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hangesfavles · 3 months

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Kitties and Compromises

a/n!: hi! i don’t usually write fanfics. this is actually my first time seriously sitting down and trying to write a fic, but i was inspired by an experience that happened to me fairly recently!! i’m not sure if i’ll write any more fanfiction, but if y’all like my writing you can send in a request, but i can’t promise it’ll be done quickly 😓 i’ll probably only write wlw, nblw, or nblnb! as for characters, i’d be interested in writing for hange, yelena (from aot), moira o’deorain, junker queen, chloe price, or hazel callahan! also ik not that many people will probably see this, but if you like hange fanfics puh LEASE check out @abbyslev on tumblr and @sweetgirl_r on ao3! bc i love their works and they’ve both indirectly inspired me so much! pls read their work its amazing <3 cross posted on tumblr and ao3, pls don’t steal my writing btw :3

4.3k words. Nonbinary Hange x Fem reader, but readers gender is only mentioned twice.

Summary: Hange really wants a cat, and you don’t. On your way to work one day, you hear a distant meowing in a sewer drain. No warnings btw! This is sfw and just fluffy <3

What were the odds of something like this happening to you? Hange simply must’ve been manifesting this into the universe. The day started just like any other, waking up in the morning next to your spouse, Hange. You always wake up before them, reluctant to leave the warm comfort of Hange’s embrace. Even when they’re asleep they find ways to be clingy, whether that be trapping your body against their own as they cage you with their arms or simply latching onto your back and nuzzling your hair, it always makes mornings that much harder. You always admire their sleeping face before leaving your shared bed; Their peaceful expression and lack of their usual eyepatch reminds you how much they trust you. You groggily slip out of their arms, eliciting their normal whimpers and sleepy pleas for you to rejoin them. You kiss their cheek, not even bothering to respond to their words. You know they won’t remember their words or your own regardless. You get yourself dressed in your boring, formal work attire required for your office job. After fixing your hair in the mirror, you head to the bathroom first. You grab your toothbrush from the holder, smiling as you do so. The sight of Hange’s toothbrush next to your own always makes your heart flutter. Despite having lived with them for quite some time, you always fall victim to the butterflies in your stomach when you see your items mixed with their own. Simple things, like their “Best teacher” mug gifted to them by one of their students next to your plastic and faded Hello Kitty cup you’ve had since childhood, or your coat hanging on the same rack as theirs.

Your next stop is the kitchen. You always make lunch for yourself as well as Hange the night before, otherwise they’ll skip lunch entirely or on rare occasion buy fast food. It never bothers you, though. You love being able to do nice things for them. You know they appreciate it, because they send sweet ‘thank you’ messages along with a photo of them eating it every day without fail. Seeing their smile while eating the food you prepared specifically for them makes your effort completely worth it. You grab your food, placing it into your bag.

The third and final place you head towards is the living room. You grab your laptop- previously discarded- from the coffee table and place it in your bag as well. You groan softly with annoyance as you remember how Hange had distracted you last night from finishing a particularly long assignment from your boss. You had been working diligently for a few hours before Hange arrived home, demanding attention from you. You can’t even blame yourself, because how could you say no to your loving spouse’s puppy eyes? Not to mention the fact they had also enticed you by offering to watch a new movie with you until it was time to make dinner. That’s another action that never fails to make your heart beat faster in your chest. They make dinner while you prepare tomorrow’s lunch, always on the counter closest to them. You sigh as you think about the fact you’ll have a little bit of extra work to do while you leave the house and enter your car to drive to work.

Hange loves you. Everything about you, and anything that comes with you. They love your day-to-day routine, never growing bored even when doing monotonous tasks and chores. Things they had hated previously have magically become more interesting, like grocery shopping or doing laundry. But even so, something felt… missing. They were 100% sure this feeling has nothing to do with the love they have for you, or the love you have for them. They undeniably and unconditionally love you, otherwise they wouldn’t have proposed to you. They knew early on into your relationship that they wanted to spend the rest of their life with you by their side. Because of this, they want to have a family with you. Neither of you had been particularly fond of the idea of having children- at least, not yet. Having a child is a lot of work, as well as an incredibly big time and financial commitment. They want a cat. They knew that they wanted a pet cat before they had even moved out of their parents’ house… However, they also knew that you were against the idea. They’ve been begging for the past few months about how badly they want to adopt one, only to be shut down by you, saying how expensive it would be to buy one, as well as the essentials for it: a collar, carrier, grooming supplies, litter box, litter, a scooper, toys, food bowls, food in general, as well as occasional vet visits. Between both of your jobs, you and Hange live comfortably. If the two of you agreed to cut back on recreational spending, they were sure buying a pet was within reason, but they knew you didn’t want to. You enjoyed being able to go on nice dates with them on occasion, to the movies, aquarium, dinner, art museums, and sometimes you even do escape rooms together. They also savor the dates you go on together, but that doesn’t stop them from asking you at least twice a week if you’ve warmed up to the idea of owning a cat. Spoiler alert, you haven’t. So imagine their surprise when they receive a video call from you in the middle of class, revealing you holding a dirty, gray kitten with one hand.

Really, what were the odds of this happening? After getting out of your car when you arrived at the office building, you hear loud, high-pitched cries coming out of a nearby sewer. Your kind heart wouldn’t and couldn’t ignore it. You follow the sound, crouching in front of the drain, that’s when you see it. The tiniest kitten you’ve ever laid eyes on, seemingly trapped at the bottom of a sewer drain. You jog as fast as your heels can take you, alerting your boss about the situation, telling him you’ll clock in as soon as you can help the poor thing. He graciously allows you to do so, a perk of being a dedicated manager. You jog back towards the drain, kneeling down to look at the kitten again. You were sure if you called the cops that they would take hours to show up, if at all. Instead, you search for the phone number of your local fire department.

Saving this goddamn cat was a long process. Who knew removing the cover of a drain would take so long? It had taken over two hours to remove the cover, and then another forty five minutes to lure the kitten close enough for the firefighter to grab. The kitten was left in your care after it was safely removed from the drain. Luckily, it was dry except for its paws. You were considering what you should do at this moment. The kitten doesn’t seem to have a collar, and you can see a few fleas crawling around on its back. You realize that you simply can’t place it on the ground to roam free once more, what if it’s hungry? What if it gets hurt or stuck again? You’re not sure you would be able to sleep at night knowing you abandoned the cat. You figure you should first and foremost take it to the vet to see if it possibly has an owner who microchipped it. Before doing so, you decide to do what any rational person would do, call Hange. You feel bad for bothering Hange when you know that they’re working, but you wanted to tell them what you’ve dealt with for the past three hours.

When Hange feels the vibration of their phone in their pocket, illuminating from your call, they know that they should answer. They hold their phone in their hand before glancing around their classroom, the eyes of their students peering at them curiously. They chuckle nervously. “...Ah, pardon me for a minute! My wife is calling me. Feel free to chatter while I’m away, just be sure to keep it down, okay?” They give the class an awkward thumbs up and a matching smile. They aren’t sure if you’ve ever called them while they were working, and they feel a pang of worry as they step out of their classroom and into the hallway to answer the call.

The look on their face was priceless. Their eye widens a little with confusion, their lips parting as if they wanted to say something, but they clearly have trouble finding the words. You speak before they do, explaining briefly how you heard the kitten crying, the amount of time it took to save the small creature, and how you plan to take it to a vet to see if it has an owner. After you’re finished speaking, Hange is quick to ask you “Can we keep it if it doesn’t have a chip? C’mon, pretty please? This opportunity is perfect! We won’t have to pay hundreds of dollars to adopt one, we just gotta cover the essentials!” They beg you, barely even stopping for breath as they plead quickly. “I don’t know, Han… Let me take it to the vet first. I’ll let you know what happens from there.”

Hange has been on the edge of their seat all day. You’ve been sending them updates, albeit slowly, considering the kitten is being tested for multiple things, like parasites, ear and eye infections, and other long term health conditions like feline leukemia. What they know so far is that the kitten is- according to the vet- probably a girl, not microchipped, and the poor thing is infested with fleas. You had mentioned to Hange that the vet said it’s a little bit early to tell if she’s really a girl, but that she currently looks like one. Hange has never been so attached to their phone at work before. They can’t help but glance at it between sentences, hoping to see their screen lit up by a message from you.

Today has been tiring, despite not even truly having gone into work. You’re stressed, nervous, and worst of all, bored. Your boredom doesn’t help your running thoughts. Instagram can only distract your brain so much when all you can think about is this kitten you’ve unwillingly bonded with. The longer you sit in the waiting room, the more you realize how worried you really are about being able to keep the kitten, despite your initial reservations about keeping a stray animal. She was just that cute. Throughout the whole car ride to the vet, she sat in your lap obediently, even curling up into a ball and purring. Not once did she cry or try to escape your lap. She had only started crying once you left her alone with the vet, and that broke your heart more than you’re willing to admit. You already feel like you have a bond with her, and it would be devastating if she happened to be sick or injured. What you’re waiting for right now is for her to use the bathroom. Number two is preferable, but they would work with number one if that’s all she could do. You silently thank yourself for stopping by a grocery store to get her some canned cat food, which she had eaten in the car on the way here. After waiting in the vet for a whopping 4 more hours, they had concluded all of the proper tests. The vet calls you back into the exam room, ready to talk about the results. Apparently, she ended up doing number 2 when she was left alone in a kennel. “Hello Mrs. Zoe!” He says with a friendly smile. “So, I’ll start with the bad news. Our little friend here has plenty of fleas, which I’m sure you saw already, and after running tests on her stool, I found that she does indeed have a parasite.” After hearing his words, you feel your nervousness festering more than ever. You nod at his words, urging him to continue. “But, there’s plenty of good news. The parasite is nothing life-threatening. She just needs to be medicated every day for a week. Other than that, she is entirely healthy. Do you plan on keeping her?” You think about your answer for a moment, but inside, you knew your mind was already made up. You had plenty of time to think about it in the waiting room, and you can’t deny the fact you’re already smitten with the small animal. You nod at him, a small smile appearing on your face as well. “Well, that’s great! You’ll have to come back tomorrow or the day after to pick up her medicine. We’ll give you a call when it’s ready to be picked up.” He flashes you another award-winning smile before leaving the room to retrieve the kitten. “Congratulations, she’s very well behaved.” He comments as he hands her back to you carefully. “Thank you, doctor. My spouse is going to be absolutely over the moon.” You giggle softly as you hold her once more and leave the office. You hold the kitten in one hand, and reach into your pocket to check the time on your phone. By now, it was almost time for Hange to get off of work. You sit in the car, the kitten once more making herself comfortable on your lap. You try not to think about her fleas as you take a moment to video call Hange once more.

Hange had just finished their last class of the day when you called. They were sitting at their desk, grading some old assignments before they officially left school. This was typical for them, because they absolutely hated dealing with the traffic caused by all of the other teachers, as well as students and school buses leaving the area at once. They see your call and immediately answer with a huge, dopey smile on their face. “Hi, love!” They exclaim, evidently excited for whatever updates you’re going to give them. When the video loads, they aren’t met with your dazzling beauty, but another small, adorable face. You can’t help but giggle as you look down at your phone, the angle making the kitten look funny. She paws the screen in front of her. “D'aww!! She’s so cuteee!” Hange squeals with excitement at the view. You giggle lightheartedly at Hange’s childish excitement. Their enthusiasm for the world around them was something that drew you in immediately about them, and it is still a trait that you adore. “Isn’t she? She’s so sweet and well behaved.” You move the phone away from the kitty, instead showing Hange your face. “Has she melted your cold heart already?” They tease with a soft chuckle. “Oh, shut up Hange!” You giggle at their joke anyways. “I’m just teasing, love. Soooo… Is she ours? Is she healthy?” They ask excitedly, but they already assume that the answer is yes, considering how happy you seem to be. “I just got done speaking with the vet, apparently she has a parasite.” You notice Hange’s lips part into an ‘o’ shape as you say this. You can also notice the concern morphing its way into their features. “But he said that after being medicated for… like… a week or so, she should be perfectly fine.” Hange’s earlier excitement makes a comeback, the worry melting off their features as they squeal a bit. “C’mon, we have to keep her!” They whine and plead. “You love her already, it’s obvious. Stop avoiding the question.” A pout forms on Hange’s lips as they try to convince you for the umpteenth time to have a pet. You sigh softly at their cute expression, giggling breathily at their antics. “I do love her. And you’re right, this is a perfect chance for us to have a pet since we didn’t have to buy her. I guess love is about compromise, or whatever… And since I know how much you’ve always wanted a cat, we can keep her.”

Hange had rushed home in record speed. It’s shocking that they got home in one piece without any tickets or crashes. You were right in the assumption that they would be over the moon about this perfect coincidence, Hange wanted to meet her more than anything. You have been home for a bit by the time Hange arrives at your shared home. They practically launch through the door, before realizing their excitement might startle the kitten. When you hear the door opening, you greet them at the door with your arms open wide. They quickly rush into your embrace, lifting you up and enthusiastically shaking you around. They place a chaste kiss on your lips before putting you on the floor once more. “Not that I’m not excited to see you, but where is she?” They ask with childlike excitement. They’re practically bouncing off the walls. As if on cue, a high pitched cry emits from the bathroom. “I have her in the bathroom right now and I put a blanket in there with her. We’re-” Your sentence is cut off by Hange making their way to the bathroom, carefully opening the door. You smile at their excitement, following after them. “Make sure she doesn’t get out. We’re gonna need to give her a flea bath before she can leave the bathroom.” Hange mumbles out a ‘mhm’ before kneeling beside the bathtub. The kitten is looking up at them with big doe eyes. Hange is doing all they can not to squeal and shout from how utterly adorable she is. You decide to take a seat on top of the closed toilet, simply content to see your partner so lively. Hange carefully outstretches their hand to the animal, who seems to back away the tiniest bit. “Heeeeyyyyyyy baby…” They whisper quietly. “Pspspsp…” The kitten sniffs Hange’s finger skeptically, but doesn’t react otherwise. They take this as a sign that it’s okay to pet her. Two of their lithe fingers scratch at the top of the kitten's head, much to her content. Hange mumbles sweet, hushed words to the animal that you can’t really hear. The world around you seems to grow blurry, as you tune out everything else that isn’t your partner and your newfound pet. There wasn’t anything else worth caring about at the moment. The tenderness Hange displays, a stark contrast from their typical erraticism, has your heart thumping in your chest. Hange has always been equally caring as they are observant. While Hange will probably always be excitable, they’re very aware of other’s emotions. They know when someone is overwhelmed or tired, or maybe shy and nervous, meaning they always know when they should turn it down a notch. Quiet moments with them were always your favorite moments. Moments where you two could simply be, without the need for conversation or action. Moments like this morning, where you can stare at their tired face without any ounce of uncomfort. Hange scoops up the kitten into their arms, holding her near their chest, seemingly unbothered by the fleas littering her body. They look up at you, smiling with their teeth and giggling. Their eyes are squinted shut by how much they’re smiling. Even as you’re lost in thought, not fully aware, you smile back at them unconsciously because it’s second nature. You snap out of your trance when you see a flea jump off of her body. “Yuck.” You say, squishing the bug with your shoe and picking it up with a piece of toilet paper. “I picked up some flea shampoo when I went to get her something to eat.” You say, holding up a purple bottle. “She won’t like this, but put her in the sink.”

The two of you have spent the better part of an hour picking the rest of the bugs out of the kitten's fur. The flea bath helped substantially, but there were still some that crawled around. Neither of you have spotted bugs for a few minutes, so you retire from your task, wrapping the small animal in a towel as Hange holds her, trying to transfer their own warmth to her. “She’s such a sweetie.” They coo softly, bouncing the kitty as if she’s a small child. “We should feed her soon. Did you get anything else from the pet store?” They ask, tilting their head at you as they ask. “No, she got really antsy when she was alone for too long, so I tried to run in and out as fast as possible. We’re gonna have to go back.” “Oh, but we can’t leave her to go out, what if she thinks we abandoned her!?” They ask you with puppy eyes. “We can’t take her out, she could still have fleas. I can ask someone to watch her while we go out.” You say, pulling out your phone to text one of your and Hange’s shared friends.

Levi and Erwin step into your home, the former appearing to be intensely displeased. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this on a weekday.” Levi grumbles, while Erwin smiles politely at you and Hange. “He’s being dramatic, it’s no trouble. You two will only be gone for an hour before we head home again.” Erwin chuckles, walking to the living room, where the now dried kitten sits on the couch. She runs and hides at the sight of so many people. “Thank you guys for doing this, I know it’s last minute.” You chuckle nervously at Levi’s obvious irritation. “We didn’t exactly have the luxury to give you notice, Shorty.” Hange teases, grinning as Levi rolls his eyes. “Whatever, three eyes. Get going so we can get home already.” Hange pouts, not only from the nickname, but also at the fact they’re being rushed out of their own home. You try not to burst out laughing at the nickname. “Three eyes is diabolical.” You choke out, opting to take their hand and head out, hopefully so Hange doesn’t feel embarrassed. “We’ll be back soon, thank you again!” You wave, before hopping in the car with a pouting Hange to get supplies for your currently unnamed pet.

Who knew shopping with Hange would take so long? You knew, actually. You were vaguely aware of the fact that Hange’s erraticism isn’t the best trait when trying to go shopping quickly. You’ve only been shopping with them a few times, and after an hour of bouncing around the store, it becomes a little bit tiring. This doesn’t even account for the many different random items they tend to pick up and insist they need. A similar thing happens when you attempt to shop for your cat. You asked Hange to find a decently sized litter box, and they come back to beg you for toys they think look funny, a bed shaped like a ramen cup, a hat for the kitten, and a matching onesie for her. You have to refrain from twitching your eye as they entirely forgot to get the litter box you tasked them to find. You end up putting the toys, bed, and hat in the basket, since you planned on buying her these things anyway. “Han... My beloved... You forgot the litter box.” You watch as they chuckle nervously, rubbing the back of their neck. “Right... Be right back.” They turn away, determined to get the litter box, (and only the litter box,) while you decide between two bundles of kitten food.

Hange finds you once more, looping their arms around your waist. You’re momentarily shocked, but you quickly recognize the scent of them surrounding you. They place their head on your shoulder, proud of the fact they managed not to pick up anything except the litter box. They poke your cheek, giving you a grin. When you turn your head towards them, they tap their finger against their cheek, silently asking to be rewarded for completing the task you gave them. You roll your eyes playfully and give them a soft peck.

You return home after an hour and a half, being slightly delayed by Hange’s typical short and ever-changing attention span. Erwin helps you and Hange bring in the bags of cat necessities. You and Hange tiredly plop down on your couch once you’ve finished, feeling tired from all the events of the day. Levi sighs from beside you. You and Hange look at him, seeing the cat curled up and sleeping on his lap. “This damn cat wouldn't leave me alone. Always craving attention, like it can't survive without constant petting. Needy little furball.” He grumbles. Despite his attitude, he still allows her to sleep in his lap, which you and Hange are both grateful for. He carefully picks her up, shifting her into Hange’s lap instead. They both try their best to ensure she isn’t disturbed by the transfer. You stand up as Levi does, seeing the couple out. “Thank you both again for doing this. We’ll see you guys on Sunday for dinner. It’s our turn to cook this week!” You giggle. Erwin pats your shoulder in a dad-like fashion. “Don’t mention it. Levi was loving the attention she gave him. See you Sunday.” He smiles. To this, Levi rolls his eyes, elbowing his lover lightly as you see them out.

Once again, you plop on the couch beside your own lover. They look at you with worry. “What are we going to do with her? She’s gonna be so scared if we leave her at home, all alone...” You raise your eyebrow, wondering where this conversation is leading. “I’m sure she’ll get used to it. It’s impossible for us to have someone watch her every day while we’re at work.” In response to your words, they cover the kitten's ears. “You’re evil! How could you talk about our daughter that way?” They pout, giving you puppy eyes. You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully at their joke. “You know...” They start. You look at them tiredly, knowing you probably won't like whatever comes next. “We could always get another to keep her company.”

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bjy-on-ao3 · 3 years

Note

(1/2) Heyy, thanks for your reply, and sorry it took me a while to put my request together but here it is: Reader is a shy naiad/nymph who often attends Dionysus' parties, one day he throws a party for Ares, perhaps post-victory celebration. Ares is still in war mode (when is he not lol) and his mood is affecting the other party-goers, so much so that it starts disrupting the party (fights breaking out and what not). Dio wants people to start having fun again so he coaxes reader into helping ares uhhhh 'destress', maybe makes her drink a little ambrosia/wine to loosen up(two birds one stone y'know, he gets reader out of their shell as well). Of course *Dio* joins in the 'festivities' too bc can't be letting ares have all the fun dkkd.

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

I’ve wanted to attempt this request for a while now, but I needed some study into certain parts of it I wasn’t familiar with. I hope y’all enjoy the fic nonetheless and my bits of inexperience in certain portions don’t show overmuch!

(Note: There is no Ares/Dionysus in this fic & this is featuring the characters from the Hades game, if that weren't clear already.)

Summary

During a post-war celebration, the God of War gets a bit out of control, making tempers run hot. With Ares’ bloodlust infecting the party and threatening to ruin it by becoming a brawl, Dionysus enlists Reader’s aid to help his brother wind down. Though he isn’t one to be left out of the fun either.

