed.

He got in too, cuddling you from behind and you intended to get up to find one of his t-shirts, your go-to pajamas since day one with him, but he stopped you with his arm around your waist and pulled you against him, your back on his chest, your naked bodies molding perfectly together under the sheets.

You clutched his hand in yours, closed your eyes and tried to ease your racing heart.

His voice took you back to reality:

"Look at me, love"

You turned around in his arms just enough to look him in the eyes, and it surprised you to see, his were a little watery too.

"I love you" he whispered. "I love you like I never thought it was possible to love someone. You have brought to my life the hope that my tired heart believed was lost. I want to spend every minute of every day with you and when my work keeps us apart, I can't wait to share with you every detail of my day. You know sometimes..." he paused, smiling and looking away, "sometimes I have to tell myself *get it together Cavill! You're a grown man acting like a teenager*, but that's what you do to me" he said looking at you again and caressing your lips with his thumb, "You're my fuel, my reason, you're my last thought when I go to sleep and my first one when I wake up, and I'm so grateful to have you that sometimes I'm scared to think that I don't express it enough for you to actually get a glimpse of how happy you make me. That's why I might seem a little clingy around you... I love you and I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything, that I'm always here for you, it doesn't matter if I'm working or doing anything else, you are my priority, ok?"

You were a crying mess by now and watching his red eyes trying so hard not to cry, wasn't helping.

"Ok?" he said again, clearly demanding an answer from you.

But your words wouldn't come out. How? How could you tell him? How on earth was he supposed to imagine that he had chosen the worst possible moment to tell you this?

So again you settled for the truth, the only indisputable truth you could give him, and nodding you took his face in your hands and kissed him, pulling him on top of you.

He engulfed you in his arms and broke the kiss to breathe, you covered his face with light kisses tasting the salt of his tears which only added more sorrow to your battered soul.

"Make love to me," you said against his lips. He looked at you through hooded eyes and went for the spot on your neck he knew drove you crazy.

This was the truth. The fact that when you were together you couldn't tell where each of you ended and the other began. The absolute certainty of loving him with every fiber of your being, knowing you could never love anyone else this much, not even in a thousand lives. You never hid it. It was impossible to...

A few hours later, you were watching him peacefully asleep, his features even more beautiful in the dim morning light. You carefully kissed him and placed your head on his chest, he held you tighter against him and said something that sounded like "I love you". "I love you too" you said, granting him again the truth you couldn't deny.

The unspoken truth however, the one he was about to learn, was that in fact, the one you didn't love... was yourself.

Tag list:

@mary-ann84 @littlefreya @radaofrivia @demivampirew @dancingwendigo @seb-owns-these-tatas @viking-raider @cruelfvkingsummer @cherry-acid @achaoticaugust @promptandpros @ladyreapermc @honeychicanawrites @yespolkadotkitty @chamomilebottom @deathonyourtongue

#henry cavill #whyyoudothistomecavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fics #henry cavill fanfic

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paypay0315 · 3 years

Text

The Space Between (5)

Pairing: Eren Yeager/ Reader or Female OC!

Word Count: 1.8K

Series Summary: Harmony was a young girl who just lost her family, she was more of an open wound then most. When she catches the eye of the Eren Jeager her whole life changes and she doesn't realize she might be in love.

Contents for this Chapter: Nice eren, nice oc!, mean mikasa, friendship.

……

She didn't realize what she was missing out on until she met Eren. She was always the quiet one and she was always by her self when they were in training together. Ever since that day she has gotten a lot closer to some familiar people.

That day after Eren apologized to her she went back to the Tavern with him and sat down at the table he was at. She got to meet the lovely Armin Alert. The boy who always around Eren. She never thought it was weird she knew they were best friends. What weirded her out was how Armin would follow Eren pretty much everywhere. Including the bathroom. She always thought he had some attachment issues but she quickly found out that wasn't the case. He was just very fond of Eren and loved him a lot.

That day at the Taven they talked all night because Harmony was intrigued by Armins stories of the book he used to have of his parents, the stories of the things past the wall. He mentioned they saw the ocean and of course her eyes lit up at the name.

He told her about how the waves can drag you all the way out to the sea if you're not careful enough. How if you go far enough you will be able to catch fish and see some nice plants in the water as well. He told her that the water was always cold but if you stayed in it long enough it will be come the warmest thing you could touch.

You can clearly tell she enjoyed the stories because she wasn't paying attention to anything else beside that. But from the corner of her eye she could she Eren and he was kind of fidgety in his seat and she didn't miss how often he would turn to look at them and his eyebrows would furry. She wondered why he kept doing that. All she was doing was talking to Armin. Is he that attached to his friend that he can't go two minutes without attention? Very strange.

She also got to meet another one of Erens friends, now this one was very different from Armin. Mikasa Ackerman. Pretty much her biggest competition when they were training. It was always back and forth with those two. One day Mikasa will be at the top and the next day it was Harmony.

Harmony was never very fond of Mikasa and to be honest neither was she. But Harmony wanted to put that behind her because she wouldn't admit it but she only didn't like her because she was the only one who could beat her. Harmony realized how immature that was to think that way so she decided to actually talk to her but when she did it wasn't the best transaction.

Mikasa just looked at her, like really looked at her.

"So you're her friend now?" She questioned Eren.

"Mikasa, what's the problem?" Eren asked.

Mikasa didn't say anything to her or him she just sat there. Did she do something to make her angry? Harmony and Mikasa never physically did anything to each other they have barely even looked at each other so why was she acting this way?

And it doesn't stop there weeks on end she will see Mikasa giving her a side eye or stop talking once Harmony enters the room. Harmony tries to confront her about it but she doesn't know why she's so scared to do it. All she wants to know is why she hates her.

They don't argue or anything when it's just Harmony, Eren and her she doesn't even speak to her let alone acknowledge her existence. Eren starts to notice it too, it took him forever though.

When Harmony would always ask "is Mikasa okay?" he would always give a stern look of confusion. He didn't know what to say cause he didn't even notice she was acting weird.

That's the best part about Eren, he doesn't always know until way later and it's really funny when he starts to catch on. One day he just walks up to her randomly and says "Mikasa has been acting weird" and all she can do is pout and give him a sweet smile and reassuring him that he was the first person to figure it out.

Connie, and Jean werent that hard to become friends with either. They were actually really cool. She had only talk to them a few times before but now that her and Eren are friends they have come up to her more often about things.

Just the other day Connie had asked her if she wantedd to go shopping in the town she wanted to say no but she soon realized she needed more bread so she went with him. They spent the whole day laughing at how Connie kept mocking the workers. They soon got kicked out though and they didn't even get the bread she wanted, she was so upset because how was she ever gonna make her soup without it.

When she turned back around she saw Connie with the load of bread she was trying to buy before they got kicked out. He said it was an apology for making them get kicked out. And right after that they became the best of buds. Connie was the person she would go to, to laugh. He was always doing weird things out of no where and she just thought it was funny.

Now Jean is a different story. He does not miss the chance to throw his shot at her. He tries his best to slyly flirt with her but it back fires. It even went as far as him asking her out once. But it wasn't the way he always does it though. This time it was more sweet it actually made it seem like he cared about her, but of course she had to decline as much as she appreciates Jean and she wouldn't lie and say that man is not the hottest thing out in the sun but she just was not looking for a relationship like that right now.

She is only 15 and she has one goal. To be honest after that night she could not stop thinking about things like that, before she met Jean she never used to think like that but it did open her eyes to her future.

Opening questions like "What are you going to do with your life?" or "Are you even planning to get married or have kids?" Questions like that would pop up every now and then and she would try her best to suppress them because she is super young so why should she think about stuff like that?

But late at night she can't help but feel like she is missing something. Something deep down, she thinks it's the fact she doesn't have a titan head hung up in her wall. But it's so much more than that..... so much more.....

She was always close with Sasha, they were roommates for about 3 years. She pretty much knows Sashas life now. Sasha told her not to tell anyone and still to this day she hasn't slipped anything past her tongue. But she wouldn't lie and say it wasn't cute when Sasha would accidentally slip her country accent every now and then.

Sasha was basically her first friend. So their connection was a lot deeper than the others. She was always happy to see her around. She could say she loves Sasha but that would be too much for her to handle, she holds that thought in her head.

Sasha let it slip out once though, she didn't mean to. It was when they were having a nice lunch at the little river they have there. Sasha loves her food so when she saw Harmony made her favorite bread she almost about kissed her right there.

"I LOVE YOU!" was all Sasha said before Harmonys eyes went wide.

"Oh- i'm sorry was that too much?" Sasha asked.

Harmony just smiled at her, laughing at the over reaction she produced. Harmony never said it back but Sasha knows how she feels about her and their friendship.

Does she really have friends who love her?

......

"Mikasa what is your problem? Seriously? I don't understand why you're acting like this?" Eren almost yells.

Coming up to the door she slowly starts to walk up to it to not disturb the two. Curse her for being so nosey. She just wanted to ask Armin to go get breakfast.

"So are we going to ignore how rude she was to you? Eren she practically punched you over a thousand times for no reason" Mikasa spit.

Are they talking about her?

"She said she was sorry so I don't see why you still don't like her" Eren growled.

"She just- i just don't understand how you became her friend so fast after she did all that to you" She crosses her arms around her chest.

"Look..... not that it's any of your business but she has been through alot. She's been through what we have been through don't you see? She's has no one and she's totally alone and she needs someone."

Ouch. She doesn't why that hurt her but it did.

