#well he’ll just be left alone. unwanted. abandoned. just like the start and just like he’s always been. does he want that

[arcanaaa]

PLOT WISHLIST FOR: Natsu Dragneel

THIS IS WHERE I GET EMOTIONAL because the one thing cana wished she could have had with her father was to be treated like she was his daughter and instead he spends that affection on natsu who isn’t even his biological child yet he treated him as if he was his son and that built so much resentment that honestly festered within cana for so long.

I’ll be honest: it took Cana a long time for her to move past those bitter feelings but as a child she felt so alone: here she was, orphaned at a young age and she’s sent to live at the guild where her father resided at and she held the hope that he knew about her and he would provide her with a safe and loving home and environment where she could grow up normally and happily and instead, she is left feeling unwanted and abandoned.

Which is not to say Natsu doesn’t feel the same! He was found by Makarov and basically adopted into the guild, just like Cana, but he knew that Igneel was somewhere out there and he was determined to find him even if no one believed dragons existed. Natsu being the odd child was nothing new to anyone in Fairy Tail because there was Gray, Erza and eventually Mira, Lisanna, Elfman- but Cana was the first to join Fairy Tail (aside from Laxus of course), and so that means she grew up closely alongside Cana, as well as the rest of the younger guildmates.

We all know Cana struggled with her feelings over Gildarts being her father, and we see that she held him on a pedestal, as being someone that was unworthy of being in his presence let alone being related to him. But here comes Natsu easily talking and laughing with him like he isn’t one of the most powerful mages in Fairy Tail! The audacity!

And what pains me more is that Cana only understands when she’s older that her resentment towards natsu stems from how she idolized her father as this being that was untouchable, this unattainable figure that she couldn’t be worthy of telling that she was his kin. She realizes too late that she could have had a better relationship with natsu and by extension Gildarts if she 1) had simply told him she was his daughter from the start and 2) got to know natsu better and became friends easier and bonded over the fact that they were both abandoned and left alone at such a young age.

But that’s after Cana becomes an adult and is able to put her life in perspective lol.

Cana’s relationship growing up would be really distant compared to the rest of the children in FT and that is only because of how close Natsu is with Gildarts. Where it not for that factor and the jealousy she feels, Cana and Natsu i think would have been close friends.

Give me Cana being such a shit to Natsu as a child and Natsu and Cana disliking each other as the years go on.

Natsu not understanding why Cana acts this way but fuck all for asking her about it, why should he when he did nothing wrong? And forget them actually talking about it until they’re older when they’re dislike is practically engrained- at least for Cana.

Years of Gildarts being gone puts Cana and Natsu’s relationship in a tense fashion, but him chasing rumors about Igneel helps Cana sort out her feelings and eventually she grows cordeal towards Natsu- which is a shock for him, but he doesn’t comment on it.

NATSU FINDING OUT cana can tell the future and him constantly pestering her about if he’ll find igneel if he’ll get to see his dad again and just mmmmmmmmmmmm boy cana trying really hard not to look too deep at his future because something tells her she’s not gonna like what she finds and she knows her instincts are always on point when its some serious shit so cana makes excuses or distracts him towards something else because she doesn’t wanna lie to him but she can’t tell him anything she can’t tell him that he will meet igneel but it won’t be happy, it won’t be how he expects it or how he wants it to be and no i can’t tell him i can’t risk changing what is already set in stone or else something worse might happen

but natsu is natsu and he is stubborn and he finally manages to get her and have him tell her why won’t you tell my future and cana just being like I can’t and no further explanation given and he thinks she’s being mean and stubborn and he goes and leaves to find igneel again and she’s just breaks and feels guilty because she knows how important igneel is to him and she hates that she can’t help him but if she did then it would change everything, even if she feels resentment and jealousy towards natsu she knows how he feels about wanting to see your parent again- she understands that better than anyone.

and then when Natsu finally does see Igneel again and the meeting is bittersweet and the battle is won, I can see Cana apologizing to him, because she knew

She knew he would meet igneel and she knew it wouldn’t be how he would imagine and she can only apologize and natsu just

I can see him being so numb because on the one hand he should be angry at her because she knew she could have told him

but on the other hand it wouldn’t have changed anything, as much as he would have wished for it otherwise, cana was only trying to prevent natsu from getting hurt emotionally and god

god that kills me

#wishlist tag

[laniidae-passerine]

OH! also the way that Curtain straight up emotionally abused S.Q but is heaping all this feigned praise on Sticky is just the most perfect comparative ever because on one hand we have a scene where Curtain openly and clearly dismisses his son’s feelings and on the other we have this insidious, false adoration of Sticky and yet!!!! both boys are being used and manipulated by him but in two very separate ways tailored to keep them under his authority at all times

#see S.Q can’t ever stop being his dad’s weird pet son - family man to keep up appearances #so he erodes S.Q’s freedom and his will; constantly reminding his son that he is nothing without his dad and that he has never been wanted #and that keeps S.Q down because what is the point in rebelling if it means you’re free from the only person who can stand being around you? #who else wants him? nobody! Curtain has convinced him that he’ll be alone either way - either dad and no friends or no dad AND no friends #however! Sticky is tired of being put down! he’s sick and tired of being so so so good and getting breadcrumbs in return #he has enough knowledge of life without Curtain to have free will and a backbone - to possess strength S.Q has had berated out of him #so putting him down and calling him names by proxy isn’t gonna work. Curtain needs to try the opposite approach #he praises Sticky - offers him gifts and quality time with a father figure and gives him a respite from his anxiety with the Whisperer #he builds Sticky up shows him a world that’s wonderful - where Sticky is loved and wanted and acknowledged to be worthy of all good things! #but there will come a time when Curtain will brutally remind him that it can be taken away in a flash #he builds Sticky’s self esteem and confidence on praise only Curtain can give him and nobody else #see only Curtain knows how special Sticky is how smart he is how he’d make such a good protege and maybe even son #but! ah but that means without Curtain Sticky has no one. and you can’t expect love without conditions can you? that’s illogical! #so it goes like this. Sticky gets to feel good about himself as long as he plays Curtain’s game. otherwise Curtain will leave and Sticky? #well he’ll just be left alone. unwanted. abandoned. just like the start and just like he’s always been. does he want that? no? #then do as he’s told and it’ll all be alright. so Sticky will always stay in line and be a good little soldier. well done! #the mysterious benedict society #mysterious benedict society #nathaniel benedict #ledroptha curtain #ld curtain #sticky washington #s.q curtain #mbs #tmbs

[yesimwriting]

The Needs of Pain

A/n as promised,,, here is my gift to you bc I finished ap gov today :))

The darkling x heartrender!reader story based on the whole ‘no one but me can hurt you’ thing :))

Warnings: sexual innuendos,, attempts to sexualize pain if you squint, kinda lemon-y

I kinda want to write a smutty part 2 let’s see lol 

Summary: after a training injury, Kirigan reveals how he views the dynamic of your relationship and figures out how to best help you work through the pian 

--

In an odd way, the most painful part of my injury had been the wound on my pride, not my shoulder. Though the pain that begins beneath my collarbone and continues down my left shoulder is not exactly pleasant. I can’t bring myself to pity myself too much as I stare at the extent of my burns. There’s a war going on. People die, people lose loved ones, I have to tolerate pain for an hour or two before a healer can be sent to be. 

I told Genya I’d be fine in the medical wing, but she insisted that I wait for a healer to be sent to me. The people here look up to me, if news of my injury got out, especially considering it’s a training wound, morale would take a blow we can’t currently afford. Genya had looked relatively sympathetic when she told me that many healers were occupied considering how difficult training had been and I had told her I could bear the weight. 

Now, in my room, staring at the basin full of water, I’m starting to regret my desire to be self sacrificing. I dip the towel in the water, squeezing out the excess before daring to dab the fabric on the outer edge of the wound. The feeling is fire against my skin all over again. An instinctual curse leaves me as I drop the towel on the counter that surrounds the basin. 

Arthur hadn’t meant it. I can still hear the frantic apologies tumbling from his full lips. He should have been more focused on the task at hand, he should have never stopped to look at me, at the way I could control so many living things at once. In some odd sense, his distraction had been a compliment. Many of the girls here would sell anything to have Arthur’s attention, even if it resulted in such a careless mistake. 

I grimace, picking up the towel and preparing to start again. I should at least clean it before the healers have to deal with both a physical injury and an infection. The sound of my door flying open and then shutting angrily is enough of a distraction for me to accidentally dab the towel against my skin too harshly. I curse again, turning my head towards the bathroom door. Did Genya exaggerate the severity of my wound? Are the healers that desperate to get to me? 

I turn on my toes, towel forgotten by the basen full of water as I approach the door that connects my room with the bathroom. “I’m--” Words meant to calm a frantic healer stick to the back of my throat as soon as I register all the black in the room. General Kirigan. Great. He no doubt heard about my injury after prying it from Genya and now he’s here to scold me for the childishness of it all. To be injured because a boy and I just couldn’t help ‘make eyes at each other’. All he does is insult my refusal to become bitter just because I was born possessing power. 

“You’re what?” His words are a different level of callous, darker than the shadows he creates with the will of his mind alone. “An idiot that let herself be sent back to her room instead of demanding to see a healer?” 

That’s an odd thing for him to focus his anger on. At least it’s not fully directed at me. On instinct, I half turn, attempting to hide my injury from his piercing eyes. My instinct tells me he should never see me so mortal. “Genya recommended it,” my words are determined yet calm, “It’s such a small injury it isn’t worth risking everyone’s morale. A healer will come here when one is available.” 

His face tightens in what must be some kind of disgusted disbelief. “Foolish girl--have you no instinct for preservation?” 

Every decision I’ve made since being injured made sense before he spoke to me. The fierceness of his voice leaves my face warmer than it was a moment ago and reminds me of the stem of my dislike for him. General Kirigan speaks and I am left a clumsy child. “Some things are more important than one’s self.” I expect he’ll turn that into something else to mock or belittle about me. “And it’s not a grave injury it’s barely--” 

The distance between us seemed so great less than a second ago, but he’s closed it so quickly, grabbing my left wrist and extending my arm forward so that I can’t hide anything from him. “You’re burned.” There’s the slightest bit of surprise coloring his words along with something else I can’t interpret. “How did you get burned?” 

Kirigan doesn’t know. My stomach knots, anticipating embarrassment. “Training incident--I was standing too close to an Inferni.” 

His grip on my arm tightens. I grimace as he pulls me forward with no regard for my injury. “Who?” The voracious way he says the word leaves my thoughts trembling. He is a void of darkness, starving for a victim to snuff the light out of.  

When my thoughts settle, I cannot bring myself to tell him the truth. “I didn’t see, I was distracted by the burning.” I exhale slowly, desperate to escape the flames behind his eyes the way I could not escape the fire of earlier. “It doesn’t matter, I’ve been injured worse in training.” His hold on my arm doesn’t loosen, I glance down at his hand, his firm grip on me somehow worse than the burn. “You’ve injured me worse in training.” 

“I may push you, exhaust you, and leave you mad--but I have never done anything that comes close to--that!” The last of his words carry themselves louder than the rest. 

If the skin of my shoulder wasn’t so sensitive I’d try fighting his tightening grasp. The accusation on my part had been a little much, but it was meant to serve as a reminder that he’s not one to care about my comfort or well being. “Why does it matter?” I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze. “You’ve never cared about any of my injuries before.” 

Kirigan releases my arm in a stiff trance, raising his hand to brush his thumb down my cheek. The contact is reminiscent of an extremely different moment. “The first night here you only let a few tears escape you when you were convinced that no one could see them. Do you remember how I turned and wordlessly wiped them away?” His gesture had not been comforting then and it isn’t comforting now. He never wanted to comfort me, he wanted to assert some strange power over me. “I let those tears fall because they were because of me and I knew it was for the best.” I say nothing, letting his thumb ghost tears that will not come. “The moment I discovered you, what you could be, you became mine.” 

“I am no one’s.” The reaction is instinctual, a pride my mother instilled in me. My voice is too loud, too brash. “I am my own.” 

I brace myself for his anger, but all I receive is the slight relaxation of his lips. “It’s things like that give you so much potential in other ways.” His voice is a jagged rock caressing my skin, not minding the scrapes it leaves behind. “You’re a fair plaything, as well as useful.”  

He’s speaking so gently his voice borders on vulnerable. Something in me warms, but I can’t tell why. I know that Kirigan finds joy in my discomfort--why else would he belittle me so often? “The healer will be here soon.” 

“Yes,” he makes no move to leave, instead Kirigan grabs my wrist again, forcing me to turn so that he can analyze the extent of my burn, “Which is why I will ask you again…” I try to catch his gaze, but his stone stare is focused on my burned shoulder entirely. “Who did this?” 

“I told you.” He can never know. “It was a training accident.” 

“And someone is responsible.” 

I let out a breath, tired of feeling so incomplete. I just want to be healed and go to sleep. “Why does it matter?” His fingers trail up my arm patiently, my body betrays me by shivering. “Accidents happen, you’ve put me in more risk than--” 

“I’ve always intended to break you one way or another,” his voice is more supple than it’s ever been before, “Your goodness is too tempting to not tarnish.” He turns my wrist over easily, ignoring my slight wince. “But if someone else were to do it…” Kirigan trails off, expression tightening in a way I can’t read, “I don’t let others break my play things.” 

Some strange resolve in my chest cracks at that. “Kirigan--” 

“Who are you protecting?” He moves his free hand, placing it without reservation on my shoulder. “Not telling me will only make it worse.” 

Thoughts of Arthur paying for such a small mistake leaves my stomach rolling in guilt. “Make what worse?” 

His expression tightens again. I wait for some kind of rebuke. Kirigan’s lips part as if he expects to criticize my naivety, but instead of speaking he turns sharply. He doesn't release his grip on my wrist as he leads me into my bathroom. 

“What are you doing?” 

Kirigan ignores my surprise, releasing me to pick up the towel I was so quick to abandon. “If you’re too good to take a healer from someone, you should at least avoid infection.” 

“I’m not an idiot, I was cleaning it.” The sharpness of my tone is ignored, Kirigan simply places one hand on my forearm to keep me in place. “Wha--”

 He brushes his thumb over my pulse gently in an effective attempt to silence me. I part my lips in hopes of protesting, but something odd reflects across his eyes. It must be some trick of the light because his expression seems...hesitant. Maybe even concerned. And then cool fabric is pressed into my burn. I bite my tongue so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t bleed. 

“Saints.” 

His expression shifts to that of almost amusement. “I think I’d like to hear you curse in a,” he exhales softly, fingertips trailing up my forearm, “Slightly different scenario.” 

The shock of such a bold innuendo clears my mind from thoughts of pain. But the most startling thing is that the innuendo isn’t entirely unwanted. In the wake of my surprise, he presses the wet towel into my wound again. I fight against a grimace, but that doesn’t go unnoticed by Kirigan. Instead of mentioning it, his free arm touches my uninjured shoulder. For the first time since he’s come here I’m aware of how improper my attire is. I changed out of my starched kefta and into a silk nightgown in order to leave my shoulder unbothered. Genya had helped me change, bearing all of my grimacing and pained curses. 

I should push him off of me. Kirigan can get away with a lot because of his status, but I by no means have to allow something like this. I should not feel shy, I should not be embarrassed. He’s the one that’s out of line. I look up into his eyes, prepared to yell at him for being so out of line. But when I meet his eyes, I see something so un-monstrous I am left breathless. There’s a gentleness to the way he tilts his head downwards, eyes never leaving mine. Is he asking for permission? Permission to--to what? I stay frozen as his lips brush against the unmarred side of my collarbone. His touch is almost enough to make me forget pain ever existed. He pulls away enough that I can feel his breath against the base of my neck. Thoughts I’d never dare speak are banished as the towel presses against my skin again. My face cringes immediately, but he’s quick to press his lips to the base of my neck, lingering kisses melting into my skin. 

“I thought you said you were fine.” His chiding is half-hearted, whispered between two brief kisses against my bare ski. 

He dabs the towel on the burn again, but before I can think to complain, his lips are against my skin again. This time, his lips part slightly allowing his teeth to graze over my pulse. Kirigan pulls away slightly, expression hardening, “I’m almost sorry about this part.” His words leave him in a whisper as influential as sin. 

“What part?” My voice feels foreign in my throat. 

Kirigan doesn’t reply, but then I feel the sharpest pain yet. The towel is cleaning the worst of the burn, the ruined patch of skin that will never recover without supernatural intervention. The gasp I let out is that of a bird with shattered wings. A cry forms in the base of my throat, but before it can leave me, Kirigan’s teeth bite into the skin above my pulse. The pained sound is reduced by my shock, twisting in an odd combination of some kind of pained sound and something dangerously close to a moan. 

He releases me with one last soft brush of his lips, straightening his back and retracting the towel. “There.” Kirigan drops the towel onto the bathroom counter. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

I can still feel the ghost of his lips, tongue, and teeth against my skin. I understand now. Each kiss had been a way to distract me, to lessen the pain. Something odd swells in my chest as I try to will my eyes to stop watering in pain. 

Kirigan presses his lips together, pressing his hand against my cheek again. His thumb brushes the few stray tears that escape me. “Don’t cry,” his tone is pure velvet, “I won’t tolerate tears in your eyes caused by anyone else.” He tilts his head oddly, hand sliding down my cheek before gripping my jaw, “I can provide reason for your tears if you’d like.” 

Inhaling deeply, I continue to stare at him. Today has been so sudden. He’s flirted with me through strangely sexual insults and threats before, but never has he been so forward about it. 

“I’m fine,” I force my voice to remain clear. He nods once. A soft rap at my door has me turning away from him. “The healer--I shoul--” 

“Come in,” he calls, voice clear and leaving no room for argument. 

My eyes widen. To be caught with him here could be detrimental for my reputation. Kirigan pulls away, something sharp playing at his features, something almost humorous. 

He leaves the bathroom like this is his own room. “Her wound is clean, work quickly.” I walk out of the bathroom in a strange trance. Kirigan’s gaze lands on me as I enter the main part of my room, “I need her at her full strength for what I have planned.” 

There’s a heaviness to his words, a weight that tells me he means more than what his words imply. Goosebumps erupt across my skin as I try to banish the thoughts of his mouth against my skin between inflictions of pain, blending together to create the most intense sense of fight or flight I’ve ever experienced. 

Kirigan begins to approach the door to my room. “I’ll be checking on her later.”

--

People that asked to be tagged in this/expressed interest:

@luminous-99 @voyevoda-thejoy @voidmalfoy @i-padfootblack-things @all-art-is-quite-useless @buckverse @mandowh0re @uhanddreag  

@we-love-our-bandz 

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #the darkling x reader #the darkling x reader smut #sab #sab show #sab netflix #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone show #shadow and bone x you #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan x you #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova imagine #ben barnes #imagines #my works #x reader #grishaverse #grisha #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagine

[sweetestlamb]

Walk Through A Storm

Author's note: Honestly, like I could help myself from doing this. it's short because I need to actually get my life together but enjoy. Oh also I don't wanna think anymore so someone give me title in the comments lol I'll pick the one that fits the best. (Thanks for actually giving suggestions, one really spoke to me!)

Summary: "I'm not ready to stop kissing you yet."

"I thought you were going to reject me." She whispers in between the small space between them, their lips are close enough to meet again in another soul burning kiss and he's tempted to close the gap again. They can talk later so for the second time in his life he wants to be selfish, she brings that out in him; makes him hungry for more than he thinks he deserves. She's been doing that since he first met her.