Tags/Warnings

Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal S*x, Biting, Blood, Creampie, Double Penetration, Drunk S*x, Hand Jobs, Nymph Reader, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Rough S*x, Shameless Smut, Slight Breathplay, Stomach Bulge, Threesome, Vaginal S*x, Voyeurism

Party Foul (Ares/F! Reader/Dionysus)

The sound of raised voices and angry snarls sent you fleeing from the area most folks had gathered to celebrate. Though it was a fete held by a local town in honor of some glorious conquest of war, the atmosphere had been light and jovial to start. However, it hadn’t been long until several of the Olympian gods deigned to grace the celebration with their presence, many with small groups of followers of their own. Mostly, the gods only added to the cheerful mood, the victorious soldiers feeling even more invigorated and honored by their presence. Yet the presence of one god stoked a fire in the blood of many present, whether soldier or laborer or homemaker. Already high on the chaos and strife from previous battles laid to rest, Ares, god of war, brought with him a mood that was electric and infectious. His revel in the bloodshed had boosted his mood, working him into something close to a frenzy. A frenzy that seeped out among the crowd, even after he had left the immediate area. It made them quibble and quarrel amongst one another, escalating until those unaffected began to cautiously distance themselves, lest they be caught up in an impromptu fistfight or worse. Arriving in tow with one of the attending gods, as was common among your fellow nymphs, you had been reluctant, but still secretly excited to enjoy the celebration. You were more than willing to enjoy the captivating atmosphere of good humor and greater cheer, even if you weren’t quite so unphased as your brethren. But as the mood of the hour had grown sour and bitter, voices raised, several men had started physical fights. You had quickly balked and ran. Your flight had taken you to one of the small surrounding buildings, breathing a deep sigh of relief once the angry voices and shouts faded to something far more faint. Stopping, listening for a time, you willed your stammering heart to slow, at least until the sound of sandals drew your attention. You cast a wary glance over your shoulder, ready to run again before recognizing the broad figure behind you. Turning to face the god whom you had accompanied to the party, you opened your mouth to speak, only for him to cut you off. “Ah, perfect timing!” Dionysus’ smooth voice boomed. “C’mere, babe, I could use a little help.” “I-What is it, my Lord?” you asked, thrown off by how laid back he sounded, despite the faint ruckus not far off. You hadn’t spoken to him too much personally, his attention often taken by those more willing to vie for it. “You’re having a good time, yeah? I mean, before all… that,” he trailed off with a lazy gesture of his hand, showing his distaste for the brutish behaviour that had stirred up. “Oh, yes! Before that, absolutely,” you answered, nodding. “Fantastic! What do you say to livening things up a little then?” You couldn’t hold back the furrow of your brow. “Ah, it seems like the city folk have taken it upon themselves to do just that already… Not that I mean to say no, my Lord!” you added quickly. Dionysus grimaced at the reminder of the ongoing brawl growing nearby. “That’s.. Not quite the mood I’m looking for. That’s why I need a little help to cool things down,” he continued, the sour look quickly swept away. “Follow me babe; I promise it’ll be a good time.” “Alright,” you agreed with another acknowledging nod, thinking you would rather be further away from the fighting anyhow. “Great, this way then,” Dionysus gestured once more, this time the gesture more welcoming, an insistence for you to follow him. You followed quietly, giving a few idle glances around the building as he led you through it, down a long hall and to a secluded room. It seemed to be some kind of lavishly decorated bedroom or lounge, littered with chaises and sturdy chairs. Several sconces peppered the wall, giving it a warm, golden glow and leaving nary a corner of the room cast into darkness. On several tables sat platters of breads and cheese, eggs, fruit, and even one of various meats, flanked with several chalices and vessels of what you assumed wine and other spirits. Dionysus stopped at the

door, giving you a gentle push into the room while he waited before the doorway. “Wait here for a minute, babe, I’ll be right back,” he assured you with a grin. Uncertain exactly what it was Dionysus required of you - given who you were dealing with, you had ideas, of course, but one could never be completely sure - you did as you were told. You settled yourself on the edge of one chaise, eyeing one of the more impressive looking vessels on the tables. You decided against having a taste from it, deeming it better to just wait until Dionysus returned. After a few minutes that dragged on, the sound of footsteps drew near once more - this time more than just one set, the additional footsteps heavier than the first. Dionysus reappeared in the doorway, stepping into the room, followed by another man who could only be another god, judging by the broad breadth of his shoulders and chest and the fearsome, bloody red eyes that fell on you. You recognized him instantly - the god of chaos and war was hard to forget, after all - and most you knew gave him a wide berth. It wasn’t so much that he was unpredictable that concerned most people, rather that his fondness for war and violence was exceptionally predictable. You suppressed the urge to rise from your seat and make some hasty excuse to retreat, not fond of the wild-eyed excitement painted on the new god’s face that seemed barely held under control, or the nearly tangible aura around him that made your skin prickle. Despite being dressed in less warlike attire than the armor he often wore and was well known for, Ares was still large and imposing. The addition of several blades remaining strapped or tied here and there did little to dull that impression. You looked to Dionysus, seeking distraction from Ares’ entrance, wondering what business he had that involved you and also required Ares. “What was it you needed my help for again, Lord Dionysus?” you piped up as you watched him coax Ares into reposing on another chaise some distance away. Walking back to you, Dionysus eyed you for a second, and then his eyes flickered back to his brother, who seemed a bit more mild, though still impatient and worked up. “You saw the scuffle outside, yeah, babe?” he asked easily, seeming hardly put off by Ares’ frightening aura. You nodded silently, feeling as if he wasn’t quite done speaking. “Old Ares over there got a bit overexcited, and it’s really killing the mood,” Dionysus complained, tone dipping slightly in annoyance at the idea of a ruined mood, heaving a small sigh. “He could stand to… wind down, if you catch my meaning.” You weren’t dull, and catch his meaning you did quickly, looking to Ares. “Oh,” you said quietly, feeling more apprehension rise. Ares was appealing enough, you couldn’t deny that, but he was also nearly as frightful. “What do you say, babe? Think you can convince him to relax?” As carefree as Dionysus sounded, he still seemed aware of your worry, too. “If you’re feelin’ nervous, I’ve got a little something that might just help you out.” He reached for one of the more ornate vessels on the table before pouring some of the liquid into a goblet. The liquid was a rich, royal purple, some kind of wine that seemed to smoke faintly, though the scent that wafted from it was heady and sweet. “I promised it’d be a good time, right? Just drink this and trust me, babe.” Fickle though most gods were, from your experience Dionysus was trustworthy enough for his words to be reassuring. The wine in the cup would no doubt deal away with any lingering uncertainties as well. You considered the cup for a moment more, giving a second half-nod and reaching to take it from Dionysus’ hold. You drained it quickly, far quicker than you might have under normal circumstances. Now was not the time to sip and recline. You needed whatever aid that wine might offer. For several passing, heavy moments, your nerves remained. But a warm, gentle buzz crept up, drowning your concerns out until they were naught but an indistinct drone in the back of your head. A warmth starting in your

cheeks spread down your neck and chest, leaving you suddenly less stiff, less concerned by Ares’ menace. The prospect of helping him ‘relax’, as Dionysus had so casually suggested, became less frightening by the second. As if he could tell how quickly his special wine had taken effect - you guessed it was more likely he knew how potent it was - Dionysus grinned. He extended a hand to help you to your feet, and you took it without a second thought. In the past, you had heard alcohol referred to as ‘liquid courage’, though you imagined that was regarding mortal drink. You didn’t think any mortal wine could have so put you at ease quite so speedily as what you had just drank. Yet, despite the potency of the alcohol, you were easily able to remain steady on your feet, even without Dionysus’ help. “Well, go on, babe,” Dionysus urged you nonchalantly. “Don’t want this party to go downhill anymore, do we?” With a gentle shake of your head, you released Dionysus’ hand, and swept past him, towards Ares from where he watched with vague interest. The warmth and confidence granted to you spread further, growing strong, whisking away the last tatters of your nerves and leaving a need to please behind. You noted that even though Ares showed some interest, he seemed restless, as if he would much rather be out among the ruckus he had unintentionally - you assumed - incited. “I’ve been told you're in need of some relaxation, my Lord,” you said in a tone you hoped was alluring. Ares scrutinized you for a silent moment from his seat, sipping something from a goblet of his own. Though the scent that drifted from his was far more potent and acrid. “Is that so?” Ares’ speech was much more calm and composed than you had expected, a striking contrast to the roiling expression in his eyes. His sharp gaze flicked to Dionysus where you had left him. He had settled onto another of the many chaises, indulging in his own drink already and looking as if he wasn’t paying you any further mind. “Very well,” Cutting red eyes turned back to you, and a shiver of anxiety you had thought drowned in wine shot through you. But you pushed the feeling away, calling on the courage bestowed on you by that same drink. “But first, off with those,” Ares demanded, gesturing with a nod of his head to your clothing. Quick to obey, your fingers flashed to your belt, undoing it and tossing it aside. Your fingers shook a little, yet you didn’t feel as if fear or worry were the cause now. Next came your tunic, pulled over your head as gracefully as you could manage, left to join your belt. At last, only your breast band remained, and you doubted it was exempt from Ares’ command. So if came off, too, leaving you stark nude in front of him. Were it not for the potency of the draught Dionysus had given you, you were sure your stripping would have been a clumsy mess, but even with your trembling touch, it had felt easy. “Now, come here, then,” the tone of Ares’ voice hardly changed, remaining thunderous and even, as if you had little effect on him. You moved until you were within reach, and Ares closed the rest of the distance between you, grabbing you by the wrist and thigh and pulling you onto his lap. Even in your pleasant haze, the sudden, unsettled motion struck you, and you sat still for a few seconds, trying not to blink owlishly at him. A ghost of a grin curled Ares’ lips, and he waited expectantly. Large, hard hands lingered on your skin. They shifted, and you flinched reflexively, and Ares’ smile showed a slight flash of teeth, as if he was enjoying the tension, however brief. “Don’t keep the man waiting, babe,” drifted Dionysus’ voice from his chaise. Apparently, he was paying more attention it had initially appeared. Shaking yourself out of your surprised stupor, you licked your lips and tried to relax again. You bent forward, planting your hands firmly on the front of Ares’ tunic and crushing your lip to his. The taste of whatever sharp, potent liquid he had been drinking met you head on, mingling with something pleasantly earthy and overwhelming the

lingering sweetness from the wine Dionysus had plied you with. There was a soft clunk as he set down his drink somewhere nearby, and his reaction was swift, pushing roughly back into the kiss and nipping harshly at your lower lip. One hand tangled in your hair, his grip stinging, preventing you from retreating. The other wasn’t to be left idle, sweeping over your form, grabbing rough handfuls of your ass or thighs or chest as it wandered. A cruel, full bite to your lip made you hiss and gasp, opening the seal of your lips well wide enough for Ares to thrust his tongue between them. When it twined itself with yours, it was as fierce as his kiss, waging a battle rather than taking part in what was for many a sensual dance. The hand roaming your body shifted to the small of your back, pushing your hips down into his, ensuring you felt the fruits of your effort to entice him, already straining beneath his clothes, hard and hot even through them. Ares pulled away, allowing you to catch your breath and taste blood as it trickled from your savaged bottom lip. Your tongue slipped out once more, re-wetting your lips and gathering the stray beads of blood. Something like amusement had overtaken Ares’ wild-eyed gaze. “What an obedient little nymph you have brought, brother,” he said smoothly, clearly addressing Dionysus, though his attention remained fixed on you, taking a more thorough measure of your form spread across his lap. Something you couldn’t quite place flashed through the cutting red for an instant before he spoke again, and you couldn’t contain another shiver. “How much can such a fragile creature handle, I wonder,” he mused, the hand that had captured your head sliding down and lightly skimming over your neck briefly. Another shudder wracked you, less noticeable this time, and your breath caught in your chest. “Come now, nymph, let us see.” Quickly, Ares was on you again, leaning forward in his seat, pressing you more insistently into his lap before the same hand dug into your hair again, pulling and directing until you were bent back at his mercy. As before, Ares didn’t try to be soft or considerate, nipping at your lips again and wrestling your tongue into writhing submission. The warm, encouraging strength of the brew Dionysus had supplied made the lines between arousal and fear bubbling beneath the surface warp and twist, and you weren’t sure which was surging from the less than gentle treatment. Small moans and gasps previously smothered by Ares’ mouth and tongue broke free when he moved away again, licking his lips. He didn’t waste time, though, moving down your throat just as aggressively as he had kissed you. Sharp bites and soon-to-be bruises left a burning path across your jaw and throat. A deep, satisfied hum rolled through Ares when he was met with hisses and groans in response. Though his actions were careless and painful, there was pleasure in them, too, stoking a growing heat in you as if each touch of his lips and teeth and tongue infused you with the excited heat of bloodlust that filled the war god. You rolled your body toward his harsh attentions, bare core grinding against the eager hardness tucked beneath his clothes. A dark laugh tickled your skin, and you cracked your eyes open to spy an amused expression gracing Ares’ face. They snapped shut again to absorb the myriad mix of pain and pleasure as he assaulted your skin all over again. Somehow, his mouth on your skin felt so hot, even though you were sure your entire body was already aflame. So caught up in Ares’ attentions, you paid no mind to what had become of Dionysus. He lay eyeing the entire spectacle while he reclined languidly on his own chaise. Had you realized, it would have come as no surprise that the hedonistic god was fond of watching. And for a time, Dionysus was content to do just that - watch - his eyes glued to your reactions from his brother’s touch. But it wasn’t long before looking alone wasn’t enough, and his hand drifted to his lap, palming an erection of his own and stroking it through the fabric. Ares withdrew

again, allowing another short reprieve from his onslaught of mouth and hand. You followed him, moving your hands from his chest to his lap. A tiny part of you urged you to trace the outline of his erection beneath his clothes, to take your time. Yet another, far louder, more sensible part suggested that Ares wouldn’t likely take too kindly to a light and teasing touch. You abandoned the notion, ignoring the dull sting of the marks Ares had bit and sucked into your skin. You pushed his lappets away instead, and his cock stood free and stiff before you, almost as imposing as its owner. Rather than taking the time to admire him, you wrapped a hand around his thick cock, rewarded with a deep, primal sound. Ares’ head tilted back for a moment, basking in your hand slipping up and down his length. You squeezed a little harder as you stroked him, and Ares groaned; a husky, growling noise that went straight to your cunt. You didn’t hear the footsteps approaching closer and closer behind you, nor did you catch the motion sweeping toward you. You only realized Dionysus’ suddenly much closer present when Ares tipped his head forward and cast his eyes past you. A brief glimpse of annoyance flitted across his face, quickly erased as you continued to fondle his cock. “Inviting yourself to join in, brother?” Ares asked, and part of you was almost disappointed to hear how collected and smooth his tone sounded, as if you weren’t touching him at all, nor as if he had set upon you like a wild beast before that. Your pace slowed, but didn’t stop as you twisted as far as you could to look back over your shoulder. You found Dionysus standing in front of Ares’ chaise, his own excitement easily noticeable beneath his flowing tunic. “Can’t very well resist a show like this,” Dionysus excused shamelessly with a shrug. Something told you this was hardly the first time he had intruded on someone else’s carnal moments. Or perhaps his eternally relaxed attitude only gave off that sense. “You’ll just have to learn to share.” Your glance flicked from one to the other, expecting Ares to look more irritated at Dionysus’ casual decree, but he seemed to brush it off with a short, dismissive hum. His focus returned to you, deciding you more worthy of his time. He swiped your hand away from his cock, shifting you in his lap with both hands. You barely registered the sound of rustling of cloth behind you, completely distracted as Ares positioned you properly over him. He didn’t bother taking his time easing himself inside, jerking your hips down and bucking his upward. You stiffened immediately, biting your abused lip at the sudden stretching, aching sting as he filled you completely. You clawed at the fabric of the chaise, taking a deep, quivering breath. Fortunately, the wine and, somehow, Ares’ rough handling had left you limber and wet enough that the stretch of Ares’ cock wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Yet still, you couldn’t restrain a pained whimper and a shorter, gasping breath when he shifted, lifting you up and forcing you back down. “Aah, Lord Ares, it- I-I can’t--” Your words were cut short by a whine, and your eyes shot down, avoiding Ares’ cruel crimson ones, again attempting to relax, focusing on the pleasure beneath the pain. You swallowed hard, and your cunt constricted, despite the burning ache, at the sight of the bulge in your lower belly. You hadn’t missed Ares’ considerable endowment when you had been touching him beforehand, but the sight of him so noticeably buried in you was a little frightening, and somehow even more arousing. “What troubles you so, nymph?” you tore your gaze away from the lewd sight it was fixed on to meet Ares’ eyes when he spoke. The cut of his voice was derisive, almost cruel, and a leer adorned his lips. “Surely you can handle this,” he added. He lifted and lowered you again, harder, and his smirk grew just a little when you winced and a gasping ‘ah’ burst from your lips. Somehow it was no shock a god entangled in violence and war would enjoy some pain, even in play. Dionysus’ familiar voice

floated to you before you could answer, smooth as honey, and almost soothing. “Easy, babe, you’re doing great.” His words were an intimate whisper, and if Ares could hear, he didn’t care to acknowledge them, only spearing you on his cock all over again, settling into a slow, rough pace. “Gotta relax, let it all go,” Dionysus urged you, and the tickle of his breath sent a pleasant chill down your spine, making your cunt squeeze down on Ares’ length again. Dionysus’ hands splayed across the bare skin of your back, feeling almost cold on your overheated skin. He smoothed around your torso until a breast filled each large palm, his thumbs rubbing lightly over your nipples. The sensation was a welcome contrast to the sting of Ares’ brutal fucking. Though the pain didn’t seem as bad as it had been - whether you were becoming used to it, or the pleasure Dionysus added muted it, you weren’t sure. Ares’ hands, meanwhile, remained steadfast on your hips, content to hold them in a grip tight enough to surely bruise. Each new time you sank down on his dick, your breath escaped in a gasp or breathless groan. The sounds you made morphed into something steadily more erotic, breathier and wanton. Ares’ voice drifted out, too, though in rumbling grunt when he buried himself completely inside you. Coming down on his length again, another hardness met you, from your backside this time, your ass sliding against it as Ares continued to fuck you. A fleeting glance back told you was Dionysus, proudly nude having decided completely discarding his long tunic was the best course of action. Your lapse in attention earned you more punishment from Ares, though, and he took the chance to lean forward and bite down on your neck sharply. Your hands flexed again, digging into whatever it was they had settled on now - you weren’t concerned with what, be it cloth or flesh or anything else. Your head snapped around, meeting entertained, self-satisfied red. Dionysus’ erection drew back and one hand lifted away. After several more thrusts, something hard, but smaller and more pliant prodded at your ass. Coated in something tacky and slick, what you assumed was one of Dionysus’ fingers searched briefly before finding your asshole and rubbing against it in small, gentle circles. An extra hard thrust from Ares made you tense and whimper, though your body clenched around him again. Still near your throat, Ares’ mouth closed over your skin again, biting and sucking greedily. Dionysus’ finger abandoned the lazy circles, pressing lightly against your puckered hole, steadily forward, careful despite Ares’ jarring pace. When the digit finally slipped through the ring of muscle, you hissed, a new discomfort striking you for an instant, in combination with Ares’ harshness. But whatever coated Dionysus’ finger had made the penetration only uncomfortable for a brief moment, and when he eased his finger in and out, the discomfort shifted to the back of your mind, replaced by the increased sense of fullness. Alongside it, a bubbling tension was awakening in your core, spurred on by the treatment of both gods, boiling low and tightening further ever-so-slowly. A second thick finger joined the first, and you became more used to the newest intrusion, taking in the swell of sensations enveloping you. Dionysus’ pace shifted to match Ares’ in speed, but it remained careful and otherwise languid. The hand he had left on your tits though became notably rougher, though, from excitement, rather than pleasure in pain. Ares’ grip on your hips wavered, no longer needing to so forcefully direct you. The ministrations from both had worked you into a wild heat that encouraged you to rock and grind against him and back onto Dionysus’ fingers. You couldn’t decide which your body craved more. All you knew was you needed both. Any remaining tension had been completely sapped away, along with all coherency you had possessed. An unbidden whine broke free when Dionysus withdrew his fingers, turning halfway into a gasp and then a moan when Ares paired a hard thrust with an even harder

bite on the junction of your neck and shoulder. You had little time to protest or miss any of the sensations before the hotter, harder touch of Dionysus’ cock returned, coated in the same thick, slick substance as his fingers. He aligned himself with your ass, as smooth and relaxed as before. “Better take a deep breath, babe,” Dionysus purred in your ear, both of his hands shifting to cut your rear. He pushed forward as you impaled yourself on Ares once more, his entrance mindful and slow; the opposite of his brother’s entirely. You drew a sharp breath, not from Dionysus’ warning, but simply from the way each inch added more and more to what you had already believed to be a fullness that threatened to split you wide. By the time Dionysus, too, was sheathed inside of you, the fullness bordered on overwhelming, and your breathing faltered again, your mind so completely scrambled. Your head fell back and your lips opened in an ‘oh’ of pleasure, dull pain, and a plethora of other intense, mixed feelings. You tried to rock into them both, to meet each thrust, though when their paces aligned, you could do little but writhe and moan, as if all sense had been wrung from you. Dionysus mouthed at your ear playfully, tongue curling across the shell. “Mm, you’re doing great, babe,” he praised in a husky whisper you almost didn’t catch, so caught up in everything. But catch them you did, and they sent another shudder coursing through you, your body squeezing both gods desperately and drawing more erotic sounds from them both. Another growling, low moan from Ares. A breathy, hedonistic groan from Dionysus. They only added to the mounting maelstrom of arousal and heat. Your heart quickened when one of Ares’ hands abandoned your hips and splayed around your throat loosely. His lips brushed your ear, and as he spoke, he squeezed, just enough to make your heart beat even faster and your breath come a bit more shallow. “Enjoying yourself, are you, nymph?” he growled cheekily. “I might have expected as much from one of my dear brother’s little harlots.” Had you been more sober, clear minded, Ares’ words, sounding nearly a slight, might have made you flush hot with humiliation. Instead, they worked only to heighten your desire, flowing into everything else. You had no mind left for embarrassment. All that remained were the mind-numbing sensations surrounding you and filling you. Ares’ voice dropped away, his pace picking up, his hips bucking harder into yours. Even Dionysus behind you thrust a little faster, harder, his own peaking arousal just as plain as Ares’. You weren’t immune to the welling up of pleasure, either, your belly churning and tight with a winding heat that was nigh unbearable. It grew and grew each time you were filled, and you wanted to scream instead of moan, cry instead of gasp. The thick intrusions, the wandering and groping and squeezing hands, and the greedy, hot tongues and teeth. It all came together in the perfect storm of mindless, primal passion. You came before either of them, giving into whatever wanton shout or cry wanted to escape, your muscles clenching frantically. When first the tense coil of heat burst, you were set awash with that heat, searing and intense, as if lightning struck. Your orgasm rose and fell, only to be dragged out by Ares’ and Dionysus’ unceasing pace, thrusting into your heat unrelentingly. The end of one orgasm blended into the beginning of another, and hot, overwhelmed tears brimmed in your eyes before breaking away. On either side of your face, each god lingered. Dionysus whispered more sultry words of praise and encouragement, placing sloppy kisses on your temple and cheek. Ares nipped your jaw and licked at the salty trail of your tears, as it was an exquisite taste that delighted him. Ares’ hips rolled into you harder than ever before, pace becoming wild and erratic. With a final sharp thrust, Ares’ release filled your cunt, hot and thick, accompanied by a savage bite to your neck that left the warm, sticky feeling of blood in its wake. When he pulled back, a bit of

blood smeared on his lips and teeth, he looked even more warlike and intimidating than to start. But something in his expression seemed sated, calm almost - or at least as calm as a god of such chaos could be. Dionysus, despite joining in later, took little longer to reach his own climax, and with a grinding thrust, he, too, coated your insides with his cum. A drawn-out, erotic moan followed in the wake of his orgasm, and he lay his head on your shoulder, his hair sticking to your overheated, sweat-slicked skin. After a moment of silence, Ares reclined back more comfortably, though didn’t bother to lift you off his length. Dionysus pulled away, withdrawing leisurely with a sound of contentment. Feeling exhausted and sore, you chanced collapsing against Ares’ chest, and to your surprise, the war god allowed it. You ignored the warm, wet feeling seeping down your thighs, too tired to truly care. “There. Don’t we all feel better now?” asked Dionysus cheerily, hardly sounded tired or winded at all. He paused to listen in silence, searching for the previous ruckus. “Certainly sounds a bit quieter out there now.” “Perhaps,” Ares drawled, and he didn’t sound very taxed either. It seemed you were the only one so tired. “I may yet have more use for your nymph before the night is done,” Ares decided, and you jumped reflexively when his fingers curled in your hair and massaged absently, in a gesture that could almost be confused for affectionate. Dionysus hummed acknowledgement. “Well, I’ll be back in a bit then. Try not to have too much more fun while I’m gone.” You heard rather than saw Dionysus redress and depart, too tired to bother looking. Your mind wandered to what other uses Ares might have for you, as he had stated. Did Dionysus have similar intentions in mind for the evening, too? Whatever the case, this wouldn’t be a night you would soon forget.