"She was their that day on the attack, and she lost her whole family. For years she was going through something and I didn't even notice it."

Harmony said any of this stuff out loud. She knows Eren is right but still why does it hurt when he says it.

She starts to feel angry….. no hurt. Hurt at Erens words, but why? Why does it hurt when he says it out loud. She thought she was done with feeling like this maybe she was suppressing thoughts feelings again.

“She’s all alone and she doesn’t have anyone”

Why is he saying it like that?

“She’s clearly sick in the head, you didn’t see her that day at the well”

That's enough of this. Her face becomes blank, lacking emotion.

"So that's it then" Harmony says entering the room.

Eren, Armin and Mikasa both turn to look at her. Erens eyes go wide at who he sees.

"So what, you thought you can fix me? Since i’m so ‘sick in the head’?” She says her voice dark and hollow.

"What- No Harmony that's not-" Eren tries to speak but he cant find the words.

"You know what..... screw you Eren. You think i need your pity? I don't!" She screams. And Mikasa steps in front of her Eren when Harmony takes a step forward.

Harmony quickly turns away and runs out the door.

"HARMONY WAIT-" She hears Eren scream.

How could she have been so stupid. Her making friends? She knew all of this was too good to be true. Eren doesn't really care about her, no one cares about her. Everyone that cares about her died.

Everyone ends up dying anyways so why would she makes friends in this cold, dark twisted world. You can't make friends here.

She thought she could be happy but she can’t, not in the world or the next. She was born in this world.

#eren jäger #eren jeager smut #eren.txt #eren headcanons #eren icons #eren smut #eren yeager #attack on titan eren #eren aot #eren mikasa armin #eren fluff #eren jaeger #eren x you

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fairlyspnfanfic · 3 years

Text

The Secrets We Keep - Part 7 - Finale

Summary: You met the Winchester’s a little less than a year ago when they came to town for a case. You’d had one or two moments of, shall we say, closeness with the youngest Winchester, and more than your fair share of arguments, too. But this time may just be different.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, angst, all that fun stuff.

Words: 2,887

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

His relieved sigh as he breathed out my name pulled at me as I closed my eyes and attempted to clear my head, shake off my anger.

“Are you okay?” he asked, anxiety dripping from each word. I nodded before realizing he wouldn’t be able to see the action. My hair fell over my face as I all but whispered “Yeah.”

“You’re at Jules’?”

“Mhm.”

I could hear Dean murmuring in the background.

“Are you going to stay there?” Sam asked, desperately.

“She’s gonna bail again, Sammy.” Dean chastised him from the driver’s seat. A quick sigh forced its way out of my mouth as the rage emanating from his accusation dug at me. But I knew he had good reason to say what he did.

“I’ll be here.” I murmured as I attempted to hide my guilt, wrapping my free arm around my torso.

He was silent for a beat. Dean jumped at his opportunity to speak again. “If you’re gone when we get there Y/N, I’ll kick your ass myself.” His voice was loud, full of vitriol and bubbling over with rage. I pushed my eyes closed again.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sam.” I reassured him. “Please…” I begged. “Please get here.” The line disconnected and I set my phone down gently on the couch cushion next to me. I hung my head in my hands, wrapped my fingers around the back of my neck and attempted to massage the stress out of it.

All I could think about was Sam and what was going to transpire when he arrived. Would he wrap me in his arms and kiss me like he had in my fantasy? Would he go back to giving me the silent treatment, frosty and distant? Or could it be worse?

Dean’s words echoed in my head. I couldn’t blame him for his anger. I hadn’t just abandoned his brother but him as well. We had been close. He was the closest thing to a best friend that I had ever had. And I had left him as well. Wordlessly and without explanation.

I had no idea how much time had passed but suddenly, there were loud knocks on the front door. Jules hadn’t gotten back yet, so I pulled myself to my feet, “Coming,” I sang out as I walked over to the door and grabbed the handle.

I barely had the door cracked when Dean shoved it wide open, his eyes boring holes into me as he walked in and stomped past me. “Dean!” I called after him, but his angry stomping feet were already making their way upstairs. Sighing and turning back to the door, my eyes locked on Sam’s. His hands were in his pockets and his hair was disheveled. I’d never seen him looking so unkempt. “Hey,” I greeted him and waved my arm, welcoming him into the house. He hesitated but finally walked over the threshold and towards the couch.

“Sam, I-“

“You can’t do this shit.” His words were firm and non-negotiable. His steely eyes were locked on mine again and his brow was tightly creased, showing me his seriousness. He raked his fingers through his hair as he walked in a circle, beginning to pace.

“Do what?” My relief at his arrival was beginning to fade as I felt the signs of past arguments coming back to haunt us. “You mean hunting?” The incredulity in my voice was tangible.

“This!” He yelled. “Fuck, Y/N.” His pacing had slowed and his breathing seemed more labored as I watched his chest heaving in front of me.

“All of this. Running. Avoiding people. Leaving them behind... Leaving me behind” His tone went from enraged to hurt in a matter of words. I pushed my hair back behind my ears and swallowed hard, hoping to take my apprehension along with it.

“Sam,” I began explaining. “I’m sorry.” My eyes began to well with tears and I did everything I could to hold them at bay. “Running from you, all of it. It’s not what I wanted. I never meant to-“

“To leave me?” he asked accusatorily.

“Yeah.” I whispered back. “You’re what I want. You’re all I want. Damnit, Sam, I’ve been in love with you since the first time we met.” He began walking towards me, his hand outstretched as if he was about to wrap it tenderly around my arm. I quickly took a step back, blocking him from doing so. “But hunting? Saving people? I’m good at this.” My dedication and desperation were clear. “Don’t ask me to choose.”

Every part of me yearned for his touch. I wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in his embrace and to lose myself in him. But we’d been down that particular road and it never ended well.

“If you’re out there,” he said pointing towards the door. “how am I supposed to keep you safe?” His eyes were glistening now, matching my own.

“You can’t,” I answered with a sad smile. He turned around in response, again running his hands through his hair, pulling on the ends as he did so. When he turned back to face me, his eyes were piercing. “The same way I don’t ever know if you’re safe.” The truth of my words seemed to get through to him as his mouth fell agape and he dropped his arms, defeated.

I shrugged and gave a sad chuckle. “This is where we always end up, isn’t it?” His lack of response affirmed my question. “Neither of us win. We both lose.”

The silence in the room was deafening.

“No.” He whispered so quietly that I half believed that I was hearing what I wanted to.

He was shaking his head now as he walked towards me, his steps deliberate and hastened. My mind had no time to process. His lips wound themselves with mine, dancing together as they always had. Firm and all encompassing. Taking my breath away. I kissed him in return, hungrily and desperate for more. I could feel his hand on the small of my back pulling me closer to him as his other palm cupped my face.

His tongue grazed my lower lip, begging for the entry that I was quick to grant him. I had missed the feel of his mouth on mine. The sensation of his tongue exploring my own. No dream could compare to this. I allowed myself to let go and relished myself in him.

“Sam,” I moaned as our lips parted all too quickly.

“I won’t lose this. I won’t lose you,” he demanded, crushing his mouth back onto mine. His arms were solidly wrapped around my waist as I cradled his face in my hands. His lips were demanding, drawing the resistance out of me like so much venom. Everything in me wanted to fall apart; to lose myself in him. Forget all the fights and issues that had brought us to this point.

Sam’s fingers were beginning to creep up my back, underneath my t-shirt as they caressed my skin, sending shockwaves through me at his touch. I broke our kiss, taking a deep breath and attempting to steady myself. He took the opportunity to lower his head, nuzzling himself into my neck as he placed tentative kisses and an ever so slight amount of suction to the sensitive divot just above my clavicle.

I groaned, relishing myself in the sensation of him. My breath hitched in my chest, my want for him overwhelming me. The grunt that came from his throat as he lifted me and wrapped my legs around himself sent goosebumps through me. I pawed at him, feeling the strain in his neck with every moan, and each flex of the muscles in his arms.

“Sam,” I panted, leaning my head back again.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” He asked, his eyes fixed on me with dilated pupils, full of lust and burning straight through to my core. My capacity for thinking was far from functional. I forcibly broke eye contact with him, taking a deep breath to steady myself as I pulled my legs from his hands and stood. “Wait,” I muttered, breathlessly. His arms relaxed as he started to back away and I could see the confusion on his face as his eyebrows creased. I placed my hands on his arms, pulling him back towards me.

“No, don’t. I just need a breath.” I sputtered. “Sam,” I began. “We can’t solve this with sex.”

His eyes dropped to the floor, but he didn’t back away. “I know.”

“Are you ever going to be okay with me hunting?”

“Probably not.”

“Are you going to stop me from hunting?” Ever so slowly, he shook his head. “No.”

I let out a breath of relief.

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to be happy about it,” he said as he reached out, placing his fingers on my chin and tilting me ever so gently so that I was looking at him directly. “Doesn’t mean I won’t worry, and it doesn’t mean I won’t end up following you and pissing you off.”

A smile graced my face. “Oh yeah?” I goaded him.

He nodded, that devilish and desirable look in his eyes that made me weak.

“But I’ll make it up to you, too,” he whispered, bringing his lips to my ear and brushing my hair back with his adept fingers before placing a single chaste kiss against my neck, eliciting a soft whine from my lips.

“I think I can be amenable to that,” I answered him.

I watched as Sam walked over to the couch across the room from me. He wrapped his hand firmly around the handle of my duffle bag, lifting it from the floor and walking back towards me, all strength, determination and pure sex appeal.

My face must have displayed my confusion.