"I'm not ready to stop kissing you yet." Her eyes widen at his whispered words and without pause he leans closer softly pressing his lips against hers. She tastes sweet like the best candy he could never get as a young boy. Her little hands slide up his back dragging him closer and he goes easily, his walls are saw dust at this point and she's a windstorm. Wrapping his arms fully around her body he pulls her closer, cupping the back of her head as he swipes his tongue at the seam of her lips. She gasps in a way that makes his blood bubble and flow southward. The sea roars besides them providing the soundtrack to their first cognizant kisses. Hopefully the first of many.

The kiss drags and overlaps, her tongue persistent in his mouth and her hands busy stroking and rubbing at his back. It takes all of his willpower to sever their connection but he's starting to feel light-headed (and horny). This all still seems like a dream ever since he saw her running over to him, when she was supposed to be in Seoul. Leaving without telling him. Making him think the worst.

"Why do you look like you want to cry?" She cups his cheeks and he's reminded of that unforgettable night. She looks so concerned that he wants to disappear not used to being on the receiving end of such looks.

"Nothing. I'm fine." He tries to brush her off, viciously wiping at his eyes but she doesn't let him push her away, grabbing his hands tightly in her own. "Tell me what you're thinking. I told you everything in my head."

He almost chuckles at her expectant gaze. She sounds like him demanding payment.

"People usually leave but you're the first...to come back early." He smiles sadly thinking about all the people he'll never see again, and how he considered that she might go back to Seoul and realize that she was much too big for the pond that was Gongjin. He wouldn't have stopped her, she deserved the whole world.

"The first hm. I like that." He stares at her face, grinning at the satisfied grin and the enveloping dimples on both sides of her face.

"A daughter with your dimples would be dangerous, I think I'd understand how Chun-jae feels then." She pauses at his words mouth gaping and it hits him just what he's implied about their future. It's presumptuous and he should correct it but his tongue feels too heavy and her bright eyes suck the air from his lungs.

"Where's Mi-Seon? How did you get back so quickly?"

"Oh." She jumps cutely, suddenly hitting him on the shoulder and he winces ready to scold her for hitting him so close to his injury. But then she starts hitting herself on the head and instinctively he grabs her, stopping the self inflicted abuse.

"Stop that. I like that head." It's cheesy, something he would have cringed at if he heard another utter it but once he sees the smile she rewards him with none of that matters anymore, he'll say anything to make her beam like that.

"You're such a flirt." She fails at sounding bothered. "Oh and I left her in Seoul. It started raining and I realized you were it for me so I ran into the rain and left her on the sidewalk. Crazy right?" She starts snickering at her own words and he stares at her taken aback laughter forced out of his lungs at her infectious giggles.

She comes into his house like she belongs there, going to his fridge without permission and grabbing a bottle of water. He feels parched watching her drink it, never before has he wished to be a plastic bottle. So many firsts with her.

"What are you staring at?" She tilts her head like a bunny and he can't get the image of her with floppy ears out of his head.

"Cute."

"What?" She blushes furiously at his accidental slip and he clears his throat before grabbing his phone, desperately needing a distraction.

"Nothing. I'll call someone to pick up Mi-Seon."

"Who are you calling?" She asks walking over to him, sitting far too closely for his brain to function at maximum capacity. When a deep familiar masculine voice answers she squeals, bouncing in her seat and giving him thumbs up. He feels so proud he could burst.

"Don't say no. She's all alone and abandoned. What if something happens to her? Could you live with yourself?" He replies to the stuttering officers weak refusals and those are the right words to get the meek man moving, it's comical that he would be playing matchmaker for anyone else.

"You're a master manipulator." She accuses and he stares in surprise, "Does it upset you?" But she surprises him by leaning closer, spread deliciously across his compact couch. "No. It's sexy." Her face is glorious under the soft lighting in his living room and he swallows the drool collecting in his mouth, embarrassed when it starts a coughing fit. She thumps his back firmly before thrusting her water at him, "Drink." He listens obediently.

He gulps at the bottle, taking a deep breath before collapsing backwards into the couch.

"Am I making you nervous?" Making. As if it's only a present occurrence, as if she hasn't been making him swallow his words and expectations from the very beginning. He shifts looking at her through narrowed eyes.

She's far too innocently twirling her hair blinking up at him with wide eyes.

"You're doing this on purpose." She smiles serenely at the claim, leaning back onto the couch and by default his arm that's strewn across the top. She presses her body into the side of his body and he tightens his hold on her shoulder. It all feels too natural.

"I'm surprised it's working. You never seemed affected by me. You denied liking me so easily. Biological crisis, my ass."

He jumps at her cursing, she sounds too much like her father. It makes him smirk.

"I thought I had to. You were right, we are so different. I thought it was something fleeting for you, you told me you're someone who gets curious."

"Pfftt. You think I get curious about just anyone? I have high standards. I'm quite a catch you know?" Her signature bravado, but this time he can see through the veil better. Can spot the cracks and tears and it makes him want to protect her even more.

"I know. You're the best thing I've ever caught."

He'll never grow tired of being the reason that face turns so pink and flushed. (Immediately pushing aside an image of her beneath him.)

"Wait here. I have something for you." He wants to argue as she starts to leave his embrace but she's too quick for his grabby hands and he pouts at her unwanted departure. He moves to follow her but she's back before he's even finished putting on his shoes.

"Where did you go? We could have gone together."

"What? Did you miss me?" She teases, dimples flashing up at him.

"Don't be absurd." He denies but his cheeks burn yes.

"Whatever. I went to get this. Here." She thrusts a large bag at him, looking excited and embarrassed all at once. He takes it confused, prying it open and feeling more confusion wash over him.

"These are men's shirts." He says dumbly and she stares unimpressed at him, rolling her eyes before nodding.

"Yes. I got them for you in Seoul. Keep them even if you don't like them. They're a gift." She looks so small and... scared that he reacts without thinking, dragging his shirt over his head and throwing it to the side. The sight that welcomes him as his head pops out of the hole is not a new one, but it's still as effective as the first time. Hye Jin looks desperate, eyes locked on his now naked chest. His skin raises under her intense gaze.

"Miss Dent--Hye Jin ah?" His call doesn't do anything, well that's a lie it doesn't knock her back to reality like he'd expect instead it seems to be the siren call that lures her closer to him. Her hand outreached before landing on the tense muscles in his stomach, with one touch he already feels devastated.

"What are you doing to me?" He aches to feel and touch and kiss and fuc-

But it's too soon for all that. They haven't even defined this yet and despite all the lines they've crossed he wants to do this right.

Taking a step back he escapes her torturous touch and pulls a shirt from the bag, ready to cover himself back up from her too penetrating gaze.

"Wait." Her voice is so raspy and longing he has no choice and he watches mesmerized as she watches him hungrily, eyes darting all over his naked skin dissecting him. He swallows hard when he sees her little hands balled up in fists by her side. Disbelief swirling in his belly. "Okay. You can do it. That's enough....for now."

His cheeks flare at the seductively spoken words and to stop himself from devouring her like a starved man he slides on a smooth button down shirt. It fits him perfectly and gulps as he buttons it up. Nobody besides his grandfather ever bought him clothes.

"It's a perfect fit." Hye Jin echoes his thoughts smoothing a hand across the soft material. He stands ramrod straight at her ministration.

"Thank you. I'll wear it well." His throat is thick and he has to blink to chase away the tears pooling there, dangerously close to falling. She hums before stepping forward into his space again, that kiss effectively tearing down all the walls and lines they had both erected and drawn.

"You're already wearing it so well. But...it looks even better off. I can't wait to see it on my bedroom floor."

A scandalized squeak is all he's able to get out before she's diving at him and devouring his lips so roughly that they tumble onto the floor.

The pain in his shoulder is worth it as she kisses him senseless systematically driving out every doubt and insecurity. At least for tonight.

#hometown cha cha cha #hong du shik #yoon hye jin #sikhye #I was screaming kiss kiss omg #i was actually hyperventilating #i thought things would fall apart #I'm traumatized #episode 9 made me wanna write angst #but then 10 came and said nah b

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @sassy-sara @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane @odi-et-amo85 @watermelonlover-123 @xiaomailab

~^~

Saturday, 10:23

Songs: Joy Oladokun - Blink Twice; Kina - Get You The Moon

Lucas’s mother picks up the phone after just three rings.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mama.”

“Oh, Luc.” Her tone brightens. “How are you, baby? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Uhm.” He taps his fingers on the wall next to him, glancing back down the hallway towards his room. “I just wanted to call to let you know that Jens is back home with me.”

There’s a brief pause, then a sigh of relief. “That’s amazing, darling. He’s with you now? Is he alright?”

“Yeah, he’s here. I found him last night. He wasn’t great. He’s been really quiet since I brought him home. He passed out early and he’s still sleeping.”

“And you’re taking care of him,” she says, softly, knowingly.

Lucas leans against the wall with a hand stuffed in the pocket of his sweatpants and hunches his shoulders to hide his blush, even though there’s no one around to see him. “I’m trying.”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

“I don’t know. I think he’d have a lot less trouble without me.”

“I disagree,” she argues quietly. “I’m sure he would, too.”

Lucas simply hums, tilting his head against the wall and looking down towards his room. He doesn’t know how lucky Jens is, but Lucas himself feels pretty honored. More than anything he’s relieved.

It had taken them a while, last night. He’d sat on the ground with Jens for longer than expected—long enough for Sander to get anxious and come inside to search for them. He’d disappeared again once he saw that they were safe, heading out to call Robbe and give them their space. Within a couple of minutes then Lucas had managed to coax Jens into the car, where they’d sat tucked together in the backseat with Sander occasionally shooting them glances in the mirror. He’d dropped them off at Lucas’s apartment and walked them right up to the door before pulling Jens into a tight hug.

Jens had sunk into it without giving any real reaction. Still, he’d seemed more settled as Lucas led him inside, after Sander had kissed Lucas on the head and left to stay at Robbe’s instead. Lucas had managed to coax Jens into eating something and drinking two glasses of water before taking the exhausted boy to bed and gathering him in a tight hold. Jens had started shivering before they’d even left the skatepark and only stopped after falling asleep with Lucas’s arms around him and the covers pulled up to his cheek. Lucas tried very hard not to think about Jens spending a full night and that entire day alone in the desolate building, cold and hungry and dehydrated. He tried not to think about Jens prioritising alcohol over any basic needs. It had been a relief that Jens had fallen asleep quickly, though Lucas had spent hours awake afterwards listening to his breath and convincing himself the boy was real.

“Lucas?” his mother questions.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m here.”

“That’s okay. Have you told your father?”

“I messaged him last night and I called him just now before you. He’s fine with it.” Lucas had known he would be, but it was still nice to hear the man confirm it, asking question after question about them both in concern before promising to help them work things out when he returns home tomorrow.

He can hear the smile in his mother’s voice. “I’m so glad to think things have improved between you two. He’s always adored you so much, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lucas smiles. “And when I was a kid I wanted to be exactly like him when I grew up. I know.” He has those vague memories, but it’s mostly what his mother has told him. He has no true recollection of feeling like that. It changed drastically, at least, after the man left. Lucas hadn’t wanted to be like him at all, then.

His opinion may be changing slightly.

“Okay, point taken,” his mother laughs. “I’ll let you get back to your boy.”

Lucas’s heart warms at the title, but he isn’t done quite yet. “How are you, though?”

“I’m good. I’ve been going out with friends a little more, and your aunt stays over a few nights a week. I’ve taken up Zumba.”

Lucas blinks. “Zumba?”

“Yes. The dance classes? Surely you’ve heard of them.”

“I’ve heard of them, yeah, but...why?”

“Well, it keeps me active, and one of the girls from work got me into it. We go together once a week.”

“Oh.” Lucas smiles. “Cool. I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

“I am, and better now. You know, I’m so proud of you, Luc.”

“Mama,” Lucas protests, his throat tightening.

She laughs again, softly. “Alright, alright. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too. I’ll come see you again soon, okay?”

“I should hope so. I can’t wait to meet Jens.”

Lucas huffs, blushing slightly even as his smile widens. “I think you’ll like him.”

“I think so, too. I just hope he likes me.”

“He’ll love you,” Lucas promises. “I’ll talk to you again later, okay?”

“Of course. Bye, sweetheart.”

Lucas returns the sentiment and waits for her to hang up before heading back to his room.

He moves down the hallway quietly, slipping through the open door and pushing it slightly closed behind him, careful not to let it shut fully and wake the sleeping boy in his bed. Lucas takes a moment to gaze at him. He’s facing the doorway, on the nearest side of the bed, face slack with sleep and dark hair ruffled. He seems peaceful, like this, as if he doesn’t have a worry in the world. Lucas wants to freeze this exact moment and keep it forever. Where Jens is safe, and at peace, with the knowledge that he is loved.

Lucas rounds the bed and slips under the covers on his side, settling slowly so as not to jostle the mattress too much. Jens shifts just slightly, shoulders hunching, when the duvet is briefly pulled away from his neck. He settles once Lucas presses up against his back and lays an arm around him, carefully tucking them both back under the heat. Lucas presses his nose to Jens’s nape and closes his eyes and just breathes him in.

He doesn’t sleep. He is already surprised he managed as many hours as he has, without tossing and turning anywhere in the middle, Jens’s weight and warmth enough to keep him centered. Lucas could stay in this position forever, wrapped around Jens, swallowed up in his aura and his scent and his affection, how he presses back against Lucas without hesitation and manages to find a grip on his hand even in sleep.

He isn’t sure how long they lie there, huddled close, separate to the rest of the world even as it brightens into late-morning light outside the window, quickly gaining on noon. Lucas just stays close and holds on and deadens himself to it, focusing solely on the boy in his arms, occasionally nuzzling his skin or pressing featherlight kisses to his nape.

It’s one of these that eventually makes Jens stir. He shifts under Lucas’s arm, letting out a sleepy, disgruntled hum into his pillow. It’s the difference in his breathing that makes Lucas sure he has woken, and then his slow movements follow. Instead of turning around to face him, Jens presses back against Lucas and covers the hand on his stomach with his own, slowly threading their fingers together.

Lucas stays still for a moment, giving him time. He squeezes Jens’s hand and presses a kiss to the nape of his neck, and Jens hugs Lucas’s arm closer around himself. He draws their hands to his mouth and brushes his lips over Lucas’s knuckles.

“Morning,” Lucas murmurs.

Jens’s grip tightens on his hand, and he lets out a slow breath. “Morning.”

Lucas leans over to press a kiss to the corner of his jaw, then his cheek, sliding his free arm under Jens’s neck in an attempt to get closer. Jens doesn’t turn towards him, yet, but he sinks back against him, so Lucas tucks his chin over the boy’s shoulder and traces circles on the back of his hand and waits.

“What time is it?” Jens asks, a while later.

Lucas shrugs. “A little after eleven, I think.”

Jens sniffs quietly, nodding, snuggling further into his pillow. Lucas keeps holding him for a few silent moments, and then Jens shifts. He lets go of Lucas’s hand. He rolls onto his back first and stares up at the ceiling.

Lucas tucks his hands under his pillow to avoid reaching out, in case the touch is unwanted.

“How do you feel? I mean, do you feel sick or anything?” Lucas questions.

Jens shakes his head, then plucks at the t-shirt he’s wearing, a soft gray one of Lucas’s that fits him just a little too loosely where it clings slightly to Jens. “I feel like I need a shower.”

“Okay,” Lucas says easily.

“I’m already intruding.”

Lucas abandons his plan and reaches out, sliding his hand over the boy’s chest. “You’re not, idiot. Have you ever worried about that when you stayed over before?”

Jens looks over at him, still picking at the fabric over his chest. His eyes are sad. “It wasn’t like this, then. I was here because you wanted me to be, and because I wanted to be.”

It’s something Lucas hasn’t thought of, but now the idea takes root and steals all his oxygen. “Do you not want to be here now?”

“It’s the only place I’ve wanted to be all week,” Jens admits, lips twitching as he looks at Lucas.

Lucas breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay. So what’s different then? You want to be here and I want you to be here. Nothing has changed.”

Jens rolls onto his side, tucking one arm underneath him and using the other to breach the gap, reaching out and threading his fingers with Lucas’s under the covers. Lucas feels the cool metal of his ring brush against his skin, reminding him that Jens still wears it. Lucas squeezes his hand and lets himself relax. His eyes skim away from Jens’s and down across his nose, over his cracked lips, the pillow creases in his cheek, the workings of his throat. Jens is here with him, tangible, entirely real and unbelievable at once. Lucas is constantly holding himself back from smothering him in affection. The few inches of space between them feels too big, even with Jens’s hand in his.

Lucas shifts just a tiny bit closer as Jens clears his throat before speaking up again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I never meant for that to happen. Obviously. But I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

Lucas shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have left you. I promised myself after…” he trails off, the words getting clogged in his throat.

Jens squeezes his hand tightly, an understanding twist to his lips, even though he doesn’t know. There are still things he has no idea of. That Lucas hasn’t been able to tell him.

He supposes there’s no time like the present.

“I know that you probably don’t feel like talking,” Lucas says. “Not right now.”

Jens drops his gaze and bites his lip, shaking his head. Lucas slips his other hand out from under his pillow to cup Jens’s cheek, stroking over the bone, urging Jens to look at him again. “I just...I don’t actually know how I’m feeling.”

Lucas nods. “Okay. I’m going to try to be honest with you. In an attempt to make it easier, I guess.” When Jens stiffens, he quickly backtracks. “It’s not about you. It’s just about me. I think that maybe...maybe knowing can do something to help you now? And if not, then at least you know me. Really.”

It makes Jens’s brow furrow, but he leans a little closer as he nods, runs his thumb over the back of Lucas’s hand, and Lucas reminds himself that he loves him. That they love each other.

“Remember what I told you last week about my mom?” Another nod. “Uh, yeah. So there’s more I didn’t tell you, that came after. I mentioned that my dad came back, but that wasn’t really when he came back. That was just because he got the call from the hospital. He stayed for a while until she got home, kind of in and out, just so no one could say I was there alone.” Lucas swallows. “So I had a lot of freedom, I guess. And I was feeling shitty, just all the time. I didn’t even know if my mom was going to be okay and I knew even then she would never truly be okay. They couldn’t just cure her and make her my mom again.”

They are memories, and feelings, that Lucas has had boxed up in a far, dark corner of his mind for a long time. He would like to say he hasn’t thought about them, but the time has always plagued him, always threatened to pull him back under. He just hasn’t spoken any of these thoughts aloud to anyone in well over a year.

It’s surprisingly easy, to divulge these secrets to Jens, to place the darker parts of himself under the light for his judgement.

“I felt guilty, and I still do,” he says quietly. “But instead of that making me want to stick around and help, it made me run further away. I think it was the waiting—the fact that there actually wasn’t anything I could do, that I’d never really be able to help. Not even because I didn’t know how but because nothing helps. But I thought that there were things that could help me. I couldn’t sleep anymore. I started to have panic attacks. Everything was too much, everywhere. I thought if I smoked more, and drank more, and did anything I could to just make my brain stop or slow down or feel lighter for a few minutes...I thought that would help.”

“Luc,” Jens interrupts softly, but Lucas shakes his head. He’s rambling, he knows. It’s a lot to put on Jens at once. He knows. But he’s worried if he stops he’ll lose steam and abandon his task entirely. He needs Jens to understand.

“I was going out on my own, without Kes or Jayden or anyone, not even telling them I was going. I even tried a few gay bars,” Lucas huffs. “Then one night I barely got home and blacked out in the hallway. It was my aunt that found me when she came to check on Mom.”

“Jesus,” Jens mumbles, eyes sadder now than before.