#ares #dionysus #hades game #ao3 #writing #fanfiction #nsft #n/s/f/w #fic friday #finally another fic upload #tw: alcohol #tw: blood

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angelsndragons · 3 years

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Day 1

Day 1 of the Caduceus Clay celebration week, folks, so you know what that means: I get to gush about my favorite character. I did warn y’all I would word vomit.

So, what does Caduceus mean to me?

Well.

My brother lives in a separate state and has for several years now. We talked on the phone pretty much every day but we still missed each other a lot. One of the last things he did to me in person was introduce me to D&D. I loved it. It gave me a community away from home and a way to meet new people and form new friendships in new areas. I would tell him all about my weekly game shop adventures, he would tell me about the homebrew campaign he was in online. He also told me about this little show called Critical Role. I, like the dumb oldest sibling I can be, pretty much ignored it, outside letting him talk to me about it and engaging with it secondhand. Then, my brother’s party lost one of their players. They were down to four players and no full casters, just a gunslinger, a barbarian, a monk, and a non-healer warlock. Things started getting dicey. Like, really dicey. He worried with me over how close their fights were getting and how he felt it was only a matter of time until someone legit died and they couldn’t do anything about it. So, I asked, “Well, can you ask them if I could play? You’re looking for someone and we’re looking to try to do something together, it could work out.” Two years later, that campaign is going strong and (thankfully) no one has died yet.

I bring up this context because it matters: I rolled up a level 10 Grave Cleric. I had never played a cleric before but I had wanted to before my game shop sessions fell apart. And here I was, willingly thrown into the deep end of one of the most complex subclasses of one of the most complex classes in the game. And initially, I was not happy with it. Not just because there was a lot to learn but because of sheer mechanics. By rote, I could not keep up with the damage that the rest of my party was doing. At all. My high level spells weren’t doing much more damage than my freaking cantrips and I just felt stuck. I wanted to contribute outside of healing but really just couldn’t. I shared my frustrations with my brother, who, being the little troll he is, said, “Well, you know Critical Role has a Grave Cleric now, right?” So, to start this love fest, Caduceus taught me how to be a better cleric and because of that, I will never be able untangle the character from my relationship with my brother. Even if he died tomorrow or went evil or whatever, I would still be fond of him just for that.

I don’t remember which episode of campaign 2 I first watched all the way through. I know I started paying attention around Fjord’s chicken game and was fully on board with the series by Yasha’s loss in the pit fight. What I do remember is Caduceus. I remember being drawn in by this guy for some reason I still can’t articulate.

Caduceus is a complex character who is difficult to fully understand and love. People have said unkind things about him, about how he is a glorified NPC or that he is boring or that there is just no ‘there’ there or that he should just go home already. I have seen people say that they think Taliesin should go back to the drawing board and come back with a ‘better’ character, one who vibes better with the group or something. And the sad thing is, I can kind of see where these people are coming from. Understanding Caduceus and what Taliesin is doing with him requires people to pay attention to him, to actively think about him both when he is and is not in the spotlight. And that is hard. Because Caduceus is that character who aggressively tries to divert attention from himself. So right away, we have this tension, this push/pull when it comes to engaging with him. And I do love me a challenge in my favorites. Also love the polite but judgmental assholes who have Opinions they would never say but nevertheless own.

For me, Caduceus’ arc has been about duty and desire, what duty means, how to prioritize yourself, and how to grow. Caduceus’ interrogation of identity as it relates to duty and his blossoming as a person fascinate me most. What is your duty, really? What does it mean to find balance in your life? How do you take down the walls you built to protect yourself? Where do you end and where does your duty begin? What does faith look like outside a strictly Western/Christian lens? Can we find ourselves in other people? What does it mean to grow beyond your wildest imagination and the people you love most?

Caduceus begins the show as a passive, apathetic shadow of a man who has cloaked those traits in duty in order to not deal with his feelings. He had basically grown up in a literal paradise on earth where the problems of the world couldn’t reach or affect him. Until they did. Until his family left. Until the Nein crashed into his temple. Caduceus makes the choice to basically leave paradise, at the Wildmother’s urging, sure, and experience the world in all its messy beauty and ugliness. It is nothing like he expected. It is hard, it is cruel, it tries to drown him at every opportunity. It is also good, the animals, the people, the experiences he has. Hearing Marion sing, learning of a lighthouse to the Wildmother (which he does not fully appreciate yet, this light in the dark storm). Caduceus spends his first chunk of episodes waking up, seeing life outside of paradise. I love these early episodes because they demonstrate just how far Caduceus has actually come (can’t imagine this guy buying an overly large pirate hat as a prank or helping the Traveler offload some followers through an elaborate ceremony, for example).

The crux of Caduceus’ midgame story right up until he saves his family is this: You’ve seen the world, young cleric, are you sure you want to continue to save it? You can go home and turn your back on all of this, what makes you stay in this imperfect world with these imperfect people? We see this a lot, in the questions he asks the Gentleman, in his insistence they save Yasha, in his newfound appreciation and companionship in Fjord, in making the Xhorhaus a home, in his dealings with the stone giants, in his determination to help Nott and her family. And this is the part that made me love him because Caduceus doesn’t shy away from these moments or tough questions. Like most of what he does, he contemplates them quietly and lets his actions speak for him. Caduceus allows himself to get involved, to become invested.

Caduceus’ new major arc is his realization that he is not just some vessel, some passive thing through which the Wildmother’s will will flow. No, he learns that he has to make choices, that he can affect change, and that if he wants this messy, beautiful world to get better, he is going to have to do something about it. Not just wait for Her to tell him it is okay. Taking ownership of his future and what that means to him have shaped Caduceus these last thirty or so episodes. Caduceus has blossomed so damn much. He continued with the Nein because he wanted to, and that led to the discovery of the Astral Sea City. (side note: Anyone want to take a gander what would be happening right now if Caduceus hadn’t been with them?) He not only felt his feelings towards the Nein, he began expressing them. From the man who refused to Scry or Send to his family to one who has a friend call up his sister and tell her he will be back, from the man who clung so tightly to his need to be useful to the Nein to one who openly declares how much he loves these people and how reluctant he is to leave them, from a man who wanted to save his home to one who is trying to save the whole damn world, from a man who couldn’t articulate his feelings if you threatened him to one who is trying so hard communicate, from a man who needed saving from his own apathy and grief to one who saves others, this is who Caduceus Clay has become and I for one am excited to see how the next 100 episodes influence him.

Also I cannot end this word vomit without mentioning the fact that Caduceus being aroace and so warm, loving, and caring is so damn important. Because it is; there are too many people out there who think aros/aces are loveless robots or fake or whatever. And having this person, this caregiver, this annoying little brother, this compassionate man, to hold up against that kind of hate, ignorance, and indifference means more than I will ever be able to express.

#caduceus clay #cr caduceus #caduceus #caduceus meta #long post #critical role #critical role meta #caduceus clay week #cr campaign 2 #the mighty nein #my meta #it's like fjord said #caduceus inspires me #his arc is there people #he has grown as a person #and i am so dang proud of him

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mydisasteracademia · 3 years

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SFW Alphabets: Tomura Shigaraki

Y’all know the drill.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Depends on how much he likes you, and whether the rest of the League is around. Usually to show his affection he listens to you more, looks you in the eyes, and takes your input when needed, and sometimes he might rest his elbow on your shoulder. When you’re alone, however, he can get really clingy. He loves resting his head in your lap and snuggling into you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He definitely talks to you a lot. Complains his ass off about missions with the League, maybe asks advice for dealing with a specific problem. he can be fairly touchy-feely with you, maybe leaning in over your shoulder or sitting with his side touching yours. If needed, he’ll grab your fingers while walking. You two probably hit it off on an online chatroom, probably talking about how much heroes suck, and when you met up in person, he was shocked at how pretty you were.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

You know he’s hugging on you as soon as you’re alone. Tomura is private about romantic affection, and he has a lot of it to give. Since this is his first relationship, his instinct is to press and see what he can get away with. As soon as you get into a good rhythm together, he likes pulling you into his lap while he’s doing something just to rest his chin on your shoulder.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

As much as he likes you, I doubt he’d be keen on settling down just yet. Remember, he still has hero society to burn to the ground. I doubt he can cook and clean that well, so he’ll need some help with that. He keeps things fairly tidy, surprisingly.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’d be incredibly upset while he does so, and he might just pace about in front of you and rant about how conflicted his is, but eventually he’ll tell you that you need to break up. He’s either paranoid of Sensei disapproving, or Sensei outright told him that he needs to let you go in order to focus on his goals. He’s very upset about it, but doesn’t want to go against what Sensei says (in the beginning, anyway).

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

First off, you can’t exactly legally get married. If you did, he’d probably get arrested considering his status as a villain. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about it from time to time in the context of you being his cute little house-spouse, ready to greet him whenever he comes home from a long day of dismantling hero society as a whole. He really thinks about it for a while, especially after you offhandedly mention actually committing to something like that. But he’s still not ready to settle just yet. Help him destroy society as you know it and maybe he’ll reconsider.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

It depends. In front of others, he’s not gonna treat you any better than them. He’ll treat you like any other comrade. But when you’re alone, he’s loads more gentle with you. You’re special to him, of course, and he wants you to know it especially when you’re away from prying eyes.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He likes hugs, but he doesn’t like initiating them. If someone like Toga or Twice hugs him, he doesn’t push them away, but he doesn’t exactly hug back. If you happen to hug him in front of others, usually it’s a quick catch-and-release. When you’re alone, though, if you hug, he doesn’t let go. He loves your touch.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He’s very stubborn and doesn’t say it right away. You’ll end up saying it first, and it gets him thinking. Does he love you? Eventually, though, after a while into your relationship, he says it to you when he thinks you’re asleep.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He gets incredibly jealous, very easily. You’re his s/o, dammit, and he doesn’t want other people to intrude on his turf! He may have matured greatly past his Season 1 demeanor, but wherever you’re involved, he tends to get heated. If Dabi happens to rest an arm across your shoulders, he tends to get frustrated. If Compress steals your attention for too long, he’s fairly quick to drag you away.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are purposeful and rough (due to his lips). It depends on his mood. Sometimes he’s content to give you a lip peck, sometimes he cups your cheeks and deepens it until you both pull away panting. Kissing, to him, is special. And he wants every one to be special.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Not exactly horrible around children, but not great, either. Since most children tend to idolize heroes, he can’t be around them for long without needing a break to take out his frustration on something (probably one of poor Kurogiri’s shotglasses). Depending on the child, though, he can be more patient than he is with most adults because he understands them more. Especially with abuse victims. (Careful that you don’t end up taking in a victim of parental abuse as your own.)

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He likes to laze about in bed in the morning, just holding you and pressing slow kisses across your shoulders and back. When you eventually need to get up, he likes to watch as you go about getting ready for the day.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

As soon as you’re alone, he’s sitting down with you in his lap. You scroll through your phone with him, maybe play an RPG together, just as long as you get to lie in bed together he’s down for it. The two of you end up falling asleep tangled in one another’s arms (careful that his are far away from you if he’s not wearing gloves).

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Tomura doesn’t do heart-to-hearts unless it’s talking about how your ideologies align. He’s extremely reluctant to talk about his own past with you unless it’s singing Sensei’s praises as a teacher, but sometimes he just has to vent to someone about how shitty his childhood was. In those moments, as you run your fingers through his hair, he tells you about his bastard father and doormat family, his sister, and his dog. If he cries a little, you’ll never tell.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s gotten a lot better about keeping his temper in check, but he still has those moments when he gets angry and sulky. No matter what, he just can’t keep his anger at bay whenever he’s around someone gushing about their favorite heroes, especially not when it’s All Might. He doesn’t like it when someone insults his abilities and underestimates him, either. All the better reason to dust them where they stand.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He tries to remember every single little thing that he can about you. Like Midoriya, he likes to analyze you and find out for himself what you like so that he can surprise you sometimes. He has a full notebook about things he’s noticed you tend to gravitate towards, as well as things you’ve stated are your favorite.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite memory is when you first healed him. You were relatively new to the League (a find by Toga), and while he didn’t trust you yet, you had panicked when you noticed a gash in his side and immediately sat him down to try and wrap the wound. Your tender care as you wrapped him up touched him, and from that point on he paid more attention to you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He is extremely protective of you, nearly to the point of being obsessed. He would do anything to keep you safe. He hates being viewed as weak, but when you have to come to his aid, he appreciates it, even if he feels like he has to show off a little more to offset the nagging feeling of being inadequate.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

The two of you don’t do things as a couple often, but when you do, he puts in a lot of effort into making your dates go perfectly. He gets frustrated when things don’t go to plan, but you often manage to distract him. He puts a lot of thought into gifts for you, only picking the things he knows you like.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Aside from his scratching (which is a compulsion due to his Quirk), he can be really judgmental and sarcastic, especially when he’s in a bad mood. He tends to be a little manipulative and when you get him angry, you need to give him room before apologizing. He feels betrayed easily and requires a lot of convincing for him to let go of his hurt feelings, but he still remembers.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Before he met you, he didn’t put a lot of stock into his appearance. But afterwards, he started feeling self-conscious about his skin and face. He knows he can’t do much to help it, but it’s still frustrating when he looks in the mirror and sees how badly-damaged his skin is. He gets very insecure next to you.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Before you? No, he was totally fine. After you? Definitely. Tomura is a very lonely person at heart and while he didn’t realize he wanted a person at his side before, now he doesn’t think he can live without you next to him.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Likes to go into stores and discreetly dust All Might merch. It’s surprisingly good stress relief.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Literally anything heroic. It’s one thing to be nice and kind to people; he can definitely handle that after all the shit he’s gone through. But actually striving to be like the pro heroes? He wouldn’t be able to be around you. You can’t be judgmental either, because he knows he’s not the ideal type of guy to be around, and hearing it from you too would get old very quick.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He’s plagued with mild insomnia and has a hard time falling asleep at night. With you, though, he’s been able to calm down enough to get a reasonable amount of sleep at night just by sleeping next to you. Still lazes about and lightly dozes in the morning, though.

#sfw alphabet #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years

Text

Once Upon A Time

Summary: The reader has a cleaning tradition that she’s embarrassed for the boys to find out about.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x black!reader

Warnings: Violence and mention of smut

A/N: 2 Dean fics in one week? Who do I think I am???

Ever since you were a child obsessed with fairy tales. Not the Grimm brother versions, but Disney’s family-friendly versions. You had your mother to thank for that. She painted her love story with your father as her own fairy tale.

Your mom came from a family of evil witches, but she didn’t share the same values and wanted to help people instead of harm them. As she told it, she didn’t see a way out until she met her own knight in shining armor, your father. He was a hunter and fell in love with your mom while he hunted her family. She helped him defeat them and they ran off to live their own version of happily ever after.

They both hunted until your mom became pregnant with you, their little princess. Even though, they retired from the hunter lifestyle they taught you all about hunting; they always knew there was a possibility for their past to haunt them. While your dad stuck to teaching you about hunting in particular, your mother taught you the art of witchcraft. “There’s a beauty in magic.” She always said.

Unfortunately, your parents happily ever after didn’t last forever. They were right to worry about their past coming back to haunt them. You came back from a sleepover excited to dress up in your princess ‘rags’, sing Disney songs, and clean up the house with your mom. Instead you found their mauled bodies. The remaining werewolves from a pack they killed came back with a revenge. They even tried to kill you when you discovered the bodies, but due to your extensive training you killed them before they got the chance.

Years later you found yourself and your familiar, Aladdin, hunting and living with the Winchesters. To keep the memory alive of your parents, you kept up your mom’s cleaning tradition. Only thing was you always waited for Sam and Dean to go hunting on their own. You may be a little extra with this tradition, so extra Aladdin refused to participate. Sometimes you’ll cast a spell on some birds and sing with them as if you were Cinderella or Snow White. So, if the boys ever caught you, you would never hear the end of it and be deeply embarrassed.

Currently, you were singing your heart out to Part of Your World and washing the dishes when you heard the clearing of someone’s throat. Turning around you saw a set of hazel and emerald eyes filled with mirth and a pair of poorly hidden smirks. “I thought you two wouldn’t be back til tomorrow?” You asked, fidgeting with the hem of your dress and then remembering the bandana a la Cinderella you had on and quickly removing it.

Barely containing his laughter Sam answered you. “You know Dean. Speed limit laws don’t apply to him.” Just as Dean was about to say something, his eyes went wide and zoomed on your shoulder. Raising a hand, he pointed in your direction, “Is that a crab on your shoulder?”

Looking down in fact you saw an annoyed crab glaring at you. In the midst of getting caught, you forgot you turned a reluctant Aladdin into a crab for your Little Mermaid set. “Oops, I’m sorry, Al.” With a wave of your hand you returned your familiar back into his canine form. “Looks like the mutt wasn’t happy being turned into seafood,” Dean muttered as Aladdin stalked off. Your familiar had excellent hearing and growled at the eldest Winchester before returning back to your room.

“Your highness,” Dean bowed before you. Snatching the towel from the sink you balled it up and threw it at Dean’s head.

He caught it instead of letting it hit his face. “Hey, that’s not princess-like,” he reprimanded you. Just to tease him some more you gave Dean the middle finger and he clutched his imaginary pearls.

“What’s up with the Disney routine anyway?” Sam asked, trying to stop you two before y’all got too childish. While you explained the backstory of your cleaning tradition, Sam stood back and mentally shook his head at Dean, who looked at you like a doofus. Sam tried multiple times to get his big brother to admit his feelings for you, but he refused.

Done with your story, you noticed Dean looking at you with that funny face you sometimes catch him with when he thinks you’re not paying attention. “What’s with that stupid look,” you asked him.

Caught off guard, Dean had to quickly come up with an excuse. “Um, I’m just confused about how someone so badass is still obsessed with princesses who always need saving.”

“First of all, me being a badass and loving princesses are not mutually exclusive. Second of all, you must be talking about them older white princesses, because my girls with color didn’t come to play. Tiana, a true boss bitch, Mulan saved a whole country, Pocahontas looked out for her people, and Moana got a whole god together. And third of all, I don’t know why you’re trashing them when you have so much in common with them.”

Dean crossed his arms in disbelief. “Please explain to me how me and a Disney princess are alike.” Chuckling to yourself, you proceeded to explain to Dean. “On the somber note, you have the requirement of at least one dead parent growing up. Sam’s your sidekick, Castiel’s your fairy godmother, Rowena is sorta the wicked witch, just depending on the day, and I’m your knight in shining armor.” Dean couldn’t believe his ears and was about to counter your claim when you interrupted him. “Oh, and you have Rapunzel’s eyes.”

Pointing between him and Sam, Dean responded. “Listen, we don’t need saving that often.” Without saying a word, you cocked and eyebrow and a hip, silently challenging Dean’s claim.

“Ok, you win. I’m a stupid princess, but I’m gonna be Snow White!”

Looking to Sam he had his bitch face while you were confused. He must’ve known why he choose Snow White. You looked to him to ask why and he mouthed ‘You wouldn’t want to know.’ Going against his advisement, you asked Dean why he choose her.

“Because the version I watched, the wicked stepmother was wicked.” His smile suggested it wasn’t the G-rated version you’ve seen before.

With a sway of your hips you walked up to Dean and stared up at him devilishly. “Well, you gotta show me that version. I need to spice up my porn playlist.” Instantly, Dean’s face turned red and Sam off to the side muttered, “You two are perfect for each other.”

You walked off to your room, beginning to sing Kiss the Girl, while leaving the boys in the kitchen dumbfounded. Halfway to your room, you remembered your surprise for Dean. Sticking your head in the kitchen doorway, “Oh, there’s pecan, sweet potato, and apple pie in the oven.” Both boys stared at each other and ran to the oven to get to the treat. Even Sam couldn’t resist your baking.

Back in your room, you found Aladdin in his human form laying in your bed and watching tv. He rolled his eyes as he listened to you sing another Disney song. It wasn’t your voice that he was annoyed by, because you had the voice of an angel, but it was who the song was directed to. Al didn’t understand your attraction to Dean, but he supported you, nonetheless.

“Jordan text you. She needs help with a coven of witches in New Orleans. And she said leave the Winchesters at home if you come,” Al informed you in the middle of your song.

“That would’ve been nice to know earlier. Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I was giving you some time with your precious Winchester.”

Deciding not to address that statement you asked Aladdin if he wanted to go with. “Nope. I got a crazy ass ex down there and I’m having a Smart Guy marathon.”

“Hey! You were supposed to wait for me.” You pouted.

“That was before you turned me into a crustacean.” Knowing that it was fair, you told him bye and went on to tell the boys you were leaving.

“You sure you don’t want us to come?” Sam asked clearly concerned. They didn’t know your friend and were overprotective of you hunting without them. Standing on your toes, you gave each boy a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be fine boys, promise.”

Just as you opened your car door, Dean tugged on your wrist. “Be safe and call us if anything’s fishy.”

Snatching your hand back, you laughed at your friend. “Ok, mom.” Crowding your space, Dean looked at you hungrily. “I preferred to be called daddy.” Cheeks heating up quickly, you turned around and rushed into your car, waving bye to the boys while you heard Dean’s deep chuckle as you drove away.

It was setup. Jordan wasn’t just your friend, but your cousin from your mom’s side of your family. The little traitor knew who you were when you ran into her in Atlanta when you were working a job. She continued to earn your trust until she could find the right moment to kidnap you.

Turns out your mom and dad didn’t get rid of the whole family and your grandma somehow survived. The old woman had been plotting against you, since Jordan told her of your existence.

Struggling against the cuffs, you were looking for an escape. “Its useless, my dear. Those cuffs are spelled to imprison supernatural beings.”

Great, the one time being a witch was a bad thing. “Well, can you just kill me now?”

Your grandma turned away from the potion she was concocting and caressed your face. Her amber eyes that reminded you of your mother’s softened. “Don’t be silly, girl. You’re family, even if that didn’t mean anything to your momma. Our coven is growing weak, but you’re the strongest witch ever in our bloodline. With you joining us and the Book of the Damned we’ll return to our former glory.”

All this trouble for that damn book. Even though it saved Dean, that book has been causing so much trouble ever since it came into you and the boys’ possession. “So, this is why you want me. For the Book of the Damned. Well, newsflash no matter what you do to me the boys won’t give it up.”

Stepping away from her potion once more, she knelt down in front of you. “It’s a shame, really. All your power gone to waste. When Jordan informed me of your existence, I thought I would just kill you, but then you got involved with those Winchesters and we were still too weak to deal with them and you. But then I heard Rowena took you under her wing and I felt hope again. I thought Rowena would surely teach you the dark arts, but once again I was wrong. Those damn Winchesters sure do know how to suck out all the fun.”

“If you know I’m so good, then it’s a waste to try to get me to join the coven.” Levitating the mortar, she used to make the potion, your grandma had it in her hands. “Chile, I know I can’t make you do things on your own free will. That’s why I got this little potion for my spell. It’ll make you more malleable to my will. Now open up, girl.”