“We’re leaving,” he answered me with a sly smile; that dimple that I loved so much making an appearance. His free hand outreached towards me. I happily took it and allowed him to lead me to the front door.

“Your car or mine?” I asked him.

“You take my car; I’ll kill you both!” Dean’s voice rang down from upstairs earning chuckles from both of us.

“Mine then.” I reached into my pocket, pulling my car keys out and following Sam out the door.

“Good,” he answered. “I don’t think Dean would appreciate us doing the things I have planned in the impala.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, suspiciously. “And what is it that you have planned?” He reached out and pulled the car keys from my hand in response, pushing me lightly towards the passenger side.

“Get in,” he ordered, all confidence and commanding. I acquiesced.

His long frame folded itself until he was sitting in the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition and all too quickly backing out of the driveway. The open palm of his right hand laid in the space between us, and I scooted over, setting myself as close to him as possible within the constraints of the seatbelt.

He pointed the car towards home, looking over at me every few seconds as if he was convinced that I was about to disappear. “Can I help you?” I asked, jokingly.

His fingers snaked themselves out of mine as he maintained eye contact for longer than was probably safe as he cruised down the back country road. Eyes that were full of lust. His fingers found their way to my inner thigh, gently moving towards my center. Instinctively, I squeezed my knees closer together, undoubtedly warming Sam’s hand as I gasped. I felt his index finger rubbing against the zipper of my jeans, sending shockwaves through me and instantly diverting all thoughts I may have had to one central location.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he lowered my zipper, exposing my red and black boyshort panties to his hands. I tossed my head back on to the short headrest behind me as his digits massaged my entrance through the fabric. Fabric that now seemed to be far too thick for my liking. “Sam,” I panted out.

He unhurriedly pushed the fabric to one side and ever so proficiently began rubbing circles around my clit. Slow, torturous circles that succeeded in simultaneously making me wet and making me wish that we hadn’t left the house and the advantage of the bedroom upstairs.

His movements quickened and my breathing followed suit. He turned his hand over, quickly plunging his middle and ring finger into my entrance while keeping his thumb pressed firmly against my nub, rubbing in that same way. My panting had quickly turned to moans and my hand had reached over to his side, my fingers desperately grasping his knee as I searched for my release.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his eyes fixated on the road ahead of him. “Come for me.” His thumb worked me over while he continued to insert and remove his fingers from me repeatedly. I could feel my peek approaching. My breathing was ragged, and my back began to arch without my instruction. The cries and gasps coming from my mouth became shorter as I crested that wave, being overtaken by it as I found myself reaching my pinnacle of pleasure.

The car had stopped. As my breathing returned to normal and I could finally open my eyes to take in and process my surroundings, the engine turned off. Sam withdrew his hand from me and grabbed my arm. He pulled me towards him, pushing my jeans down off my hips and to the floor before throwing my legs over either side of him. “Fuck, Sam,” I muttered feeling how hard he was through his jeans.

Instinctively, I reached down, frantically unzipping his pants and freeing him from his boxers. His mouth was on my neck, kneading the sensitive skin with his lips and ever so slightly his teeth. “Look at me, Sam.” I ordered. He obliged instantly, locking his gaze with mine. Primal need had possessed us.

“You okay?” he asked, the same way he’d always asked for my consent before we ever went any further. I nodded instantly. “God yes,” I told him before pushing my lips to his own and lowering myself onto him. I could feel the glorious stretch within me as I became re-accustomed to the size of him. The feral grunt that pushed through his mouth as he hung his head back, closing his eyes shut, urged me on.

His large, rough hands wrapped around my waist, guiding me as I grinded myself against him. My hair was draped over his face, and our lips, still connected, grew hungrier and more demanding with each passing second.

I broke my lips apart from his, tossing my head back behind me as I allowed every part of me to relish in the heady rapture that was Sam. All of him. I increased my pace, finding the urge inside hungrier by the moment. “Slow down, baby,” his voice crooned at me as he grabbed my face, pulling me down to him. “I want to last,” he finished, before locking his lips to mine. I slowed the roll of my hips, going against the deep seeded ache in my core that longed for relief.

My hands snaked down his chest, feeling the definition of his muscles beneath his flannel shirt. My nails dug in slightly, eliciting a hiss from his lips. The sound drove me closer and closer to the edge. “Sam,” I moaned his name into his mouth, begging him. His hips that had been matching my pace slowed to an apparent stop. My desperation rocked me as I moaned. “I’m so close, Sam.” My words were rushed, a trace of panic laced in them.

I opened my eyes, locking my gaze to his and taking in the devilish smile that spread across his face. “Come on, baby,” he said. “I want to go all night long.”

I lowered my forehead to his and kissed him as I raked my nails down his abdomen before finding my hand lingering at our juncture. My fingers swirled up making rough contact with the extremely sensitive nub. I watched as Sam’s eyes flicked down, taking in my motions, his mouth hanging open. “Fuck,” he groaned as his hips resumed the punishing pace. He sped up, faster and faster, as we both barreled towards our climaxes. It was a matter of moments before I was again reaching my peak, spasming as I did so. Sam had wrapped his arms firmly around my waist, pounding himself into me as he found his own release, screaming my name as he did so.

We sat there long enough to catch our breath, still connected in every way we possibly could be. Sam’s lips pursing and layering kisses down my neck and shoulder. Wordless and breathless, I pulled myself off him, righting myself and replacing my clothing as I did so.

“That was...” he trailed off.

“Incredible.” I finished for him. He chuckled in response, nodding his head. With one last deep breath, Sam sat himself up and began the process of fixing his own jeans.

“Shall we?” he asked, turning the ignition once more and bringing the car back to life.

I nodded at him happily. “Let’s go home.”

Tagging from previous like-age:

@vicmc624@waywardprincesa @heyyy-hey-babyyy @carissime72 @deans-baby-momma @formulafun @woodworthti666 @yetanotherreader @crashlyrose @hobby27 @gabby913 @jxackles @polina-93@supernaturaladdictsblog @fandomoverdose666 @deans-baby-momma @deanwanddamons @tazzi-baby @acertainhero

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gallavictorious · 4 years

Note

For some reason that BTS of Ian and Mickey in the army pants for season 11 has me imagining them playing laser tag and the two of them being aggressively into it to the point that everyone else just gives up and leaves them to what they can only assume is very violent foreplay and right up their alley

Love the way you think, nonnie! XD If they ever play laser tag the chances of it going down exactly like that are at least 70%. Higher, probably, if it's soon after their wedding...

Let's say it happens a month or so after they got married, before corona restrictions hit. Debbie's back home with a nice new piece of plastic jewlery around her ankle and feeling pretty down about it all, but then she notices this laser tag place somewhere within the area she's allowed to move, and yeah, they're doing this. Lip maybe tries to say no when the subject is first broached, 'cause he's got a baby to look after and a house to fix, and besides he thinks that Tami won't be into it – but she surprises him by going “what the heck, Cami can look after Freddie, let's have some fun”.

(Would Debbie, as a sex offender, be banned from places where kids play? Don't have a clue, so let's just say she gets in, one way or another. Sneaking in where they're not welcome is a bit of a Gallagher specialty.)

Thing is, I can imagine the rest of the Gallaghers – due to stress or a lack of sleep or whatever – having a notion that putting Ian and Mickey on opposite teams is actually a good idea? Ever since the wedding they've been all over each other, so if they're allowed to work side by side they're sure to end up making out in a dark corner somewhere, right?

Wrong. Or, well, probably right, actually, but it's not like splitting them up ends up making any real difference, you know? In fact, it arguably makes everything worse...

They get to the place. Lip and Tami join forces with Liam and – after a Gallavich team-up has been unwisely vetoed by everyone else – Ian, forming Team Almost Respectable (but still pretty damned deadly, because they have the combined brain power of Lip and Liam, and the sharp-shooting prowess of Ian and Tami – because, yeah, you can't tell me that Tami doesn't know how to fire a gun). That leaves Mickey with Sandy, Debbie, Carl and Franny in Team Fucking Feral & Franny, and while they won't really bother with organized team work or carefully considered strategies, they've got that rutheless talent for chaos that makes them very tought to beat. So it's an even game, yeah? And it's fun – carefree, silly fun!

Only... Ian and Mickey are getting distracted. Or getting focused, maybe. Forgetting about their team mates, forgetting about their other opponents – forgetting about everything that isn't nailing the other. (Pun not exactly intended, but not avoided either.) They're getting careless about it too, not giving a damn who stands between them and an opportunity to give it to the other good. Carl dives to the side; Debbie pulls Franny to safety; Lip finds himself flung to the floor as Ian rushes past with wicked grin on his face.

“Maybe we should get out of here,” Liam suggests once he's clawed his way to Tami through the blood and debris. She nods dazedly; she has a kid to take care of and needs to stay alive for that, after all.

They make to the entrance, all of them and quick as they can. In the distance they can hear Ian and Mickey calling insults and issuing challenges to each other. There are occasional thuds and muffled curses followed by highly suspicious pauses and –

The Gallaghers studiously avoid the eye of the teenage employee manning the door and looking more and more agitated by the second.

“They have sex in here and get us banned I will kill them,” Debbie mutters under her breath as she helps Franny put her jacket on.

“How the fuck did you not see this coming?” Sandy asks her, half amused, half exasperated, because really... Ian, Mickey, and a bit of of the old (feigned) ultra-violence? Always gonna end the same.

“Let's just go get some pizza, yeah?” Lip says, and no one objects. They get the hell out of Laser Tag Place, leaving their inappropriate relatives to their strange mating ritual.