Lucas shakes his head before any real worry can set in. “It wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t need to go to the hospital, or anything, and it wasn’t like I was addicted. It was just finally the thing that freaked Dad out. He couldn’t blame Mom, because he’d already blamed me for not taking care of her, so he finally took on some of the responsibility. He moved back to take care of me. And he made me go to therapy.”

This seems to be the biggest surprise. There is no huge outward reaction other than silence, which is loud enough to speak for itself. Jens looks at him with the same furrowed brow and sad eyes and pinched lips, and Lucas smooths his thumb over all the creases and waits.

“And you actually went?” Jens asks eventually. Lucas nods. “For how long?”

“Months,” Lucas admits. “I wasn’t open to it, at first. The blacking out thing hadn’t scared me. It had just finally felt like an escape. So I think I really needed those sessions.”

He raises his brows, and Jens’s lips twitch, but he shakes his head. “And they helped, eventually?”

“Yeah.” Lucas nods, smiling gently as he rubs his thumb over the back of Jens’s hand. “Turns out it’s a lot, having an absent father and a bipolar mother and being deeply, deeply closeted at the same time. On top of all the usual teenage angst,” he jokes.

It earns him a smile. A small one, albeit, but it’s there. Jens licks his lips before asking, “How did you stop feeling like that? Like you need to just...turn off? Or escape?”

“I haven’t. I still have panic attacks, even. I think everyone has some of that need in them, anyway. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Everyone is messy, Jens. Everyone messes up and wants to run. I still feel like that sometimes, but now I just have ways of satisfying it. I have escapes.”

“Like what?” Jens questions, genuinely curious.

“There are a lot of things, actually. As stupid as it is, I got really into walking. Trying to find new places, photographing pretty things. Giving my thoughts space to breathe instead of trying to run from them. Music helps, a little. My friends, they started looking out for me more after they figured out the therapy, and being with them helps. Art is a big thing.” Lucas smiles. “You.”

Jens raises his brows. “Me?”

Lucas hums.

“Is that...healthy?”

Lucas huffs. “I don’t think it’s unhealthy. It just means, I don’t know. I feel quieter with you. Like everything’s not so loud and heavy and just, so much.”

He can almost see the lightbulb go off over Jens’s head. “I make you chill.”

“Yeah,” Lucas laughs quietly. “I guess you do.”

Jens swallows, then detangles his hand from Lucas’s to reach up and card it through his hair. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “For trusting me with all of this. It helps.”

Lucas leans into his touch and smirks without any real edge. “Realising that I’m still messier than you, you mean?”

Jens rolls his eyes, heaving a giant sigh. “Then you have to go and ruin it.”

Lucas snorts, and Jens is finally smiling. The air around them has lightened, the weight of lingering secrets lifted as a new passage of understanding opens between them.

There’s still an exhaustion ingrained in them both and an elephant in the room stealing the air. Jens’s unknowns are different, but still there. All of his demons have been forced into the light, but the awareness doesn’t help either boy know how to defeat them. Lucas doesn’t know what happened after he left. He doesn’t know what Jens has been struggling with this week, or what combination of fears are still plaguing his mind.

The only thing they’re aware of that they can control is that they are together. The events of a week ago have created fissures in them both, but nothing has broken them. If anything, Lucas is more sure now than ever.

It’s this heady sensation, this deep knowing, that finally has him leaning in and closing the gap. Jens’s lips are dry, even more so than usual, but they mold and shift with Lucas’s just the same. He’s able to share his breath, expend some of his love into Jens as he curls a hand in his raven locks. It’s unnatural, how much Lucas has missed him. It’s worth it, for the feeling of having him back.

Jens pulls away too soon with a small hum of protest. The remaining tiredness seems to have sunk in as he shifts back with his eyes still closed, pressing his cheek to his pillow. “I still have morning breath,” he mumbles.

Lucas scoffs and leans in to give him another peck, letting his hand slide from Jens’s hair to settle on his cheek. He brushes their noses together and watches the boy’s eyelashes flutter and finally manages a smile of his own. “I don’t care. I missed you.”

Jens smiles, but it’s tight. He opens his eyes slowly, then keeps them focused somewhere around Lucas’s chin. “What am I supposed to do, Luc?”

“What do you want?”

“I want to be able to go home. But I can’t. Even for my phone, my clothes...I can’t do it. I’d never be able to stay.”

Lucas exhales through his nose and draws Jens to his chest. Jens goes easily, tucking himself against Lucas, arms instantly winding around his waist. Lucas holds him and pets through his hair and thinks, but there doesn’t seem to be a viable solution.

“How did your mom react?” Lucas questions quietly. “Lotte said she was mad at your dad.”

Jens tilts his head back to look up at him with wide eyes. “How did you speak to Lotte?”

“We, uhm, went to your house. On Sunday. None of us had heard from you and we were all freaking out and so Moyo offered to go and say he’d planned to meet you. I don’t think your dad gave him a very polite greeting, though. He saw through him instantly.”

“But you weren’t there?” Jens presses.

Lucas shakes his head. “I waited down the street with Sander and Robbe. Lotte was out, I don’t know how or why, and she told us she thought you had gone to Lies. I just made sure she was alright and Robbe and I gave her our numbers.”

Jens leans back into him and presses a kiss to his chest. “Of course you did.”

“I always have to do something. It’s a problem of mine.”

Jens curls his arms tighter around Lucas and squeezes. “I don’t have a problem with it. Just because he…” Jens trails off, then starts again. “I don’t have a problem with you. With us.”

For a moment, Lucas simply lets the words settle. He closes his eyes and drops a kiss on Jens’s hair, holding onto him tightly, overwhelmed with love. “Good,” he murmurs. “It just sucks.”

Jens hums.

“You can stay here,” Lucas continues at the same level. “I was talking to Dad this morning and he agrees. For as long as you need.”

“But not forever.” Jens pulls away again, settling an inch away from Lucas on the pillows as he swallows. “This is nice, and I’m so grateful, Luc, but it isn’t a permanent solution.”

Lucas shrugs. “Life isn’t permanent.”

Jens doesn’t react to that, but scrubs his hand over his eyes and sighs heavily. The weight Lucas had let off almost seems to have settled on his shoulders, but Lucas knows it’s all Jens’s own. It doesn’t make it any easier for either of them to bear.

“Hey,” Lucas says softly, catching Jens’s hand again and drawing it down. “We’ll figure something out. You’re here and safe right now and that’s what matters. We just have to take things minute by minute.”

This causes a pause, and then another smile makes its way to the surface. “Did you hear that from Moyo or Robbe?”

Lucas smiles back, sliding an arm around his shoulders and tilting their heads together. “From Sander last night, actually. I think it’s pretty sound advice.”

“Don’t tell Moyo that, please,” Jens says, and Lucas laughs. “Maybe, though.”

Lucas’s smile widens, and he speaks his next words in a whisper. “So for example, in this minute. Instead of thinking about where you were or where you’re going to go, just be here. Somewhere you know you’re safe, with someone who loves you.”

It has the immediate effect of making Jens’s eyes glisten. Despite his earlier protests, he presses forward and grants Lucas another kiss. “I didn’t get to say it out loud before,” Jens breathes against his lips. “But I love you. I’m sure.”

Lucas kisses him again, a little harder. Surer. “I know. I hated thinking that you didn’t.”

He worries that Jens will mistake his phrasing, but he catches it easily. “I knew. It was hard to believe, maybe, but harder to deny. I’ve always been trying to look for it, I think, and you make it very easy to find.”

“Good,” Lucas huffs, smiling. “It’s all yours.”

Jens tucks his head down, taking his own smile away and pressing it to Lucas’s shoulder, kissing him over his shirt. Lucas wraps him up again, pressing a kiss to his temple. They breathe quietly together. It’s getting easier with each minute.

“Your dad won’t be back until tomorrow?” Jens questions, recollecting their brief conversation from the night before.

Lucas shakes his head. “Nope. So today, no stress. We could invite Robbe over, if you want.”

Jens considers it for a moment. “Maybe I’ll just call him, today. I kind of want to just be with you.”

It shouldn’t make Lucas quite as happy as it does, but he can’t say he minds the idea of having Jens to himself. He doesn’t want to let him out of his sight anytime soon, and he doesn’t want to share the time they’ve already missed out on. He’d be comfortable enough spending the day with Jens right here, but he thinks a little excitement is something they both need.

“You’ve got a deal, as long as you help me put up the Christmas tree.”

Jens leans back and blinks at him.

Lucas pulls his best pleading expression, wide-eyed and pouty-lipped, and Jens is rolling his eyes and kissing it away in seconds. “Not what I expected, but okay,” he agrees. “Shower first, though.” His voice lowers to ask, “Do you want to join me?”

Now it’s Lucas’s turn to blink at him.

“Not like that,” Jens says hastily. “I mean, not to do anything but just…just,” he shrugs. Then, “Only if you want to. I just kinda don’t wanna leave the bed otherwise.”

Lucas grins, understanding sinking in. He smushes Jens’s cheeks and kisses the puckered lips, murmuring an ‘I love you’ against them.

Jens brightens enough to return his smile, but instead of getting up, he returns to his position in Lucas’s arms, head tucked under his chin. “For a later minute, then.”

Lucas’s smile softens. “For another minute.”

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #sink or swim #vds season fic #sos clip

[arcgeminga]

♕┊ Aspros had just made it back home after a long day of patrol. It was so bothersome, working with Sisyphus... but, nonetheless, the reports were sent in and the Sacred Ground had no unwanted guests.

As the Gemini Saint walked into his Temple, he shrugged his shoulders with a groan--immediately sending the Gold Cloth flying from his body and onto it’s pedestal, leaving him with his formal wear. He had just unbuttoned his waistcoat when he walked into his room. 

♕┊ “...” 

It took a lot out of the man to not burst out laughing at the sight that he looked up to on the other bed across from his.

Defteros was sleeping on his back with his tunic ridden up again, exposing his belly to the frigid air since he had long abandoned the belt earlier that day. His dumb little brother had fallen asleep with the mask on-- but not the first time that has happened. One hand had a stuffed toy clutched to his chest while his other hand sagged off the side of the bed. The bed covers, as Aspros had seen countless times already, had piled onto the floor due to his younger brother’s apparent sleep-hatred for them. Heck, the younger twin still had his boots on, too...

Defteros really had no sense of ‘getting comfortable’ before passing out.

Aspros shook his head as he suppressed a silent laugh. After he tossed aside his coat, he walked to his sleeping brother and started his near-nightly task.

The first thing he did was take off that damn mask. As he removed it from Defteros’ face, he saw the slight indent marks that the edges of the metal left. Aspros frowned as he carefully ran his thumb over the lines across Defteros’ cheeks and nose. After he’s Pope, he’ll have Sage wear this damn mask for a full year, see how he likes that…  but Aspros sighed as he placed the dark metal on the nightstand by Defteros’ bed, setting aside his anger as well. Now was not the time for that.

The next thing he did was bring Defteros’ arm back onto the bed. He didn’t want his little brother to lose feeling in his arm in the morning, so it was best to address that before it happened. Aspros even gave his brother’s muscled limb a slight massage as he corrected its position. Then, he pulled Defteros’ shirt down and pulled the discarded bedcovers back over him. It would be too bothersome if Defteros caught a cold. It didn’t help that it was rather chilly tonight… Aspros then undid and began to remove Defteros’ boots. He didn’t know how Defteros could fall asleep with such uncomfortable footwear on. 

As he was pulling off the second boot, Defteros shifted and groaned sleepily. The still-fairly-asleep younger twin fluttered his eyes open and moaned, “Kerb… Kerb…?”

“Kerberus is fine,” Aspros reassured his brother softly, ignoring the fact that his brother was calling out for a dog that no longer existed. He didn’t have the heart to correct his sleeping brother, so he just played along. Trying to find a way to put his brother back to sleep, Aspros continued, “He’s at the foot of your bed, naturally. Like a good dog.”

This must have satisfied his brother, since Defteros shifted to lay on his back, then feel back to a soundless sleep. Aspros was quick to dismiss the interaction, and, after he felt that his brother was properly in bed, he continued to get comfortable for the night. He pulled a set of fresh nightwear as he decided to go take a long bath before turning in for the day. 

As he exited the room, Aspros spared a quick glance to his sleeping brother. After confirming that he’d be okay if left alone for a few hours, Aspros quickly departed to the washroom. 

...

...

Midway, he paused with a pinched expression. 

...wait, was Defteros cuddling a stuffed toy that looked like a certain Gold Saint brat??????

#Drabble #(So~! My sister fell asleep again with the light on and everything. So I had to go make her comfortable) #(As she was sleeping she started calling out for her dog and i'm like 'damn this is too cute') #(So have some twinnie moment because ofc I can't help but see my sister in Defteros so much. Q-Q) #(LUCKILY MY SISTER'S DOG IS ALiVE SO LOL Kerb isn't tho.) #(AND I JUST REALIZED IF YOU WANT TO NICKNAME KERBERUS IT'S BE KERBBIE/KERBY!)

[writingsoftheghost]

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Word count: 1209

Summary: Remus after Janus leaves, angst. Song fic, wolf in sheep’s clothing by set it off.

Ha ha ha, this is about you!

Remus scribbled angrily across the portrait he'd been working on for over a month. Sitting on his bed, surrounded by art supplies that all seemed so pointless now, this was his latest work and it was pointless now! It was almost finished, but now it was taking a new direction. Remus growled in his throat as he angrily slashed out the eyes with his charcoal pencil.

Decei—no, Janus, Remus corrected himself bitterly. The name spoken to someone besides him first makes him angry too. Everything about what happened does. That, that snake didn't trust him with it. Maybe that's for the best, especially if he was going to...to just leave anyway.

Like Virgil. Except Virgil had told Remus his name. Virgil had been Remus's best friend. Janus's too. They were both so important to him, and he...he thought he was important to them too. Clearly they had lied to him. Everything had been a lie and he hadn't seen it! He let out an anguished scream as he reached over and flung the nearest breakable thing he could find. His bedside lamp shattered against the far wall.

Beware, beware, be skeptical

Of their smiles, their smiles of plated gold

Remus remembered all the times Virgil swore he wasn't going to leave. Then he remembered the weeks after he had, Janus had sworn to him over and over that he wouldn't abandon him. He'd given Remus that smile, not the smirk, the real smile, well, what Remus thought was real...

Deceit so natural

Remus had fallen for all of it! He'd even trusted  that liar not to leave him! Believed they were fami—friends! And look what he was doing! Remus felt hot tears at the back of his eyes, he let them fall. He jumped up off the bed, blinded by the moisture in his eyes and threw his artwork of the snake at the wall. He wanted to give it to Janus as a gift, now it was a cruel reminder that he was alone now. He screamed and punched a hole into his bedroom wall. Memories of Janus filling his head as he did.

But a wolf in sheep’s clothing, is more than a warning...

He punched the wall over and over, the thing crumbling easily beneath his fists, blood trailed down his knuckles and he just kept punching the wall. He remembered all the times Janus had told him he wasn't bad. "Good and bad is all made up nonsense," he'd told the crying creativity when they were younger after Roman had called him wicked. Maybe he really was no good. Maybe that's why everyone was leaving him.

Bla-bla-black sheep, have you any soul?

No sir, by the way, what the hell are morals

Jack, be nimble, Jack, be quick

Jill's a little whore and her alibis are dirty tricks

He thought about how Janus lived with the light sides now. How he spent time with his brother, the good creativity. How he hadn't spoken to Remus since he left. It'd only been a week, but it wasn't like Remus lived on the other end of the world.

So could you

Tell me how you're sleeping easy

How you're only thinking of yourself

Show me how you justify

Telling all your lies like second nature

Listen, mark my words, one day

You will pay, you will pay

Karma's gonna come collect your debt

Aware, aware, you stalk your prey

With criminal mentality

You sink your teeth into the people you depend on

He was probably baking cookies with Patton, or discussing philosophy with Logan, hanging out with Virgil like Remus had wanted to do since the anxious side had left. Discussing plays with his brother. With the good guys. He probably wasn't even thinking about him. He wasn't going to come see Remus. That was just another one of the endless lies.

     Remus bit his cheek hard enough to make it bleed as he punched the wall one final time, sliding to the floor and spitting out the blood. Maybe, the others will see he's not a nice guy, that they had him right all along, then he'll come back, he'll have to, where else will he go? But maybe, maybe Remus won't take him back, he thinks cruelly, then, he can see what it's like to be left alone. What it's like to be unwanted...

Infecting everyone, you're quite the problem

Feefifofum, you better run and hide

I smell the blood of a petty little coward

Jack, be lethal, Jack, be slick

Jill will leave you lonely dying in a filthy ditch

So could you

     Now he was probably listening to all of them as they talk about how bad Remus is. What has to be done with him. Maybe Janus will be the one to get rid of him, send him somewhere he can't come back from. He doesn't think any of the others have the stomach for it. Except maybe Roman.

     Worse yet, they could also try to convert him. Try to make him "good" like they think Janus is. Like they think they all are. Make him into their cute little creativity. With a little behavioral problem that can be controlled with just enough force. Years ago Remus would’ve been happy with their attention, but now the thought of them trying to change him, and their disappointment when they realize it can’t be done, make him feel sick, and not in a good way.

Maybe you'll change

Abandon all your wicked ways

Make amends and start anew again

Maybe you'll see

All the wrongs you did to me

And start all over, start all over again

     Then again, maybe Janus really was just busy, Remus thought hopefully. Maybe he'd come see Remus, after all, they were all the other had for years. Surely...surely that was worth something?

Who am I kidding?

Remus quickly crushes the hope.

Now, let's not get overzealous here

You've always been a huge piece of shit

Remus thinks about running over there and yelling at the snake. Or hitting him. His hand itches to just grab his mace and turn the tears into a powerful swing. That would be better than this.

If I could kill you I would

But it's frowned upon in all fifty states

He doesn’t want to keep dwelling on this, he’s tired of crying. Tired of being pathetic. He doesn’t need Deceit anyway. He’s fine. Fuck the snake, he’s better off without the bastard.

Having said that, burn in hell!

Remus refuses to spend another minute thinking about this. The traitor doesn’t deserve his grief. He doesn’t deserve anything. Well, Remus thinks wickedly, he deserves what’s coming to him. He slaps the crumpled portrait onto his wall, a pin through the heart holding it up. He grabs his mace and slips out the door.

So tell me how you're sleeping easy

How you're only thinking of yourself

Show me how you justify

Telling all your lies like second nature

Listen, mark my words, one day

You will pay, you will pay

Karma's gonna come collect your debt

Karma's gonna come collect your debt

Karma's gonna come collect your debt...

#swearing #remus #ts remus #remus sanders #unsympathetic deceit #angst #remus angst #abandonment #anger #blood #lashing out #wolf in sheep’s clothing #set it off #sio #sanders sides #thomas sanders #fanfic #sanders sides fic #dukeceit #ts janus #janus sanders

[darklingduke]

Fading

A/N: reposted from an old account

Fic Taglist: @007ardra

Virgil was nowhere to be found. He had disappeared for a day or so at a time before, but never for this long. After the first day, Patton started to worry. The second, Roman. Logan tried to reason with them, saying that he was most likely off somewhere sulking or in a depressive slump. But as time inched onward and they still hadn’t heard from him and Thomas’s wellbeing had begun to be seriously jeopardized, even Logan had to admit that it was a bit strange.

The three of them did everything they could to protect Thomas, keeping a watchful eye on him to be sure he didn’t do anything too reckless.

Remus overheard Patton and Roman’s hushed conversation at the end of day five.