Refusing to be anyone’s puppet you shut your mouth close. Your grandma was frustrated with your antics and didn’t have any time to play with you. The cuffs dampened your own magic, which allowed your grandma to use hers and get your mouth open. The vile taste of the potion slithered its way down your throat and you knew when you woke up you would be a different person. Hopefully, Sam and Dean would be able to fix you.

Once you returned to the bunker, the boys instantly knew something was off about despite you saying nothing went wrong with the hunt. “Man, something’s up with Y/N.” Dean whispered to Sam while you were in the library.

“I know. Something had to have gone with that hunt.” Their whispers died down when they heard you walking towards them.

Holding the Book of the Damned, you made a beeline to the stairs, but Sam stopped you. “Y/N/N, what are you doing with the Book of the Damned?”

Annoyed but also prepared for this moment you threw the boys against the wall. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

With a flick of your wrist the door opened up, letting in your grandma and Jordan.

“What a cute little place! We’ll have to set up base here, Y/N. That’s after we kill the Winchesters of course,” your grandmother informed you while inspecting the bunker.

“Yes, grandmother. Would you like me to dispose of them now?”

The elder Winchester scrunched up his face in anger. “Grandma??? Y/N/N this isn’t you. Break out of it!” He pleaded with you, but his words had no effect on you.

“You evil bitch! What did you do to Y/N?” Dean asked your grandma.

She stood in front of Dean and traced a finger across his face. “Hmmm, I can see why my granddaughter is in love with you. Such masculine features, so handsome that you’re almost pretty. And the passion that radiates off of you, hmph, you must be an excellent lover.”

Dean turned his head away to escape her touch. “Get your filthy hands off my brother! And what did you do to our friend,” Sam reminded her of the more pressing issue.

“Oh, I just made her more pliable to my will. The girl is headstrong like her mother. Too bad I didn’t discover the potion I used on Y/N when I had those wolves kill her mother.” Your grandmother revealed which stirred a little something in you, but you must complete the mission for her. “Y/N, be a dear and kill these oafs. We have important work to do,” she ordered you.

Imagining liquefying their insides, the hunters started to cough up their blood, but as you saw them struggling you started to feel bad. Something didn’t feel right, but you had to press on.

“Y/N, you’re in there I know it. I know you heard her. That wicked bitch killed your parents! Come out and fight, damn it!” Dean was screaming at you, it seemed that the emotional torture was more painful than the physical torture you were dishing out.

Seeing that Dean wasn’t getting through to you, Sam joined in at trying to break through to you. With each passing second, they were chipping away through your grandmother’s defenses. It worked well enough for your hold to weaken and the boys fell to the ground. The boys easily incapacitated Jordan, leaving your grandma with no backup.

“Y/N, what are you doing? Kill them!” Your grandmother ordered, terrified of what a free Sam and Dean Winchester could do.

You paid her no mind and pinned her to a wall instead. Dean approached you carefully, as if you were a scared animal backed into a corner. “Sweetheart, I know you’re in there.”

Your eyes darted between your grandmother and the Winchester. You didn’t know who to believe with both of them talking to you simultaneously.

Sensing he was losing you, Dean got desperate. “God, I hope this works,” you heard him murmured before he grabbed your face and mashed his lips to yours. At first, your lips you were stiff, resistant to the kiss, but soon it started feeling right, like home, like your lips and his were meant for each other. Your hands snaked up to the back of his head and you pulled Dean closer.

The screaming of your grandma alerted you and made you and Dean break the kiss. Caressing your face, Dean whispered against your lips, “You back?” He asked, his hopeful searching yours.

“Yeah,” you whispered back blinking through tears.

“I should’ve known. You’re weak, just like your mother!” Your grandma somehow pulled herself halfway off the wall, but you pushed her back.

Taking out your gun from the back of your jeans, you pointed it at an unconscious Jordan and shot it right in the center of her forehead, feeling no emotions for so-called friend.

Next, your sights turned onto your grandma. “What?! You can’t grant me the decency of killing me like a witch? You’re gonna kill me like some filthy hunter?” She screamed with her grey locs falling in her face, spit foaming at the mouth, truly looking like a wild woman.

Raising your gun, you only said a few words to her before granting her the same death as your cousin. “Its more than you granted my parents.”

For awhile you stood above your dead grandmother’s body, grieving the life you could’ve have. Standing there reflecting on her need for power it finally hit you, she was the cause of your parents’ deaths. The emotions overtook you and you cried until Dean carried you away and let him fall asleep in his arms.

Waking up hours later you found Dean gone, but the smell of his famous burgers told you exactly where he was. Making your way to the kitchen, you were granted to the scene of Dean cooking, singing along to an old rock song, swinging his hips.

“Wow, you’ve been holding out on me. Who knew you had such killer dance moves?” Placing your hand over your heart, you acted as if you were offended at this great tragedy.

Rolling his eyes at you, Dean lowered his music and started to make you a plate. “I can do that.” You attempted to grab the plate, but Dean moved it out of your reach.

“I got it. Go sit down, pretty girl,” Dean ordered you before he leaned down and gave you a kiss. You guessed that the kiss from earlier wasn’t a one-off and discreetly smiled to yourself, wondering what this means for you and Dean.

Taking your seat, Sam entered the kitchen and began making a plate of his own. “Hey, Y/N, how you feeling?”

“Mmmm, better now. It still hurts, but I know that my mom wouldn’t want me to dwell on it too long. She lived the life that she wanted, even if it was cut short.”

“Between Samuel and your grandma, we had some crazy ass grandparents,” Dean referenced to his grandfather that would’ve let them die in exchange to have Mary back. Little did he know if he could’ve waited a couple of more years, he would’ve had her back.

Setting down his plate and yours, the three of you began eating dinner. Talk varied from when y’all would take the next case, when you should visit Jody and the girls again, when would Cas and Jack get back, and even a little argument about how turkey burgers taste the same as regular burgers.

At that moment you were trying to convince Dean to watch The Little Mermaid with you, but he refused, saying he was too grown to be watching fairy tales. Deciding that he wasn’t too grown, Sam poked fun at Dean. “So, Dean, how did you know how to break the spell put on Y/N?” Sam knew the answer, Dean confided it in him earlier, but he wanted Dean to say it in front of Y/N.

Looking at his baby brother as if he could strangle him, Dean dropped his burger. “Lucky guess.” He grunted before picking it back up and biting into it.

Your eyes switched back and forth between the brothers. Obviously, Dean was holding something back by the way he was giving Sam bitch face.

“That’s not what you said earlier,” Sam retorted, hiding his smirk by taking a bite of his own burger.

“Oh, Dean, c’mon tell me.” You pleaded, giving him your best puppy dog eyes that he couldn’t resist.

“Truelove’skiss.” He mumbled quickly.

Hiding a giggle, you asked him to repeat himself, “Excuse me, what was that?” You knew exactly what he said, you just wanted him to be louder.

“True love’s kiss, ok! Now can we drop it?” He snapped, embarrassed he knew this little fact and that he was basically announcing his feelings to you this way.

Abandoning your seat, you jumped into Dean’s lap and kissed him all around his face. Sam silently left to give you two privacy and also, he didn’t want to see anything if you two decided to get explicit.

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” you whispered into his ear.

Dean’s eyes lit up as if you told him he had an unlimited amount of pie. He knew that for a true love’s kiss to work, both parties had to love each other, but hearing you say it confirmed it for him. “I love you, too.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you snuggled into Dean deeper. “So, does this mean you’ll watch The Little Mermaid with me?”

“I guess,” Dean accepted defeat as you squealed in his lap. “But only if you sing along. I can’t get enough of that voice of yours.”

“Of course, my knight in shining armor.” Dean put an arm behind your back and the other under your knees to carry you bridal style to his cave.

“And at the end of the night can I kiss the girl?” Dean asked with a mischievous grin on his face, glad that he made at least one reference.

Making your voice a bit softer to sound like a princess, you replied, “Oh my dear sir, you can do whatever you like to the princess. She’s forever in your gratitude.”

“Well, princess, be prepared not to finish that movie, because I got other things in mind.”

Soon, Ariel and her pals became a distant memory with the opportunity of a better time spent with Dean. “If that’s the case, then how about you show me how wicked that stepmother was in Snow White?” You offered, suggestively raising your perfectly arched eyebrows.

With that suggestion, Dean changed his course and headed for his bedroom. “Anything for the lady.” Passing a conversating Sam and Al in the hallway, you conjured up earplugs in their hands. Of course, you could’ve soundproofed the room, but you wanted to gross them out instead.

“Dudes, disgusting!” Sam groaned, but you could barely hear him over yours and Deans’ laughs. This is what happily ever looked like and you wouldn’t trade it for a thing in the world.

Tags: @titty-teetee @nervouspetsonanime @thefaithfulwriter @nerd-lovely

#black!reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x black!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #spn fandom #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom

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the-archlich · 4 years

Note

Went back to read some of the old spotlights (thank you btw for all the amazing work you put in it’s the only way tumblr blog I’ve read consistently the past few years), in regards to Guanqiu Jian- how much validity do you think the points in the edict he made were against Sima Shi? For a long time military commander who served in countless battles, he would have had to know his rebellion was going to be a suicide pact without a massive army. Just seems like a terrible error of judgment.

Oh god. Old spotlights. Sorry about those. Y’all deserved better quality articles. But moving on...

On the one hand, it was a very political document, phrased very carefully. All of the criticism is leveled at Sima Shi specifically, sandwiched between effusive praise of other members of his family. It’s possible he hoped to convince Sima Shi’s own family to turn against him. Guanqiu Jian may have even been benevolent enough to spare the rest of the family if they did, although it’s hard to imagine any of the Sima would credit that.

Guanqiu Jian was probably thinking the same thing most rebels are. That when he raised his flag and started to march against the evil usurper, others would join him. But history (even his recent history) shows that’s too idealistic. Just look at how many people were content to sit back and let Dong Zhuo do whatever. Most people find it easier to live under a tyrant than fight one.

As for the accusations themselves:

Now Sima Shi, an official in the prime of his life, feigns ill health while he has no real disease, yet has strong troops under his command; he does not serve the sovereign as is proper to a subject. The court officials criticize him and men of principle jeer at him. It is something of which the whole Empire is aware. This is his first crime.

This, I think, is false. We know that Sima Shi did indeed have a major disease that required ocular surgery. And beyond that I don’t think his reluctance to personally lead armies is really a fault. But it was a marked contrast to his father, and no doubt it offended the soldiers.

In preparing to attack the rebels, Sima Yi would have grain for the army unhusked in large quantities and set definite dates for launching his attacks. Sima Shi, as a high official of the State, ought to eliminate the national calamity (i.e. Wu and Shu); as a son he ought to bring his father's work to completion. But he ceased mourning for his father, and had all his work stopped. As a subject, he is disloyal; as a son, he is unfilial. This is his second crime.

Again, I don’t think this one is a fair criticism. There was a long precedent for ending mourning rituals early, and aggressive campaigns against Wu and Shu were always a risky proposition. This is another charge that I think was intended mostly to alienate Sima Shi from the soldiers.

While the rebels withdrew to Dongguan, he mobilized the troops; the three (jiangjun with the word) zheng (in their titles) advanced simultaneously. But our troops were lost and our army defeated; the military preparations of many years went to ruin in one day, so that the rebels were induced to come. The Empire fell into disorder, the people suffered from death and injury, or wandered homeless. This is his third crime.

Here, Guanqiu Jian criticises Sima Shi for Wei’s losses in February 253; most notably the defeat at Lake Chao; and for Zhuge Ke’s retaliatory invasion. Guanqiu Jian himself fought on that campaign, and the losses at Lake Chao forced him to quit the field without achievement. This is actually a fair criticism. Others, notably Fu Jian, had objected to the campaign in the first place. As its architect, Sima Shi does deserve his share of the blame.

The rebels mobilized the entire forces of their State, and with five hundred thousand men, as they claimed, they advanced towards Shouchun intending to proceed to Luoyang. It happened that we and the taiyu Sima Fu proposed the strategy of blockading key positions without crossing arms, and returning to strengthen the defense of Xincheng. The generals and troops in Huainan rushed against spears and trampled drawn swords, defending their positions day and night. They were engaged in this strenuous work for a hundred days, the dead strewn on the ground. Since its very beginning, the Wei army has never suffered a more severe hardship than this. Yet Sima Shi has arbitrarily made no proposal to enfeoff and reward the heroes in this campaign. Power was in his hands, but he did not use it to record the merits of these men. This is his fourth crime.

Guanqiu Jian is referring to the defense against Zhuge Ke in 253. While Jin Shu says that Sima Shi took command of the overall campaign, SGZ seems to disagree. Guanqiu Jian himself names Sima Fu as the commander, which agrees with other accounts. Guanqiu Jian claims that Sima Shi didn’t grant due rewards to those who earned glory during that great battle. This accusation is likely true, although a closer look at Cao Mao’s annals probably could solve that question.

The late zhongshuling Li Feng and others, considering that Sima Shi did not act as is proper to a subject, wanted to denounce and expel him. Knowing of this, Sima Shi invited Li Feng to come to him, and that evening struck him dead, carried off the corpse and buried the coffin. Li Feng and his associates were high officials and in the confidence of the sovereign. Yet he applied brutal measures to him on his own authority, killing him without first having charged him with a crime. Sima Shi did not respect the authority of his sovereign. This is his fifth crime.

Guanqiu Jian criticizes Sima Shi for executing Li Feng and his conspirators without any sort of due process. It’s a fair criticism. While that group was planning to kill him and some action had to be taken against them, Wei had formal structures for such an event. Sima Shi bypassing them entirely is worthy of criticism.

Sima Yi used to express his admiration of the Prince of Qi and would say that he was worthy of being a sovereign; he thus fixed the relationship between sovereign and subject. Having served as guardian for fifteen years, he wanted to hand the power of government to the Prince of Qi: He inspected arsenals and ordered the bodyguards not to leave their posts without permission. Knowing well his own wickedness and iniquities, which secured blessing neither from the spirits nor from men, Sima Shi dethroned his sovereign under a false command from the Empress Dowager, charging him with crimes. Sima Fu, a paternal uncle of Sima Shi, is by nature good and filial; when he bade farewell to the Prince of Qi, he could not control his grief; and the multitudinous officials were all angry at Sima Shi. But Sima Shi was insensitive and did not pay attention to the cardinal principle governing the relationship between a subject and his sovereign. This is his sixth crime.

This one speaks for itself. Guanqiu Jian is denouncing Sima Shi’s removal of Cao Fang under a forged or forced command from the Dowager. That definitely happened. Even if the details are a bit muddled by contradictory sources, Sima Shi certainly used his power to remove an inconvenient sovereign. This is probably the most significant charge Guanqiu Jian could point at him, and arguably the only one that matters.

Then again, the late guanglu dafu Zhang Qi was innocent of any crime, yet he put him, his wife, and his children to death. Even the mother of the State, the Empress, was affected: he pressed the August Person to send her away. At that time, all were grieved and astonished, there being none that did not lament. Yet Sima Shi called it felicitous and rejoiced. This is his seventh crime.

This, too, is related to the conspiracy with Li Feng, Xiahou Xuan, etc. Seems a little sloppy of Guanqiu Jian to put it here.

Since the accession to the throne, Your Majesty, intelligent and martial, has applied his mind to all matters; he wanted to economize and make things simple. The Whole Empire, hearing of this, rejoiced. Yet Sima Shi would not improve and repent, nor practice the due obligations of a subject; instead of doing this, he levied troops and brought havoc to the palace, the feudal lords taking their own protective measures. At the beginning of Your Majesty's accession to the throne, he did not appear at Court to pay homage. When Your Majesty wanted to visit him at Sima Shi's home to inquire after his ailments, he refused to admit you, thus disobeying the laws of the land. This is his eight crime.

This is discourtesy to the emperor. Certainly a capital offense, though I don’t know if we have any evidence of it beyond Guanqiu Jian’s words. Of course, given the circumstances under which Chen Shou’s records were written, there is reason to be a little cautious about what he might have omitted.

Recently the lingjun Xu Yun had been appointed zhenbei jiangjun. Because he had made a gift of government property, Sima Shi impeached and punished him. It is true that he was merely banished, but he killed him by making him starve on the road. Hearing of this, the whole Empire grieved. This is his ninth crime.

Guanqiu Jian criticizes Sima Shi for his treatment of a respected official Xu Yun. This is all accurate. He committed a minor crime and was dismissed, which (indirectly, as Guanqiu Jian admits) led to his death.

The defense of the three quarters had become deficient, but he selected picked troops in large numbers to serve as his guards; the troops in the Wuying had become deficient, yet he would not supplement their number. Arms and weapons he took in quantities for his own barracks. The whole Empire knows of it and every one resents it; rumors course through the highways of the land, and the Empire is suspicious. This is his tenth crime.

Guanqiu Jian charges Sima Shi with building up his personal guard and resources while neglecting the needs of the state. However it should be noted that Guanqiu Jian speaks in terms of rumors and things “everyone knows” so this charge might not be authentic.

By profusely granting leaves of absence to the troops, he would win praise and make the four quarters empty of troops. He monopolizes power in order to exult his vicious intentions. He drafts men for the military agricultural colonies; he distributes rewards and obstructs the military work. He dares to disturb the ancient laws: he has the various feudal princes and dukes assemble in Ye, his intention being to kill them all. On one day he started a coup d'etat and dethroned his sovereign. Since Heaven does not help the wicked, it made his eyes swell, so that his attempts were frustrated. This is his eleventh crime.

In this last charge Guanqiu Jian says first that Sima Shi is taking measures to make himself popular with the army at the expense of its effectiveness and proper conduct. That’s probably accurate. It also reiterates the criticism for removing Cao Fang, which is certainly fair. However Guanqiu Jian also accuses him of planning to kill all the various members of the Cao clan in Ye, which doesn’t seem to have ever been on the table. That part is probably rumor or slander.

So all in all, I’d say that the charges are more accurate than not. Sima Shi was absolutely guilty of the most serious accusations, even if others aren’t quite so straightforward as Guanqiu Jian suggests.

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buckthegrump · 5 years

Text

In Another Life (2/2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x POC!F!Reader (Kinda), Steve Rogers x POC!F!Reader (Kinda)

Word Count: 3316

Warnings: violence, All the Angst, Slight AU, possible character death,

A/N: if y’all sleep on this i’m changing the ending to what it was before I made it what it is now and trust me you don’t want that

Present day

3 months you had been looking for Steve for 3 months and nothing had come from your search. Until last night when you got a lead, Bucky was reluctant to follow this lead with you. But he did, he always did, and he always would.

Bucky was worried, worried about Steve and what had happened to him, but right now he was mostly worried about you. He knew Steve back in the 40s was the dumbest piece of shit when it came to women, he knew that Steve didn’t see the way you looked at him. Bucky just didn’t want you to put all your effort into one person if that person wasn’t going to love you back. You were kind and fierce and always stood up for those who needed it the most. He just didn’t want to watch you get your heart broken. Not that he thought Steve would break your heart intentionally.

“Y/n?” Bucky’s voice cut through the silences in the jet.

“Yeah, Buck?” You didn’t bother looking at him because you assumed he was not looking at you, but he was. It was hard for him to keep his eyes off you.

“Why don’t you ever teleport us to the place we’re going?”

“Because it’s tiring and I like to be able to fight,” you said, “And the more things I teleport the more energy it takes so I like to keep it as a last resort.”

You glance back to make sure he’s not watching you as you touch an object and watch it disappear.

“Ok, we’re here.”

He parked the jet and leads you towards the building. Before you left the jet you set up the backup button on the jet, which would destroy the jet if neither of you came back to the jet in a set number of hours. Both of you are on high alert as you carefully make your way deeper into the building checking every door and hallway. You stopped once you saw Steve’s body in a chair. You grab Bucky’s sleeve to direct his attention to what was in front of you.

Bucky was the first to walk through the doorway making sure the coast was clear. You didn’t bother looking around and walked right up to Steve. You gently brush a strand of his hair away from his eye.

“What have they done to you?” You whispered so Bucky couldn’t hear.

“We should go,” Bucky said coming up behind you.

“We need to get him out of here -”

“Y/n,” Bucky started not sure that now was the best time because something felt off to him.

“Bucky, please just. . .don’t take this from me,” you begged him. “He’s helped me so many times, let me help him.”

He looked into your eyes and knew that he would do anything you wanted. He sighed, taking one last look around.

“Fine, but if we’re going to do this we have to move quickly.”

You and Bucky started removing Steve’s restraints and hoisted him up leaning most of the weight onto Bucky. Steve was starting to come too, when he opened his eyes he looked right at you and furrowed his brow.

“Y/n what are you doing here?” He asked then looked at Bucky. “You both need to go and leave me behind.”

“Nope not again punk,” Bucky told him. “So start walking.”

“This isn’t a good idea,” Steve groaned but started walking anyway still leaning on Bucky.

“Oh yeah and you’re notorious for your good ideas,” you scoffed.

“Are you telling me that this is a better plan than one I’ve ever had?” Steve asked.

“Well a comparison would require that you ever have a plan,” Bucky said.

“Will you two shut up?” You turned around to glare at them but you see a group of people coming up behind them, “Get down!”

They obeyed and you shot at the group of men coming towards you.

“Go, go, go,” you told them not lowering the gun.

Bucky quickly followed your orders and took the gun you have strapped to your back. He ran with Steve and you follow a few steps behind them.

“Y/n,” you heard Bucky’s voice behind you.

You turned to see what he was warning you about, all three of you were surrounded by HYDRA agents.

“Nicht schießen,” one of them said.

You looked at him and can see in his eyes he knows you.

“I know you,” he said with a smile, “my father worked on you.”

“We should say the words,” a soldier spoke.

“Not yet,” he said with a smile. “Let’s make a deal.”

“Not with you,” Bucky said pointing the gun at the man speaking.

But you had seen the way Steve flinched when they had mentioned the words and how he was tracking every move the man made. You could see the pain and anguish in his eyes.

“What kind of deal?” You asked.

“Y/n, no,” Bucky whispered.

“What kind of deal?” you repeated to the man’s delight.

“The asset for you.”

“And what makes you think she’ll agree to that?” Bucky demanded.

“Because of this -” the man motions to a soldier who opens the door just to the left of you to reveal a cryo-chamber that held your mother.

“Mama?” you whispered.

“Oh shit,” Bucky said under his breath.

You looked at Steve and he just looked back at you.

“I’ll do it,” you said taking a step away from Bucky and Steve.

“What? No,” Steve finally spoke.

Bucky grabbed your arm and you look at him.

“We don’t trade lives,” Bucky repeated the words you said to him years ago, “Think this through.”

You stared that Bucky and you realized then that you’d been blind. So blind to the man who’d loved you for years and never done anything but support you. Hell, he’d even tried to set you up on dates.

And for a second you realized that you’d also been incredibly stupid because you loved him too, and now you may never get the chance to tell him.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you told him. Before they could say anything else you touched both of their hands and they disappeared from your sight.

“No,” Bucky gasped at the sight of the inside of the compound. “No, no, no, no.”

“What happened?” Tony asked. “Where’s Y/n?”

“She fucking teleported us away, I didn’t even know she could do that without coming with us,” Bucky ran his fingers through his hair. “I assumed she would come with us but. . . Of course, she wouldn’t leave her mom behind.