(Ian and Mickey stick around until their hour is up and their weapons power down. There's a lot of banter, a lot of laughter, and quite a few tugs and tackles and fouls, but Ian – because he loves Debbie and do want them to be able to return – makes sure they get out of the venue before things get properly out of control. They arrive home late that night, bruised maybe, but grinning and giddy, feeling young, and when on the next day Carl asks which team actually won, Mickey smiles widely: “Well, I came first, so.”)

#love this ask #it has sparkd SO MUCH JOY #asks #gallavich #post-season 10 #meta ficlet #my stuff

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hear-me-growl · 4 years

Text

Ambrosia | Ksj | Chapter VI (final)

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ Aᴏ3 || Dɪᴏɴʏsᴜs ·ᴘᴜʙ· ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀᴘᴏsᴛ || ↻ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut, humor, fluff, angst | s2l > ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: millionaire!Seokjin x bartender!, nyotaimori model!Reader > ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: mature [+18]; strong language and explicit sex > ᴡᴏʀᴅᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.9k

sᴇʀɪᴇs ɪɴᴅᴇx || ⟵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴠ

💙 ᴀ/ɴ: can’t believe this beast is finally done (though I might post a bonus epilogue, we’ll see 😉). Thank you so, so much for reading and leaving likes. Not gonna lie, it’s been a hard one to write, but also extremely fun. As my first story in English (and also my first BTS fic), it holds a special place in my heart. Also I may or may not be a sucker for this Jin. Now that it’s over, don’t be shy to let me know your thoughts. It’s important for creators that you give feedback, even if just a few words or a keyboard smash. You can make someone (not only me) very happy.

Ambrosia brought a lot of people to my blog and I’m super thankful for you all and very excited to write many more stories you’ll enjoy too. Once again, thank you for all the love and support.

Psst! Keep an eye out for the next update on the Dionysus ·pub· series. Did someone say Hobi?

“Thanks, you fuckers! We love you!”

The growl in the frontman’s voice raised screams and whistles that rumbled through Dionysus. Sweaty, ethereal and devilishly handsome, Taehyung bowed for the crowd chanting his band’s name. Everytime their signature purple bunny posters covered the beaten bricks of the pub, a mass of people flooded the establishment. V’s Moon Rabbits caused a frenzy wherever they played, waking the masses with their sound like a rockslide. The rock, jazzy melodies paired with the singer’s looks skyrocketed their popularity in underground Seoul.

However, no matter how many concerts and jam sessions were scheduled, they always came back to Dionysus —the pub that gave them a chance when nobody did.

After the performance, they usually hung out at the bar until they found a fan desperate for a chance to share the night with their idols. Doe eyes and sultry smiles in every corner, the boys never went home alone.

Tonight you didn’t work behind the bar, though. You just sat on a barstool, keeping your best friend entertained on her shift, ready to jump to her rescue if she felt overwhelmed. Not that she needed it, she handled the crowd with a big smile on her face. Beer in hand, you chatted animatedly with the blonde singer and Namjoon, the drummer, since the others had already found someone to drag to the bathrooms for an intimate rendezvous.

“You broke your drumstick. Again. You owe me 30.000.”

“I distinctly remember you mentioning both of them, so I’m not paying a single won.”

“C’mon, man. Don’t be a pussy,” Taehyung nudged his bandmate’s side as he took a sip of his beer. “Next time don’t make it so easy for her to win.”

“Yeah, pay up, Joon,” you chimed, a taunting tone lingering on your lips.

“Sorry, love. The rules were clear.”

The tall man leaned back on the bar and gave his signature jaw-dropping smile, flanked by two cute dimples. Who would’ve thought underneath all that there was the lady-killer of the century? You bent forward towards him, sniffing before wrinkling your nose.

“Does it smell like chicken over here?”

A snort came from your other side, Taehyung trying to conceal his laughter and you snickered along. Namjoon’s tattooed hands ran over his chin as he watched the both of you in amusement too before speaking.

“Tell you what it doesn’t smell like: money in your pocket. Now, if you excuse me,” he said, eyes fixed on a juicy target. His self-satisfied smirk turned sultry as his gaze darkened, “there’s a pretty doll over there not sucking my cock and I’d like to change that.”

In a flash, the drummer finished the rest of his drink, attention solely on the woman at the other side of the bar. Still perched on the counter, he looked at you with a raised brow. “Unless you want to join her?”

“Go get your dick wet already,” you nudged with a groan, fully aware that he wasn’t entirely joking.

Like a panther, he stalked towards his newfound prey, mixing with the crowd. Taehyung and you chatted for a little while. He differed from his charismatic persona on stage. V’s goal was to attract people with mysterious looks and alluring smiles, but Taehyung was much more reserved, rude even, except around his close ones. At some point, you noticed the cute girl behind him. You recognised her immediately and smiled warmly, inviting her to talk to the singer.

“Hi, Tae,” she greeted quietly.

Hearing his name, he turned around to face his number one fan. Her face brightened up with the attention.

“Hey, baby girl. Just arrived?”

“Err— yeah, I’m sorry I missed the show.”

“You’ve been to all of them for the past two years, I think you can skip one, ” he sneered. After that an awkward silence settled between the two. When he started to turn back to you, ending the conversation, she was quick to keep his attention.

“Do you… umm… wanna dance with me?”

“Not now, I’m talking.”

“Oh, of course! I’m sorry I interrupted,” she apologized, looking at you with doe eyes.

“No worries, sweetie,” you intervened as you shot a murderous glare to the man, the second-hand embarrassment urging you to help the poor girl out. “Stay and chat with us. What do you drink?”

Her eyes jumped from you to Taehyung nervously, a flash of pain through them when he lazily checked his phone, clearly indiferent. She swallowed a sigh, shrinking in defeat.

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m going to… my friend should be here somewhere,” she grimaced at her own excuse, but bit her lips and cocked her head before speaking again. “See you later, Tae?”

“I don’t know my plans yet, baby girl.”

“Right,” she whispered, looking at his side like he’d shot just her. After a beat, she cleared her throat, eyes on the floor. “Bye, then.”

She walked away, hand on her face to hide from the overflowing crowd and ponytail shaking. The singer took a sip from his beer, still on the phone. He didn’t even bother to look her in the eye to reject her.

“One: that was actually painful to experience, and two: you are a major asshole. That poor girl follows you like a puppy with heart eyes and you know it. Do you have to be so rude?”

“Hey, she knows what she’s getting into,” he answered with a shrug.

That naive fool. What a terrible mistake she made falling for Taehyung. To him there was no point in lying, so he proudly waved the “I’ll never be your boyfriend ” flag before anything happened and then jumped to the next roll in the hay without sparing a glance. Never settling, never making false promises. He was upfront about his intentions, so it never bothered you before, despite how tactless he was. Tonight, however, you felt pity at the heartbroken look in her eyes. Love brought more pain than happiness, she’d learn sooner or later.

Suddenly, something bumped into the barstool and you stumbled forward. Taehyung catched you before you could hit your head on the counter. With a snarl on display, you turned and yelled at the culprit, who zigzagged towards the exit, probably to smoke or take a piss. You scoffed. He probably didn’t even hear you, given his unsteady walk. Just as the door opened, a tall, neatly dressed figure entered the bar, stepping aside just in time to dodge the tripping drunk.

It took a second for you to register the tingle travelling across your skin like wildfire brought by the newcomer. You had felt it before, that twisted warm fuzzy feeling, a disease that spread and ruined people. All too familiar and foreign at the same time, like rewatching an old movie with new eyes.

‘You felt something that night and you feel it still’.

The words echoed in your memory, taking you a couple of weeks back. That night after the event was your last conversation with him and you thought you’d finally rid yourself of unnecessary trouble. Quite the opposite. You found yourself craving for something, no matter how much instant ramen you ate or how long you stayed at work to keep yourself busy. His silence was directly proportional to your uneasiness, but you refused to connect the dots.

Until tonight.

Faster than light, your head snapped back at the singer to avoid being seen. Reason overlapped panic as you assessed the damage. That mind-reading snake was right, you felt something beyond physical for him. At least now, fully aware of the issue, you could fix it. Keeping a cool head, you devised a plan of action. It was imperative to eliminate those thoughts before they infected your brain any further, to show both him and yourself that your interest was merely a passing malaise, like a cold or an indigestion. You just needed to find the right medicine for it.

“You okay there? You look like you either had an epiphany or smoked the worst weed in Seoul.”

Taehyung’s voice was low in your ear and you realised the lack of distance between the two. Feeling him chuckle, you looked up at him. You’d forgotten he was even there, hands still low on your waist. In a feeble attempt to regain some control over yourself, you grabbed the shirt over his taut stomach and swallowed hard. Half-lidded, he tongued the corner of his mouth revealing a smug smile. No wonder people lost their shit about him. He looked bewitching and fun, but most importantly, uncomplicated. The perfect remedy for your stupid, stupid heart.

“Kiss me,” you blurted, eyes locked on the mark at the edge of his lower lip.

“What?”

A quick glance back at the door and you frowned before closing the distance to press your mouth roughly on his. For a second, he seemed confused, but then responded eagerly to the kiss. When you pulled back, panting and determined, he tongued the corner of his mouth in amusement.

“Not complaining, but where did all that ‘I don’t make out with my buddies’ philosophy go?”