“What if he’s mad at us, Roman?”

“I’m sure he’s not mad, Patton. We’ve been doing everything we can to make sure we’re not upsetting him.”

“But he’s never been gone this long before.”

Remus’s face fell, his shoulders slumping as confusion flickered across his face. Virgil was missing? He had to get back to Deceit and tell him. As hurt as the two of them had been when Virgil left, and as angry with him as they were… they still loved him. They didn’t want him to hurt, and they didn’t want him to go missing.

“What do you mean, Virgil’s missing? Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand them?”

“I’m sure, Dee. I’m really worried about him.”

“What were you even doing down there to begin with, Remus? I’ve told you to keep bothering them.”

“I know, I know. You can yell at me when Virgil is safe.”

“Why do you care about him at all? He stayed with us. Remember?”

“He’s still our friend, Dee. You can’t say that you don’t care about him, too. I’ve seen you trying to snort his old hoodie like a line of cocaine.”

Deceit’s jaw worked for a moment as he chewed the inside of his lip. Eventually, rather than answering, he cleared his throat. “Did they say anything else about him?”

“Just that he’s been gone for a while, and they’re worried about him. Do you think maybe he’s stuck? Like--”

“Say his name and I won’t make you regret it,” he warned, tensing slightly.

“Seriously, though, Dee. What if he’s stuck and he fades away forever?”

“What do you expect me to do about it, Remus?”

“Anything!”

“Well I suppose the others would be incredibly unwilling to assist us,” he mused under his breath, chewing on his lip. 

He would be lying if he said he was worried - not that that sort of thing was so unusual for him: the lying. He had known Virgil for years, long before he abandoned them to become a “Light Side”, and he had never known him to go missing for long.

Deceit stood outside the common space of the mind palace, lingering in the doorway. He knew he was unwanted. He could feel it in the dread that seeped out of Patton like poison every time he entered the room. This was important, though. 

Remus had no problem with entering the room. He barged past Deceit, bumping his shoulder with his, and stopped directly in front of the television, blocking it. 

“May I assist you with something, Remus?” Logan asked, quirking an eyebrow upwards. 

“Virgil’s gone.”

“We know, but we’re giving him his space.” Patton shifted on the couch, glancing towards the doorway. When he saw Deceit, he paused, tensing slightly, but he gave a small smile nonetheless. 

Spurred on by that small smile, that small beacon of hope, Deceit entered the room. “Virgil’s been gone this long before. He couldn’t possibly be in danger.”

“Danger?” Roman sat up straighter, tensing at the words. “Danger from what?”

“He’s just in his room or something,” Patton said. 

“And I’m sure if you go check his room, he’s just going to be in there, because we definitely haven’t checked there already.”

“Where would he be, then, if not in his bedroom?” Logan tilted his head to the side slightly, a small movement. 

“He’s stuck,” Remus blurted. “There’s a space where we can go apart from our rooms. It’s the dark side of your common space here.”

“And between here and our space, there’s nothing,” Deceit was hesitant now. Patton could feel the panic coming off of him, and he got up from the couch. 

“What is there?”

“The subconscious. It’s where all the nasty things get stuck.” Remus’s voice cracked. 

“They always get stuck, Remus,” Deceit mumbled. “I don’t think Virgil is there. And if he’s there too long, he’ll continue to exist.”

“I really wish you didn’t speak only in lies,” Roman groaned, rubbing his head. “It’s so confusing.” 

“You understand what I’m trying not to say, Roman,” he hissed. “We don’t need your help.”

Virgil couldn’t believe his luck. That was what he got for trying to go back to the Dark Side of the common space. He wasn’t a Dark Side anymore. He hadn’t even had access to his old bedroom anymore. He’d had to redecorate the bedroom in the Light Side after the time when he’d hidden away from everyone and they had finally accepted him. 

He didn’t know why he had tried to get back to the Dark Side. Nostalgia, he supposed. He missed it. He missed the comfortable familiarity of it. But he didn’t belong. He’d gotten stuck halfway through, and when he tried to go back - back to the Light Side - the veil hadn’t recognized him. He was stuck. Well and truly stuck. He didn’t belong. He wasn’t a Dark Side anymore, but he wasn’t truly a Light Side. 

The veil only allowed one through when they were one or the other. Dark or Light. It was a miracle, really, that Deceit was allowed through, considering that whereas he was a Dark Side, he had Light intentions. 

Virgil paced in the subconscious. All around him was emptiness, somehow both dark and light, and yet it was neither. It was nothing. He paced until he was weak. Whether he was weak from the pacing, or just weak in general, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that his knees gave out, sending him sinking to the floor. 

If he could call it a floor.

It was just more nothingness.

He just felt so tired. 

So…

Small.

He felt his eyes slip shut, his body fading away. 

Two hands grabbed at his shoulders, pulling him to his feet. Two more at his hands. He opened his eyes, whimpering against the contact. Four people stood at his sides, and one more a little ways in front of him. He was hallucinating.

Again.

Great.

He yanked his arms away from them, his upper lip curling in a sneer. “Leave me alone,” he mumbled.

“Virgil, come on. Logan can’t hold the veil open forever,” Roman insisted, grabbing his arm again. 

“He better not,” Deceit snipped. “If that veil closes, we’ll be able to get out.”

Virgil’s brows pulled together at the obvious lie. His hallucinations never did that. Never lied. He turned to look at Deceit, and then at Remus. They never showed up in his hallucinations. They were real. 

This was real. 

They managed to get him out of the veil and they collapsed on the floor of the Light Side’s common space. Virgil gasped for air as he stopped fading away, his body solidifying once more. 

Tears welled in his eyes as he looked behind him, to the veil that was rapidly closing as Logan stepped out of it. 

He could never go back.

#sanders sides #ts sides #virgil sanders #angst #deceit sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #snake writes #darkling writes

[ibijau]

Worst engagement AU  // On AO3

I think the Nie bros’ father probably died earlier than what I’m doing here, but it’s my fic and this is more convenient for me

nhs is almost 15, lxc is 17, nmj is 20

Nie Mingjue looks as if he hasn't slept in weeks, and startles when Lan Xichen puts a hand on his shoulder.

“You must be tired of hearing it,” he says, “but I'm sorry for your loss.”

It's just the two of them and the coffin in this room, away from the main halls. Because of their sects' alliance, the Lans arrived early for the funeral to help. There's a lot to take care of. Qingheng-Jun even left his seclusion for the occasion, and Lan Qiren came as well. They have offered to handle Qinghe Nie's daily business for a bit, so that Nie Mingjue can focus on the funeral.

While they're meeting the elders of Qinghe Nie, Lan Xichen was sent to retrieve Nie Mingjue. They were told he had not left his father's side since he died, to compensate for the fact that he could not be there during his long agony. Someone had to make sure the sect kept functionning.

“At this point it's almost a relief,” Nie Mingjue whispers, his voice hollow. “There was no way for him to survive this and he just... wasn't dying. For weeks. It's... Am I unfilial for being glad he's finally gone?”

Lan Xichen is never one for physical contact, it's not something he was taught to do.

He still hugs Nie Mingjue, because that's all he can do. It is unfilial to wish for one's father's death, but after such a prolonged agony, and in such circumstances... Lan Xichen would fight anyone who would dare to blame Nie Mingjue for wanting this over.

Nie Mingjue returns the hug, a little too tight. Lan Xichen lets him.

“It's going to be fine,” he mumbles, and that's a lie, and he knows it, but he can't bear to tell the truth. Nie Mingjue too must know that it's not true, that things have just changed in a way none of them are prepared to handle, but he doesn't call him out on it.

They stay like that for a while, until Nie Mingjue pulls away and turns to quietly wipe his eyes. Lan Xichen looks at the coffin to pretend he doesn't notice. It's a big coffin, but it still feels too small for the man it contains. Sect Leader Nie, like his eldest son, was a tall man with a personality that filled up all the space around him, making everyone around him feel small.

Maybe they should have all expected something like this to happen. Wen Ruohan could only tolerate feeling small for so long.

“I'm going to ask your father and uncle to take Huaisang along when you all go home,” Nie Mingjue announces when his eyes are dry. “So he can be in the next batch of students. The lessons only start in a little over a month anyway.”

Lan Xichen stares at his friend.

He doesn't say 'he's just going to turn fifteen in a few weeks and you always say how immature he is, it's just a waste of everyone's time.'

He also doesn't ask 'you told me he doesn't even have a golden core, what good will it do to him, coming to the Cloud Recesses?'

He doesn't wonder 'are you sure you should be alone? You love your brother and I remember how much I needed mine when our mother died.'

“I thought it was agreed to wait one more year, so all the young masters of the great sects could attend together?” Lan Xichen asks instead. “Isn't it a wasted chance if...”

“I don't want him in the Unclean Realm, not when the Wens could take advantage of our current weakness. I don't know if I can protect everyone else but he... he's my little brother. I've got to at least keep him out of harm's way and he'll be safe there. When's the last time anyone attacked the Cloud Recesses?”

Not since before the rise of the Wen, Lan Xichen thinks. Gusu Lan is a centre of knowledge, it has never been considered a threat by anyone. They've never really had to play the game of alliances until recently, when Qishan Wen made it impossible to stay out of it.

“Uncle and father want to see you,” Lan Xichen suddenly remembers. “We should go see them. I'm sorry, I should have told you first...”

“It's fine. I needed this. Thank you for... thank you.”

After one last look at his father's coffin, Nie Mingjue leaves the room, Lan Xichen following closely behind. They don't speak, because there's really nothing to say. When they reach the hall in which Qinghe Nie's elders have gathered to speak with Qingheng-Jun and Lan Qiren, Nie Mingjue hesitates a moment before going to sit on his father's high chair. Up there, he looks both too old and too young, Lan Xichen thinks. He's just twenty. It's too early for this.

Not that Lan Xichen gets much time to gaze at his friend in his new position. When he tries to sit down, his father stops him and sends him to fetch Nie Huaisang instead, since apparently some of what has been already discussed concerns him. Lan Xichen obeys, as he always obeys his father, but he doesn't like it.

It's stupid to get upset about this, when there are so many things at stake, but Lan Xichen hates being pushed aside, and he hates that suddenly, he's probably going to see his best friend even less than he did before. If Nie Mingjue is like Lan Qiren, he won't have the time for all the Night Hunts they had planned to go on. All Lan Xichen can do now is try to be there for him, in whatever way Nie Mingjue will need him.

He hopes, selfishly, that Nie Mingjue will still need him, that he won't lose his best friend.

He hopes, also, that he'll be able to help if Nie Mingjue does need him. His friend's problems are about to become a lot bigger than they used to be, a lot more serious too.

He hopes that Nie Mingjue is wrong about Qishan Wen, that they won't attack Qinghe, that there won't be a war.

Lan Xichen hopes for many things as he looks for Nie Huaisang.

When he finally finds him after asking some servants, his fiancé is in an isolated, half abandoned corner of the Unclean Realm where he keeps some songbirds in cages. A silly pastime that he'll have to give up someday, since pets are not allowed in the Cloud Recesses. And a hobby that feels inappropriate at the moment. How can Nie Huaisang enjoy his birds when his father just died, when his brother, at barely twenty, has to bear the weight of a sect on his shoulder, the fear of a war in his heart?

“Nie er-gongzi, I find you at last,” Lan Xichen says, startling the other boy. “Your brother wishes to see you.”

“Lan gongzi,” Nie Huaisang mumbles with a quick, clumsy bow. “I'm... I'm glad you're here at last. I didn't know you had arrived, or I'd have been there already.”

Lan Xichen doesn't bother pointing out that they had sent word they were approaching, that they could only arrive today or tomorrow, that as the second young master of his sect, Nie Huaisang needs to step up and start helping his brother.

“Let's just go,” Lan Xichen says. “It would be unwise to make him wait.”

To his credit, Nie Huaisang doesn't protest, and immediately walks away from his bird, ready to dutifully follow Lan Xichen. But then again, he was always good at following people. He's that sort of a person.

As they walk together, Lan Xichen doesn't bother making conversation. He knows from experience that Nie Huaisang never has anything interesting to say, that he always goes half mute with shyness every time someone addresses him. And yet, before very long, Nie Huaisang does the unexpected: he speaks first.

“Are we still going to marry?” he asks, nervously picking at the hem of his sleeve.

Lan Xichen stops in his tracks. He should scold him for talking about something like at such an inappropriate moment, but he's too taken aback by the unexpected question.

“Why wouldn't we?”

Nie Huaisang shrugs and avoids his eyes.

“Why do you think the engagement is off?” Lan Xichen insists, glad that at least, they are still in a part of the Unclean Realm where few people wander.

“I've just heard people talking,” Nie Huaisang mumbles. “The elders are worried.” He bites his lip. “I don't think I should have told you that.”

“No, probably not.”

It is unwise for someone like Nie Huaisang to talk about politics when everyone knows he's not terribly bright and probably doesn't get those things, not the way Lan Xichen does. That's all Lan Xichen meant.

Judging by the panicked look he throws him, Nie Huaisang understood something else entirely.

“Please, tell your father to keep the engagement!” he frantically urges, grabbing Lan Xichen's sleeve. “Please, I'll do better, I'll work hard on my cultivation, I'll never skip sabre practice again, and I'll study and be polite and everything I need to be! But you can't drop the engagement, you can't leave Mingjue alone against the Wens!”

Lan Xichen pulls himself free and stares at his fiancé, stunned by that outburst. That boy is really too pathetic to handle, and he really needs to learn to hold his tongue about political matters.

But that's the thing, he's just a boy of note quite fifteen, hardly older than Lan Xichen's own brother. He's just seen his father slowly agonise for weeks, he's probably seen his brother working himself to half to death learning to handle a position he wasn't quite ready for yet, and now he's worrying about what he can do to keep his sect safe. It's... touching, for lack of a better word.

“That's not how an alliance of that sort works,” Lan Xichen explains, with more patience and kindness than he's ever bothered showing to his unwanted fiancé. “It does not matter if Qinghe Nie's circumstances are complicated at the moment, Gusu Lan will stand with you if needed, and help you until things are better. You don't have to worry.”

“I have plenty to worry about,” Nie Huaisang mutters, refusing again to meet his eyes. “I'm not very bright but I've read histories and tactical works. Gusu Lan wouldn't be the first ones to back down from an alliance because it's no longer advantageous.”

It seems Nie Huaisang has decided that this is a day for surprises.

Strictly speaking, he's not wrong. Things like that happen, alliances change along with circumstances, engagements can be made and unmade depending of the fortune of a family, especially in times such as these. At another time, or said about another sect, Lan Xichen would probably agree with this assessment of the situation.

But it's his sect being accused here, and that can't be allowed, least of all coming from a boy like Nie Huaisang.

“Gusu Lan never backs down on what it promises,” Lan Xichen announces. “We are engaged, and we will stay so. We are allies, and we will stay so. Qinghe Nie doesn't stand alone, and it never will until the danger has passed.”

His tone is too harsh, and indeed Nie Huaisang flinches a little, yet still he smiles weakly at Lan Xichen.

“That's good. I just... I just don't want Nie Mingjue to fight alone. I know I can't do anything more for him, all I can do is stay engaged to you.”

“There's plenty more you can do,” Lan Xichen protests, trying to keep his voice gentle, telling himself that Nie Huaisang is going through a lot and he must be kind. “You're not a child anymore, if you ask Mingjue or the elders, they're sure to find something even you can do.”

“I doubt it,” Nie Huaisang replies with a pout. “I'm just not good at anything.” Then, perhaps remembering that he had just sworn that he'd get more serious if the engagement remained, he quickly added: “But I'll still try! Of course I'll try hard! I don't want to be a burden on anyone. I'll make him proud, and I'll do everything I can to help.”

That seemed doubtful, but Lan Xichen decides not to insist. If Nie Mingjue has his way, Nie Huaisang won't get much of a chance to help around the Unclean Realm, anyway. Instead he'll be coming to Gusu, and hopefully he'll learn a thing or two while there.

It will not be pleasant to have Nie Huaisang in the Cloud Recesses so much earlier than planned, but Lan Xichen will bear with it, for Nie Mingjue's sake.

#xisang #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #in which lxc continues being a little bitch but welpppp that's how it's going to stay for a while lol #at least lxc is a good friend to nmj so that compensates right?? #worst engagement au #jau writes #ok I'm off to sleep now because fuck it was not reasonable to write this entire thing in a day oops

[deadanddeactivated]

Intrusive Concern

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Deceit, Orange/Wrath, others mentioned Pairings: Remus & Virgil Warnings: It’s from Remus’ POV so there’s lots of Remus-y thoughts Summary: Remus is a 'Dark Side'.  He knows that, he's accepted that, but he never wanted it.

And now Virgil isn't one, and Remus can't let Deceit ruin that.

AO3

--

Remus is a 'Dark Side'.  He knows that, he's accepted that, but he never wanted it.

"I'm not evil."  He used to mutter to himself.  Back when Thomas was young and the split was fresh.

"Of course not."  Roman used to scoff.  "You're half of me, and there's no way I can be evil."  Back before Thomas had focused on Roman alone.  Before Remus was shoved to the back of his mind to be ignored and forgotten and denied.

"Of course you are."  Wrath had smirked.  "But that's fine, we can still make Thomas see you."  Back when he was the first Side Remus had seen in years.  Back when Roman had long since stopped seeking him out.

Remus had been desperate then.  Desperate to be seen and heard and acknowledged.  So he'd taken Wrath's hand and he'd joined the 'Dark Sides' (as Roman would would one day dub them, as Wrath alone would embrace). And he hated it.

He doesn't mutter to himself anymore.  Remus has accepted his place on the 'Dark Sides' and he gets it now.  'Being evil' wasn't his call to make - it was Thomas'.  Thomas thinks he’s dark and so he is.  There's no changing that, not when Thomas doesn't so much as react to thinking about jumping out of a moving car, let alone wonder where the thought came from.

The others like to claim they’re in the same boat as Remus.  Or Deceit likes to go on about how this is 'totally his choice and what he wants' while Wrath waxes lyrical about how darkness was something thrust upon him.

It's all a bunch of butthole.  

They aren't like him.  They aren't half of a whole, easily split into 'good' and 'bad' no matter how inaccurate the terms.  No, they aren't like that, they're whole.  Whole and complete and not missing a part of himself and-

Remus feels a wave of energy as his thoughts slip into Thomas' and sighs.  Usually he tries to be a little more creative with his influence, but it can't be helped now.  Maybe later he'll have Thomas think about pushing Joan in front of a car, he does have a reputation to keep.  What would Wrath do if he discovered how little Remus cared for the whole 'brooding, evil, edgelord' vibe?  Especially after…

Ah, but Remus' thoughts are getting ahead of him.  He isn't up to that part yet.  No, he's thinking about Deceit and Wrath and how they don't have to be ‘Dark Sides’.  They're whole aspects of Thomas, they cover a lot more than what they're named after.  If they only played their cards right, Remus is sure they wouldn't be about of the unwanted.  Thomas would see them in a whole new light (ha).

Fear was just proof of that.

Sorry, Anxiety.  Well actually Virgil.  Remus has such trouble keeping track of what that side is going by these days.  Maybe he should just mix all the names, cover all his bases at once.  What would that even be? 

Virgity?  Anear?  Fexigil?

Ha.  The first two sound almost like dirty words.  He'll have to start using one of those whenever he sees Virgil.

Not that he ever sees Virgil.  Even back when he was Fear, he avoided Remus like the plague.  

That had hurt once.  Back before he pressed Deceit for why and got a happily spoken answer, "Wrath totally hasn't talked you up as a super negative influence on Thomas.  Virg definitely isn't scared of you.  Why would he be?  He's Fear."  