“Bucky-” Steve reached up to touch Bucky but stopped himself.

“I know why she stayed behind but why the fuck didn’t she let us come up with a better plan?” Bucky asked himself. “Oh god, what if she dies?”

“You love her,” Steve said as if he was just realizing it.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” Bucky replied softly, ignoring the last thing Steve said.

“We’ll find her Bucky,” Tony promised.

You smiled to yourself knowing that Steve and Bucky will be safe back at the compound and the jet should destroy itself at any moment. You look at the door where your mother was but not only is she gone so is the door.

“Where’d she go?” You demand.

“She was never here child,” He smiles.

You felt a pinch in your neck and your legs started to wobble.

“Something tells me they’ll be back for you.”

That was the last thing you heard before your world went dark.

“I know how to get there and get in but it won’t be fun,” Steve spoke arms crossed.

He continued to tell them what the best plan of action was as he took in his surroundings.

He remembered Bucky and you but no one else here looked even the tiniest bit familiar. They were all looking at him wearily, he could tell they were debating whether or not they could trust him. He was betting that if it wasn’t for Bucky they wouldn’t trust him.

“Thanks, Steve,” Bucky smiled at him. “You can spend the night in my room tonight.”

Bucky led Steve to his room and opened the door.

“I’ll stay in Y/n’s room which is right across the hall if you need me,” Bucky said and then bid him goodnight.

Steve didn’t sleep that night. He just sits on the chair next to Bucky’s bed. He’d never been awake for this long before, usually, if he wasn’t on a mission he was in sedation. HYDRA had figured out early on that his brain healed unreasonably fast so every few months he had to go through another session of having the trigger words reprogrammed into his head. But the worst was when he’d been in cyro for years and they woke him up for a mission.

He sat on the chair and let himself remember everything, which wasn’t a very hard task because he had an eidetic memory. He remembered the first time he met you, the time he stood up to that bully in the street for you, and he remembered the look on your face when you teleported to where he was to escape HYDRA. But the one thing he couldn’t remember for the life of him was what kind of relationship he had with you, was it just friends or was it something more.

He slowly stood up from the chair and quietly walked across the hall.

Buck opened the door before he could knock.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“No,” Steve looked at the ground not sure how to approach this subject.

“What’s on your mind, Rogers?” Bucky asked stepping aside to allow Steve to enter.

Steve looked around your room taking in the decorations you had put up, a lot of it not meaning anything to him but there were a few things from his time that he recognized.

“Did I love Y/n?” Steve blurted

“I don’t know Steve,” Bucky answered, “If you did, you had a funny way of showing it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Y/n was pretty sure you fell in love with Peggy,” Bucky said. “Actually, you did fall in love with Peggy.”

Steve didn’t say anything because when that name came up he felt something, the thing he guessed he was supposed to feel when someone mentioned your name.

“Why would Y/n have feelings for me? I was short and as thin as a twig -”

“Do you really think any of that matters to Y/n?” Bucky laughed, “She loves you because of your heart.”

It didn’t go unnoticed by Steve that Bucky had used the present tense of love, meaning you still loved him, or at least Bucky thought you did.

“C’mon it’s time to go,” Tony poked his head in.

Days? Weeks? Months? Hell, maybe years. You were trying to guess how long you had been imprisoned by HYDRA. It felt like an eternity but it didn’t matter because for the entire time you were there they kept you drugged up just enough to keep you from focusing on teleporting out of there.

There was really only one thing that you knew and that was the fact they’d already killed your mom before they cut the deal with you. But you’d gotten the boys out so it wasn’t a complete loss.

They would poke and prod you with needles, and the things they would inject you with would fuck with your brain. Sometimes it would make you hyper-aware like you could hear everything around you including the heartbeats of the people around you and you could see even the smallest specs of dust. Other times it made everything go black and when you could see your mind would play tricks on you, you would constantly see things that weren’t there. You were constantly seeing your mother walk around you telling you this is what you got for hanging around the white people. You tried to apologize for letting her down but your voice wasn’t working.

Other times you would see Bucky, but it was always brief the moment you tried to actually look at him he would disappear. But mostly you saw Steve, he would tell you that help was on the way and to hold out just a little longer.

So you did, every moment you thought ‘this is it, this is the end’ you would push forward just a little more.

“They’re here,” a voice said, “Do it, we have what we need.”

Once they were out of the room you let out a sigh of relief knowing that there would be no more experiments today.

But that’s when everything started to burn, it was the worst pain of your life and it lasted 3 seconds. You saw a figure in the doorway it looked a lot like Steve.

“Hey kid,” Steve’s voice rang through your ears, it sounded so real, there was a slight smile on his face and he stood next to you and stroked your forehead with his thumb. It didn’t register that Steve had never called you kid before.

“Is this real?” You asked.

“Of course this is real.”

“I didn’t think you’d come back for me,” you squinted noticing that Steve no longer had a metal arm which reinforced the thought of this exchange not being real but as quickly as the thought came it was gone because you didn’t care anymore.

“I would never leave you behind,” his smile grew a little.

You took a deep labored breath before going into a coughing fit. You watched Steve wipe something from your chin when he held up his hand you saw blood.

“That’s can’t be good,” you wheezed and Steve gives you a look, a look that tells you what you already knew.

“Well hurry up,” he said to his com. He turned back to you, “Hold on.”

“I can’t.”

“Y/n please just. . .don’t take this from me,” he begged.

“I’m sorry Steve,” you whispered so low you don’t know if he heard you.

“I love you,” he said after a pause then kissed your forehead.

“Really?” You had wanted to hear that for a long time but it didn’t hold the same weight it would’ve years ago.

“Yeah, since I can remember,” he said.

You closed your eyes and let out one last breath.

Bucky’s heart broke at your last words, as soon as you called him Steve he debated whether or not to break the illusion.

“Ok we can go,” Steve came in the room and paused at the scene in front of him, “What happened?”

“She’s dead, I don’t know how but we can’t leave her here,” Bucky said making no move to leave.

Steve silently walked over to the other side of you and picked up your body. Bucky followed closely behind to the jet.

He set you down in the middle of the jet and the team just sat there looking at your body. The jet took off on autopilot and no one moved. Everyone turned their attention to Bucky who was still looking at your body.

“Cap -” Tony started but then was cut off by a gasp coming from you and it scared the shit out of everyone there.

You let out a shaky breath but didn’t move. Bucky was frozen as much as he wanted to rush to your side he wasn’t sure that this wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him.

Tony was the first to move. He kneeled next to you and placed his fingers on your neck checking for a pulse.

Bucky held his breath as Tony looked up at him.

“It’s faint but it’s there,” was all Tony said.

“Get us back now!” Bucky ordered and no one questioned him or even gave him a look.

You add an odd sense of deja vu when you woke up. There was an incessant beeping was adding on to the headache that you’d woken up with.

“Y/n?” You looked in the direction of which the voice originated. “You’re awake. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Being at HYDRA and everything burning,” you told Bucky.

He stood at your bedside like he had so many years ago, only this time he didn’t stop himself from touching you. He rubbed the back of his knuckles against your forehead in a soothing way.

“We almost lost you there,” he whispered.

“But you didn’t,” you smiled.

“I know,” he breathed, “But that was to close.”

Then you remembered that you wanted to do something. “Is Steve here?”

Bucky froze for a half second before nodding. “I’ll send him in.”

You watched Bucky walk out of the room and didn’t miss the hesitation he had at the door before closing it behind him.

A few moments later Steve was in the room.

“How you feeling?” He asked not moving away from the door.

“I mean,” you made a face and he laughed, “I’ve had better days.”

“Before you say anything,” he sighed, “I know. I know that back in the 40s you were in love with me. Which would’ve given your mom a heart attack by the way. And I’m sorry that I was too stupid to see that. But I also know that at some point you got over me. You might not have realized it until recently but I see the way you look at Bucky now. It rivals the way he looks at you.”

“You think Bucky -” you started but were cut off.

“No, Y/n, I know. Turns out when you aren’t on the receiving end of that look, you catch on pretty quickly.” Steve walked over and kissed your hairline. “Maybe in another life, we would’ve been great together.”

“Maybe,” you smiled up at him and he left the room.

Just as he was walking out Bucky barged back in.

“I need to speak to you,” he said, ignoring his childhood friend.

Steve put up his hands and snuck out of the room.

“You were just here,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, but you sent me away before I could say what I needed to say.” He started pacing the room as he rambled. “I should’ve said this a long time ago but I was afraid of how it would affect our friendship and now, after you almost died, that even if you don’t feel the same way I need to tell you because we can come back from you not having the same feelings but we can’t come back from you being dead.”

“Do you have a point to this rant or are you just gonna -?” He ignored your question and continued talking, mostly to himself at this point.

“And I really should’ve told you when I woke up from the ice but-” he stopped pacing and stared at you intensely. “I’m in love with you. Have been forever.”

“Ya know, I was pissed at you, still kind of am,” you told him and he went pale, “Who the fuck just dives nose first into the water and doesn’t give anyone the coordinates? You do realize if you’d done that we might have been able to find you and I could’ve realized that I’m in love with you too a long time ago and maybe we could’ve found Steve and got him out of HYDRA?”

“You’re in love with me?” Bucky asked genuinely confused.

You sighed and shrugged. He smiled as he quickly closed the distance between the two of you and encaptured your lips with his in a kiss. It was like Bucky was trying to pour 100 years of feelings into one kiss.

He pulled away and stared into your eyes. “You gotta stop being so dramatic if this is gonna work.”

“Oh, I’m dramatic?” You scoffed.

He smiled and kissed you again.

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes AU #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #Steve Rogers AU #marvel au #avengers au #Steve Rogers x reader #steve x reader #Steve Rogers Imagine #steve rogers fic #Bucky Barnes Fic

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rt8815 · 5 years

Text

Mamihlapinatapai

This follows my Untitled: “Last Gasp” Inspired piece from last year, so it’s set in mid March-ish 2018. It also fills the “Mutual Pining” square on my CM Bingo card.

WC: Almost 1,900

Notes: Taylor and Jaime are two of McKinley’s bandmates. They will appear in an earlier set fic that I haven’t finished yet 😏

Mamihlapinatapai is a Yagan (of the Nyungar people) word which means, “the wordless, yet meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something but are both reluctant to start.”

—–

“Congrats, guys!” McKinley exclaimed, raising her glass. “The Dream Team is back together and Barnes has retreated to her office to lick her wounds. All is as it should be.”

“Cheers!” everyone toasted, laughing against their professional judgement.

JJ slid into the seat next to McKinley.

“It feels great to come back home,” Emily sighed, soaking in the sunset view from Rossi’s back yard.

McKinley sipped her Scotch, tapping the table suddenly when something occurred to her.

“Spencer, how ever will you tell your students you’ll no longer be teaching full-time?” Her hand flew to her heart. “Your fan club will be absolutely devastated, poor things,” she smirked, sounding anything but sympathetic.

Spencer almost choked on his wine. “Oh God, no,” he started, but just then Garcia joined them at the table.

“What’s this about fan club stuff? Are you planning costumes for a convention?” she asked.

Spencer buried his face in his hands and grumbled something that sounded like ‘piece of meat.’

McKinley stole a bit of Penelope’s Mai-tai before continuing. “No cons, Penny, unless you think dozens of shrieking harpies only there to drool over the male lead qualifies as a ‘convention.’”

Emily leaned around JJ. “Well, that piqued my interest. Go on.”

Spencer moaned, his voice muffled behind his palms.

“Nearly one hundred people came to his lecture this week,” McKinley stated. “They’ve become very popular…with the ladies.”

“Wow! Spence, that’s great,” JJ congratulated him, though she had a mischievous gleam in her eye.

“Yeah, Boy Wonder,” Penelope chimed in. “Why the bashfulness?” She’d had a few drinks and was a bit slow on the uptake.

McKinley rolled her eyes. “Penny, bubeleh, most of them weren’t there to learn,” she emphasized, staring pointedly at Spencer.

Penelope started to cotton on. “Oh,” she grinned. “You’re saying that they-”

“Got it baaad, got it baaad, got it baaad. They’re hot for teacher. Ow!”

Emily wolf-whistled as JJ stretched over the table to ruffle Spencer’s hair.

He finally reemerged, his face beet-red, though he appeared annoyed rather than angry.

“Ley, tell us more about these fangirls,” Garcia demanded, bouncing in anticipation. “Give us the deets.”

McKinley glanced at Spencer, who shrugged, apparently resigned to the good-natured ribbing.

“Do y’all remember The Bimbettes from Beauty and the Beast?” she asked, “and the “I Love You Eyelid Girl” from Raiders of the Lost Ark?”

Penelope giggled into her drink. “That bad, huh?”

“Ugh, worse,” groaned McKinley, now buzzed and losing her filter. “Both of those things cranked up to eleven.”

She rested her elbows on the table, imitating everything the students had done. “They weren’ listenin’ to a thang he said. They twirled their hair, got all doe-eyed and constantly ‘Ooohed’ and ‘Aaahed.’ Talk about flirtin’ up a storm. I swear a few of ‘em drooled.”

“You don’t say,” Emily snickered.

“It was disgusting. Those girls made such asses of themselves. I felt bad for ‘em really.”

“Uh-huh,” JJ chuckled, sounding unconvinced.

“No, honestly! They just would not back down. They stalked us through the hallway. I was worried they were gonna eat ‘im alive!” McKinley cried as she fluffed Spencer’s hair. “I had to keep Skindiana Jones here safe.”

“I uh, I don’t recall them stalking us,” Spencer interjected, “and I still don’t understand why women always-”

“Spence, read. the book. we gave you!”

“Seriously! This has happened on so. many. cases.”

“Yeah! Remember Lila Archer?”

McKinley whipped her head around. “Wait, what? Lila Archer the actress?”

“Yeah,” replied JJ. “Lila was a stalking victim 12 years ago. Spence stayed at her house. She pulled him into her pool and they made out.”

“Oh, she’s very pretty. I imagine that must’ve been quite something!”

“Don’t forget all the working ladies who hit on him,” Emily added.

“And the bartender who flirted with him,” slurred Penny.

Spencer shook his head. “Women go for guys like Morgan or Alvez, not me.”

McKinley frowned. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume that right there is false modesty. It’s not though, and that makes me sad.”

“I’m weird.”

“Weird should be a compliment,” McKinley countered.

“I ramble a lot-”

“Some find it endearing.”

“-about things nobody’s interested in.”

“I’m interested…”

But Spencer wasn’t paying attention.

“My hair’s too long…”

“It suits you, Spencer.”

“I dress like an eighty-year-old man.”

McKinley scrunched her face in amusement. “Yeah, like I said the other day, I’m fairly certain the whole tenured professor look is their kink. Face it, Pretty Boy: yer eye candy.”

Spencer grimaced and hoisted himself up from his chair.

“No, don’t go!” McKinley pleaded, loosely grabbing his forearms. “We’ll stop now, right guys?”

“Of course.”

“Sure.”

“Fine, I’ll zip my perfect, rosy lips.”

Spencer eyed them warily before lowering himself back down. As he drained his glass, McKinley resumed her elbows-on-table pose, feigning innocence.

“I do have one question for you though, Doctor.”

He arched an eyebrow. “What might that be?”

McKinley fiddled with his tie, unknotting it. “I’m worried about my grade in your class. T-t-t-teacher, can you see me after school?”

Spencer sputtered, blushing furiously, then jerked his tie out of her hand and stormed off as dignified as possible.

“I think of all the education that I missed,” she called after him, gesturing for the others to join her. They chorused, “But then my homework was never quite like this!”

They all dissolved into fits of laughter, although McKinley’s quickly dissipated.

“Shit, he’s my ride home. That’s gonna be awkward.”

Emily cleared her throat. “So, how long have you been in love with Reid?”

“I – what?” McKinley squeaked. “I’m not in love with Spencer! What gave you that idea?”

“That show you put on just now. Plus, I saw you two on my porch the other day. I have security cameras…with audio,” Emily admitted.

“Anyway, you’ve looked at each other differently for a while now. You act differently towards each other too. Maybe bringing up the lecture is your subconscious telling you that you two have evolved beyond friendship.”

McKinley shook her head. “Emily, we haven’t known each other long enough for that.”

“Granted, five months is fast,” said Tara, who’d slid into the table unnoticed, “but you’ve spent a lot of his sabbatical and regular time outside work together. Simply put? The quality of your and his friendship could well outweigh the length.”

“And the way you talked about those students?” JJ added. “You called them shrieking harpies and you sounded ready to rip them apart. I mean, I believe that they drooled over Spence, but you laid it on kind of thick. Was it all about keeping him safe, or was it also you telling them to back off?”

That had McKinley stumped. She remembered silently mocking the girls’ behavior, and how she smugly whispered, “It’s never gonna happen,” effectively saying Spencer was out of their league. What stood out the most was how she stared them down as she linked arms with him, deriving satisfaction from their…jealousy?

“Did I deliberately taunt them?” McKinley wondered to herself.

She recalled a sensation of hackles raising. There was no polite way to word it.

“I was marking my territory.”

McKinley had a sudden desire to take a shower.

Her feelings had undoubtedly shifted, but she had no frame of reference for them. And that frightened her.

She switched tactics. “Don’t forget that I’m aroace, guys. I don’t experience romantic or sexual attraction.”

Garcia popped up from her phone, where she’d been hunting down the ‘perfect first date venue.’ “You talk a lot about how sexy and pretty guys are, though. I’ve caught you staring at many a tuchus. What’s that about?” she winked.

McKinley cut eyes at her. “I’m asexual, Penny, not blind. I admired the Venus de Milo too, but I didn’t wanna hump it either.”

“Y’know, I used to identify as bi,” Penelope replied. “I was in my late twenties before I knew that I’m pan. It’s only for you to say but, it might be worth considering demi identities.”

That struck a chord with McKinley. It would require a lot of unpacking her emotions, but it was definitely worth considering.

…

Spencer stole glimpses at McKinley as he drove her home. She was drumming a beat on the armrest. He chuckled; she always did that while deep in thought.

Stopping at a light pulled her from her reverie. “Thank you for driving me home,” she said rather meekly.

“You’re welcome. Never take Uber or Lyft.” He coughed nervously. “You know, because it’s not the safest mode of transportation. Half of our cases start that way,” he joked.

McKinley grinned. “You’re an absolute prince for doing this, especially since I’m a rotten friend.”

Spencer’s jaw dropped. “No, you’re not! Is this about the lecture? Because it’s nothing the team hasn’t teased me about before.”

“Yeah, but I shoulda known they’d take the piss,” she whined, kicking her legs grumpily, “and I went too far with the song. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I forgive you,” he assured her as he stepped on the gas. “Although, I’d like to point out that I’ve never once brought up the men who hit on you at bars.”

“True,” McKinley breathed, playing with a loose thread on her blouse. “But that seems to have died down at O’Keeffe’s recently.”

Spencer pressed his lips together, eyes fixed on the road. She eyed him suspiciously.

“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” she prodded him.

“Think fast.”

“It’s probably the team’s presence. Most of the regulars know who we are.”

Fortunately, she accepted his suggestion. “Yeah, that’s feasible.”

“Truth is I shoved my credentials in their faces once or twice,”he confessed silently.

“When that doesn’t work, I step between you and them while flashing my revolver, but I’m not owning up to any of that.”

Spencer parked in Taylor and Jaime’s driveway and walked McKinley to her tiny house in the backyard. Boogie bolted out to greet them, tail wagging vigorously.

At her door, she twisted around for a final goodnight, surprised to find Spencer standing so near. He raised his hand and combed his fingers through her hair.

“Cherry blossom,” he explained, showing the pale pink flower in his hand. Spencer reached up again, brushing hair out of her eyes, lingering this time.

McKinley found herself tilting her head into his hand.

“Please don’t stop playing with my hair. Is this what he feels when I play with his? Am I blushing? Is he blushing? What’s that look he’s giving me? Affection? Is that how I look at him? I wish he’d say something. I should say something, but I can’t speak. My heart’s pounding. What’s wrong with me? I never have trouble talking to Spencer. How can someone make me flustered and relaxed at the same time?”

Spencer moved even closer. “Ley, I was wondering -”

“Bork!”

They sprang apart, the spell broken, to see Boogie dancing impatiently. He jumped, placing his paws on Spencer’s thighs.

“Hey buddy, I’m not ignoring you,” he promised as he scratched the dog’s ears.

Satisfied, Boogie pushed open the door and stared expectantly at McKinley.

Spencer retreated down the stairs. “I should be going. Good night, Ley,” he said, the slightest note of disappointment in his voice.

“Night, Spencer. Text me when you get home?”

“Always,” he smiled up at her, stepping backwards towards the fence and through the gate.

—–

@illegalcerebral @dreatine @cynbx @cmbingo

Everyone else let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the future!

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #cmbingo19

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redeyedryu · 5 years

Text

Apathy & Happenstance

Chapter 9 - Introspection and Preparation [Ao3] | 1 | 8 | x |

It occurs to me that I forgot to post the update here. Whoops... So in case you don’t read it on Ao3, here’s the 9th chapter of AAH. Bear in mind that the vote presented at the bottom is no longer open.

Summary: Papyrus puts together a shopping list and Sans is still a sweaty mess.

You wake up around ten-thirty, a half hour before your alarm. That gives you about an hour before you need to head in for your afternoon shift at the grocery store. It takes you about ten minutes to actually will yourself out of bed and another thirty to finish getting ready for the day, leaving you with about twenty extra to spare.

As you pad your way towards the kitchen, tulip tie and apron in hand, you navigate through the contacts on your phone, stopping at “Sans the (Blue) Skeleton”. You shoot him a quick text per your agreement (it simply reads: Not dead) and drop the tie and apron on the small dining table, next to where you had abandoned your bag last night.

Sans is sitting at the table, scribbling something on a loose piece of paper, his grin set in a frown and eye sockets creased in concentration.

It’s so weird how malleable the bone of skeleton monsters is and you wonder if you’ll ever grow accustomed to it.

Pliable bone aside, whatever Sans is writing down must be important—he didn’t even acknowledge you when you dropped your things on the table. You cast a glance at the piece of paper, curious, but can’t make heads or tails of his chicken scratch. You’re tempted to ask what he’s doing but ultimately decide against it. It’s not really any of your business, is it? You do, however, make a mental note to grab him one of your spare notebooks. Lord knows you have an overabundance of them. A few pens wouldn’t hurt either (you have an even larger collection of those).

A quick scan of the room reveals that Papyrus is in the kitchen once again, his back to you, arms braced on the counter, and you’re relieved that he has yet to turn anything into rancid-smelling charcoal. It looks like he hasn’t even attempted to start cooking, actually. You quirk a brow, noting he seems to be inspecting something quite intensely on the counter-top.

Leaving Sans to his scribbling, you come up beside Papyrus to find he has one of your cookbooks cracked open and that he’s perusing the pasta section. Does he like pasta? He had mentioned attempting to make “breakfast lasagna” yesterday, though you still have questions about that disaster. First of all, you didn’t even have lasagna so what sort of pasta had he even been messing with? Eh, whatever. Yesterday’s problems and all that.

“Did the cookbook threaten to devour your kneecaps or something? You’re staring at it awful hard there, sir.”