“As far as buddies go, you’re the shittiest one I have. Not much of a loss there,” you joked, shifting your weight impatiently. Now of all times, Tae had to grow friendship ethics. Although you should’ve praised his character development, right now was a rather inconvenient moment to be a gentleman. What you needed was a distraction in the form of an unapologetic fuckboy. Fast.

Luck on your side, Taehyung just grinned cheekily, happy to indulge your sudden neediness, and tipped his head towards the crowd. He let you guide him through Dionysus, to a dark spot where you’d fuse with the stench of sweat and bad ideas.

“Gimme a minute, ok? Don’t move!” Shortie greeted with a warm smile, waving above intoxicated laughs and the strings of an old song’s bass.

Seokjin nodded and leaned on the counter, avoiding the alcohol spilt all over it. Dionysus was especially crowded that night, which only made scanning the multitude in hopes to find you harder.

After your last conversation, he gave you some space, a chance to miss him. On paper, it was a good strategy. What he didn’t expect was his plan backfiring. After a couple of weeks of self-restraint, his will power ran out. He missed you. Instead of working on his next project as he should’ve, his car brought him across Seoul to you —his personal bittersweet pill. He couldn't help but smile, even when the air reeked of sweat and the sticky floor threatened to peel off the red of his soles. What wouldn’t one of those sensationalists that defamed him give to publicly gut him for his new-found addiction. Those ever-changing eyes that begged him to keep trying despite your constant rejection made quitting you impossible. Only if you would see it too.

“Now, I’m all yours. Sorry to make you wait,” said the petite bartender, already pouring his usual drink. “I’m happy to see you, it’s been a while.”

“Work has been busy lately. No help tonight?”

“If you mean it in a ‘ is my hot-ass crush here? ’ kind of way, she is,” your friend said, catching his intentions easily. Not that he put any effort in masking them, constantly looking around the place for you. “I don’t know where she went, though. She was sitting over there just a moment a— what the...?”

Seokjin followed her gaze, fixed intently somewhere behind him. Your body pressed against someone’s, fingers buried in blonde hair. Unable to look away, he watched a mouth clash against yours before traveling down your neck.

“Oh, Jin, I’m sorry. This dumbhead, I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Taehyung? Really? He’s like her little brother.”

I’m pretty sure “little brothers” don’t stick their tongues down your throat . Shortie kept talking in the background, probably making excuses for you. To his surprise, the first thing he felt wasn’t anger or jealousy, but something close to satisfaction. An odd sense of pride filled his chest every time the blonde touched you where he had before, when he kissed over the skin he had marked as his already.

The man turned the two of you around, giving Seokjin a perfect view of your backside. Long fingers travelled down your spine, cupping your delicious ass with a rough squeeze. The same ass he remembered perking back for more despite the leftover sting his palm left behind. He couldn’t shake the vibrant shade of red he created that night, nor the soft whines you sang for him. Pretty eyes clouded with lust as you came on top of him, now etched in his memory forever —along with the iciness you left behind on his sheets the morning after.

With a fist full of his leather jacket, you laughed. Seokjin could tell it didn’t quite reach your eyes. In fact, it seemed like the attention on the man in front of you was only half-hearted.

Yes, he noticed the pink tint on your cheeks, the hips grinding on a thigh clad in ripped jeans and shortened breaths. But he was also aware of your eyes bouncing around the pub distractedly as your companion nipped your jaw. A smirk tugged on Seokjin’s lips. He’d seen withdrawal before, when his mother quit smoking. Gum could not replace a cigarette and a toyboy could not replace him.

Meanwhile, you kept trying to redirect your wandering thoughts to Taehyung, who locked lips once again, sucking on your lower one. Closing your eyes, you attempted to concentrate solely on his tongue on your mouth. The air was humid, too many bodies in one room. It stuck to your skin the same way it did at the club with Seokjin, but somehow thicker. Tae smelled rich and exotic, nothing like the subtle sweetness of his surely expensive cologne. You remember because it lingered on your skin the morning after, along with the marks he imprinted all over your body. You weren’t as excited for Taehyung to leave his.

Catching your train of thought, you emptied your mind and only allowed pleasure to invade it. You left out a sigh at the hot pressure running through your veins as his thigh flexed against your core just right. It was all you needed at that moment, a nice body against yours to fight the infection of Kim Seokjin. Large hands roamed your body, brushing your breasts on their way up to your hair and tangled there to deepen the kiss. Just when you had achieved the perfect balance between numbing everything around you and enjoying the feeling, the blonde whispered hotly in your ear. His low grumble shook you out of your blissed state, crumbling any prospect of eluding reality.

All of the sudden you found the spicy kisses bland. A light frown etched between your eyebrows when you studied his profile. It dawned on you that it was Taehyung who just told you to come all over his jeans. Taehyung. The same guy who sent you stupid memes while taking a shit because “he was bored”. Fuck, you even came close to orgasming in front of him. Because of him. You winced at the thought. What a genius idea, 15-minutes-ago you. Way to go.

About to detangle from his hold to apologise for the impromptu makeout session —a damn good one, true, but probably scarring for life— he beat you to it. Hands still around you, he arched an eyebrow over your shoulder.

“Hey, man. Want something?” he rasped out.

“The lady and I need to talk.”

Great . Just fucking peachy. You took a steady breath before turning around, putting a bit of space between you and your friend. The first thing you noticed was Seokjin’s piercing gaze, squinting slightly from how intently he looked at you.

“Do we now?” you questioned acidly, wearing your best unfazed visage.

Seokjin looked damn fine tonight. Hands casually in his pockets and the gleam of his silver watch just showing. In that position his shoulders squared further. The urge to bite along the curves leading up to his neck rose out of nowhere. You really needed a cold shower.

He smirked at your response, as if he knew your deepest, dirtiest secrets.

“Yes, we do,” a command more than anything else. Still, you recognised the glint of playfulness in the black coffee of his eyes. The one you foolishly claimed for yourself, even though he probably used it on other girls. “Leave the puppy behind and let’s go outside. It’s too loud in here.”

“Who the hell is this jerk again?” Tae enquired dryly, offended by the nickname. He placed a hand on your hip, squeezing slightly to regain your attention.

You jumped slightly at the contact. Seokjin’s eyes snapped up, acknowledging his presence behind you, still too close. The sharp edge of his jaw rolled in annoyance, almost imperceptibly, but he was quick to smooth it with light-hearted indifference.

“The only reason she’s making out with you, kid.”

Amidst the deafening ambiance, you heard a pin drop. There was a beat of silence, tension so high it took you both a moment to register. Then, Taehyung stepped forward, moving you aside. He was not a fighter, despite what one may think with that foul mouth and attitude of his, but he had no problem in punching a douchebag.

“The fuck did you say?”

“Tae,” you stopped, catching his arm. Seokjin remained unaffected, holding the younger’s glare with neutral expression. “Please, don’t. Just go, I’ll deal with the asshole.”

Brows still furrowed, he studied you for a moment with scepticism. “You sure?”

“Yeah, look I—” You pulled him closer, so you could talk to him more privately. No need for Seokjin to hear anything that could be used against you later. “I’m sorry. About all of this, I mean. I shouldn’t have kissed you tonight when there’s other, um, stuff on my mind. I needed something to help me unwind and you were here so... ”

“Five more minutes and you might’ve ‘unwound’ all the way.”

Your face burned immediately, aware of his lingering taste and the stickiness between your thighs. Pure joy bloomed on his lips at your reaction.

“Back to the whole friend thing?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “but you owe me a beer for the semi.”

With that, he nodded at Seokjin in some sort of solemn bro code and the older reciprocated. Men’s short grudge-holding span was always fascinating to witness. He waved both of you goodbye, as if the awkward situation had never happened. Trust Taehyung not to really give a fuck. He was the best at it.

You eyed Seokjin up and down and snaked through the crowd towards the back exit without a word. He followed closely the trail you opened, people too distracted to care if their drinks spilled when you shoulder them. Not sure if you felt angry, relieved, mortified, confused, scared shitless or all of the above, you avoided looking back to check if Seokjin was still there. How did a fun night out with your friends end up like this? You were at home and ready to order a nutritionist’s worst nightmare. You coming to Dio, right? The boys perform tonight. Pretty pleeeease?🥺 That cursed text was to blame. Whoever invented best friends should be sued.

The difference in temperature made you shiver when you stepped out of the pub. A single bulb illuminated the alley, rain puddles and broken glass reflecting its dim light. The night was calm. Not a single siren wailed, like they usually did. Only the constant boom of the bass drum could be heard now, noise muffled underwater, as the door closed behind Seokjin. Your own pulse followed the rhythm, feeling the vibrations deep in your chest.

“Why are you here?” you finally asked. “Just to ruin my night or did you make a sport of being a jerk?”

“Doing you a favour. It didn’t look like you were having a good time,” he answered, amused. You could almost see the ‘I know when you are’ itching to follow.

“That’s not for you to decide. Go home.”

“Not without you.”

His wolfish smirk stretched as he threw a wink. A bit late to try to lift the mood, in your opinion. He seemed to forget that the world didn’t revolve around his stupid, handsome face. It happened at the nyotaimori event, and it happened tonight. Even if you would’ve ended up alone anyway, he had no right to come all the way to Dionysus to mess with your head and ruin your plans —said plans being to drink the embarrassment of almost fucking Taehyung away. Still, he shouldn’t have interfered. You shouldn’t have tried to relax your emotional cramp with Tae either, but it was his mistakes you wanted to focus on, not yours.

“I missed that frown of yours, sushi girl.”

Unaware that you’d been scowling, your arms crossed in self-defense.