Remus supposes he'll be pulled away from people forever.  Roman was first, pulled away by Thomas and the wanted sides, and now Wrath had pulled him away from Virgil.  How long until someone pulled him away from Deceit?

He visited once, after Virgil officially shed his identity as Fear but before he'd really become one of them.  He just popped up one afternoon as the newly dubbed Anxiety (that's what he was going by then, right?) paced his room, now floating somewhere between the wanted and the unwanted sides.  Remus really only wanted to give him his congratulations, to tell Virgil how happy jealous he was.  It did not go well.  It never does.

"Well, well, well it really worked.  Maybe you should be creativity, hm?"  He joked.  Virgil had hissed as he turned to face Remus who just kept grinning just keep grinning.  The vaguely lit side had already been tense but Remus could see it get worse, so scared even as he glared and held his ground.  "You managed to recreate yourself after all.  Oh, do you think we could really swap?  We can clearly change."  Remus continued.  He never liked silence.

"Leave me alone Duke."  Virgil managed through clenched teeth.  He knew Remus name, he didn't have to use that title.  Why did everyone always use that title?  Why was he always lesser?  "I'm not like you, I don't want any part of your schemes."

"No, you're not."  Remus agreed.  You're whole, he wanted to say, not like me.  No matter how much I change, I'll always be a half.  Always be the Dark to Roman's Light.

Instead, he perked up.  "But hey, do you think the others think that?"  It was meant to be an innocent question.  A conversation starter.

Instead, the bags under Virgil's eyes got darker.  The same way more and more of Fear's eyes would start to dart around when Remus was near. 

"They don't know."  Virgil claimed, voice layered and wrong.  Something shifted in Thomas as Virgil's paranoia spiked.  "They can't know!"

Remus didn't visit Virgil again.

He sticks to the back of Thomas' mind.  Somehow, he finds himself hating it even more now.  Which is ridiculous, because things aren't different without Virgil.  Not for him, they'd never been friends.

And yet, Remus starts avoiding Wrath as the side simmers away. Which is, admittedly, pathetically easy once Wrath locks himself away in his room.  Not that that will last.  The second Thomas gives him the chance, he'll boil over and even Remus doesn't want to see that kind of destruction.  Well actually it might be interesting… he'll have to think about it.

Watching as Deceit grows bolder without Virgil around to hold him back is harder because suddenly Thomas sees him, knows him, and god Remus wants that so bad it's not fair.  But harder still is listening to Deceit becoming more and more desperate to convince himself Virgil isn't really gone.

"He hasn't abandoned us!  He's just, building up to some grand scheme.  We'll see!"  He used to scream.  Back when Virgil first left them.  Those defenses had quickly morphed into claims of, "They've manipulated him.  We just need to snap him out of it and he'll come back!"  Sometimes Remus wonders if Deceit knows how much he lies to himself.  Sometimes he wonders if Virgil knew.

Remus stays out of it.  He listens and he gives Deceit empty words or he redirects the conversation but he stays in the back of Thomas' mind.  Oh he thinks plenty about the ways he could step in.  Dramatic displays that will lead to Virgil liking him and Thomas seeing him and Roman letting him join in again.  But he doesn't act on any of it.

Then he overhears Deceit saying something and that changes.

"If Thomas wants to be more honest with himself," he starts, spitting the word 'honest' like it's poison, how would a snake even poison itself, or would someone else be poisoning it, would someone have to force feed a snake poison to do that, "then all his sides should be honest."

"Qh, plotting in the dark again.  That's bad for your eyes.  Or at least one of them.  Would the human one or the snake one be worse off?  We should test this.  And also their reactions to acid."  Remus decides, grinning when Deceit glares.

"Do keep distracting me Remus."  He said.  "It's not like I'm coming up with the perfect plan to get Virgil back or anything unimportant like that."

"Oh?"  Remus prompts.  "Does it involve rope?" He asks, conquering a rope in his hands.

“No!”  Deceit snaps, too frustrated to remember to lie.  He gets like that when he’s frustrated, or excited, or startled.  It never lasts long.  “Thomas is not obsessed with being honest, yes?”

“No?”  Remus frowns like he’s not used to the way Deceit talks.  He does, but Deceit likes to think he’s confusing people and Remus is more than happy to play along.  Especially now.

“Exactly!”  Deceit says.  Idoly, barely away he’s doing it, Remus starts to tie and untie the rope.  “Well, how do you think he’ll feel when he hears that Virgil’s been lying to him from the start?  He’ll hate it, they all will.  And Virgil will remember how horrible they are and finally come back.”  For just a moment, Remus freezes in his motions.  Deceit’s too excited to notice.

“So you’re going to pop up and reveal him?”  Remus asks, humming to himself.  “That doesn’t seem very grand of you.  I thought you were better than that De.”  He tsked.

“Well I hadn’t tried dropping rather obvious hints to get them to ask.  That would work!  They aren’t all oblivious idiots that ignore my every hint.”  Deceit hisses.

“Don’t look at me like that.  I’m not Thomas’ intelligence.”  Remus claims, raising his hands in a surrender position only to realize he’s gotten them quite tangled in all his fidgeting.  With a glare, Deceit waves his hand and the ropes become a snake which easily untangles itself.  “Oh kinky.”  Remus says.  “Snakes would make for a very interesting BDSM night, you know.”

“Oh I most certainly do what to know.  I just love talking to you sometimes.”  Deceit huffs and then cringes as he thinks of it anyway.  “Obviously I won’t be dramatic as ever when I don’t reveal Virgil because at this point my only option is not to just tell them.  They’ll most definitely believe me, but that matters because Virgil will stay incredibly calm.”  He says, getting back to the matter at snake-tied hand. 

“As long as you’re dramatic.”  Remus says.  “Do let me know if you need any ideas.”  He grins.

“Never.”  Deceit grins back.  With a wave, Remus leaves for his room.

With the door shut firmly and safely behind him, Remus let the frown take over his face.  What would Thomas do when Deceit revealed Virgil?  What would the other sides do?  Even Virgil’s reaction is a worry.  Remus can think of several outcomes, none of them good.  Not for Thomas and not for them either.

“I can’t let that happen.”  Remus decides.  Virgil’s gotten out, he’s broken the pattern.  There is no changing Remus, Wrath will never want to change, and Deceit’s too dependant on Wrath to try.  But Virgil got out.  Deceit can’t ruin that.  Sure, Virgil left them behind but so did everyone else Remus can’t fault him for it.  

So Remus decides to get creative, and he decides to do something.

Subtly isn’t exactly his birthday suit, but Remus thinks he did a pretty good job.  It wasn’t particularly fun - acting full on ‘bad guy’, bending the truth like that - but it worked.  Better than Remus expected actually.  Thomas had actually, truly seen him.  And sure he wasn’t about to listen to Remus, but that’s fine.  He’s used to that.  It’s enough that Thomas saw him, enough that the others don’t fear him anymore.  Maybe he should send Logan a fruit basket.  Oh a book basket!  Of books he can eat!  Candy books!  Books on candy?  Replacement teeth?

Ah, but that wasn’t the point.  The point was that it worked!  Virgil got the message.  If Remus is honest, and he usually is, he hadn’t expected Virgil to just tell Thomas himself.  His thoughts were more along the lines of an epic showdown between Virgil and Deceit where Virgil ensured De would keep his secret, and De realized that Virg was really gone forever, that things had changed.

But oh well, no epic show down.  Disappointing because Remus always loved seeing Virgil go all out, but probably for the best.  He’s not sure De could handle that.  There were certainly some almost-sides that hadn’t.

At least Virgil’s methods worked.  Sure Thomas knew, but it was on Virgil’s terms.  That had to mean something.  At the very least Virgil’s room hadn’t reappeared down the hall.

Did Remus mention he’d been seen?  And that that was incredible?  Because Remus had been seen and it was incredible.

All in all, a wonderful day, Remus hums to himself as he skips back towards the back of Thomas’ mind.

“I see your plan went perfectly.”  Deceit spits as Remus passes, glaring.  “Not that it came at the cost of mine.”  He’s clearly annoyed, but he doesn’t seem to think it was intentional.  Otherwise they’d be having an epic show down and Remus isn’t sure he could handle doing that to the only friend he has left.

“Oh it did indeed.”  Remus grins.  “Thomas finally aknowledged me.  In no time at all he’ll realized I’m the better creative half.”

“Of course he will.”  Deceit huffs but he doesn’t say anything else as Remus ducks into his room.

As the door shuts safely behind him, he turns and frowns.  Someone’s sitting on his bed, someone who really shouldn’t be back here.

“Virgil?”  The side in question looks up then quickly looks away again, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hi.”  He greets.

“Should you be back here?  Aren’t you worried you’ll catch darkness?”  Remus wonders.

“I’m not staying.”  Virgil says.

“Well obviously.”  Remus agrees, though he’s admittedly a little relieved.  Of course it was a bit worrying to find Virgil in the back of Thomas’ mind right after he told Thomas the truth.  “Why are you back at all?”

“Well…”  Virgil hesitated a moment before sighing.  “I want to um, say, thanks.  For the warning.”  He manages.

“What warning?”  Remus grins, winking and tapping his nose rather obviously.  Virgil stares for a moment before shaking his head with a smile and a chuckle.  Like he’s fond.  That’s new.  And nice.

“There was uh, there was something else too.”  Virgil says.  “I’m… I’m sorry I thought you were some big villian like, well you know.  You’re easily the best of u-... this.”  He apologizes, stumbling a bit over his words.  But Remus gets it.  He also thinks it’s much more cutesy heart to heart than either of them can really handle.

“I wouldn’t say that.”  He claims, intent to change the topic.

“Yeah?  What would you say?”

“Giant radioactive octopus, except it’s tentacles are knives and also it’s holding knives!”  Remus announces, earning another one of those head shakes.  It’s definitely more amused than annoyed.  

“Of course you would.”  Virgil says, standing.  “Well, that’s all I had to say.  Bye Remus.”  His name, Remus thinks, that’s his name.

“Unless I see you first.  Because I’ll hide.”  Remus grins, hoping Virgil can’t tell how much all this means to him as the newly wanted side lowers down.  

Virgil’s never going back to them, Remus knows that even if Deceit doesn’t.  But maybe, just maybe, they could join him.

#writing #sanders sides #sanderssides #remus #remus sanders #dark creativity sanders #sympathetic remus #virgil #virgil sanders #anxiety #deceit #deceit sanders #orange #orange sanders #wrath #i love me my sympathic boys okay #alright thats enough transferring for the night time to make that ask blog #roman #roman sanders #thats right hes in this

[lovedsammy]

if your world falls apart; commission for @awesomesusiebstuff

This was a commission request from @awesomesusiebstuff, who requested some Sam and trauma + Jack and Sam’s feelings on Jack developing from the Devil’s son, to someone similar to himself, to finally his own person that Sam cares for and views as a son. :)

- 

“Father?” 

Sam doesn’t quite know what to make of it. 

He’d been expecting -- they’d all been expecting -- a newborn baby. Instead, he’s staring at a naked almost fully-grown young man huddled in the corner of the nursery. The boy’s - Jack’s - eyes are alight in a golden hue, alerting Sam to the depth of his power. And the scope of it reminds him of just whose offspring he is. This was Lucifer’s son. Sam’s mouth goes dry with fear. A part of him almost wishes he were in Dean’s place instead outside, huddled in the dirt seated beside the form of their fallen friend. But he’d come in first, he’d taken it upon himself to find the child, and he couldn’t back out now. Not when was face to face with him. He forces himself to remember that this is also Kelly Kline’s son, and that she died believing that he would be good, that he’d be more human than angel. And Cas…. Cas had just died sharing that same belief. He owed it to Cas, and to Kelly, to give Jack a chance. He owed it to the universe. 

And most importantly, he owed it to the kid. 

Sam knew full well what it was like to be told that your destiny had already been decided for you, that you were born to be evil. Just because Lucifer and Jack shared the same genetics - or as close to genetics as angels could possibly have - didn’t mean that Jack was going to go dark. If Cas and Kelly had taken that leap of faith, then Sam would, too. But telling himself that and feeling it were two different things. Right now, the echoes of Lucifer were all over this room, even when Sam realistically knows that he’s trapped with Mary on the other side. 

When the boy speaks again, it takes Sam a moment to register that Jack is asking him if he’s his father, not just asking for him. 

“N-No, I’m not your father, Jack,” Sam says slowly, placatingly, as if speaking to a wild animal. He doesn’t really know how to approach him, doesn’t know how Jack will react to hearing that. “It is Jack, right?”

Jack just stares at him, either because he’s not pleased with Sam’s answer or because he’s confused by it. Sam isn’t sure. “Father,” The boy repeats. It’s not a question anymore, but a declarative statement. 

It hits Sam then that this boy, while being physically grown to adulthood, was mentally and emotionally a child in every single way. For whatever reason, Jack had just associated Sam with the status of being his father, had basically imprinted on him. Or at least, that was what Sam was understanding. Before he can even try and really process or attempt to explain the situation, Sam hears Dean calling out for him. 

“In here,” He returns. His brother was good with kids, better than he was; maybe Dean could help Jack out. 

Instead, when Dean comes into the room and stands at Sam’s side, he looks upon the Nephilim boy for the first time, and immediately fires a shot at him.

“No!”

Sam reacts a second too late, lifting his arm uselessly to try and stop Dean The bullet barely misses the kid, and Jack unleashes a harsh yell in the form of a terrified tantrum. 

Sam catches Dean’s eye as they’re both suspended into the air. He’d tried so hard to be careful with Jack, and now thanks to Dean, they had only succeeded in pissing him off.

The force of Jack’s power slams them backwards, and Sam hits the wall with a hard thud. The last thing he sees before he slips into blackness is Jack’s golden eyes, and how as his vision fades, they become an eerie ruby red.   

-

The cell door closes with a bang and Sam jumps. 

Here he was, imprisoned once more with a celestial being. Even if this time had been slightly by his own choice. The sheriff had decided to lock him in here after he’d tasered Jack, but between himself and Dean, Sam was probably the better of the two of them to be alone with the kid right now. He genuinely wanted to try and reach through to him again, to explain, to try and help him if possible. Jack had seemed a bit out of his head, erratic when they’d found him. The exploding lights and pained reaction from the boy made it clear that he was spiraling, and fast. He had already attacked the sheriff. But Sam didn’t think it was done with malice or bad intention. Right now, sitting here looking at him, Sam sees an unstable being that doesn’t know who to trust, or how to navigate this new world he was just born into.

Sam is still cautious, though, and admittedly unnerved. Being near the kid was hard. The fact that he was the Devil’s son kept running through his head, constantly at the front of his mind. It didn’t even matter that Dean was in the next room over. Sam felt worlds away from him. He presses a little on the scar on his palm, just to try and ease the dissociation. It’d become a lot easier lately, to distinguish what was real and what wasn’t. He hadn’t even had to do this in a long while. 

But sometimes, he just needed to be sure. 

He misses it when Jack begins to stir. Automatically, the boy rolls over and springs backward on all fours, turning his golden eyes distrustingly towards him. Sam’s heart almost leaps into his throat. He lifts his hands up in surrender.

 “Whoa, whoa, easy, easy. It’s okay, you’re okay,” Sam says breathlessly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The boy is shaking.

“You already hurt me,” He growls, reminding Sam of a wounded animal. The kid felt threatened, hence his current stance. Jack was only trying to protect himself. 

Sam knows he only has one chance left to convince Jack that he means him no harm, that he’s on his side.  

“Yes, I did,” Sam amends. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to slow you down. You were, you were, um….” He trails off. How did you explain to a newborn Nephilim that he was losing control, losing his mind? Reminding people -- namely Sam -- of his lunatic Devil father? “Are you… are you all right?” He asks instead. 

“I don’t…. I was scared,” Jack explains slowly. “And when I get scared, things happen. I can’t stop them.” 

Sam’s brows crease. “Why were you scared?” 

“Because of the voices. They were so loud, so angry…” Jack is still shuddering, his entire body vibrating. The lights in the hall begin to flicker distantly. Sam looks back to Jack. 

“Do you hear them right now?” Sam needs to get the kid to let go of the fear, to calm down before something else happens. 

Jack focuses intently. “No,” He realizes, and some of the tension leaves his body. At last, he stops trembling, and straightens up. Unlike his father, Jack’s posture is unsure and wary.

“Good,” Sam assures him, offering a tight smile, a weak laugh. “That’s good.” A sharp relieved exhale escapes his lips and he takes a second to gather himself. As nerve wracking as this entire situation was, maybe there was a chance of reaching through to Jack after all. Sam starts a little when Jack moves closer, but the boy only goes to sit down, folding his legs cross-legged and appraising the hunter with child-like eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” He states. 

It takes Sam aback. “What?” 

“Will you tell them that I’m sorry?” Jack requests.

Sam sits there in stunned silence for a long moment before he can get his lips to move. “Y-yeah. Sure. Of course.” 

In the two minutes he’d spent with the kid, Sam was already beginning to think that Cas and Kelly got it right. There was no possible way that this boy was born evil. And when Jack talks about his mother with a fond smile, the reassurance is there. It makes Sam’s heart clench, especially when he announces that he considers Cas his father. It’s only that much harder when Sam has to give the news to him, that Castiel was dead.

The tearful eyes and sorrowful features reach something inside of Sam, making him want to offer the kid comfort. Here was this new being born into the world and already having lost everything. Jack needed guidance and help, not judgment or isolation. 

Sam makes the decision then that no matter what Dean says, he wants to try and help him. 

Because Jack wasn’t evil. 

-

After Dean agrees to take Jack home with them, the overall apprehension of being near the kid lessens. At some point, he stops associating Jack with being Lucifer’s son, and more as Kelly’s, and more of Cas’s. And in some weird way, kind of his, too. More and more, Jack was reminding Sam somewhat of himself. 

He hadn’t missed the similarities: both born to be evil, dead mothers, an unexplained power that seemed impossible to get a handle on. Sam had decided that day in the jail cell that he was going to protect Jack, to help him, to be for him what no one had for him.

Dean didn’t understand. He still saw Jack as evil, incapable of goodness or the possibility of being saved.

The first time Dean voices this is directly to Jack’s face, and it causes Jack to inadvertently use his powers, redirecting the kid outside. Sam comes to find him curled up in a cold alley, sniffling and blotchy-faced.

It hurts Sam that Jack feels so lost, so abandoned and unwanted. 

“Maybe I’m not worth all of this,” The kid says. 

Sam looks at him, nodding, because he understands. How many times had he had that same mentality? That Dean would be better off without him, had his brother just followed Dad’s orders and shot Sam dead like he was supposed to? Sam hadn’t thought he was worth anyone’s efforts, either. But Dean, Cas, his Mom, Bobby -- none of them had given up on him. 

“Your mom thought you were,” Sam tells him. “So did Cas.” Saying the angel’s name was still hard, still painful. After a beat he adds, “So do I.” And he means it. 

Jack lowers his eyes, still a bit disbelieving, but obviously touched. 

“Come on.” Sam says, extending his hand out to the boy. “Let’s go back in. Don’t let Dean get to you, okay? He’ll come around. He did for me.” 

The kid gives him an inquisitive look. “What do you mean?” 

Sam sighs, shaking his head. “I can’t yet. Not tonight. But some other time, okay?” One day he was going to tell Jack everything. 

Jack nods, and doesn’t press it. 

-

Hearing from Jack that Dean told the kid he wanted to kill him…. Sam’s seeing red. He tries to play it cool when his brother comes in, but once Dean mentions Jack and how messed up he is, it only infuriates Sam more. 