“HARDLY.” Papyrus scoffs. He tilts his skull slightly, taking in your appearance before quickly returning his attention to scrutinizing the book. “I AM MERELY DOING RESEARCH ON HUMAN CUISINE.”

You quirk a brow at that. Is there that much of a difference between human and monster food? You're rather reluctant to inquire, as that would require admitting that in all this time since monsters’ liberation, you had yet to partake in any of their food. You certainly had several opportunities to sample it but had always politely declined or offered up an excuse.

You ponder that for a moment. Why have you been avoiding monster food? Sure the monster populace in your city is quite small, being as far from Mt. Ebott as it is, but that isn't to say it’s non-existent. Heck, one of the supervisors at the grocery store is a bipedal rabbit monster who often brings in homemade cinnamon bunnies.

Maybe you should try one the next time she brings them in….

“Ah, before I forget,” you abruptly say, shelving the self-reflection for now, and with a snap, you point at the skeleton beside you. “I’m working at a grocery store today and figured I could pick up a couple things when I get off. Was there anything y’all wanted? I know we carry a few monster products if you… uh…” The sentence trails off as you catch sight of Papyrus’s expression. You turn your head just slightly to the side, brows furrowing. Why is he looking at you like that?

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you voice the thought.

Those dark, empty pits of blackness are staring at you again. You expect him to say something but he merely continues to watch you, the moment stretching awkwardly as a shudder works its way up your spine.

“What did I say?” you press, not knowing what to make of Papyrus’s behavior.

Another beat of silent staring passes and you feel your muscles tensing. For what, you're not entirely sure.

When Papyrus finally lets out a very subdued chuckle, quickly followed by a few more that sound suspiciously like “nyeh heh heh”, the tension eases. He turns to face you, hip resting against the counter, and brings a bony palm to drape across his eyelids.

You're baffled, to say the least.

“Uh…?”

“YOU ARE A CURIOUS PUZZLE, AREN’T YOU, HUMAN?” Papyrus eventually manages, hand dropping away from his face, though he now has his arms crossed over his chest.

You squint at the skeleton. What is that supposed to mean…?

He merely shakes his head with one last chuckle and says, “IF YOU ARE OFFERING, THERE ARE A FEW THINGS I WOULDN'T MIND YOU ‘PICKING UP’ FOR ME.”

That's a really weird way to word it—it almost comes off as belittling, especially with the inflection he used at the end there, but whatever. You’ve already decided that the skeletons are weird.

“Okay,” you respond. “Let me go nab something for you to write on.” You don't wait for his reply as you run back to your room.

You snatch the palm-sized notebook sitting atop the nightstand, flipping it open to a blank page. It’s your go-to for making little notes and lists to yourself so it should be perfect.

Just as you’re moving to leave the room you remember Sans and his loose-leaf scribbling. You nab a couple small notebooks (they're no bigger than your hand) from the bookshelf squished up against the wall and a random assortment of pens.

Once you're back in the kitchen you hand Papyrus the notebook and a pen, instructing him to write down what he and his brother would like or need most.

“I can't guarantee we carry everything you write down but I'll get what I can,” you tell him, leaving out that you've never even perused the monster food section, so you can't even say what the store does stock.

“I SUPPOSE IT’S NOT SURPRISING THAT A HUMAN ESTABLISHMENT WOULD HAVE A RATHER MEDIOCRE SELECTION.” is all Papyrus says on the matter, before attending to building his list. He doesn't see how you quirk a brow.

“Uh huh,” you reply before leaving him to it.

As the large skeleton works, you give your phone a quick glance and, noting the time, realize you should probably head out soon. You go to gather your things at the table, stopping to tap Sans on the shoulder to grab his attention. You don't miss the way he seems to flinch at your touch, nor the way sweat begins beading along the crown of his skull. He’s even more huddled over the scrap piece of paper than when you left him, and you notice several areas where he’s completely scratched out whatever he had written.

“Here,” you say as he twists to face you, eye lights flicking from your face to the hand with your offerings.

He doesn't immediately accept so you shake the notebooks at him. “You looked like you could use these.” You press, and he finally takes the hint; his brows furrow and the corners of his shark-toothed smile dip into a frown. A few droplets of that red-tinted, magical sweat of his roll down the sides of his skull. He doesn't move to accept the proffered notebooks. In fact, he looks about ready to protest, maw parting, so you quickly tell him, “I've got plenty.”

His jaws snap shut with an audible click. A moment passes in which he does little more than stare at you, eye sockets squinted and frown ever present, before his expression finally shifts. The ridges of bone above his eyes raise and he grins a toothy grin. He’s still a sweaty mess, though.

“why sweetheart,” he says, folding his arms behind his head and leaning into the back of his chair. As his eye sockets dip closed he continues, “didn’t know ya cared ‘bout this ol’ bag a bones so much.”

Your expression goes dry and you give the skeleton a flat look. You drop the notebooks and pens on the table before him.

“Gross,” you say. “Don't call me sweetheart.” And with that, you get back to gathering your things, completely ignoring the deep chuckles rumbling from the shark-toothed skeleton. Your phone’s stuffed in a pocket, tulip tie jammed into your bag, which is then slung over a shoulder, and apron gathered and draped over an arm. That done, you head back to the kitchen.

Papyrus is leaning against the counter, arms and legs crossed. His eye sockets are shut, brow ridges raised, as a single gloved finger tap, tap, taps against the exposed bone of his upper arm. In his opposite hand you notice the notebook you had lent him.

“You done?”

His finger immediately ceases tapping out its rhythm at the sound of your voice. He cracks open a single, empty socket. A beat passes as the two of you simply stare at one another (what is up with this guy and dramatic, silent stare-downs?) before Papyrus decides he’s had enough. Legs uncrossing, he pushes himself from the counter, the hand holding the notebook lifting from his chest while the other remains wrapped around his ribs.

“HUMAN,” he says as he all but throws the notebook at you. You fumble a bit, nearly dropping it a couple times, but ultimately succeed in catching it. Thankfully, you manage to avoid any paper cuts. “I HAVE COMPLETED THE LIST.” he continues, “I TRUST YOU DON’T NEED ME TO CLARIFY ANYTHING ON IT.”

You glance at the notebook and absently note that unlike his brother, Papyrus’s handwriting is quite neat and uniform, with everything written in block letters. A quick skim of the page tells you that no, you don’t need him to clarify anything.

“Yeah, you’re good,” you tell him as you shift your bag down your shoulder and quickly stuff the notebook into it. “Thanks, boss.”

As you turn to exit the kitchen, intent on making your way out, you think you hear the tall skeleton sputter. Odd, but whatever.

As you ready yourself at the door, nabbing your keys and sliding into your shoes, you remember that you still have yet to set boundaries and ground rules with your impromptu skeletal roommates. You should probably address that. You call to the brothers from over your shoulder, informing them that, “When I get home tonight we need to talk about ground rules and boundaries.”

You hear a grunt of acknowledgement from Sans while Papyrus’s booming voice replies, “YES, GOOD IDEA, HUMAN!”

Alright, cool. That’s one thing almost done and out of the way. Hopefully it doesn’t escape your mind again by the time you get back….

With all your things gathered and prepared, you open the door, calling over your shoulder to the brothers one last time. You tell them, “I’m heading out now. I’ll be back in about seven hours. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone!” and make your escape.

It’s as you’re driving to work that a random thought comes to mind: today marks the third day of the brothers having arrived in your universe with nothing more than the clothes on their back. Not only that, but it’s also their third day on the surface and as far as you know, they have yet to step foot outside. You’re going to have to do something about that. You’ll have to double check your schedule but you’re pretty sure you don’t have to work either of your jobs tomorrow. Maybe you can take the guys out?

Your mind’s made up. Tomorrow you’ll take the boys out. The question now, however, is where will you take them?

* To the thrift shop downtown.

* To the large shopping mall near the interstate.

#Red Drabbles #Undertale Fanfiction #Reader Insert #Apathy and Happenstance #tenth chapter is roughly halfway written

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percy-son-of-sally-jackson · 6 years

Text

Dubstep’s for Pussies (Cable x Female Reader): Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Writing Masterlist

Read it on AO3

Buy a poor gal a Ko-fi

Summary: Reader is Domino's younger sister who has taken an interest in Cable, but both of them are too stubborn to admit their feelings, so instead they take turns pissing each other off until one of them snaps.

Warnings: female reader, mention of age difference, mild hurt/comfort, hurt reader, mild emotional hurt/comfort, will be NSFW in later chapters, spoilers for deadpool 2 ofc, mentions of previous trauma

Word Count: 1338

A/N: This was meant to be smut with a side of plot, but I accidentally added a little more plot (aka angst) into it, so y'all can't get smut yet, and this is going to be a multi chapter fic. I know I said I’d post it on friday, but I’m impatient and bored, so y’all get it a day early!!

Tag list (if anyone wants to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know!): @fantasticwizardnerd @cxsmicbrownies @roni-westbrook @the-wayward-unicorn @luisadevitt @booklover2929 @whovianayesha @thehuntress26 @peculiar-monstar

It was 3am and every room in the X-mansion was silent, every room except for yours. Loud, thumping dubstep blasted through the speakers in your room, not loud enough to wake everyone, but just loud enough to piss your neighbour off.

You'd met Cable the same time as your older sister, Neena, had, on that ICE Box transport. While your sister's power was luck, yours was the ability to go unnoticed; it wasn't exactly invisibility, if there was a camera on you, you'd show up, but you could stand in a room full of people with a spotlight on you, and still appear non-existent to everyone, including your own sister. It was some sort of telepathic ability you'd developed at the orphanage to hide yourself and your sister from your abusers.

So it really freaked you out when you tried sneaking up on Cable, and he promptly turned around to catch your wrist with his metal hand, twisting it till you yelped and dropped your blade. He'd made up for spraining your wrist later on by wrapping himself around you and taking the brunt of the impact when Juggernaut fucked the bridge up, but you were shaken.

It still jarred you whenever you were sneaking around the mansion, trying to play a prank on Wade or Colossus, and Cable's gaze would follow you. It didn't help that you both had similar sleep schedules, and he somehow always managed to find you especially when your insomnia got really bad. You weren't unhappy about it though, it was nice to have company instead of being left alone to your thoughts, and it allowed you to slowly drag information out of the stoic man.

You learned that his name was Nathan Summers, he was a kind of mercenary who hunted down bad guys, kind of like Wade and X-Force, he was divorced because his wife didn't want him doing that, and he didn't want to stop; that was part of the reason he didn't mind staying even after Wade got his time-travel device fixed, as long as he knew they were safe and alive, he didn't have anything in the future that required his immediate attention.

In turn, you told him about yourself, about your time at the orphanage; you showed him a couple scars they'd given you, even going as far as to let him touch them. Usually someone touching you would've triggered your trauma, sending you into a panicked frenzy, but you'd grown to trust him to a point that surprised you, and even though he was reluctant to admit it, he'd grown fond of you too, which was nice, but it was also the reason you were mad at him.

You were growing antsy in the mansion, anxious to get out on a mission again, so you were more than ready to go when Wade came back with one, but your joy was cut short when Nathan convinced the group to make you stay back because it was dangerous, and you would be of little use there.

So that's how you ended up blasting Skrillex in your room, which was conveniently located right next to Nathan's. You were sprawled out on your bed, reading a Star Wars book, when your door slammed open, revealing a pissed off, shirtless Cable. You tried to hide your mischievous smile as you sat up, your eyes wandering up and down his body for a second.

"Can I help you?" You asked, not bothering to turn down your music. He snarled through the bass, his eye flashing gold for a second. You'd be lying if you said that didn't turn you on just a litte.

"Turn that shit down."

"Nah, I'm good."

"I said, turn that fucking shit down, right now."

"Sorry, Daddy-o, no can do."

"Why are you such a stubborn little brat?"

"Oh, I'm stubborn? What about yo—," you cut yourself off with a shriek. Cable had just blasted your speaker system with a small energy pulse gun he kept hidden. "Nate, what the FUCK?!"

He ignored you, a small self satisfied smirk on his lips as he turned around and walked back to his room, not even bothering to shut your door. You growled at the audacity, stomping over to his room, and flinging his door open.

"Hey, dick bag, you fucked up my speakers," you marched over to where he was seated at his table with his weapons laid out in front of him. He turned to you, eyebrow raised.

"First of all, those were Wade's speakers, you stole them."

"Yeah, and now I'm gonna have to steal Colossus' speakers, which aren't as good!"

"If you'd lowered the volume as I asked, I wouldn't have had to fuck em up, so really, it's your fault, Princess."

"Why are you such an asshole?!"

"Why are you such a little shit?"

"Fuck you!"

"No, fuck YOU."

"God, you're so—."

"What is going on here?" The two of you flinched at the loud Russian voice, booming from the doorway. You slowly turned around, casting a sheepish glance at Colossus. "You two are like two cats fighting over bone, and we can hear at other end of mansion."

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, jabbing Nathan in the ribs with your elbow when he didn't speak up. He grumbled something under his breath, making Colossus sigh in disappointment.

"What the two of you need, is to have a good long fuck session," Wade popped up from behind Colossus. "Maybe that'll help with his racism too."

Both you and Cable groaned at his voice; Wade had been trying to get the two of you together ever since the team rescued Russell. While you definitely wanted to fuck the older mutant, there was no way your pride was going to let you make the first move, not when he'd pissed you off this much; if you had to guess, Nathan probably felt the same way.

"Just keep noise down, we have important mission in the morning," Colossus said, before retiring back to his room. Wade stayed back for a second to make a vulgar gesture with two fingers and his tongue.

"Get fucked, Wade!" You yelled, grabbing the nearest gun part and chucking it at your friend who quickly ducked out of the room. It flew half way across the room before being pulled back into Nathan's left hand like an iron nail to a magnet. You turned to glare at him. "You just looove spoiling my fun don't you?"

"This is exactly why you aren't fit to come on the mission with us," he said, his voice getting dangerously low.

"Oh wow, please feel free to elaborate," you said, crossing your arms as your eyes narrowed.

"You're fuckin immature, you don't know how to fight properly, your power is what? Being a fucking wallflower or some bullshit like that, and your judgment is way fucking off, you'd be a danger to yourself and a burden to us," he snarled, pausing a little too late as he realized what he'd said. A hurt look flickered across your face before you hardened your expression.

"Whatever," you spun on your heel and started towards the door. Nathan grabbed your forearm with his right hand, but you wrenched it out of his grasp. "Fuck off, Cable."

You slunk back into your room, locking the door before crawling into bed with a bottle of whiskey, and your laptop, hoping the alcohol and a mindless show would put you to sleep.

—————————————

Cable stood motionless in the middle of his room, fists clenched tightly as he tried to calm himself down before he punched something. He knew what he'd said was a low move, saying you'd be a burden was uncalled for. And the hurt look on your face that you tried to hide was more painful than any bullet he'd take for you.

He slowly unclenched his fists, looking down to see the broken pieces of the half made gun you tried to throw at Wade. He contemplated going over, and apologizing, but he knew you wouldn't open the door or listen to him. With a heavy sigh, he decided he'd wait till he got back from the mission, to give you time to cool down.

#cable #cable x reader #cable fanfic #cable fanfiction #deadpool #deadpool 2 #nathan summers #nathan summers x reader #brown reader #female reader #deadpool fanfic #angst #age difference #my post #my writing #nathan summers fanfic #nathan summers fanfiction

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tearlessrain · 6 years

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so this turned into Scorpion King: Book of Souls Liveblog Part 1, because I got started late. witness a bunch of people trying to make one man’s considerable hotness singlehandedly carry an entire hour and a half long movie with very limited success under the cut.

I do want to state right up front that there’s only one reason I’m watching this and that reason is that for some reason zach mcgowan is the protagonist, so I’m not really up to date on the whole mummy/scorpion king franchise, the last one I saw was the one with all the jackal dudes and that was a while ago. so I have no idea what’s going on.

oh good they’re just going to town with the exposition, very thoughtful

so if the sword was forged in the fires of hell by anubis then who the heck did they fight when they were taking on the jackal headed dudes because I kinda assumed

are these two series actually related or

holy shit this is so Extra already look at this shit

y’all this is my jam I am living right now

also as people following my art blog may note, I am a huge fan of black and gold aesthetics. this movie is really just ticking off all my boxes right off the bat, it’s terrible, but five stars.

they’re REALLY going to town with the exposition

sword forged in the fires of hell that condemns souls to “the neverending darkness” and must be somehow destroyed... are we talking about anubis or sauron here.

this is just lord of the rings, but bad and with a sword. lord of the sword.

okay prologue is over and some dudes have smashed their way into a tomb. if the last however many mummy movies have taught me anything it’s that this might potentially be a bad idea

I love how they’re just not even setting up any of the characters we’re just diving right in I’m getting strong “yeah you all know the drill by now” vibes here

#squadgoals

really though the gal on the left is pretty badass, she hasn’t done or said a single thing but I respect her and her bootleg Xena vibe

and like shoutout for putting at least one actual black guy in egypt I guess

so I guess the one in the middle is... psychic or something? not that “hey if you plunder this blatantly cursed tomb it might be bad” requires psychic powers to know but

I mean that giant black sarcophagus they found recently in real life turned out fine I’m sure this will be great go nuts dude

uh oh it’s the fang of sauron anubis

oh that doesn’t seem good, but it’s actually the better option since for a second there I thought there were pulling a “black guy dies first” in ancient goddamn egypt

wait we’re still doing exposition okay the narrator is back. hi narrator I missed you.

look I know it’s campy and all but can we take a sec to unironically appreciate how wicked COOL this guy looks with his glowing eyes and crap. this movie is just so satisfying to look at, every single shot has been peak aesthetic

“SEND THE BIRD” and then it’s actually just a regular bird that was anticlimactic

HOLY GREENSCREEN BATMAN

holy FUCK WE’RE ONLY JUST NOW AT THE TITLE SEQUENCE WHAT

okay I guess now we’re going to ACTUALLY start the movie, third time’s a charm

and we’re off to a fantastic start my friends

and judging by the choices of the cameraman in this scene I can tell they’re trying desperately to distract me from the fact that the dialogue sounds like it was generated by a neural network that was fed several dozen mediocre fantasy novels.

it’s working.

I am being personally attacked. god.

oh no some people on horses are coming I assume from the background music that this is a bad thing

OH it’s bootleg Xena and her merry band of deeply mediocre extras okay

I understand the adorable small child’s father must die but must it be at the hands of the worst mediocre extra. seriously he’s been on screen for five seconds and I already hate him.

I guess the protagonist’s name is Matthias, other writers might have let us know that when he was introduced, but these guys know damn well that it literally does not matter what his name is. they could have had her ride up and be like “we’re looking for a man named Jebediah Switchboard McDougal” and anyone who’s voluntarily watching this movie in the first place would just be like “that’s fair”

yeah just in case you weren’t sold after the blacksmithing or the hunting scenes, let’s have him just singlehandedly take down half a dozen ninjas in less than a minute. just fuck me up

oh shit they shot him

oh shit they shot him again

they’re just boromir-ing the hell out of this dude

and yet he’s still going to town on those ninjas

NO NOT THE ADORABLE CHILD WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS

I’ve decided I don’t like bootleg Xena after all

it’s a good thing he’s got three arrows embedded in his torso because that is the worst cage ever. it’s made of like. bamboo and string. have you seen this man’s arms how did they expect that to effectively contain him.

whoa it’s... BOOTLEG XENA 2.0: GOOD GUY EDITION

or not. she didn’t free him or anything she just killed his original captors and then took off with the cage with him in it

no I think she is good she’s... healing him? by... getting scorpions to sting the hell out of him? has the FDA approved this.

I’m sorry I can’t take this scene seriously the background music is way too close to the “ooga chakas” from hooked on a feeling. also the sheer degree to which they’re pulling a reverse male gaze here is kinda overshooting sexy straight into unintentionally funny. I mean I know this is the entire reason I’m watching this insanity but like even I think this is excessive.

“the scorpion king escaped” that is giving him way too much credit he was stolen by the superior bootleg Xena.

and in case NONE of the previous things drew your attention away from the lack of a plot, here’s just straight up nudity because why not.

I thought I had a thing for zach mcgowan but I’ve got nothing on this cameraman.

also there’s some kind of “reluctant chosen one king” thing going on I guess but like they literally couldn’t have put less effort into it

I haven’t heard people this concerned about what the moon is doing since I left evergreen state college

aaand apparently he can see and speak to... ghosts now? ghosts that spit thousands of arrows from the sky? know what why not I’ll accept literally anything at this point.

oh they aren’t ghosts they’re just really sneaky dudes

it’s a shame jebediah switchboard’s one and only weakness is extremely shitty cages because he sure ends up in them a lot

hmmmm we’re getting some uncomfortable racist undertones and misogyny in one go okay. not worse than I would expect from a movie of this.... caliber, but I’m not thrilled, especially since this whole situation has yet to have a single actual point to it.

actually okay it’s veered quickly away from “rudyard kipling-esque Vague Native Tribe Encounter” and into... some kind of weird mad max thing mixed with a D&D campaign that’s gone wildly off the rails. but they’re on thin fucking ice.

I really appreciate that matthias is approaching this situation with exactly the same strategy with which I play skyrim, which is “sneak up on everybody one at a time even though there are a ton of them and that shouldn’t be possible, shoot them all with a bow you looted off one of them”

and now they’re just... suddenly free and back on their horses, then matthias had a vague fake deep exchange with the leader and they rode away. there literally was no reason for that entire interlude. nothing happened, there wasn’t character development or anything. this godforsaken movie could have been ten minutes shorter.

“the plot is down there, just past that greenscreen” is what I heard there.

I’m sorry I’m dying for some reason all I’m getting from this visual is “wait are you saying the panel is all the way on the other side of the convention center” like the costumes are just mediocre enough that in bright light they don’t look like they’re actually actors in a movie.

the moon’s rising. but I can’t for the life of me remember why that’s important. she’s got some kinda egyptian steampunk millennium rod though.

okay the lenses must align with the cipher. did anyone mention a cipher before who knows.

good job matthias you solved the moon puzzle and your prize is a metric ton of blue jello.

all right through the jello portal they go. to find the book of souls, probably.

in this case I actually do need more exposition. are we just not gonna explain ancient egyptian jello narnia. no. okay.

stop forcing zach mcgowan to be quippy I know all the cool movies are doing it but this is neither the time nor the place nor the actor for it.

oh my god they’re being attacked by a rock golem thing and I don’t think a screenshot can fully capture how bad the cgi is. not of the rock monster itself, but trying to integrate it with the real actors and set pieces was... oof.

okay a mostly naked woman has risen out of some nearby water and called off the rock golem with no explanation. why not.

neither of them looks into this so much as confused as hell

honestly, same.

oh god no they’re trying to make the rock golem be the comic relief this movie never needed. please don’t. you can barely handle writing the plot relevant dialogue now’s not the time to get fancy. I take it back, trying to make zach mcgowan be quippy was actually somehow not the worst option.

she IS the book of souls!

okay that’s a pretty cool visual I’ll give them that. digging the iridescent moon tattoo.

and that seems like a reasonable stopping point because I started this kind of late and have to get up for class in the morning. tune in tomorrow for, I assume, more of zach mcgowan running around in various states of undress while absolutely nothing coherent happens around him.