“Listen, you can’t just barge in on my life every time you’re bored,” you chided. “Get a hobby, plant a tree or whatever. Didn’t you like fishing? Go do that. Just don’t bother me.”

His features softened slightly. “You remember.”

How could you forget the half an hour rant at the burger joint? Truth be told, you did disconnect half-way, but you recall his somewhat boyish excitement as he gave you a whole monograph on baits. Also the fish puns, those you recall with painful accuracy.

“Just because you are full of yourself enough to have your ears clogged doesn't mean that mine are.”

He shook his head and laughed at your comment. When he stood in front of you to brush a stray strand out of your face, you froze for a second. The tenderness of the gesture was suffocating, his gaze on yours too. No matter how hard you tried to keep distance, Seokjin always found a way to close it. You wanted to run.

His eyes fell on your lips for a moment, intense and wanting. Suddenly that sliver of fondness evaporated from them as something else caught his attention. A hand slid down to your neck and his thumb wiped there repeatedly as if he wanted to clean the spot. Once again, his jaw tensed and his stare grew jet black. Swallowing hard, you felt your cheeks reddening both at his touch and the admonishing tut he gave. He was glaring at what you assumed was a hickey left there by Taehyung. Irrefutable proof of your useless attempt to escape the itch that was Seokjin. Because he was exactly that —a maddening, unreachable itch that one cannot assuage.

“Don’t you think it’s cruel to toy with that Kurt Cobain wannabe?” The tone remained teasing, but his hard, steel stare gave away his mood. He’d never felt jealousy before, and it tasted dry and sour. “He might get the idea that you’re interested.”

You held his gaze, puffing with cockiness to disguise any sign of guilt. “I wouldn’t worry about him, he gets what casual means. Ask him for pointers on that.”

“You think I don’t?” he chuckled airly, brow raising. “I’ve had plenty of that, believe me. But this? Us ? Nothing casual about it, sweet cheeks. I told you already: I like you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Perfect teeth on display, he smiled at you. Selfish bastard, airing those words so carelessly. He gave the impression of a teacher explaining the slowest student how to do simple math, not a man admitting his feelings. Yet, the confession sounded brutally sweet in the quiet back alley. Perhaps the beer still buzzing was to blame or the opiate smell of his cologne coating your senses, but you wondered if it would be that bad to believe him. Then reality poured on you like tar. Even if he did feel like he said, it wasn’t worth the risk. He’d grow tired eventually and leave, like everyone else. He’d ask why couldn’t you be sweet and shy like his exes. He’d tell you that he would never introduce someone like you to his parents. He’d text saying that he would come home late after work, night after night. He’d call you a slut because ‘don’t lie to me, I saw you flirting’ with someone’s panties in his back pocket still. Every time you were naive enough to catch feelings, you’d paid for your stupidity tenfold and ended up hurt and broken. You wouldn’t go through it all again.

“There’s no us ,” you reminded both him and you.

“We should change that, then,” he offered with a shrug. “I want us.”

The fucker knew how to play the strings of your heart, a master puppeteer with the cruelest intentions. Every word was a shiver of excitement that pooled in your uneasy stomach. It felt a lot like love and it was terrifying. Love always faded into ugly crying, ice-cream and vodka. Cornered against your own crumbling walls, you transformed your mixed feelings into bitterness.

“I don’t know what kind of spoiled-prince fantasy you live in, but in the real world people don’t always get what they want. Shocking, I know. Get a whisky to swallow that crazy fact and leave me alone.”

You shoved him away and walked back towards the door, desperate for Seokjin-less air. The pressure in your lungs was suffocating.

“Don’t run away, let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing left to say, rich boy. I told you I don’t play couples anymore.” Seokjin snorted, surely about to make a quick retort, but you cut him. “Find someone else for your little rom-com attempt. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m going back in to find a man who can fuck me and not catch feelings after the first kiss like a Disney princess.”

“I’m not sure if your goal is to hurt me or make me lose interest, sweet cheeks, but it’s not working,” he stated, low grit in his tone. “Push me away all you want, I’m not letting my perfect woman slip through my fingers. Not when I know you feel the same way I do.”

You should’ve left and forgotten about him, but you took the bait.

“Oh, please, enlighten me. How’s that exactly?”

“Restless. Every fucking second of the day. Wondering if I’d laugh at the joke I just told or if I’d enjoy the new restaurant you’re at. Tired and grumpy, because you want me lying next to you so bad that you can’t sleep at night. Frustrated, because the moment we kissed, I ruined everyone else for you.”

You snorted, amused both at the accuracy of his words and how much they irritated you. Hopefully he’d assume you were mocking him. It had to be some sort of superpower, there was no other way he could read you so effortlessly. With every layer of sarcasm he peeled you felt more naked, more vulnerable to his sharp sweet nothings. Falling for him felt inevitable and you were afraid of crash-landing.

“Maybe you didn’t see me making out with a guy literally 5 minutes ago.”

“Oh, I did, sweet cheeks,” he said slowly, taking a step towards you. His lips curled upwards and you swallowed hard at the sight. He was hypnotic, expensive clothes fitting like a second skin. What an awful moment for your legs to become butter. “I saw his sloppy tongue on your mouth and you not smiling at him like you do with me. I saw how you kissed him just to take me out of your head.”

Your retreat ended quickly when your back bumped into the door you had been so determined to walk through. Emergency exit now blocked, the only strategy left was to hold your ground. And you would’ve, but the beating of your heart drowned any coherent thought. He stopped when the tips of his shoes kissed yours. Lifting your chin up, you tried to swallow the sand in your throat to no avail. Seokjin propped his hands on each side of your head, the slow tempo of his movements almost theatrical. Spikes of anticipation raised all over your skin. As he caged you, his eyes leveled with yours. You saw a glimmer of triumph in them, lips stretched in a self-satisfied grin. Maybe you could bite it off, kiss him hard enough to erase it.

“Careful, your ego is showing.”

“Your bluff too,” he countered.

The poorly lit alley stayed silent for hours in the little bubble your words created. Stray raindrops that slid from the rooftops hit the ground uncomfortably loud. Perhaps it was just your percepcion. Seokjin held your glare with blazing determination. It was useless, you couldn’t convince him to leave. Around him you felt made out of glass, he saw through every lie and every rejection. You were love-sick and you both knew. There was no miracle remedy, no snake oil to cure this heart infection —it spread too deep already. The further away you tried to stay out of love, the deeper you got in it. The poetic irony might just as well slap an ‘I was here’ sticker on your forehead.

With a heavy sigh you accepted defeat.

“What do you want from me, Jin?”

Your whisper came out as a plea. Arms went limp on your sides, exhausted. ‘ Please, be gentle ,’ you wanted to say. Even if the words never came out, Seokjin understood. Your features stiffened as you braced yourself for the blow, ready to take the hit. You looked too fragile, too beaten. He hated it. Seokjin felt the need to hold you and make all the promises he intended to keep. He’d be there to lull you to sleep if you cried, to share your smiles, to lift you when you fell, to say ‘sorry’ every time he’d fuck up and ‘it’s ok’ when you did. A four-letter word burned his throat like alcohol, but he wouldn’t voice it —he didn’t want to scare you away.

“Right now? I want to kiss you. I want to take you home and take my time eating you out to get whatever doubt you might have about me, about us, out of your system. I want to make you come while you scream my name and forget that stupid idiot and any other idiot before him. I want to fuck you slow to make you understand how much you want me and then hard to show you how much I need you.” He inched even closer, trapping your eyes with his so you could read his heart in them. “I want to find you beside me in the morning and make a routine out of it. I want you to laugh at my naked butt in an apron while I make breakfast and fuck you again and again in the kitchen until you to beg me to never let go.”

He paused, lifting a hand to cup your cheek. His eyes fleeted down as his lips ghosted yours, tickling the skin with his breath, and then back up for his next words.

“I want everything with you.”

You were desperate to close the distance in a kiss, drown in his words. Techno beat pounded in your chest so loud that you thought something might explode. Everything . You wanted that too.

“Jin, I…” as you talked, your lips graced his. He looked at you intently, pupils completely blown and a choked gasp escaped him at the brief contact. The hand on your face tensed, showing you his neediness. It only spurred yours. “I’ve tried this before and it never turns out well.”

“Not with me, sweet cheeks.”

“I’m scared. What if—?”

“Don’t be,” he cut with a smile and a wink. “You’re stuck with me. I promise.”

Tired of fighting a lost battle, you gave in. Your body moved on its own and you closed the barely-existing space between you, sealing your mouth and his with a kiss. There was urgency in his response, as his tongue immediately asked for permission. He kissed you with a starved need that you were quickly to match. His kisses were ardent, numbing you from anything outside Seokjin. Every doubt and heartbreak died where he started. Eager to taste you, he bit your lips until they puffed. Although neither of you couldn’t get enough of it, there was something gentle in your passion. His arms encased you and brought you close enough to fuse with him. Muscle memory laced your fingers to his dark hair, disheveling its perfect shape into whatever you wanted, and your hips grounded his. You molded together in a frenzy of desire. It was satisfying to see every limb and kiss back in place, exactly where they were meant to be. Like one of those compilation videos, it was addicting. The only thing missing was his bare skin on yours to make the moment perfect.

As you got lost in him, his words filled your head, triggering a moan that Seokjin drank with devotion. Perhaps it was foolish, but you let yourself believe him. No flowers, no romantic music in the background, just sincerity in his eyes as he said them. He didn’t paint a movie-like romance where every day would be perfect. He didn’t swear a life of never-ending happiness or vowed to never hurt you. No, he made one promise: that he’d be there. The effortless conviction in that one promise told you that he’d stay and try, that he’d fight for you. He was stubborn and persistent enough for you to trust him. Besides, he always kept his promises before.