“No, Dean, he’s messed up because of you.” 

To his credit, Dean doesn’t look the least bit guilty about it. Sam tries to ignore the hurt that makes him feel. 

“Dean… you said you’d kill him.”

“It wasn’t exactly like that,” Dean says. 

“Then how exactly was it?”  

“I told him the truth,” Dean retorts. “See, you think you can use this freak. But I know how this ends. And it ends bad.” 

Sam can hardly believe what he’s hearing. He hadn’t heard the word ‘freak’ in years, and despite himself, it’s making him feel some type of way. “I didn’t,” He says harshly. 

“What?”

“I didn’t end bad,” Sam reiterates. “When I was the ‘freak.’ When I was drinking demon blood.” 

Dean shakes his head. “Come on, man, that’s totally different.” 

Sam raises his brows. “Was it? Because you could’ve put a bullet in me. Dad told you to put a bullet in me, but you didn’t! You saved me! So help me save him!” 

Dean glares at him. “You deserved to be saved. He doesn’t!” 

“Yes, he does, Dean. Of course he does!” 

“I know you think you can use him as some sort of interdimensional can opener, and that’s fine, but don’t act like you care about him! You only care about what he can do for you!” Dean shouts, and Sam reels back from the force of it.  

Of course he cared about Jack. Jack was his own person, not a reflection of himself. And Jack sure as hell wasn’t just some tool that they could use and then throw away when he was no longer useful. That wasn’t Sam. It was true that he needed Jack’s help, that he was hopeful to utilize some of Jack’s power to find Mary. 

But that didn’t mean that he didn’t care about him. 

So when he comes to find Jack later, he apologizes. First for not telling him the whole truth, that they needed help finding Mary. But most of all, he apologizes for Dean’s behavior, and for what Jack had overheard.

“You want to save her,” Jack realizes. 

Sam nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. But if this doesn’t work, if that can’t happen ... that's okay. Because I do care about you.” He tells the boy earnestly, and he can feel the truth of it, the weight of it, in his heart. He cared about Jack more than he liked to admit. 

He wouldn’t let anything happen to Jack. Not because of Dean, or Lucifer, or anyone else. Sam was going to protect this kid - his kid - with everything he had. 

#spn #supernatural #sam winchester #jack kline #samjack #fic #*mine

[ourneverendingpossibilities]

It’s Always Been You

Anime: Kuroko no Basuke Pairing: Kasamatsu Yukio x Reader Rating: K+ A/N: Here’s another chapter!! Ah, there were many ways I could have written this scene.. But this fit it best.. I really hope you guys like it!! (I love how I’m writing Kasamatsu in this series.)

____________________________

Coming to the mall was a big mistake.

In the back of your mind, you know you could've waited until Saturday to give your brother his birthday gift. You were holding a party on that day for the two of you so it wouldn't conflict with your busy schedules. But you also know that Kise would've complained about you not giving him a gift on his actual birthday, as he's done in the past.

Leaving you in this predicament.

You were crouching inside a bookstore, trying to hide away from the four boys standing about a hundred feet from your location. Of course Kise would be hanging out with his senpais for his birthday... That's the kind of guy your brother was... And then to have his fangirls make a huge deal... Right in front of the store you were forced to hide in... You rub your temples, trying to find a creative solution to escape... Releasing a heavy sigh, you take out your phone, sending him a text.

"I'm in the bookstore behind you... Come in alone... At the back."

You watch from behind the shelf as he opens his phone, wishing you could read his expression... His back was towards you, and you try very hard to keep out of sight of his teammates... You feel stares on your abnormal behaviour, and you ignore it, secretly hoping your brother would hurry up and come in the store... You breathe a sigh of relief when he comes towards you, watching the way a certain individual handles the crowd, with reddened cheeks. You weren't sure if it was out of embarrassment or anger, probably both, but you found your eyes drawn to his form for quite some time.

Until you hear a cough beside you.

Standing up straight, you turn your head up, staring at your brother with a look of embarrassment and annoyance. 

"Really Ryouta? You brought your senpais with you?"

He pouts, golden hues bright with emotion, "I..Is that any way to address your older brother, ____--cchi! I don't know why you won't come out and meet them!"

You roll your eyes, arms crossed with the gift in your hand. "We're from different schools, Ryouta… I highly doubt they'd want to meet me." 

Though a certain captain already knows me...

You bite your lip, feeling guilty for not telling Kasamatsu about your relationship with Kise. You sigh, knowing he wants to say something else, when you thrust the gift in his hands. 

"Here... I wanted to give you this. I have to get back home now... But please... PLEASE... Don't say where you got it from..."

He blinks, watching your posture with curious eyes, "But why ____-cchi?"

You open your mouth, as if ready to retort when you stop, shaking your head instead. "Just... I don't want any attention on me... So go back to your senpais, enjoy your birthday and we'll see each other on Saturday okay?"

He can tell you're hiding something, but chooses to remain silent... He wonders if his senpais are intimidating you, and that's why you don't want them knowing you're giving him a gift...

"Okay... If you say so..."

He proceeds to leave, gift in hand, before he pulls you into a soft hug, resting his head on yours.

"Thank you for the gift, ____-cchi…. Happy birthday..."

You feel a smile tug on your mouth, thankful your hood is up and covering you from the unwanted stares.

"Thank you, Ryo-chan..."

You watch him walk out of the bookstore, joining up with his senpais, almost giggling loudly when Kasamatsu kicks him for ditching them. It's then, you sneak towards the front, watching the four men walk away from the store. You feel a tinge of loneliness at the display of affection your brother receives.. Particularly from a certain raven-haired male, who's yelling at Kise for whatever it is he did... 

"You have good senpais, Ryouta… Please treasure them."

When a large group of people walk by, you take that as your sign to leave, blending in well with the crowd. Amidst sneaking past, you didn't notice your bracelet snapping from being pushed forward, doing your best to leave this mall and get on the next train to Tokyo... You just want to retreat home, spend the rest of your birthday in peace without any drama.

Unfortunately, that's the complete opposite of what happened.

__________________________________

He's never felt so hurt and angry in his entire life. 

Kise begged him to spend time with him at the mall for his birthday.. Which resulted in them being swarmed by a group of fangirls, and then he hastily vanishes for several minutes inside a bookstore. When he came out, he was holding a gift, with a tender expression in his golden hues.

"From my biggest fan-su… She personally came by to deliver this gift."

The same gift you bought while shopping with him a couple weeks back.

The memory of that day is now tainted when he realized that gift was for Kise…. He should've known... You were much too pretty to be single... To think a guy like him would even stand a chance... He sighs, trying to quell the anger in his veins... But the anxious expression in your eyes when you bought it flashes in his mind, making him bite back a growl in his throat. His hand clenches the bracelet now resting in his pocket, having noticed it on the ground as they were leaving the mall after another group of Kise's fangirls became too much. 

Against his judgement, he decides to head to Tokyo, realizing it'll be late by the time he gets home. But at this point, he doesn't care. He NEEDS to know... It's driving him crazy, not knowing what your relationship to Kise is... And why you chose to keep it from him instead of being open. The anger in his veins is at war with how he genuinely feels for you.. And his mind goes back to the time at your house, when you fell asleep on him, bundled in his jacket. The hand he was using to massage your head wound up in your hands, as you half cuddled him in your sleep.

His heart didn't beat the same after that day.

You haven't left his mind since. And it's been driving him crazy, to the point he wants to scream. To yell to the sky how much he likes you... He sighs, almost bumping into you as you run towards the train station. Instead, his hand grabs your arm, and he's dragging you to the nearest park, ignoring your cries and pleas. He needs to know... God, he has to know... Or he'll go mad.

"What is Kise to you?"

The two of you are at the playground, abandoned due to the setting sun and his blue hues are glaring down into your golden eyes. They're bright, like the sun, and he watches them flicker with several emotions, it leaves him breathless.. The silence is deafening, and yet, he finds he can't comprehend what your expression means, because it's giving him mixed signals... It's leaving him confused.

Your mind is reeling, trying to come up with an answer to give him... You can feel the anger, the seriousness and what appears to be pain in his eyes.. That's the one thing you can't quite pin down... Why does he show pain within those beautiful eyes?

You swallow, trying to breathe... But with him standing so close, the desperation within his voice ringing through your mind, you're left immobile. 

"I know you're the one who gave him that gift, _____... You can't fool me." he pulls out your bracelet, pressing it into your palm, "You dropped this on your way out..."

You couldn't take your eyes off him, feeling yourself shrink at his anger.. God.. You want to speak... Want to tell him that it isn't what he thinks... He's the one you really like..

And yet... your voice is lost.

"S....Senpai...."

His eyes soften a little at your voice, but they immediately harden once more. He pulls away, distancing himself from you, never tearing his eyes from your widening ones.

"Look, I don't care what your relationship with Kise is. But I don't need anyone ruining his concentration for the Inter-high." He begins, voice slightly quivering, "Our priority is winning first, and I can't have any girl coming between my ace and the team, understand?"

The tone in his voice hurts. You can feel your heart slowly crack, as if he's telling you he wants nothing to do with you... Just like.... your brother last year... You told yourself you wouldn't cry, no man could ever make you cry... But damn, his words take you to the time your brother abandoned you, putting all his focus on modelling. He distanced himself from you, the same way your friend/crush is now...

"I...." you stop, biting your bottom lip before shaking your head, walking towards him with anger in your eyes. It's dulled by the tears, but you don't waver, not when the man in front of you matters more.

"What Kise is to me doesn't matter." you finally say, grabbing his jacket roughly to hold him in place. "You want him to focus on basketball? So do I. Because we made you a promise that we would face you at the Inter-high, and I'm not going to back down from that promise."

His eyes widen at your words, the conviction behind them, "H...How?"

"Hyuga-senpai told me." you declare, voice even, "I would never come between Kise and his team. I never had any intention of doing so. But I will make myself clear."

Your eyes harden, voice stern, "It's not any of your business what he is to me. Because my relationship to him, has absolutely nothing to do with my relationship and feelings towards you, Yukio-senpai."

You let go of his jacket, shoving by him and wanting to go home... You're tired, exhausted, and just want a good night's sleep. To just start tomorrow off right. You want to return to your dreams, where Kasamatsu is running his hand through your hair, lightly massaging your head as you lay beside him, the two of you alone. To hell with this drama, with Kise somehow ruining your chances of even dating before it begins...

You don't hear the rushed steps, or the low growl in the back of his throat, so you're completely caught off guard when Kasamatsu grabs your wrist, twirling you to face him. You don't have time to escape when his hands grasp the sides of your face, holding you in place as he crushes his mouth on yours, a half whimper leaving his occupied lips. You wince a little at the force, but rather than fight him, you ease into it, your body melting at his embrace. You weren't sure what spurred Kasamatsu to act like this, but you'd be lying if you say you didn't want this to happen. Your fingers find purchase on his jacket, holding him close as you move your mouth slowly against his. 

However, just as quickly as it happened, he withdraws from your lips, staring down at you with half-lidded hues. His thumb rubs the corner of your mouth, lightly panting as he fights to regain breath he lost from not only the kiss, but the emotions overtaking his mind, body and heart. Kasamatsu's heart races when your eyes open, revealing glazed golden hues, full of emotion mirroring his own, and he can't help but lean down again to press a soft, lingering kiss to your mouth. You reciprocate his actions, feeling yourself floating on cloud nine, until you pull back, meeting his gaze with your own. You lick your lips, releasing a shaky breath, before burying your face in his jacket, cheeks burning darkly at the display of affection.

"Y...You really know how to make a girl feel special on her birthday, senpai...."

Your words bring him back to reality, and he blushes, shaking his head at your words.

".... S....Shut up.... brat..."

Your giggles make him fluster further, but he pulls back, staring down at you with a look of confusion, "You share a birthday with Kise?"

You blush, avoiding his gaze with a pout, "It's rather annoying... He gets all the attention..."

He snorts, pulling you into his chest resting his head on top of yours. "Be grateful you don't get the same attention as Kise… I think I'd have a heart attack if I had to chase boys away from you..."

You burst out laughing, holding him tighter as you bury yourself in his chest, feeling oddly secure and protected.... He's always made you feel this way, but after sharing that surprisingly good kiss, your first kiss as well, you find yourself addicted to him. In ways you can't begin to describe.

"Someone sounds rather... jealous..."

He frowns, blushing at your teasing tone before lightly bonking your head. He smirks when you pull back, pouting at his playful teasing, before leaning down to sneak another kiss from your pouty lips.

"Coming from you, that doesn't mean much..." he winks, pulling back from your reddening face and snakes his hand between yours. 

"I'll walk you home, birthday girl... Maybe we can stop at the bakery on the way home to get you a small cake."

He watches as your eyes widen at his words, before you're beaming at him, nodding your head happily. "I...I'd like that, Yukio-senpai!"

And once again, his heart races in his chest, this time because he has all of your attention, and he'd be an idiot not to keep you with him.

#knb imagines #knb scenarios #kasamatsu yukio #tension #birthday girl #comfort #first kiss #fluff

[xfanfics]

Destiel Fic Rec List Part 1

Last Updated in October 2014. Posted in May 2020 for posterity. Listed in no particular order - the total rec list will have ~250 fics. Header graphic used with permission.

This part of the list contains: 48 fics.

Other Destiel Rec Lists: [1]. [2]. [3]. [4]. [5]. [6]. [7].

For Science! by pm_lo E | 21k | ABO, Omega!cas, Alpha!Dean,

Selected transcripts and supporting materials from Dr. Castiel Williams and Dean Winchester’s seminal study on physiological and psychological sexual response by gender designation.

Even though this is a dialogue/email text only story, I still very much enjoyed it and found it ridiculously hot. Maybe I'm just easy. (No I'm not. This fic is good, read it.)

Forget-Me-Not Blues by noangelsinthegarrison E | 68k | Firefighter!Dean, Professor!Cas, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining

Sam and Jess are getting married and Dean couldn’t be any happier for them. Honestly, they’re kind of disgustingly perfect for each other and Dean’s pretty damn excited about staying with them the week before the wedding. He’s Sam’s best man, of course, and he doesn’t even mind that Jess has her own best man to share in all the organizational duties. The more the merrier, right? Except Dean must have done something to epically piss off the universe because Jess’s best man just happens to be Castiel friggin’ Novak. He’s got even hotter since High School, but apparently no friendlier and if Cas wants to spend the week pretending like they’ve never met before? Fine. Two can play at that game.

THIS WAS SO GOOD I'M TEARING UP. tropes abound and I love it!

Cops and Robbers by kinkstiel E | 53k [WIP] | Detective!Dean, Criminal!Cas, Top!Cas, Bottom!dean

They locked eyes for a minute and then Cas leaned back as far as the cuffs would let him go, spreading his legs obscenely wide. “I want you to suck my cock, Dean.” Dean balked, mouth going dry in a second, eyes slipping to the now visible bulge in Castiel’s suit pants. “Um,” he said stupidly, face flushing red, eyes unable to pull away. Cas hummed. “Depending on how well you suck me, I might just tell you everything you want to know.” He licked his lips, smirking slightly when he caught Dean’s gaze. “And with sinful little lips like yours,” he made a low whistling sound, “I don’t doubt you’ll get every last name out of me.

So very good. Love the dark and dirtiness of it. It does get lighter and sappier towards the end tho.

Cursed or Not ❤ by Ltleflrt E | 115k | witch!Cas, shapeshifter!Dean, switching

While experimenting with magic when he was a kid, Sam accidentally cursed Dean. Now, Dean is forced to wear a spelled amulet constantly, or he'll turn into a random animal. For a little over a decade, he's learned to live with the curse, and has even found it useful in some cases, but he sure would be happier without it. When he meets a witch named Castiel, he's offered a deal. Instead of assuming all witches are bad, Dean can spend a season getting to know him. If at the end of the season, Dean still thinks he's evil Castiel will send him away with his memory wiped of the whole experience. But if he learns that Castiel is not the monster Dean assumes he is, he'll lift Dean's curse. It's an offer Dean can't bring himself to pass up.

Literally perfect. Enthralling world, magical relationship.    

Surprise Package by wannaliveindeansdimples E | 3k | Hot, , Dom Cas, Sub Dean, Light BDSM

When Cas' roommate Meg has to go out of town suddenly, she leaves him an unexpected gift.

So so hot. Non extreme Dom!cas and sub!dean.    

Never Have I ever by sweetdean M | 78k | Fluff,  High School AU, top!cas, bottom!dean

When Jo drags Dean along to a game of "never have I ever" with her friends, he finds himself getting caught up in a lot more than just a game. “Never have I ever hung out with such an asshole,” Dean countered, positively shocked at his own sass. Cas smirked again. “Oh, are we hanging out now?fricken adorable  

Road Signs by gemmiel E | 9k| Canon!verse, true form

Dean is curious about how angels have sex. Castiel shows him.

Damn. True form, soul sex, and regular sex. Yes please.    

It's Brilliant, Really by snarkymonkey E | 15k | Fluff,  AU, Professor!cas, Stuntman!dean

Castiel Novak is a History adjunct at Stanford University. He's also the most patient younger brother. When his older brother, Gabriel, decides to start *wooing* one of his younger waiters, Castiel reluctantly agrees to double-date with the intended paramour's older brother. What he didn't expect, however, was how much his own life would flip over such a careless decision.

Adorable. Hot, and adorable.  

Gabriel's Unfortunate Mistake by JackHawksmoor E | 8k | Hot,  AU

an answer to a prompt: Gabriel decides to hire a prostitute for his virgin brother Castiel as a joke, but instead accidentally hires Dean, a professional Dom. The moment Dean first lays a hand on him, Castiel knows he is lost. Dean/Castiel AU.

Um mm.... Damn. That was hot. Newbie sub!cas and pro dom!dean    

Well-Beloved Unto Me by  Moorishflower E | 3k | Alt!Canon, tentacles

The Winchesters don't get rewarded for all the shit they go through, so Dean is understandably wary when a few recharged and promoted angels offer him and Sam the vacation of a lifetime. Title comes from the Song of Solomon.

True form. And sex. MY FAVE.  

How to Date an Angel in 12 Easy Steps by Fourthduckling E | 23k | Fluff,  Alt!canon

It's not that hard to date an angel. All Dean has to do is fight off hordes of vampires, research gay porn, get sucked into a crappy Narnia, endure Sam's comments, creep out on Dr. Sexy, get harassed -- oh, and that's right-- figure out he's into Cas. Easy, right?

SQUUEEEE. Perfect and cute and cuddly.  

Two Wrongs Don't Make A Right But Three Rights Make A Left by the0voice0from0above E | 45k | High School AU, Dancer!Cas, Welder!Dean,

The beautiful Garrison Ballet School becomes home to a reckless bunch of misfits after the Colt Welding Academy is severely damaged in a fire and has to close for repairs. Needless to say, Castiel and his friends clash with their unwanted guests but there's one boy in particular who infuriates him.

Dancer!au. Love it love it love it!    

Rest My Angel by cobalt_wings E | 86k | Fluff,  Season 9 AU

Angels are falling from the sky, and Dean is losing it. Sam is dying in his arms, and one of those burning, twisting figures blazing through the night air might be his very own angel, Castiel. What can he do to help those he loves?

Sex and domestic and lots of fucking. My fave.    