#tearless liveblogs #to be completely honest I'm not even sure what it is about this guy #like as you are all painfully aware I tend to lean way more toward androgyny but like #apparently I'll also take 'the concept of a panther but applied to a human being'#seriously though he cannot do the quippy marvel thing just accept that and don't try to force it

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lightandwinged · 6 years

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So I saw The Movie. Spoilers--good, bad (or neutral), and ugly--below. Spoiler-free: not as good as the first Avengers, but better by far than AoU.

The Good

This film made me even more furious with Joss Whedon, solely because it proves that the problems in AoU were of his own making, namely his inability to handle too many characters and therefore incompetence when it comes to a film of this type. The Russo brothers took a very smart approach to this, in that they knew they couldn’t take the time to give all of the good guys the characterization they’d have gotten in a film with a smaller cast, so they basically made Thanos the main character, which is really what should’ve happened with Ultron but inexplicably did not happen.

And man, what a joy Thanos is as a character. So many superhero villains are so kind of... one dimensional, tbh. Or not one dimensional, but rather, they seem to have an understanding that what they’re doing is evil or, if they don’t have that understanding, a lack of real conviction. They’re nascent Sith, in a sense, running on either the sheer joy of being cruel or on a heightened desire for vengeance. They can be a lot of fun, don’t get me wrong, but they seem, for lack of a better word, like cartoon villains.

They’re fun, like I said, and the world is full of people who are just... evil for the sake of being evil (as we’ve found out in the last ~2+ years more than a lot of us realized, I think), but they get tired when they’re the villain of everything. Chaotic Evil, in other words, gets less compelling when it’s all you see. It becomes the same person with a different mask, 9/10 times, which I’m sure contributes a lot to superhero movie fatigue.

Thanos, though, I enjoyed because he was 100% convinced that what he was doing was for the good of the universe. Ultron was trying to go there, I think, but Whedon handled it with about as much delicacy as a bull in a china shop (Ultron is mostly redeemed by his being played by James Spader, who is a delight at all times, but that also ends up being his downfall because you get the feeling that he’s winking at the audience the entire time... “I’m saying this with conviction, but here’s a quip to show that I know I’m evil.”). Thanos actually felt real. He felt like he believed everything he was saying, like he truly thought he was doing the universe a mercy, that he was the good guy.

And that doesn’t redeem him by any means (incoming people screeching about how I’m downplaying genocide or stanning because dude’s evil, y’all), but it makes him infinitely more compelling, and GOD, that is refreshing. It’s the same way that Killmonger was refreshing because, even though you don’t agree with it, you see his point. I mean, who among us that’s worked retail hasn’t wanted to snap our fingers and make half of humanity vanish? It’s been more than a decade since my last retail position, and I still have those days.

On a different level, it’s that garbage that gets pushed by freshman level philosophy students who are like “people should stop having babies” because that, not a mismanagement of resources by the wealthy and powerful, is why there’s scarcity. It’s rubbish, absolute rubbish (and it doesn’t work because science tells us that the universe, that all of existence, is infinite... and fuck, the movie’s science tells us that as well--Bananabread Cabletelevision had his little moment of hunting for spoilers and only got through about 1.4 million of the unending possibilities that exist BUT I DIGRESS), but at first blush, you ask yourself, “Wait, does he have a point?” No, he does not.

A rundown of other Goods:

Look, Thor in lightning form is the sexiest creature in existence. I’m sorry, I don’t make the rules.

Also I appreciated him getting another smushface. And then the immediately following Battle of the Chrises (all I’m saying is that if there’s not a threeway Chris standoff in Part Deux, I’ll be very sad. Also, someone please cast Chris Pine in Captain Marvel, he needs to spend the rest of eternity watching powerful women heroes in awe).

The people who were allowed gave fantastic performances. RDJ will be sorely missed as Iron Man (because if y’all think he’s living past the next film, I’m sorry for your loss), and of the good guys, I felt like he came the closest to being the main character here. Which has been true of the other Avengers films as well, so that’s nice to see. Ultimately, these first three phases of the MCU were Tony Stark’s story, and that finale will be really... well, painful.

Other great performances: Tom Holland (darling baby child, I wept for you), Mark Ruffalo (good at constipation), Bagels Cucumbers (that hurts to admit, he’s the Worst, but damn if he isn’t a good actor), Zoe Saldana (you’d better come back), Chris Hemsworth (as always), Paul Bettany (NOOO), and Elizabeth Olsen (poor darling).

The humor was nicely balanced, not fourth-wall breaking like you get in the Whedon Avengerses, but logical. It was kind of like exhaling: inhale the action and serious stakes, exhale the humor. It allowed breathing room in all the intensity, so that was great.

Also how can I have missed Wakanda that much if it’s only been like... not even two months since I saw Black Panther?

Look, if the next movie involves just one scene--just one!--of Okoye, Nat, and Wanda fighting together, my ticket will have been worth its price.

Related, Proxima Midnight is (a) literally the coolest name for anyone ever, and (b) my wife now.

The Neutral-Bad

Or, really, more the expected.

In any ensemble movie, you’re going to have a lot of characters whose purpose is just to step on scene, state their name and allegiance, and then fade into the background. This ended up being the case with pretty much all of Team Cap, and it was to their detriment. They had their shining moments (”Earth just lost her greatest defender” made me ship things like FedEx), but as opposed to the group above, they didn’t really have a lot to do? Or even really much in the way of reactions? They just sort of... came and saw and fought and that was it.

It felt a lot like nobody knew what to do with those characters, which is fair enough, but it also felt like they were wasted, and they shouldn’t have been. If I had to guess, I’d guess that the writers had to pick and choose which good guys they wanted to focus on and which new Avengers and old Avengers would get the attention. Tony because these films have been basically a huge Iron Man series. Thor because I think? the plot requires him to be Important, as per comic books. But as much as I adore Thor, I wish there had been a focus on Steve more. With Tony, you’ve got the plot of “oh my god Thanos, the thing I’ve been afraid of since 2008″ but maybe Steve could’ve had more of a reluctant plot, like he’s been heroing all this time but all he’s gotten for it is locked up and exiled and shit? I don’t know, point is that if Captain America is going to be so prominent in the MCU logo, he should get a bigger slice of the plot pie.

Also I’m annoyed with Gamora’s passing, though I wouldn’t call it a complete fridging because it wasn’t just for mangst. It was just mostly for mangst. Either way, though, I think that’s the death (besides the end ones) that bothered me the most. It didn’t feel unnecessary and was probably the most shocking, when you look at it objectively (more on that in a second), but... I don’t know, it bothered me, but I can’t 100% put my finger on why/how. I do appreciate, though, that it gave Gamora a decent arc in the film.

Anyway, to the deaths. The presumable permadeaths (Heimdall, Loki, and Gamora) were, for the most part, unsurprising. The Thor trilogy is over, so Heimdall and Loki end up being kind of extra weight, the former because he doesn’t have a lot to do that’s not in a role filled by another character, and the latter because the only other way he could’ve worked in this film was as an eleventh hour heroic sacrifice, and that feels almost too woobie-ish, like beyond Zuko levels of woobie.

The Great Dust Rapture at the end was also fairly unsurprising, mostly because there’s no way a good chunk of those characters aren’t coming back. At least two have sequels literally named after them coming out sometime in the next couple of years; as I also pointed out to Kyle, “Look, Gamora may be dead forever, but if the rest of the Guardians remain dust, GotG3 will just be The Adventures of Rocket Raccoon Being Very Sad.” The non-dusted bunch are the OG Avengers, plus or minus a few friends; the stakes for the next film are, therefore, a LOT higher, since all the OG Avengers have finished their trilogies and, should they survive, will probably only ever show up again in cameos. We know T’Challa and Peter Parker and the Guardians of the Galaxy and probably Dr. Strange and everyone still have Things To Do.

But the OG Avengers do not, and they couldn’t really kill off the main characters of the franchise with one film to go, so...

(also, calling it now: the next film is going to be The Avengers: Rebirth. I will put money on it)

The Ugly

But HNNGH. Okay.

I 100% understand the choices they made with the dustinatings, but like... there’s no suspense whatsoever. If Marvel didn’t release their film titles 6000 years in advance, maybe the stakes would’ve been stakier, but as it stands, it’s like... come on people.

You know what would’ve worked way better and made for stakier stakes? Don’t kill off the main characters from franchises that still have sequels coming out. Kill off sidekicks. T’Challa doesn’t die, but maybe M’baku or Okoye does. Spare at least three of the Guardians of the Galaxy. Leave Peter Parker’s fate uncertain (though his death scene was literally the only one that made me tear up because TOM HOLLAND IS JUST THAT GOOD, DARLING FROG-IN-MOUTH BOY). Bucky, Sam, Nick Fury, Maria Hill--they can remain dusted. But if you want to keep the stakes for the second film while actually letting us believe that there won’t be any resurrections this time, maybe don’t kill people who we know will be back in various MCU films at future dates.

It’s like I keep thinking when I watch trailers for Solo or literally any prequel anything: the problem with 99% of prequels is that we know who lives and who doesn’t, so giving us trailer shots of Chewbacca in danger, for example, is like trying to play peek-a-boo with an adult. We have object permanence, it’s not surprising when you pull your hands away and your face is still there. It’s not surprising that Chewbacca isn’t going to get his face bashed away by a rock. It’s not surprising that somehow, in Avengers Four: You Asked For More, all the dusted people with eponymous films coming up will be back.

Another big plot hole: why didn’t Dr. Strange go and do his future vision the second a giant green man fell into his living room? Bruce, as Bruce, tells him “Thanos is coming for the macguffins” and then he goes and spends the next 5 minutes going through possibilities and then figures out the very easy way to solve the thing.

That easy way? Just have Wanda destroy the time stone. Now we’re not panicking about taking out Vision’s brain as fast as we can (point: that scene was unrealistic, Shuri would’ve actually had it done in about 13 seconds flat) and Thanos has lost and maybe he goes around killing people manually but at least he can’t rewind time if things don’t go his way.

The movie didn’t do this, obviously, but it’s one of those things where it’s like “if your audience can figure out a better way of doing things before the credits even fucking roll, maybe revise your script.”

(if Carrie Fisher had been alive to script doctor this shit, we wouldn’t have this problem, universe)

Other big frustration: does every Avengers film really need Thor to go on an epic quest away from everyone else for half the film? Don’t get me wrong, it was pretty cool to see him jumpstart a sun and see Peter Dinklage being huge (all I’m saying is that if Disney ever acquires the rights to the X-Men, things are going to get very confusing) and see a new Mjolnir-like-object, but oh. my. god. Every time those scenes were happening, I felt like it was a bathroom break. Like legit, that fucking ax had better cleave Thanos in half in the next movie because otherwise, that was so much wasted time that could’ve been devoted to literally anything else.

Final Miscellaneous Thoughts

Maybe this means that GotG3 will be about Peter Quill actually growing up and dealing with his issues. I hope it does.

Also, Nebula/Tony Stark road trip back to earth? I’m all about it.

Wonder Woman would’ve ended this all in about 30 seconds flat, which is why Captain Marvel can’t show up until the next film.

The next film is literally going to be at least 90 minutes of Thanos refusing to interact with anyone trying to kill him because he’s on vacation and fuck you.

Literally why does anyone still live in NYC in the MCU? The first movie would’ve been enough to convince me to move to a cornfield in Nebraska and just stay there for eternity.

“Thanos will return.” Along with literally everyone else SERIOUSLY THIS IS NOT SUSPENSEFUL MARVEL AAAAAAUGH.

#infinity war #infinity war spoilers #not really spoiler: thanos and his team are basically apophan and his cult #this realization led to a 20 minute conversation while we waited for the credits to end #in which I pointed out that the last time one of my characters faced off against one of Kyle's #my character legit took maybe 2 damage in the entire event #and it was not Kyle playing favorites I just had lucky dice that night

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afjakwritesarchive · 6 years

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DTM 2

Title: Royal Rebound Pairing: USUK/some FrUK Words: 4,253 Rating: T AU: Royalty Genre: Romance/drama/humor Summary: After being dumped by his boyfriend of two years, Spadian Prince Arthur Kirkland uses one of Spades’ most famously improper aristocrats in order to make him jealous. But perhaps the man he’s using is the man he truly wants… A/N: This is a long one! Struggled with it a little so it’s kinda rushed at parts but I hope y’all enjoy!!

Despite numerous attempts to remain calm, Arthur was near explosion only halfway through the ball.

It was the first one he’d held since his recent break up with the Prince of Diamonds, Francis Bonnefoy, and although Arthur would have preferred him not to be there, he was required to invite the nobility from every kingdom with whom Spades was on good terms with. The mere thought of seeing Francis at a Spades ball sent Arthur reeling. He couldn’t tell whether he wanted to punch the man or kiss him, but seeing as he could do neither, he was going positively mad.

The Prince of Diamonds had broken up with the completely unsuspecting Arthur just shy of their two year anniversary. It had left both Arthur and the whole of Spades and Diamonds heartbroken; he and Francis had been the “it couple” of the kingdoms before they’d even officially announced their relationship. Both Princes were beloved by the kingdoms, and their parents had thought of a marriage that resulted in a Spades-Diamonds merger as a certainty. Thus, Arthur was left completely shocked when Francis severed their bond, claiming he no longer felt a connection with Arthur. They had waited a few days to tell the press—mainly because Arthur had refused to believe it at first.

When they did release a statement, the news spread rapidly. Within a week every kingdom was well aware of their breakup, and nobility and common folk alike had sent gifts of condolences to both Princes, the amount of which had taken up an entire room of Spades Palace.

Francis had recovered from the break up quickly; hell, he’d barely seemed upset in the first place. Arthur, however, had been inconsolable. Unlike the Prince of Diamonds, he’d been—and still was—madly in love.

Though he’d tried his best to move forward, the sight of Francis with a pretty woman from Clubs under his arm as he entered the ball made Arthur want to scream. Though it was a Spades ball, the Prince had spent the majority of his time leaning against the wall trying not to get caught glaring daggers at Francis and his date, neglecting his duties as a host.

“Your highness?” A voice suddenly sounded from beside Arthur, and the Prince turned toward it.

He was immediately met with the strikingly handsome face of Alfred Jones, the son of a Duke and a member of the Spades court. Though Arthur hadn’t often spoken with him, he was well aware of Alfred; the man was something of a Spadian celebrity due to his attractiveness, boyish charm, and tendency to get himself into situations ranging from gossip-worthy “scandals” ranging from secret travels abroad, hidden investments in activist groups, and various flings.

Over all, the young man was the perfect example of what Spadian nobility was not to be. While Arthur admired the American’s commitment to activism and the extraordinary kindness he was well-known for, he was often put off by the man’s complete outrageousness. Alfred was extremely obnoxious, speaking loudly and laughing even louder. He cared little for social classes and was often found befriending anyone he seemed interested in. Furthermore, he had a habit of getting caught with marijuana or alcohol—both of which were not illegal in Spades as long as the individual was eighteen or older, but were seen as improper and very much a “lower-class” habit. Among Spadian aristocracy, marijuana was never touched and alcohol was only present at balls or parties, usually only wine or champagne.

Arthur pursed his lips and raised one thick brow, gazing up into the strikingly tall man’s face. “Yes?” He asked, sounding somewhat annoyed.

Oblivious to the Prince’s distaste, Alfred grinned down at the man. “Listen, I, uh, I heard about you and his highness the Prince of Diamonds. I know it’s a little soon ‘cause y'all only broke up a couple of weeks ago, but I just wanted to let you know that if you’re ever interested in having some fun, I’d be happy to take you out. And I totally get it if you don’t want to, man, seriously. Just figured I’d put myself out there.”

Arthur shifted, an amused smile set upon his face. He was prepared to tell the younger man how delighted he would be to go out with Alfred as soon as the man found his brain when he noticed that most of the room was looking at them, including Francis. Arthur’s snarky smile shifted to a sweet one, realizing that Alfred’s company was a sure-fire way to make Francis incredibly jealous.

“That sounds wonderful, darling,” purred Arthur. “When?”

Alfred seemed somewhat surprised, bright eyes going wide before a sly grin slipped onto his face. “Really?”

“Did you think I would say no?” Arthur inquired.

Alfred rolled his broad shoulders. “Kinda, yeah. I mean, you have a reputation for being kinda stodgy and boring, and I know you’re not a big fan of my lifestyle… But, hey, it’s good to have some fun sometimes, isn’t it? I mean, the pressure on you and Francis must have been fucking insane. People were always talking about you two getting married one day.”

Arthur tried not to let the sudden dropping of his heart show. Alfred had been correct that it was a lot of pressure, but Arthur had never asked for release from it. In most cases, he’d welcomed the pressure of his parents and kingdom, thinking that it had solidified his and Francis’ relationship and meant a promise of a lifetime spent together.

“You know, darling, you are exactly right,” Arthur purred. “I’ve disapproved in the past, but I’m interested in learning a few things from you now.” The Prince lied with a coy smile, watching Alfred’s face light up.

The two spent the rest of the ball practically attached at the hip. Alfred spoke about whatever idiotic subjects crossed his mind while Arthur pretended to listen and responded occasionally, his arm wrapped tightly around Alfred’s waist. He spent the majority of the evening taking vehemently at Francis until the man looked away, at which point Arthur would turn his gaze toward Alfred and feign vehement interest in whatever the man was speaking of.

Had it been anyone else, Arthur would have felt guilty about using them to make someone else jealous. However, seeing as it was Alfred—a man Arthur had no respect and little patience for—he saw no problem with using Alfred. After all, the man was a well-known playboy; perhaps playing him the way he often played others would give him a taste of his own medicine. Besides, Francis had never liked Alfred much either, claiming that the American had no appreciation for the finer things in life. Surely seeing his ex under the American’s arm would drive Francis mad with jealousy.

By the end of the night, Francis had approached the pair and greeted both of them, although his gaze never left Arthur’s face.

“You look well, Arthur,” Francis said.

Arthur’s heart beat madly in his chest, but he contained himself and let his hand run down Alfred’s arm, trying not to smile when Francis’ eyes followed his movement. “Yes, well, Alfred has kept me throughly entertained tonight.” He lied once more, grinning up at the American.

Francis looked between the pair, a glint of anger in his eyes. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. The ball has been lovely, your highness. Thank you for inviting us.” Francis said in reference to himself and his date, who Arthur had only just realized was standing beside the man.

With that, Francis left. Arthur’s stomach dropped and he watched the man with a dejected frown, his shoulders slumping. Oblivious, Alfred tugged him closer and began speaking animatedly about some other subject while Arthur attempted to tune him out as best as he could.

From there, Alfred and Arthur began what Arthur could only describe as a “friends with benefits” relationship. While they hadn’t yet slept together (and, to Arthur’s great surprise, Alfred hadn’t yet brought it up), they both received something from the other. Alfred, the company and flirtations of the Prince of Spades, and Arthur, an artificial relationship that would surely drive Francis mad.

Within two weeks, the press had been filled with stories of the pair on various outings together—they’d seen each other three times since the ball, all per Alfred’s request.

The first date had been a nightmare; Alfred had taken Arthur to a theme park and dragged a reluctant Arthur onto several roller coasters, only to laugh at the Brit afterward for being a “scaredy cat”. The second date had been better. Alfred seemed to have been paying attention to what little person information Arthur offered, and chose something more his speed—a high-end restaurant. Though at first Arthur had dreaded sitting down with Alfred for over an hour with no other distractions, it had gone relatively well. Francis was still always in the back of his mind, but the date had been the first time Arthur had even been able to take Francis away from the forefront of his attention. Alfred was a surprisingly good conversationalist, and the kindness he was known for was abundantly true—Arthur had ended up speaking his fair share, and Alfred seemed sincerely interested in Arthur.

The third date, though, blew the other out of the water. Not only did Alfred arrive early and with a bouquet of red roses—Arthur’s favorite—in hand, but he’d claimed to have a fantastic surprise for the Brit. He took them out of the city and into a rural area of Spades, happily showing Arthur a small bookstore-cafe hybrid tucked in the center of a gorgeous and extensive garden.

Arthur had been astonished by the American’s thoughtfulness as he stepped into the quaint store, which sold only the classics and smelled of old binding, to Arthur’s utter enchantment. Alfred had trailed Arthur patiently throughout the store and listened was Arthur excitedly showed Alfred book after book, trying his best to understand the complex plots the Prince described and remaining interested throughout it all. Afterward, Alfred had paid for all of the books Arthur wanted and lunch, which they ate while sitting at a secluded table hidden behind the branches of a weeping willow.

And Alfred had kissed Arthur for the first time. Arthur had wrapped his arms around the American’s neck and tugged him closer, thinking of nothing else but the man holding him.

Of course, the press had managed to ruin the moment. The rapid click of camera shutter tore the pair away from the moment and toward the several reporters pushing through the branches to photograph them.

“That’s our cue!” Alfred had cried, laughing as he took Arthur by the hand and rushed him back to the car, driving off.

It was only after Arthur and Alfred spent another month together that Arthur realized he was getting off track. He and Alfred had been going out several times a week and Arthur had been thoroughly enjoying himself, up until he realized that he had completely forgotten to watch for Francis’ reaction to his new relationship.

He’d been so wrapped up in Alfred, he’d completely forgotten he’d ever wanted Francis back. Even when he realized he’d lost sight of his original goal, it was hard to see it as a problem. He and Alfred were growing closer every day, and the more time he spent with the American, the more he liked him.

When they were together, Arthur forgot that Alfred was a rebound—the one he was supposed to be using to get Francis back. No, Arthur had come to see their relationship as a genuine one, and his admiration of Alfred increased daily.

Of course, his domestic bliss wasn’t to last long.

Francis visited Arthur at the castle carrying tulips in his hand. When Arthur opened the door, he stepped in and embraced the Brit, immediately beginning to speak rapidly.

Frowning, Arthur pushed him away. “Francis?” He asked, astonished. “What are you doing here?”

“Arthur, I came to talk to you,” Francis said , holding the tulips out to Arthur. The Brit frowned at them instead of taking them and so Francis merely set them on a nearby coffee table and continued. “Arthur, I am worried for you. Every week there is a new article about some sort of secret escapade you and Alfred went on.”

Arthur raised a thick brow, surprised. “And?” He asked.

Francis was gazing at him with pity and condescension in his eyes, his expression seeming to say, “oh, you poor man.” He sighed. “I know we are no longer together, but that does not mean I do not care any more. I want you to be happy, Arthur. Which is why I must tell you that dating Alfred in an attempt to make me jealous won’t work, and you shouldn’t do yourself nor him the dishonor of continuing this.”

Arthur folded his arms across his chest, annoyed. “You assume that I don’t sincerely care for him.”

“I know you don’t sincerely care for him. When you spoke of him, you clearly disliked him. We both know he is a brute with subpar intelligence and a talent for charming his way between people’s sheets. He’s not well-suited for you in any way.” Retorted Francis.

“You’re wrong,” Arthur huffed, gritting his teeth. “Alfred is bloody wonderful. He’s exciting and funny and, yes, perhaps a bit dim-witted from the outside, but in reality he is far more intelligent than most others, especially you. And regardless of whether or not our relationship was real or good for me—which it is—it is not your place to say. If you want so badly to be sure that I date exactly who you want me to, you shouldn’t have left me.” Arthur said, and found himself actually meaning it. He no longer cared whether Francis noticed he and Alfred—he only wanted to be with Alfred.