Now that you allowed what you felt for him to flow freely, you couldn’t cointan it. He flipped your world upside down. You wanted to tell him what an irritating, fun, conceited, irresistible prick he was, that sometimes you would choke him and others you would kiss him until your lips drew blood, that with him you felt the barest you’ve ever been, but also the safest. Words weren’t enough to express all that, so you kissed him fervently and urged him closer, your heartbeat reverberating in his chest, to show him instead. He grunted, immersed in you and those words you didn’t speak. No need for it, he heard them in the way you moaned and pressed against his hardened cock, seeking desperately some kind of friction. Your hands roamed his shoulders, crinkling the material of his shirt. He felt so yearned for that he forgot to breathe. When his lungs couldn’t take it anymore, Seokjin broke the kiss, missing it the moment cold air hit his wet lips. You whined at the loss, but allowed yourself a moment to recover. Panting heavily, you both stared at each other. At that moment, he looked perfect. Dishevelled and void of that cold mask he wore most of the time, it was the final shot you could take —you were recklessly and catastrophically in love, with no hope of recovery. All that fight you put up, just to lose anyway. What a poor soldier you’d make. With a breathy laugh you rested your forehead on his chin, which brought a bright smile. Still trying to get some air, he kissed your hairline tenderly as he brushed back flyaway strands. Your fingers mimicked the intimate gesture, drawing circles on the nape of his long neck.

“By the way, I don’t beg,” you quipped suddenly, lifting your head so he could see the arch on your brow and a half bitten smirk. The moment was getting too soppy already.

“You look like you enjoy new experiences.”

A wink and a kiss and then you were in his arms again, hidden in your newfound shelter as it started to drizzle in the back alley of Dionysus.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: @aretha170

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ri-ahhh · 4 years

Note

idk if you’ve heard the song toxic by kehlani but maybe you could write something based off that song where a tipsy y/n calls up her on and off ex (grayson) to come over 👀 i love your writing btw

It’s already late when your best friend Fallon knocks sharply on the front door of your apartment. You had texted her not even half an hour ago, all up in your feels after you saw Grayson’s Snapchat story of him and some friends at the beach, an unfamiliar and pretty blonde girl tucked under his arm in one of the photos. She had responded immediately, letting you know she was on her way.

Feet clad in your fuzzy pink slippers, the strings of Grayson’s old hoodie keeping the hood cinched around your face tightly, you heave yourself off your comfy couch and trudge over to the front door to let her in. When you swing it open, she’s standing there with her hands full with her purse in one and an obvious brown paper bag in the other.

You stand aside silently, letting her pass the threshold and dump her shit on the kitchen island. “You didn’t have to bring alcohol, Fal, you know I don’t drink like that anymore.”

“Exactly,” Fallon deadpans, whipping out the bottle from the bag. “You stopped drinking because of Grayson Dolan. I think you owe it to yourself to let yourself start drinking because of him, too.”

You push the hood off your head and take the blue bottle from her when she offers it to you. Your brows raise. “You bought me Don Julio to cry over my ex? Isn't this, like, $50 for a bottle?”

Fallon waves a hand dismissively. “That’s exactly why I got it; you’re not gonna cry over your ex. Wine of any kind is crying juice. Vodka makes you a dumb bitch, and bottom shelf tequila makes you cry, a dumb bitch, and a ho. You need the good stuff, so we can bring out the bad bitch. Who can talk about her ex, get it all out, without crying again, or texting him, or posting a thirst trap.”

You roll your eyes. “That was only one time I accidentally sent you that nude instead of Grayson. And we were still together, so it didn't count as being a ho. I was just giving my boyfriend good spank bank material.”

Fallon is already rummaging through your cabinets, in search of the nearly-forgotten shot glasses. “Babe, you know I support every woman’s right to be a ho as much as she wants, especially after a breakup, but this is Grayson we’re talking about. You two were so into each other, it was toxic. You fought all the time, and by your own admission fixed everything with sex. You’re addicted, and as your best friend, I’m inserting myself here to keep you from talking to him anymore.”

She turns around, two little glasses in hand, and looks at you then the bottle in your hands pointedly. You give in and pull out the stopper and the Don Julio Blanco to her.

“Now, I’m not gonna get you drunk. But we’re gonna get enough in you to loosen up that tongue, you’re gonna get all your Grayson shit out before I leave, and we’re gonna go to bed happy and feeling better,” she says matter-of-factly, pouring the clear liquid into the glasses. She hands one of them to you. “Cheers, bitch.”

Right before you clink and tap, Fallon’s phone buzzes. She leans over to check it where it’s resting on the counter, and her eyes widen. “Shit...”

“What?” you ask concernedly. Fallon puts down her glass and starts typing madly.

“It’s my downstairs neighbor. She said Roxy’s been barking for nearly an hour straight and she’s gonna file another noise complaint if I don’t get there to let her out.” She stops for a moment and looks at you. “Shit. I’ll get evicted if I get another one. Like actually evicted.”

Fallon’s dog Roxy has serious attachment issues, which is usually extremely annoying, but right now you're thanking her. You love Fallon to death, but this isn’t exactly the friend therapy you needed or expected when you called her up to come over.

“Dude, go! I promise I’m fine. I don’t need to worry about you being homeless on top of my shit.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, babe, I promise I’ll FaceTime you as soon as I’m home.” She’s gathering her things, leaving the tequila open on the counter. “Make good choices, please. Love you!”

“Love you!” you call out behind her as she rushes through the door.

The door slams, and it leaves a ringing silence almost as loud as your best friend. You look around at your suddenly empty apartment, your eyes landing on the still-full shot glasses.

What the hell? You snatch one of them off the counter and down it with a grimace. Admittedly, it was the best tequila you’ve ever had, but it’s still tequila. The burn travels down your esophagus and settles in your near-empty belly. The sensation reminds you that you’ve hardly eaten today, and one shot was probably more than enough considering your lack of food and the fact that you’ve probably reverted to being an extreme lightweight after not drinking for so long.

You and Grayson have barely been broken up for a month, and despite how hard it’s been, you haven't been tempted to touch more than a glass of wine or an occasional Whiteclaw if the stress of the day was too much. But it never felt right to have more. Grayson is still a part of you, even though that’s part of the reason you broke up to begin with. The two of you were becoming codependent on each other, which was turning into jealousy and neediness that built up into huge, explosive fights and ended with you fucking on whatever surface was nearest.

It was, indeed, a vicious, toxic cycle. Even though you tell yourself it’s for the best, you also can’t shake the feeling that the two of you aren’t done. That there’s still hope for your relationship, especially now that you’ve spent time apart.

Fallon’s tactics have backfired as you stomp back to the couch and snatch your phone off the cushion. Julio has given you the liquid courage you need to do exactly what Fallon told you not to.

I miss u

A classic. You wish you had it in you to be more creative, but the simple truth of it is: you do miss him. You miss his laugh. You miss his smell. You miss coming home to him, either here or at his house, after a long day. You miss his kisses. You miss his dick.

There’s little shame for yourself in admitting that. You used it to solve your problems, but you were blind to that before the breakup. Everything is more clear now, especially the fact that you still love him deeply.

Suddenly, your phone starts buzzing. You don’t even look at the caller ID, assuming it’s Fallon calling impatiently from her car.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

The deep voice on the other end of the phone startles you, and you hold it away from your face to see his name in big, white letters. No longer ‘Gray’ with some heart emojis, but ‘Grayson Dolan.’

You swallow hard and put the phone back to your ear. “Uh, hi, Hey.”

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again. “I, uh, got your text.”

You don’t say anything, picking at a piece of fluff on your slipper.

“I miss you too. Like, a lot. Too much.”

You bite your lip tightly, chewing it nervously. You hadn’t expected him to fucking call. Calling and texting had two very different vibes. Over text, you would probably say something cute and calm and ask if the two of you could get coffee tomorrow.

But a call? You can hear his voice for the first time in weeks. It makes you want to jump through the phone and wrap him in your arms, to cry in his chest -- from happiness or sadness, you’re not sure. Either way, this is the closest you’ve felt to him in so long, and it makes you weak.

Grayson may be loud, but he’s good at shutting up when he wants an answer. It’s one of the things that drove you most crazy when you fought. He’d yell his piece, then stare at you until you had a retort. Sometimes you did, sometimes you didn't; you were always both at fault, for the most part.

You take a deep breath and find your voice at last. “Me too. I...I haven’t been doing so great. Without you.”

She hears him sigh. “Me neither.” He pauses, and you wait anxiously. “Look, I’ll be honest. I was with Ethan when I got your text and he...well, he doesn’t think it’s a good idea that I called you. Or that we’re talking to each other, period.”

He leaves his sentence hanging, almost like an open-ended question without phrasing it as such. You can't stop the laugh from bubbling past your lips as you shake your head. “Fallon was just over at my place and said the same thing. So that either makes us really fucking stupid, or our best friends just don’t understand.”

“Famous last words, either way,” Grayson chuckled with you. You can hear crickets chirping in the background, and imagine he’s sitting outside by the pool. The two of you used to like to do that together.

You decide to follow his example and head out to your balcony, plopping down in one of the plastic chairs with your knees tucked to your chest. “What do you think about us talking, then?”