One Species Too Many by wallmakerrelict E | 21k | Fluff,  Alt!canon

While Dean is laid up for a month after breaking his leg on a hunt, Cas decides that it's a perfect time to adopt a litter of kittens. But even though he's gotten better since Purgatory, Cas still isn't quite the same as he was before fixing Sam's head, and being trapped in a cabin with him for weeks on end is making that all the more obvious to Dean. When Sam takes off on a hunt, Dean has to figure out on his own how to navigate his new relationship with Cas while also helping to raise a bunch of fuzzballs that aren't even cute. Not even a little bit. (Well, maybe a little bit.)

Team free will with kittens!! So fluffy and domestic but also a touch of angst.    

It's A Bet by vitamindesi E | 34k | College AU, top!cas, bottom!dean

Destiel College!AU in which freshman Dean is dared by his best friends to hit on senior Castiel at a party. He wants to say no but then someone starts a bet and Benny bets a sum that is ridiculously high for a student and Dean can’t disappoint Benny, right? I deviated only, but hopefully it suffices.

So fabulous and smutty I want to cry. Literally perfection.

Your Call Cannot Be Completed As Dialed by eBob, K_K_TiBal T | 66k [WIP] | Fluff,  College AU

AU in which Castiel accidentally sends a text message to the wrong number and befriends the person at the other end of the line. However, accidents don’t just happen accidentally, and sometimes two completely different people are exactly what the other needs.

LITERALLY THE BEST. So many feelings. I WANT IT TO BE COMPLETE SO MUCH. Abandoned WIP.    

Equinox by luchia E  | 12k | Alt!canon, time travel

In which Castiel is the weird time-traveling freak who just might be the love of Dean Winchester's life.

Confusing but perfect time travel fic.   

If I run by betty days E | 4k | Hot,  AU, sexting, long distance relationship

"Dean Winchester is a red-blooded American male. He lifts all the things. He aims for functional strength. He counts his macros and makes fun of curlbros. He is not a member of the Tarahumara tribe and he will not read Born to Run, no matter how many times Sam tells him to, because Starting Strength is the only book Dean will ever fucking need." Wherein a friendly competition with the mysterious ThursdaysAngel turns into a sexy selfie-trading spree that motivates Dean Winchester to train for his first marathon.

Soo. Hot. Makes me want to actually exercise?    

The Little Things by Alreadypainfullygone T | 2k | Angst,  Cancer, Major Character Death

Au based on 'the big C' in which Dean gets very sick, and deals with it the denial way. Meeting a homeless man on the way. Dean/Castiel Angst. Warning for trigger - Cancer. sorry if you think I dealt with it badly.

This is only 2.8k words, and yet it managed to make me cry.    

Do What Feels Good by  Catchclaw, cymbalism E | 12k | Hot,  Alt!canon, PWP

Castiel learns to love alone time in the shower. And then he learns to share.

Fuuuuuck that was hot. Castubation and shower sex is just so hnnnggg.    

All That Is And Used To Be by MisaChan E | 26k | Alt!Canon, wing!Kink

Dean never even knew anyone was living in the old estate outside of town until its mysterious occupant contracts his shop for a very specific job: a custom piano bench with grooves cut into the back. He finds Castiel and his terms to be eccentric with a capital E but the money is too good to turn down and anyway, Dean can't help indulging his curiosity about the guy and his secretive, isolated life. There are secrets that will not stay hidden and stories that refuse to be forgotten. Especially when they happen to involve Dean Winchester and the angel Castiel.

Ugh, I love this story. Concept, execution, and characterization are all perfect.    

Do I Have Something Like That? by MysticMoonhigh E | 2k | Hot,  horn!kink, wing!kink

based on the tumblr post I made: Does anybody know any demon!Dean fics where Cas makes Dean climax by basically giving his demon horns a hand job because I want this so badly out of lifE | I'm. I've read this about three times and I think I'm finally coming to terms with my alien biology kink. Hot. Wink!kink and horn!kink. Yes.    

The Doctor Will See You Now by  PetrichorPerfume E | 7k| Hot,  PWP sub!dean, gentle dom!cas, wing!kink

Dean has a medical kink. Castiel is more than happy to oblige. Starring Castiel as the slightly unorthodox Dr. Novak who enjoys prescribing enforced chastity and daily tease and denial sessions, and Dean as his needy, submissive patient who will do anything for a chance to come.

Wowowwowowow. Um. This was super hot. Nnnghhhh.    

Into Your Hideaway by thepinupchemist E  | 176k |Angst,  a/b/o, omega!dean, alpha!cas, mpreg

Driving down a deserted road in the Rocky Mountains, Castiel finds something unexpected: An omega. Not only an omega, but a naked, injured, pregnant omega. Dean doesn't talk much at first, but that doesn't change the brightness of his soul. It also doesn't stop Castiel from falling in love with him.

I just... Wow. This was an amazing story. Beware that it is possibly very triggering, because of rape, assault, violence, and general bigotry. But perhaps because of all of that, you get a story that is almost painful in its reality, and it is all the more loveable for that.    

The World Crashing All Around by thepinupchemist E | 36k| Alt!canon, best friends wing!Kink, kid!fic

During a storm in September of 1987, Dean and Sam hear something hit their roof. When they brave the backyard to investigate, they find a fledgling angel. A story about best friendship, spoiled plans, and love, in four parts.

OH MY GOD. This was perfect all the way through. From soul bonds, to slow burn, to growing up together as best friends, it's all my favorite. And it even has wing kink, which is literally the best.    

Share Your Burden by aTimeOfMagic E | 3k Hot,  PWP, Sub!dean, dom!cas

Set at the end of 'Are You There God? It's Me Dean Winchester.' 4.02. Castiel shows Dean that he deserves respect, and Dean comes to see that Cas is not, in fact, just a 'hammer'. He also learns that his 'people skills' are definitely not entirely 'rusty'.

Damn. Um, really hot. Also, unexpectedly sweet.    

Flawless by Vaerin E | 69k | a/b/o, accidental bonding, sub!dean, dom!cas

A contract is out on the Winchesters, a large sum of money the reward for throwing them off their game. A witch in the town they happen to be passing through decides to collect. She sets her sights on Dean, trying to seduce him into leaving his job to stay with her. When she can't even convince him to warm her bed, she decides to turn her job into his punishment. Knowing he fears commitment and can't stand the thought of being with a man, she works a spell between him and Castiel... the one friend he can call a safe haven. When they end up mated the next morning, not only does the Winchester family business suffer... but so does Dean's friendship with Castiel.

Cute long soul bond fic. Contains sabriel.    

Chasing Normal by Donovanspen M | 16k | Fluff,  First time, Cuddling & Snuggling

Dean reevaluates his definition of an 'apple pie life' and what that means for him, personally.

This is the definition of domestic fluff and smut. There's a wee bit of angst because hey, it's set in the canon verse. But so worth it.    

Hold On by somuchforbaggles E | 92k | Fluff,  Angst,   mental illness

Castiel is sure that nothing in his life will ever change. Everything that happens to him is predictable, from the stability of his job to the unrelenting sporadic anxiety attacks, he can rely on his life to stay the same forever - until he saves Dean Winchester from the path of an oncoming train. From then on, everything changes for both of them, and the only way they can deal with it is together.

Woww. This was an amazing ride. Angsty and fluffy, then angsty again, then back to fluffy. So good.    

I said to myself again by avyssoseleison E | 2k | Fluff,  Praise!kink, Self-esteem issues

Dean finally lets himself be appreciated and cared for by his angel.

Praise kink is my ultimate weakness    

The One Thing You Can't Lose by MajorEnglishEsquire T | 4k | Fluff,  Cuddling & Snuggling

You know what I like a lot? The thought that Dean can just tug Cas anywhere at any time and Cas, who can lift tons without effort, who can demolish things with the light of his grace, who has battled and gone to war, has defended and broken, will just let Dean do it.

fluffy love    

Spit Slick by VeraBAdler M | 1k | Fluff, , First Time

[no description]

A super cute fluffy little oneshot :3 (tags say 'happy sex' and 'sexy cuddling' if you need more to go on)  

Late Bloomer by somuchforbaggles T | 7k | Alt!Canon, Wing!kink, Wingfic, Soulmates

On every child’s seventh birthday, a celebration is held to mark the beginning of their journey as a fledgling - a sprouting ceremony. It doesn’t matter if the child hasn't shown the symptoms of emerging wings yet, for it is scientific fact that every child grows wings in their seventh year, sometimes even earlier. Castiel is not every child.

A coming of age wing fic. With mates. Basically, I'm in love.    

Sleight of Hand by aileenrose M | 64k | Angst,  Human AU, psychic cas, journalist dean

Dean Winchester has interviewed them all--mob bosses, serial killers, crooked politicians. Next he plans to unveil the con-man who markets himself as Castiel, a reclusive and secretive "healer" who claims to heal the sick in return for thousands of dollars. Dean's expecting a challenge, but he never expected Castiel to be so clueless or sweet...or that he might be telling the truth.

I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT THIS AU. The one where Dean is a skeptical journalist/professional idiot and Cas is a socially inept healer and mind reader. There's lots of angst, but the payoff is so worth it.    

Leaning In by Anonymous T | 15k | Hospital AU

Castiel never changed out his scrubs, Dean had a way of getting himself injured and Sam seemed to think it was a good pairing

Even though I have no idea who actually wrote this story, it's worth a read. I'm always up for a good medical AU.    

Someone I Forgot to Be by  MatildaMavis E | 36k Fluff,  Angst,  Human AU

Castiel is content - sort of - with his quiet life in Boston...at least, until his new neighbor moves in. It's Dean Winchester, the cliched long lost love of his life. Can these two idiots find their way back to each other after eight years, after fame and loss and heartbreak? After Dean has found love again with Cas' neighbor, Lisa? Fate can be a sadistic bitch, they've both learned that, but maybe they've matured enough to be able to handle it this time. The sparks, the attraction, the tension...or maybe not.

I thought this would be extremely painful, and it sort of was. But it was so worth it.    

Didn't Get That Particular Memo by Snarkymonkey E | 5k

Dean has worked with his best friend for years and maybe it's a bit more than that for him but not for Castiel, right? Right. And really, he'd feel so much better if Castiel would just get a companion already. Because it's not like Castiel actually wants him, right? Right.

Damn, that was fucking hot.  

Cas, You Had A Baby? by allthebeautifulthings9828 M | 132k | Fluff,  Alt!Canon, Kid Fic, Slow Build

At some point in every angel's life, raising a fledgling is required. Castiel's turn comes rather unexpectedly when his superiors hand off a newly created infant angel to him and leave him to raise it with all of Heaven's principles of blind obedience. He's not sure what to do, so he tucks the fledgling in his coat and goes straight to Dean and Sam Winchester. Together, Dean and Castiel hatch a plan to raise the fledgling away from Heaven's control. And soon, the angel Hael arrives with news that, after Castiel disappeared, she and four other angels ran from Heaven's oppression with their fledglings. Castiel finds himself the unwitting ringleader of angels choosing to raise their fledglings with the principles of free will. Is angelic parenthood too much for his deepening relationship with Dean? Who can they really trust? (Disclaimer: This story depicts fledglings consuming honey for the nourishment of their undeveloped graces. Human babies cannot consume honey, so please do not feed it to your infants. This is fiction.)

Oh. My. God. I admit that I was skeptical at the beginning about this story, but let me tell you, it sucked me in. Sometimes, you run across a story that has wonderful OCs that you get attached to. This is one of those. And of course, the baby is adorable.    

Healing by Jacqueline Albright-Beckett M | 2k | Fluff,  Canon!verse, PWP

Castiel can heal more than just physical wounds.

Sensual and romantic.    

Better Late Than Never by whelvenwings G | 23k | Fluff,  Alt!canon, friends to lovers,

When Dean first sees Castiel, he's clinging on for dear life - and things never really get any easier. In fact, they get a lot harder; Dean's worst enemy isn't always the monkey bars. Bound together year on year by the ritual pact of being a Guardian Angel, Dean and Cas grow close, showing loyalty and bravery in the face of danger. But will they ever find the courage to admit their true feelings for each other - and will it be too late by the time they do?

i LOVE best friends to lovers fics! and this delivers on that perfectly.    

Like A Candle In The Window On A Cold Dark Winter's Night by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel T | 6k | Fluff,  Canon!verse, asexual Cas

In which Castiel saves Dean, Dean saves Castiel, there is beer and TV watching, and if it weren't for the monsters and assassination attempts, life would be almost perfect.

A cute little fic I've read multiple times :)    

How many slams in an old screen door? by dandelioness T | 15k | Fluff,  Theatre AU, Asexual Cas

In which Castiel is a theatre major terrible at first impressions; Dean is a set designer who likes Cas anyway; and the most chaotic production of Les Miserables in history somehow manages to go off without a hitch. Or, just as you should never give a moose a muffin (because he'll want some jam to go with it), you should never give a blank check to a university theatre department.

This is perfect. I can't speak for the accuracy of the information and feelings given about asexuals/asexuality, but I enjoyed this fic nonetheless.    

Breath of Heaven by solacesnake18 E | 9k

When Dean is wounded and dying in Purgatory, Castiel returns from his self-imposed exile to help him.

Wow. True!form cas and metaphysical sex that somehow manages to be poetic, emotional, and erotic all at once. I approve.    

The Mirror by CloudyJenn M | 24k | Canon!Verse,

When Dean touches a strange mirror, he's whisked away to one alternate reality after another and it doesn't take him long to realize the universe is trying to tell him something.

One of my favorite fics, and a fandom classic. So beautiful. It's a trip, but you'll love it. The ending makes me really emotional.    

Rock 'n' Roll Queer Bar by chasingrabbits E | 121k | Fluff,  Human AU

Ellen and Jo Harvelle run Harvelle's Roadhouse, a bar that unintentionally becomes a beacon for wayward queer souls. Her employees: Dean, the smartass runaway with a big heart and bigger mouth; Castiel, the college drop-out turned hippie; his (surprisingly heterosexual) trouble-making brother Gabriel; and Charlie, who has been told several times that the back room is not to be used for after-hours Dungeons & Dragons games. But there's a lot of love in this place, and a new family for anyone who may otherwise be without.

Sweet little (well, not so little really) universe. Link is to the series.    

A Million Ways to Go by chasingrabbits E | 91k | High School AU,

Castiel Novak is a preacher's son living in a world of black and white. Pragmatic and dutiful, he doesn't understand why anybody would want to make waves. Then the Winchesters move in down the street. Soon many of the skeletons in the Novak family's closet are exposed, and as the family faces them, Castiel begins to understand that there are many ways to see the world and so many more ways to live than what he's been told.

Wow, this was a ride. Set in an alternate!canon where Cas is a repressed preacher's kid and dean still grows up a hunter. Also, lots of Sam and Gabriel brother!feels. Not sabriel.

Like That Foreigner Song... by DevilMadeMeDoIt E | 5k | Hot,  Alt!Canon, Deancest, Time trave

Dean and Cas have been together for a while now, but Dean always regrets that he has been with so many people in the past. He wishes he could go back in time and tell his 15 year old self that there is someone worth waiting for. Cas gives him the chance and the outcome is one that neither of them expected.

Oh god, this was a perfect little story. So much love.    

TutorMate by faeryn M | 21k | College AU

Sam leaves Dean's laptop logged in to some app called "TutorMate" and Dean meets his brother's tutor. Cas helps him with his own work and they strike up a friendship. Before long Dean finds himself growing attached to the cute, clever Cas and flirtatiously suggests they go on a date if he applies himself to his college work. Cas agrees, but Dean discovers his online friend is not quite what he expected. (Or, in which Dean thinks he's met a cute girl and finds out he's actually met a cute boy.)

Wowowwowowow adorable. Perfect little college AU.    

More recs coming soon.

#destiel #deancas #spn #spn fic rec #destiel fic rec #* #list

[shera-dnd]

The Hunter part 2 - Our Guilt

The continuation of the self indulgent Catralonnie nonsense

This time with 100% more homoerotic sparring matches

The information they got wasn’t complete. They knew now that Prime’s ship had landed in the middle of a canyon in the Wastes; the awkward forced landing nearly completely covered the area in rocks and dirt and kept the ship hidden from scavengers for years. One of the gangs had recently uncovered it and planned to use the weapons there to get back at the kingdoms that rejected them.

Catra recognized that sentiment. She had felt the same way about Adora, Shadow Weaver, the whole world, even. Back then she would’ve grinded the entire world into dust to fill the hole in her heart. She was different now, and she would not let so many lives be destroyed with that same foolish anger.

They still didn’t know where the ship fell exactly, or where the super weapon would be pointed, or even which of the many gangs was responsible, so they still had a fair share of investigations ahead of them. And that is why they were taking a little trip through the Valley of the Lost hoping Lonnie’s contacts knew something they didn’t.

No, they were the Hunter’s contacts and Catra was travelling with the Hunter now, not Lonnie. They had put their helmet back on and it was back to having the quiet, professional, and constantly grumpy Hunter. Thinking about it now, Catra was kinda surprised it took her a whole day to figure out who they were.

Her companion guided her through shady streets and even shadier alleys, until they found themselves in some abandoned storage facility...or just a shack full of shit, both options were equally plausible.

“You wait outside.” They commanded. Catra opened her mouth to protest, but was promptly interrupted. “He’ll only talk to me. You wait outside.”

Catra sighed and once more waited while her companion did the talking. Part of her wanted them to get this over with quickly so they could get on their way already. The other part wanted it to go about as well as it did last time so she had something to do.

Luckily the former part of her got what it wanted and after a few minutes the Hunter returned, giving her a nod that Catra understood as ‘mission accomplished’. Unluckily, the second half also got what it wanted for as soon as they stepped into the main street they were surrounded by armed thugs. Armed thugs with sleeveless leather jackets and whips. Great.

“Shouldn’t you shit heads be helping with Fright Zone reconstructions?” Catra called out, her hand slowly reaching for her whip.

“You got the wrong gang, girl.” A goat man answered, sounding way too confident for someone who was about to have some broken bones. “We don’t work with those traitors and we sure as hell don’t work for you!”

“So are those the ones we’re looking for?” Catra casually asked the Hunter, completely ignoring the over confident fool.

“Yes.” They answered, hand moving for their spear.

Once more they found themselves in that familiar position of fighting back to back. It made sense now that she would feel this kind of familiarity with someone she had sparred with so many times, but for some reason knowing that it was Lonnie inside of that armor made these moments a lot more strange for Catra.

Lonnie understood her, in some bizarre way. This woman who she barely talked to outside the necessary, who made Catra suffer and was made to suffer by Catra’s hands, who hated her and had every right to. Somehow this woman got her more than anyone back at Brightmoon. More than Adora ever did.

“Do all your hunts end up like this?” Catra asked, trying to distract herself from the turmoil that always came over her when she thought of Adora.

“Not until you came along.” They complained, putting their spear away and turning to face Catra.

“Are you seriously blaming me for this?” Catra asked, incredulous “They all attacked you!”

“I am blaming you, because you are the one getting all the unwanted attention.” Lonnie argued, her voice growing louder as she nearly dropped the Hunter act.

“Says the woman wearing a whole tank worth of weapons.” Catra bit back, exhausted and stressed from the track in the desert, the stupid bandits who kept getting in the way and the unbearable silence that kept grinding at her sanity. At least shouting was better than quiet judging.

“I-” Lonnie began, but Catra would not let her finish.

“You hate me!” She loudly interrupted, “I get it. Join the fucking club!” Lonnie looked ready to strangle Catra, but before she got any chance another bandit rode past them on the back of a raptor. “You gonna shoot them?”

“We’re gonna follow them.” The Hunter answered, Lonnie’s burst of emotion once again replaced by cold professionalism. Catra let out a sigh of frustration and attempted to calm down.