Francis shook his head. “Christ, Arthur, how stubborn are you? Are you that committed to a fake relationship?”

“Our relationship is not fake!” Shouted Arthur, his temper rising.

He couldn’t stand to have Francis standing in his home insulting him over his new relationship. The man who had slain his happiness months prior was coming back, sword in hand, to repeat his actions. Arthur couldn’t believe it—Francis had no claim to him anymore, didn’t have any right to be criticizing his relationship.

“Oh? You didn’t start seeing him to make me jealous?” Francis asked.

“Alfred may have started as a rebound, but it’s not like that anymore!” Arthur cried angrily.

“A-ha! So you were dating Alfred in order to make me jealous!” Francis hollered.

The door opened. Alfred was standing there, one hand on the doorknob and looking between Arthur and Francis. The bright, beautiful blue eyes Arthur had come to adore were wide and full of hurt, his brows pulled down and his plush lips sunken in a frown.

“Get the hell out, Francis!” Arthur yelled immediately, pointing toward the door.

Francis merely growled in return before shoving past Alfred and storming out the door.

Once he was gone, Alfred looked to Arthur. “…Artie?” He asked, and the heartbroken expression on his face killed Arthur. “Was I really just a way of getting back at Francis?”

“Alfred, I-I—No! God, no, darling, it was more than that to me, I swear,” Arthur insisted, speaking quickly.

Alfred didn’t believe him, shaking his head rapidly. “Was that why you didn’t care about the reporters? You wanted him to see it?!”

“No! Darling, it may have been that way at first, but I swear to you it’s not like that anymore! It hasn’t been like that in a long time! Our relationship may have started out artificial but I promise you that it couldn’t be more genuine now!” Insisted Arthur desperately.

“But you would’ve never been with me in the first place if it weren’t for the fact that you wanted him. Why’d you pick me, Arthur? ‘Cause I was an easy pick? Did you pick me because you knew I was too stupid to catch on? Because you thought I wouldn’t care about being tricked since I sleep with so many people?!” Cried Alfred angrily.

“Alfred, please, listen to me! I—I wish I could take back what happened. If I had known what a sweet, kind, amazing man you were—”

“But you didn’t! You just wanted to use me! Y-You lied to me! You probably just agreed to go out with me 'cause you knew it’d be in the press before you could blink! And the whole time I seriously thought I was so lucky to be seeing you! God, I can’t fucking believe I was stupid enough to believe that you would actually fucking care about me!” Alfred shouted, his voice loud and full of anger, his eyes glistening with wetness.

Despite knowing he was at fault, Arthur’s temper rose and he shouted back. “What the hell do you care, Alfred?! It’s not like you have a shortage of willing partners anyway! Surely I was just a particularly challenging notch in your bedpost.”

Alfred’s face twisted with anger. “Are you fucking serious, Arthur?! Yeah, I fucking slept around a lot, so what?! Just because I was causal with those people didn’t mean they didn’t each mean something to me, and you meant the most out of everyone! I tried so hard to make everything perfect because I seriously cared about you! And I never fucking pressured you, either, because there was no fucking concern for whether or not we did anything! Whether or not we slept together, I still wanted to be with you!”

“Honestly, Alfred, I have no idea what you thought would become of this. You knew I disapproved of your lifestyle, you knew I found you annoying, you knew—well, you knew we weren’t a good match! Why the fuck did you think it was a good idea to pursue me?! Alfred, what the hell were you thinking?!”

Instead of getting angrier, Alfred looked as though all the fight had been drained from him. He was staring at Arthur with tears in his eyes, his face ashen and his shoulders slumped in defeat. “I thought we were falling in love,” he whispered, his words punctuated by tears.

Arthur’s face fell and he paused, watching the American walk to the door and open it. “Alfred—” Arthur was cut off by the door shutting behind Alfred.

It had only been a week since their breakup when Arthur saw Alfred again. Ironically, it was in the same place they’d begun their relationship—at a ball hosted in the grand ballroom of the Spades Palace. Alfred looked devilishly handsome in his navy blue suit, but the debonair smile which usually completed his look was surprisingly absent. Not only that, but he’d walked in with only his brother and his brother’s husband, Gilbert, for company—Alfred was rarely seen arriving at an event without someone under his arm.

Arthur, too, had decided not to bring a date as he wasn’t sure he could bear the thought of spending an entire evening in a romantic setting with someone who wasn’t Alfred. He wanted desperately to go talk to the man, but he was far too afraid of what the American would say to him. Arthur knew he’d be rejected—after all, he’d been absolutely horrible to Alfred before. How could he possibly expect the American to take him back after belittling the man when he expressed sincere love for him?

Thus, Arthur spent most of the ball speaking idly to different people, not truly caring for what anyone was saying and watching Alfred intently. It wasn’t until Francis sidled up beside Arthur that the Brit tore his eyes away from Alfred in order to glare heatedly at the Frenchman.

“What the hell do you want, frog?” He spat venomously.

Francis looked down. “I wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to hurt your relationship with Alfred.” He mumbled, sounding guilty.

“Oh, bugger off, Francis. We both know that’s a goddamned lie. You couldn’t stand that I was happy with someone else because you wanted me to waste the rest of my life pining after you.” When the Frenchman was silent, blue eyes widened in astonishment, Arthur rolled his eyes. “You’re impossibly transparent, darling. You want everyone to adore you and desire you, and you can’t stand it when someone doesn’t.”

Francis hesitated a moment more. Then, “…you are right, Arthur. I wanted you to desire me again and to be reminded of me. But not because I wanted you to pine after me forever. The more I saw you with Alfred, happy and smiling and clearly falling in love… The more I was reminded of what we used to be.

It was so, so wonderful, Arthur. I know we had bad times—obviously, that was why I left. But now I see we were just going through a rough patch. Had I stuck through it, we could have come out even stronger. I still think we can. If you give me another chance, I’d do anything to prove to you that I can be the man you need.” Francis finished, staring intently at Arthur.

For a moment, Arthur was too stunned to speak. Then, he shook his head. “No, Francis. I’m sorry, but our time apart made me realize some things too. I can’t accept your feelings. It would be a lie if I said I returned them.” He mumbled.

“But—But, Arthur, I love you!” Francis suddenly shouted, drawing the attention of the room as he took the Brit’s hands in his and tugged him closer. “Please, my love, I made a mistake! I want to be together again!”

Around the room, 'aww’s’ sounded, most of the party-goers clearly touched by Francis’ words. Arthur gulped, staring at the man as he thought. Hadn’t this outcome been the point of everything? He’d been with Alfred to get Francis back, and now he had him. Shouldn’t he want this? Yes, he was falling for Alfred—but they were clearly over, Arthur reasoned. No matter how much he cared for Alfred, they couldn’t be together any longer. Why wait for someone who he could never have when the man he’d wanted only a few short months ago was now begging for his affection? Arthur was free to be with Francis again; neither he nor Francis were seeing anyone else.

And yet, it felt wrong. Arthur knew he’d wanted this, but looking at Francis now confused him. Despite himself, he couldn’t seem to understand why he’d wasted so much time pining after the man. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the man whom he wished was holding him in that moment.

Alfred was standing toward the edge of the room, his bright eyes wide in astonishment and fixed upon Arthur. The Brit met his gaze, staring at him with every ounce of affection he could muster. Alfred seemed to understand and his eyes filled with tears; whether from sadness or joy, Arthur couldn’t be sure, but he knew what he had to do.

He turned back toward Francis and took a deep breath in. “…I’m sorry, Francis. If you had done this months ago, things would have been different, but there was someone who was there for me when you weren’t. Someone who loved me even when you couldn’t. Francis, I—I never wanted to hurt you, but I’m in love with Alfred.” Arthur announced.

A collective gasp sounded from the crowd. Slowly, Francis released his hands. Without a word, the Frenchman turned on his heel and walked past the crowd, exiting. The rest of the party-goers were still whispering excitedly, watching Arthur navigate through the crowd and to Alfred.

The American’s eyes were still wide and watery, and he stared at Arthur in complete shock. “I thought you were going to take him back,” he whispered.

Arthur shook his head and reached up, wiping away his tears. “No, darling. I don’t want anyone but you. Your thoughts were correct, as usual: we were falling in love, and I still am. If you’ll have me, I’ll make it up to you in any way you like.”

Alfred beamed, throwing his arms around Arthur. The Brit was hoisted off of his feet and into Alfred’s bone-crushing embrace, both of them now laughing jovially. Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred in return, burying his face in the crook of the American’s neck and peppering his suntanned skin with kisses. Alfred squeezed him tightly, and Arthur knew that all would be well.

#mine #text #r #my writing #aph #usuk #usuk fic #aph fic #hetalia #hetalia fic #royalty au

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btsgroupchat · 7 years

Text

Away From Home Pt. 10

Word count: 3,226

A/N: This chapter is sort of lacking with content.. I was trying to set things up for the next chapter but it seems like I sort of just half assed it D: My mind wasn’t really there...is this what happens when the writer loses interest in a fic? T^T Anyway...hope y’all like it

< Part 9 Part 11 >

On the last day of finals, Soojan invites you to her club’s beach party. With all that’s happened the past semester between making the big decision about your career and rekindling with Jimin, you don’t think twice about accepting her offer.

You’re sitting in the passenger’s seat of her car, windows rolled down while enjoying the fresh breeze that combs through your hair. As expected, your cheerful roommate is blasting BTS’s album as she sings and bounces along to the beat.

“I’m so glad you came out today,” she half screams over the booming bass. “I feel like we haven’t been able to properly hang out since finals started.”

You smile back in response, closing your eyes and breathing in the crisp, cool air with the slightest hint of salt. “It’s the least I could do, I won’t be seeing you all summer.”

She’s apologetic, but you know she’s more excited about her opportunity to study abroad this summer. She’s been talking about plans to go to Europe since you met her.

“Won’t you be lonely?”

“I don’t think so,” you slowly respond.

“Your Dad-”

“Has a new family of his own now. I wouldn’t dare,” you cut her off.

“Just...don’t hesitate to message me whenever you feel like it, okay? We can video chat too,” she offers.

You rest your head on her shoulder in gratitude as she turns into the beach lot to find parking. The skies are clear and blue, the perfect start to your two and a half months of summer break. The slightest breeze tickles your skin as you welcome the warmth in the air and take your first steps onto the sand.

Soojan begins talking about the people in attendance, and you’re later able to match some of their faces to the many stories you’ve heard from her. For the first time in a while, you relax and let yourself enjoy the first few moments of your vacation, stress and worry free.

“Two iced caramel macchiatos with whipped cream!”

You push your way through the crowd to meet the bubbly barista who hands you your drinks. Keeping your eyes on the floor, you shuffle to the table in the back corner where Jimin awaits you.

“Can you be even more suspicious?” he laughs at your attempts to be incognito.

“I’m just being careful!” you scowl, drawing your cap further down your head. “I’m doing this for you.”

“And i’m telling you no one cares,” he laughs again as he snatches your hat. “We’re at a company cafe, the only people who come here are trainees or lower level employees.”

Unconvinced, you try to take your hat back but he pulls it over his head and gives you a satisfied grin.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t take you anywhere that would put us both at risk. All the higher profile employees and artists go to the cafe by the studio, so this one is pretty low profile.”

You give him a small pout before taking a sip of your refreshing beverage. “So why the sudden urge to call me out here?”

Jimin shrugs before propping an elbow and resting his chin on his hand. “I just missed you.”

“So you called me away because you just missed me?” You try to wiggle your eyebrows at him.

He covers his face with his other hand while laughing quietly to himself. Whatever it is he finds so amusing, you wanted in on it. “No wonder Taehyung was so fond of you, you’re so cute.”

You almost choke on your drink. Despite your confusion, your reaction doesn’t stir anything from Jimin. Instead, he continues.

“He still thinks about you, you know. He doesn’t say anything, but I can see the look in his eyes when he’s writing in that black book of his. It’s the same look he used to have when he would look at you.”

“Y-you’re mistaken,” you try to stop him when you feel a threatening numbness, the same numbness that overtakes you when you slip and allow yourself to think about him. “We haven’t talked in over two years.”

Despite this, Jimin presses on. You can see he’s watching you closely, but you aren’t keen enough to process why.

“I heard him say your name in his sleep once. He woke up in a cold sweat that same night. It’s weird too, that whenever we have to host something with female idols, he’s always so reluctant to - “

“Jimin, please. It doesn’t matter anymore, Taehyung made his intentions clear when he stopped contacting me. I think i’ve finally decided to move on.” There’s pain laced in your voice but you hope Jimin doesn’t pick up on it.

He never takes his eyes off of you. You can feel him scanning every inch of your face, reading into your eyes what you refuse to say out loud. “And you’ve never tried to reach out to him?”

“Of course I have,” you sigh. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation if I were successful.”

You feel defeated having admitting the truth, and whatever Jimin was hoping to get out of the conversation seems to have been found. He sits back in his chair satisfied, picking up his drink and bringing it to his lips before giving you a quick cheers.

It’s only on the bus ride home that you sit and try to process the conversation you had with Jimin. He apologetically had to run off for vocal coaching, but promised to text you later that week for another hang out. Even if Jimin had noticed all those things with Taehyung, what was the point in telling you? There was nothing you could have done with the information even if you wanted to.

Was this Jimin’s way of telling you that Taehyung hasn’t completely given up on your friendship? You wish you had paid more attention to the way he spoke and his facial expressions, maybe then you would have been able to figure out his motive. Whatever it was, you push it to the back of your mind hoping to shelf some of the numbness that accompanies the thought of Taehyung.

You’re glad you have the apartment all to yourself when you come home from grocery shopping. It’s a few minutes past six o’clock, but by the time you begin setting up for dinner there’s a brisk knock on your door.

“I’ve got a delivery that requires a signature.”

“Oh, okay,” you greet the delivery man with a confused look.

He then hands you a single rose with no indication whatsoever of a sender. You turn the trimmed flower curiously in your hands while he nods off to you and continues on his way.

Retreating back inside, you find a vase and display the anonymous gift in the center of your table. Whoever sent this must have intended for it to be for Soojan, so you push it to the back of your mind and continue your preparations for dinner.

Later that week you see Jimin again. He doesn’t say anything at first, but you can tell there’s something on his mind.

“You okay, Jimin?”

He’s been watching you stuff your face with the strawberry shortcake you ordered while he takes minimal sips of his iced tea. His expression softens to your question, but you know there’s something more.

“Just work stuff. We’re finishing up the last of our promotions and TV appearances before we start preparing for our next album.”

“Already? It seems like you just released your last one.”

He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “Yeah, but that was only an EP. They’re hoping to put out more songs in this next one.”

“Must be a lot of work,” you noncommittally reply as you turn back to your dessert.

“You should hurry up and graduate so I can refer you to the company,” he teases.

“If only,” you dreamily sigh. A job straight out of college would be the world’s biggest blessing. “I doubt any company would take a fresh graduate with no experience.”

Jimin frowns at your lack of confidence. “We have intern positions. Most interns get hired later on down the line. I’m making a serious offer here, you should keep it in mind.”

“Thanks, Jimin. I seriously appreciate it.”

The second rose arrives after the first week of the new semester. You come home from class at the end of the day to find another vase in the middle of your dining table. There’s a small note attached to the stem with a message that reads, “I miss you.”

Your heart jumps to your throat. The message is way too suggestive to be coincidental, but if this rose truly is from the one person you want it to be from, then this is the only message you need. Soojan rips you from your thoughts, startling you when she emerges from the kitchen.

“So, someone’s got a secret admirer, huh?” Her hands are accusingly on her hips as she gives you a suggestive look. “What the hell happened while I was in Europe?”

“Nothing,” you shoot your hands up in defense. “I don’t even know who this is from...and it’s the second one we’ve received.”

“We?” she stalks around the rose, inspecting it as if it were an object of danger.

You shrug in response, heading to the fridge for a glass of water. “I assumed they were for you. You’re the social butterfly between the two of us.”

“I’m honored you think so highly of me,” she puts a hand to her chest in feigned amusement. “But I haven’t had a suitor in a long time.”

You blink back in disbelief. The small part of you that wishes the rose came from a certain someone swells with hope, but you try to hide the feeling from your nosey roommate.

“Maybe it was a mistake then? It could have been sent to the wrong address,” you offer.

“Not a chance. Especially if this is the second one that’s come in.” She then turns her attention from the flower to you, raising an eyebrow in expectancy.

“I’m telling you the truth, I have no idea who or where this came from!”

“Fine, fine,” she waves you off with a sigh. “But if another one comes in, then there is no doubt someone who wants your attention and nothing you can say will convince me otherwise.”

You watch her walk off before parting your own ways to your room with one last glance towards the flower on the table. If that certain someone really is trying to get your attention, you want to be ready when the opportunity presents itself.

Midterms hit you by the fourth week of the semester, and you’ve been so preoccupied with your studies that you don’t realize how much time has passed since you last spoke to Jimin. You find yourself sitting in the back corner of the library reading through your notes when you get a call from him, stepping into a small study room to conceal your conversation.

“Is this a bad time?” he asks apologetically from the other end of the line.

“It’s midterms time,” you confess with an exasperated sigh. “Can’t say i’m not a bit stressed.”

“Ah, I’m sure you’ll do fine! When are they over?”

“I’ll be done this Friday,” you check the clock to find that the library will be closing in the next twenty minutes.

“I see,” Jimin’s voice is soft, coated with a hint of shyness. He is not his usual talkative self, but you don’t hear any indication of illness or exhaustion in his voice.

“Everything okay?” you take a seat on the only chair in the room and start to swivel mindlessly.

“Yeah,” his tone is dismissive but he’s quick to add more before you get the chance to ask. “We’ve been busy ourselves preparing for the album.”

“I look forward to hearing it. Work hard!” you try to be cheerful as you periodically check the clock for the few minutes you may have left in the library.

“Thanks, that means a lot,” he bashfully responds. “I’ll let you get back to studying then.”

You’re saying your goodbyes before he stops you with hesitance in his voice. “______?”

“Hmm?”

“...I miss you.”

You take a few seconds, blinking at the floor before quickly returning the notion. When you hang up, you feel your cheeks flush and you’re unable to move. Why was something that used to be commonly said between you two making you feel this way? Maybe a part of you knew why, but you push those thoughts to the back of your mind. Now was not the time to be dwindling on those kinds of things. You leave the confines of the small room and head back to your things to pack them up and leave.

On the walk back to your apartment, you decide to stop by the local coffee shop to fuel up for a long night of studying. Your phone buzzes in your pocket while you’re waiting for you order, and you unlock the device to see a selfie from Jimin with a caption of “study hard!” The peace sign he throws up conceals half of his face, but one of his eyes is closed in a wink with his lips turned upwards in a small smile.

You can faintly hear someone arguing with the barista for messing up on an order, but you’re too entranced by Jimin’s picture to pay any attention to the commotion. That was your first mistake.

When you hear your name called, you make your way over to your drink and turn to leave before someone catches your attention.

“Ah, ______ how lucky am I to have run into you again?”

May Lee is sitting by the door with her squad of dancers, but the only one you recognize is the man you almost kissed during your impromptu game of truth or dare during her party. She rises and greets you with less enthusiasm as she did the last time she saw you and does a quick sweep of your appearance.

“I see you’ve been hit by midterms,” she dismisses your comfortable appearance of sweats as she fixes the ruffles in her skirt.

You’re looking for something to say when she continues. “It was rude of you to leave my party like that without saying anything, you know.” Something sparks in her eyes because she’s then suggesting a picture to send to Jimin to document your encounter. “I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

You should have taken that as a red flag, to get out as fast as you can, but you stick around much to her delight. Your second mistake.

She motions for the man, whose name you learn to be Kai, to come stand by you. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and she quickly snaps a picture of you two before gleefully looking it over.

“It was nice to see you again,” Kai smiles at you while resuming his seat at the table.

May Lee waves you off while innocently batting her lashes and you can’t help the sinking feeling in your stomach when you leave the coffee shop. You later find yourself recounting the story to your roommate who angrily sips her tea.

“God, this girl sounds like a total -”

“Soojan, please,” you stop her before you allow her words to fuel your rising panic. “I just can’t help but wonder what she’s going to do with that picture.”

“Sounds like blackmail material to me,” she warns you. “Kai happens to be one of the more popular members of ICON. He’s a year older than us, too.”

You raise a brow at her. “How did you know that?”

“Someone in my club used to date him. Said he’s a total flirt. Anyway, I’m sure it’ll be fine. That skank probably won’t use that picture unless she needs to.”

“Soojan,” you give her a disapproving look.

“Just calling them as I see them,” she shrugs as she walks over to the kitchen sink to dump the rest of her tea. “Just watch out for yourself, trouble always seems to find you.”

Her words ring in your ears for the rest of the night.

Halfway through the semester you’ve already received your third, fourth, and fifth rose. You’re sprawled out on your apartment floor with Soojan trying to figure out who the sender might be, crossing out a list of names on her phone.

“What if it’s Kai?” she springs up with a sudden realization.

“There’s no way,” you absentmindedly stare at the ceiling. “I don’t even know the guy.”

“But maybe this is his way of courting you!” She continues to feed off her train of thought.

“I’ve seen the guy all but two times, I’m telling you, there’s no way.”

She sinks back to the floor defeated, scratching yet another name from her list.

“Do you think…” there’s hesitation in her voice telling you that she’s being careful. You tell her to spit it out regardless. “Could it be Taehyung?”

You close your eyes, seeing the image of the happy-go-lucky boy burned into your eyelids. His bright eyes, warm honey skin, boxy grin…

A knock on the door keeps you from responding and you’re grateful for the unexpected interruption. Soojan looks at you quizzically, but you mirror her expression as she rises to get the door. You can hear her softly laughing to herself as she signs for the delivery and rounds the corner to the kitchen to plop yet the sixth rose into the vase with the others.

“Unbelievable,” she shakes her head as she makes her way back and stands over you with her hands crossed. “This person is so into you it’s almost scary.”

You don’t bat a lash in her direction, but instead try to bring back the memory of Taehyung behind your eyelids.

“It has a note this time,” she tries again when you don’t respond.

You open an eye in her direction and wait for her to relay. “They’re asking if you will meet with them.”

“You’re kidding,” you pounce off the floor and race to the table to see for yourself. There, tied to the stem of the sixth rose is a card that reads, “Meet with me?” You turn it over to find a date and address you’re unfamiliar with.

“So? Are you going to meet with them?”

“I don’t know. What if it’s a trap or some ploy to sabotage me?”

“Are you insinuating someone planned this whole thing to sabotage you?”

You half committally shrug, it does sound like something May Lee would do. “I have no idea if it’s safe, that’s all I’m saying.”

“You have a point,” Soojan says already walking off. “But I guess if you change your mind, you have until the end of the semester.”

The end of the semester. Only three weeks away, and you’re not quite sure if you’re ready to face your suitor yet. What if it was Taehyung? What would you do, how would you react? And why would he want to reach out to you now of all times?

Whatever sense you try to make of it, you decide to shelf these thoughts for the time being.

Three weeks is a long time from now.

#bts fics #bts fanfic #bts scenario #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #away from home 10 #btsgroupchat

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