He doesn't miss a beat. “I think I miss you. And I love you. And I know I fucked up a lot, but I’ve been actually reflecting on everything that was wrong with us and I think I know now what I can do better. This time apart has been really fucking hard, but I think it was a good thing. For me, anyways.”

Your lip finds its way between your teeth again. You clamp it hard to hold back the shake in your voice. “Me too, Gray. I wasn’t perfect by any means, either. But as long as we both know what we need to work on, I want to try again if you do.”

“I do want that,” Grayson sighs, relief flooding his voice. He laughs that laugh you missed so much. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I’ve been driving E crazy having these meltdowns all the time thinking about how I fucked up so bad that I wouldn’t ever get you back.”

You smile into your knees, and decide in that moment to risk it for the sake of your biscuit, which throbs at the mere thought and sound of him. “Is it too early to mention that I miss all of you?”

“Careful, or I might think you only want me back for my body.”

“I mean, I definitely had to use my imagination a few times without the real thing. I only had to think of you, though. How good you fuck me.”

This right here is probably where the tequila is coming in to play. Fallon was wrong again; you’re about to go Full Ho, having phone sex with your kind-of ex.

His breath picks up nearly imperceptibly, but you can also hear the smirk in his voice. “How many times did I make you squirt in the tiny house shed that one time, baby? That was so hot.”

“Mm, it was so good, Gray. I remember you had to carry me inside to your bed because I couldn’t walk. And then you fucked me nice and hard on your bed.” A rush of wetness floods your panties, and you squeeze your thighs together. “You came all in my mouth that night. I miss how your cum tastes.”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Can I come over?”

You hesitate. You think of Fallon, of Ethan, of Don Julio. Of Grayson.

“Yes. Please.”

#anon i LOVE kehlani #and this song #sorry it wasn't super sexy #i loved writing this might fuck around and add to it eventually #whoever this character is has my dumb bitch energy #dolan twins #grayson dolan #blurb #g blurb

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talesmaniac89 · 4 years

Text

The Classifieds

Pairing: Past Dean x Reader

Summary: What lengths will Dean Winchester go to when he runs out of options to save the people he cares about? Is he willing to let go of a part of himself to save his family?

Triggers: Hurt, Coma, possible loss/death, open ending, no resolution, angst, No happy endings here guys. This is just angst for the sake of angst.

For sale: 1967 Chevrolet Impala

Lovingly restored black ‘67 Impala needs a new home. This 327 four-barrel beauty comes with a newly installed 502 Big Block 550 Horsepower Engine to give you that extra bit of push. Though it has a mileage of over 600,000 miles travelled, this beauty runs like new after several full fixups, constant servicing and a lot of TLC. Registration is up to date as of January this year.

With its souped-up engine, new paint job and fresh set of tires, this baby looks like it just rolled off of the assembly line. Both the exterior and interior of the car have received a near perfect restoration with a few small exceptions; there’s a green army man toy stuck in the ashtray, a few Lego pieces are rattling in the vent when you turn on the heat, and there’s a small carving in the rear window sill. These are all minor interior flaws that can easily be fixed by the buyer.

I’ll share details like the VIN, classic car ID and answer any other questions directly to any prospective buyers.

She’s been with us since ‘73, and never let us down. Baby’s part of our family, and we’re sad to let her go, but I’m hoping the new owner will love her as much as I have.

Price: Best offer

---

Taking a shaky breath, Dean held back the tears that burned in his eyes, blurring his vision as he read through the classified ad one last time before motioning to hit send. His finger shook over the enter key as he squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to do this, but he had no choice.

Baby meant a lot to him, of course she did. But she was only a car, and if he didn’t let her go, then he could end up losing so much more. Selling the Impala was his only choice.

He needed money. A lot of money. For (Y/N) and Sammy. Their last hunt in Chicago had landed them both in separate hospital beds after prolonged contact with a djinn, and they weren’t waking up. Even after Dean killed the fucking monster that had them trapped, they both remained unresponsive, and they were fading fast. Only kept alive by modern science and a team of hardworking doctors and nurses.

Still, Dean was in the business of saving people. And if ganking another monster of the week wasn’t gonna cut it, then he’d do whatever else he needed to do to fix this. He wouldn’t let his little brother, or the woman he loved more than life itself, die in that hospital. He couldn’t lose them, either of them.

But, their stay and continued treatment required money. More money than he had. More money than he could ever hope to get from his measly collection of fake credit cards, poker games and hustling some poor fool at the local dive bar.

Which was why he was balancing Sammy’s computer on his lap as he sat, defeated, on one of the uncomfortably hard waiting room chairs. One finger hovering over the enter button as he tried to breathe through the growing lump in his throat and the helpless panic lodged in his chest. Either way, he’d lose something. But this way he’d save his family; the only goddamn good thing left in his life.

Swallowing down the bitter defeat, he let his finger press into the enter key with a little more force than necessary. Sending his ad in to the classifieds with nothing more than a dry, low sob goodbye.

Dean would scrounge up every damned cent needed to keep his family alive. Even if it meant selling the only home the Winchester brothers had ever really had.

Because the Impala was their only real home, more so than the bunker could ever hope to be. Yet, what was a home without people to live in it? If he lost his family, then the bunker, the Impala, or any other place he tried to run away to would just be a coffin. Somewhere to lie broken, bruised and defeated as he waited for the world to catch up and realise his heart stopped beating the day that fucking djinn landed Sam and (Y/N) in that hospital bed.

“Goodbye Baby… I’m sorry,”

---

“…Winchester?”

Someone was calling his name, but Dean was too far gone to listen. His red rimmed eyes stayed laser focused on the online listing. Dry and burning after minutes spent staring unblinkingly at the picture of his Baby that topped the ad. The picture was just one of many, the first he could find without Sam or her in it, but it still meant so much to him.

In it he could see every single moment he’d spent behind the wheel of that car.

He could see nights spent by (Y/N)’s side, stargazing on Baby’s hood. His hand painting patterns on her bare arm as they just… Existed together, not talking or hunting, just living. Her head resting on his shoulder as he whispered promises of forever into her (Y/H/C) hair.

He relived every time she’d helped him fix his Baby back up, handing him his tools with that tempting sheen of moisture trapped against her neck and collarbone from the heat of the Kansas sun. Endless drives, with Sam calling shotgun; using his longer legs to his advantage and leaving the fiercest huntress Dean knew in the dust while she grumbled about deserving a front seat view for once.

He could feel the steady and safe vibration of the steering wheel under his fingers and heard her singing along to his mixtapes. Her head leaned back and (Y/H/C) hair moving slightly in the small breeze from the open window. (Y/E/C) eyes hidden behind closed eyelids and a small lazy smile, just barely visible through the rear-view mirror.

That one picture, topping the classifieds ad, held it all; every moment on the road so far. And there’d been many. More than he could ever hope to count.

From the desperate rushed rescue missions and races against the clock, to the lazier road trips after a fight well fought. The easy drives would always be his favourite moments. Just sunshine, warming the air around him as he drove his family back to the bunker. Safe in the knowledge that he’d kept them all out of harm’s way once more.

He’d spent so many long days on the road, he could picture it all perfectly. Even in the pixelated picture of an empty car. (Y/N) would be lounging in the backseat, humming along to his music. Stretched across the leather seats as Sam tried to talk both Dean and her into agreeing to change the classic rock music blaring through the speakers with a podcast or audio book. Giving his all to another convincing argument, fit for the former Stanford student, and still failing miserably every time.

“Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole,”

Dean flinched slightly at the sound of his own voice. He hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. Even the cracked, whispered version that left him. Yet, as soon as the words were out, he could nearly hear the echo of Sammy’s quipped “Jerk” in response to the golden rule. Barely catching the ghost of it with a trembling, empty smile before it was crushed under the louder sound of cold professionalism above him.

“Mr. Winchester?” The doctor repeated, sounding slightly annoyed at his lack of response and waving the papers in front of her as she waited for him to take them from her. The admission forms.

There were two of them. One for each of the two people he loved more than life itself. Lying in separate hospital rooms, only kept alive by machines and wires. Alive, but not really living, for as long as he had money to keep funding those fragile lifelines.

“Please fill in the fields for their insurance and the payment plan section. If there’s any issues…” The doctor said, voice free of judgement or blame as he lifted tear stained eyes to catch hers.

“No… You’ll have your money. Just… Save ‘em doc. They’re all I have,”

Dean didn’t have time to sit around feeling sorry for himself. He needed to get the money. He’d do anything to save his family. Hell, he’d have already sold his soul three times over if he had anything left to actually bargain with. And his baby, the Impala that had been their home, would never be the same again without Sam’s constant attempts to change his music or (Y/N) signing along from the backseat or making his baby brother roll his eyes at her bad jokes.

Though he’d yet to get an offer on the ad. And he needed money fast.

Cas had tried, but his weakened grace couldn’t help them, and there were no other last-minute interventions there to save the day. After all, saving the day was what the Winchesters did, and Dean was two soldiers short of a full team.

No, he couldn’t sit around hoping someone would come rescue them and he couldn’t shoot or punch his way through this problem. All he could do was cling to his phone and hope someone offered to buy a piece of him. One he thought he’d never part with. Hell, at some point he’d even dreamed about handing the keys over to his own child one day, one with green eyes and (Y/H/C) hair, to let the Impala live on when he retired somewhere calm and quiet with (Y/N).

A dream he now realised was foolish to even hope for.

Keeping his eyes on the picture of his Baby on the laptop screen, Dean’s hand tightened around the papers. His voice shook as he prayed out loud, just as much to the classic car on the screen as to the doctor in front of him.

“Please save my family,”

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