“That thing is way faster than our cart.” Catra stated “A skiff would draw too much attention, so I say we cut the horses lose from the cart, grab as many supplies as we can carry and ride for the rest of the trip.”

“Sounds good.” The Hunter agreed with a nod.

It was mechanical and cold, in a way that Catra was starting to hate. She was this close to getting something out of Lonnie, even if that something was probably her right hook. Losing a few teeth was preferable to enduring the silent hatred from behind that awful helmet.

~~~

Their chase had been less a high speed chase and more a slightly hurried ride through the desert. The raptor couldn’t keep up its speed for much more than a few minutes, and as their mark slowed down so did they. They were careful to keep them just at the limit of what their binoculars could see so they wouldn’t draw their attention and raise suspicion.  

“You gonna take that helmet off?” Catra asked, after a few hours in the desert. She refused to spend another minute alone with ‘The Hunter’.

“No.” The answer was quick and short, delivered with that insufferable voice distortion.

“I already know who you are,” Catra reminded her, “Why even keep it?”

“Why take it off?” Lonnie had to be fucking with Catra at this point.

“Because I wanna talk to you and not some mercenary weirdo.” Catra explained.

“I’m fine not talking.” Lonnie answer and Catra just wanted to jump her right now “And I’m not a mercenary.”

“Well I’m not fine with silence!” She complained, exasperated.

“You were before.” Lonnie retorted, now with even fewer words.

“Maybe because I didn’t know you were my lost childhood friend until last night.” Catra couldn’t believe she had to explain that “I thought you were dead!”

“We were never friends, Catra.” She answered. The words were accusatory, but her tone was tired and maybe even regretful. “You made that very clear.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t care when you just up and vanished!” Catra wanted Lonnie to open up a little, but Catra was the one leaving herself wide open. “Fuck, Lonnie. Rogelio and Kyle-”

“Are happily married and living a peaceful life somewhere else.” She interrupted.

“They were worried sick!” Catra argued back “And here you were, all this time, wearing a mask and pretending to be someone else so you could maybe get your shot at happiness, but guess what? You can never be happy by pretending! Believe me, I tried!” Catra only realized how much she had said once it already left her mouth.

Lonnie didn’t answer for a while, leaving Catra to regret every second of her emotional burst, but after a few moments and a heavy sigh Lonnie took off her helmet. She still didn’t say anything to Catra, but at least there was a human face next to her and not a cold mask.

Catra tried not to stare this time, but every time she turned to look at Lonnie she saw the woman’s face going through a journey far more intense than the one they were having. Frustrated, angry, regretful, tired, sad. Lonnie hadn’t had to suppress her own expressions in a long time and now without the helmet her emotions were exposed for the whole world to see.

“After this is done,” Lonnie finally spoke. It was nice to hear her real voice again. “Let Kyle and Rogelio know I’m fine and tell them I’m happy for them.”

“After this is done you could tell them yourself.” Catra offered, but it only earned her a glare. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

She opened her mouth to ask something, but Lonnie lifted her hand in a motion that said ‘halt’. They both stopped their mounts and brought up their binoculars. It seemed their mark’s ride decided that they had done enough running for a day and refused to move from that spot. The following display of hilarious incompetence from their target both amused and confused Catra. How did a bunch of bumbling fools manage to become such a threat to Etheria? Maybe they kept all the competent leaders at their homebase and use the rest as cannon fodder.

“Looks like they’re setting up camp.” Catra commented. It was getting pretty dark.

“Let’s do the same then.” Lonnie added, jumping off of her horse.

~~~

There was no fire tonight for either them nor did their target dare light one. It was a good thing Catra and Lonnie had spent most their lives eating cold and tasteless ration bars or this meal would’ve been dreadful. It still was, but at least they were used to it.

Catra passed her binoculars back to Lonnie as her turn on ‘idiot watch’ was over. She lazily rolled over and looked up at the stars that illuminated them, shining as bright as they had the day she escaped from Prime, expanding endlessly towards the horizon. If anything good ever came from the war, this view would be it.

“I was wondering something.” She mentioned lazily. “Why the whole ‘Hunter’ thing? Do you really need a secret identity?”

Lonnie didn’t answer for a while and Catra felt like she pried into something she shouldn’t.

“I wasn’t planning on it at first.” Lonnie explained. “I used the helmet for protection. Never understood why Rogelio insisted on fighting without it.” She shook her head and allowed a small smile at the memory. “I also never made a point of introducing myself before helping people, then one day someone called me The Hunter and I never bothered to correct them.”

“You could have said something back when we met.” Catra complained, but it was halfheartedly. More to poke fun at Lonnie than to really display displeasure.

“I said ‘Catra!’” She repeated in that same annoyed tone from before, earning a short laugh from Catra. “And ‘I hate you’. I was practically telling you my name.”

“You underestimate how many people still hate me.” Catra joked along. Lonnie chuckled at that. “I was worried it could’ve been Octavia under the mask the whole time.”

“Like Octavia ever fought that well.” Now they were both laughing. When did they get this friendly?

“Who said you fought well?” Catra teased. “If I recall correctly I was the one pinning you down.”

“That is because I was holding back on you!” Lonnie defended “Just because I wanted to work some tension out on your face doesn’t mean I wanted to kill you.”

“What? Did years in the desert give you She-ra powers or something?” Catra joked, turning around to see Lonnie detaching the chest plate from her armor. Inside there was a single First Ones relic connected to the exoskeleton she was wearing.

“Stole one of Hordak’s old models before leaving.” She explained “I could probably kick you all the way to their camp!” She gestured towards their target while looking smugly at Catra.

“Well, then take that off. We’re having a rematch.” Catra declared as she got up and began stretching.

“Excuse me?” Lonnie asked, surprised by Catra’s eagerness. “We have to keep an eye on them!”

“If they start running in the middle of the match we just catch up to them later.” Catra shrugged. “Not like it’s gonna take that long.” Catra offered her a challenging smile. “Afraid I’ll be the one on top again?” Lonnie smiled back.

“In your dreams, Catra.” She answered and began taking off her armor.

Several of Catra’s dreams had in fact started with Lonnie stripping off her armor and ended with Catra on top, but she was definitely not gonna mention that, so she settled with just waiting for her adversary to get ready with feign impatience.

The clothes Lonnie was wearing under the armor were simple and plain, offering a little extra comfort under the mountain of bulky metal she carried daily. She was definitely still wearing more under her armor than she did in those dreams.

Their sparring match was quick, but intense. Catra had speed on her side and was more than used to fighting stronger opponents, easily sidestepping and dodging anything Lonnie threw at her. Lonnie, on the other hand, had the stamina to keep fighting regardless of what Catra threw at her and enough strength in that right hook to keep Catra on her toes. They would both have to rely on wits to take the upper hand and that was something both women had quite a lot of.

In the end they were both laughing. They were tired, dirty and sweaty, but they were laughing. Even when Lonnie tackled her to the ground and pinned her in place Catra still smiled, not even defeat could take that from her.

“Told you I’d be on top.” Lonnie teased, with a smug smile on her face that was somehow brighter than any of the stars that framed her. “Do I win something?”

‘Me’ a part of Catra wanted to say. The same part that was now bombarding her with terrible ideas she would absolutely regret and questioned why her past self insisted on thinking about herself on top when this was clearly much more fun.

“Yeah,” Catra finally said, banishing any stray thoughts about Lonnie’s biceps. “You earned my silence. Congratulations, I’ll stop bothering you now.”

Lonnie looked disappointed, maybe even sad and Catra immediately regretted her decision. Lonnie pushed herself up and began putting on her armor again, making a clear effort to not look at Catra.

They both returned to their respective corners of the camp. Lonnie went back to watching over their target, and Catra accepted that she was gonna fall asleep full of regrets once again. But as she closed her eyes, she heard Lonnie’s voice.

“I think I’m gonna refuse that prize.”

And Catra fell asleep with a smile.

#catra #lonnie #catralonnie #shera #spop #fanfic

[salamanderskin]

Mad Max Fury Road fic for Sitruksista

This is a commission for @sitruksista- hope you like it :)

It is entirely too Goddamn hot. It's always too hot in the Wasteland, but for some reason it's hitting him hard today. Max leans over the steering wheel and squints against the sun and cloud of dust the car kicks up, until he can see the smudge on cliffs on the horizon. The land below them is a different colour, maybe almost green. Driving towards it feels good. He hadn't been planning to come back to Citadel any time soon. He hadn't intended to come back for the visit before this either, yet here he is again.

He must have misjudged the distance because the sky gets dark suddenly and he realises he will have to sleep in the car. Not the he minds especially: this car isn't a bad one for it. It isn't his beloved V8 Interceptor, but the seats are broad enough to stretch out on, the doors lock tight and make a snug haven. Safe as a snake in a burrow.

It feels good to stop and pull over. When he was driving he was distracted and he couldn't feel the complaints of his body, but as soon as he rises from the seat it all floods back. Here is the ache in his back from sitting for two long, the whole body complaint that comes from living with little water, the gritty feel of sand on his skin. Here is the dull, radiating pain in his right side that came from a tussle in Gastown two days ago. Here, too, is a feathering itch in the back of his throat which is scraped and sore when he swallows. He sniffs, swallows, sniffs again. These things he tallies up without self-pity, taking an account of himself as he would check an engine. He can't do anything about any of them, so he lies straight down.

At night the temperature drops sharply. He settles to sleep dressed in his thick jacket and under the couple of blankets that came with the car. It's more comfort than he's used to and Max expects to fall immediately asleep, but it doesn't come. Instead he lies looking up at the stars through the sunroof, watching as his own breath becomes visible in the air. Each breath comes with a little stab of pain in the side of his chest. The bruising feels deeper than skin level, like it is spread between his ribs, and when his lungs inflate they fight the motion. To make matters worse, from the moment he lies down he can't seem to stop sniffling and the fluid is irritating his throat further. It doesn't bode well. He groans and rubs a knuckle under his nose until he is finally able to sleep.

He wakes later than expected, with the sun already well over the horizon. The car has gone from freezing to a greenhouse moist with his own sweat.

As he rises the itch in nose is suddenly fanned. All he can do is draw a ragged breath to sneeze convulsively, directing his head over his shoulder. “CHIZSCH!!” A boot of pain sears from his ribs.

And again- “hg--CHIZSCH!!”- as he bends to lace his boots. He presses a palm to his side but the motion is just as painful.

And again as he starts the engine. This time it lingers at the edge of his senses, leaving him to pant and shake his head as he waits for it to come. He doesn’t want to risk the pain again, and endeavours to make the release as small as possible, a strangled “hsssecchtt!” against his balled up fist. It makes his eyes water and his head ring but it doesn’t make him feel like he is being kicked again, so that is a small success at least. If he can just sneeze as little as possible, the rest of the drive should go smoothly.

...................

The security around the towering bulk of the citadel has not weakened since the Immortan’s fall, but imperator Furiosa and her band of faithful have changed the protocols such that the moment Max is recognised he is escorted through.

The bunch of gangly teens on the gate burst into delighted yells when they clock him.

“We’ll tell the Imperator.”

Max grunts in the negative then says more clearly, “No.”

He holds enough authority that they back off respectfully and allow him to skulk into the citadel more or less unmolested. A gaggle of War Boys converge on the car as soon as it is stationary. Grabbing monkey hands reach to feel the edges, smear in the grease and peek under the chassis to size it up. Unwanted touching of any kind makes Max’s hackles rise and he snarls at them until they back away.

He regrets it at once- the boys are only curious, and the exclamation tears through his throat like a swallow of hot lead, sparking a brutal fit of coughing that make him double over.

His head doesn’t clear when the coughing does. His vision is left blurry and lurching, his sinuses clogged. Despite the wasteland sun he finds himself shivering and the back of his neck if bathed in cold sweat.

Not good. None of this is good. It makes him feel vulnerable. Trapped and lost and split between the impulse to crawl into a hole and come out then it’s over, and to dash back out into the open desert where the open sky might make his skin feel less tight. Another sneeze hits; a few miserable minutes to brace against his ribs and pray it won’t happen, followed by equally miserable minutes of frantic, ticklish breaths as he prays it will.  Anything to purge the wretched tickle.

He is aware he looks ridiculous as he squints at the sun. Draws a heady, preparatory “uhhh-“ and lets it out again multiple times before he finally sneezes.  

After all that, the itching feeling is barely gone. Not good at all.

Max doesn’t know his way around. He has never stayed for more that a week at a time and the Citadel is a labyrinth of corridors, roaring industrial equipment Being back again makes his heart jump and the muscles twinge. Being back makes the visions and faces and memories louder and harder to quell. He asks an effort to avoid the hellhole the Immortan had called the infirmary. Max doesn’t know if he can keep it together in the face of those machines.

Instead he wanders. It is surprisingly easy to find a spigot where can refill his canteen. It seems Furiosa and her women have wasted no time in sharing Joe’s hoarded water table with the masses. The simple luxury of it takes his breath away. Max drinks and drinks, savouring the coolness against his raw throat. It doesn’t occur to him to splash his flushed face. That would be an unholy waste.

This done, he paces the inside of the Citadel. It’s largely quiet. It seems the population have moved from the miserable tunnels to the newly developing gardens on the sheltered north side of the cliff. The old halls are all but abandoned. That suits him. It’s getting harder to keep straight as he walks. There are speckles at the edge of his vision. He needs to find a place to lie down.

He walks for a long time and finds himself meandering downwards into smaller and smaller rooms, getting further away from any natural light. It feels safer and there is no one to look at him when he is seized by an ugly coughing fit or tries to blow his clogged nose. Eventually he finds what looks like a bunk room. There are arrays of beds with thin mattresses stacked three high. Some of them still have sheets and pillows and some of them even are clean. Max knows he should let Furiosa and the others know he is here. They would treat him like a king, give him food and water and a real bed... and they would look at him and talk and ask questions and it would all be more than he can bear. He'll make himself know later, when he has rested up a bit. If he could just shake this head cold or whatever it is, he'd be able to make a decision. Maybe even remember why he is here. Instead he chooses the bed furthest from the door and gathers enough blankets to cocoon himself.

Lying down makes the pressure shift in his nose. He knows he is going to have to sneeze again and if he does so while lying like this, the effect on his injuries will be catastrophic. In frantic dread Max manages to sit up and brace against the back wall, pressing both palm hard into his rib cage as though holding back a tide. Once he is ready the sensation eases away, of course, and he snarls in frustration, worrying a knuckle beneath his septum in an attempt to bring it on. He itch-itch-itches at it until all he can do is draw a gasp and slam the resulting sneezes into his waiting shoulder.

“hsssecchtt!-- hsssecchtt!--- hk-hsssechue! Fuck- HHSSChue!”

That last one knocks all the air from him and he groans, lying back and trying to settle. Max didn't think he'd ever relax here in Immortan Joe's Citadel-as-was, but his eyes weigh shut and he falls into a sudden, fretful sleep.

... …....................

It doesn't take long for the news to pass through the Citadel.

Imperator Furiosa has often imagined Max returning. In idle moments she works on different scenarios that feature him striding out of the desert like a conquering hero. These ring false even in her fond imagination. She barely knows the man she had called 'fool'. It had been hard enough to drag a name out of him, let a alone an affectionate reunion. He isn't the type. That said... arriving without warning and holing up in a back-room like a rabbit in a den? That was contrary and stubborn enough that it might actually be true.

Upon locating the room, she pauses at the threshold to draw a steadying breath. She feels for the gun at her waist, the knife in her boot and the calm, confidence in her stance. She is not afraid of him but she has seen the way he sleeps and the way he wakes as though chased by hungry ghosts. So she clears her throat, then taps a knuckle on the door frame. Lets him know she is there in plenty of time.

In response there is a startled, animal sounding snort, followed the sound of a convulsive cough. Furiosa herself is startled by the sound- she thinks she can feel her heart kicking the adrenaline through her system. That is definitely because of the sudden sound. Nothing at all to do with how good it is to see him again.

There he is. Her fool. Max. He is half-sitting on a bed in the back corner of the room and coughing fit to choke. Furiosa waits until he is finished coughing and looks up.. Then waits a moment more for him to blink away the ghosts.

“Hey.”

Recognition dawns. “You.” He rasps.

“Me.” She affirms. He seems calm enough, maybe even pleased to see her, so she approaches the bed and makes to squat down beside him.

Apparently this the wrong thing to do.

Max pushes frantically away from her until his back is against the wall.  He casts her an expression she can't read, all squinted eyes with the corners of his mouth twitching into a snarl that makes him look completely feral, then-

“huh—CHIZSCH!!” His head snaps down and he sneezes with cringing strength. This is followed by a miserable groan as he nurses he hands against one side of his chest in obvious pain. He gestures her away from him between shallow, desperate pants before he is hit by another round of sneezes. By the time he is finished, his nose is red raw as he abuses it with the sleeve of his shirt.

He tries again to shoo her away but it is distinctly half-assed- he knows already that she doesn't take commands from him. True to form, she ignores his defences and settles beside him on the mattress. He rises to sitting and there is no disguising the pain the movement causes.

Furiosa winces in understanding. “You look like shit.”

Max nods, snorts back congestion. “Sick.” He explains, eyes cast down.

“And the rest?” She gestures at his cringing curl to one side.

“Ribs.” He shrugs.

“Broken?”

He shakes his head. “Bruised.” “Let me see?” She comes a little closer, tries to touch him only to have him shy away again, shake his head more violently. Oh yeah, he isn't one of the touch-starved War Boys who sleep in puppy piles for warmth. She needs to work up to actual physical contact.

“Okay, okay!” Backing off, hands raised. However even from this distance she can feel the cooking heat of a fever coming from his back.

“You're burning up.” She tells him.

He shakes his head again. “Cold.”

“Nope, that's just you. If you come upstairs you can see Capable. She's getting really good with herbs now, she'll be able to give you something.”

She already knows he'll refuse but she has to offer. From this angle she can see how he shivers, see the tiny hairs rising in goose-flesh along his limbs despite the warmth of the room. He looks longingly at the rumpled sheets he has pushed to the floor, so she passes them and nests them over his lap as much as she can without invading his space.

“Or I can get Capable to bring some medicine down here?. Something for your ribs, and some hot water?” She coaxes.

Another vehement head shake. Max's breath gets quick and noisy, agitated by the very idea of another person and he starts coughing again. He tenses as though to run away, pushes back further into the wall with his eyes darting to each corner of the room.

“Okay, okay, okay. No new people. Just me. Lie down at least?”

He would dearly like to brace against to ease down in the bed, but manages himself with a small production of grunting and gritted teeth. When he settles, Furiosa passes the blankets so he can pull them up to his chin. She snatches another from an adjacent bunk and adds it to the pile.

Max scrubs the heel of his hand against his nose and sniffles, or tries to sniffle, and she can hear the wall of congestion in his head. Another sneeze would be unfortunate at this point and it looks like it won't be long. With this in mind, Furiosa stands and tells him,

“I'm going away for ten minutes. But I'm coming back. Just me, okay?” She isn't sure if he hears but he doesn't actively protest so she leaves him to snuffle.

As she paces the corridor, Furiosa wonders what the hell she is doing. She is about the furthest thing from a nursemaid. Max is a terrible patient. She has a hundred important things she should be doing right now and none of them are tending to that fool who will clearly be fine in a few days. She cracks her knuckles on one hand and fiddles with the mechanics in her prosthetic arm as she marches through her domain, gathering items... She must be growing sentimental.

When she returns to the sickroom, Max has stopped shivering. His eyes have a hot, glassy look and his lips and nostrils are equally cracked and dry. She sloshes the water in the canteen to get his attention and passes him some clean cloths from the infirmary.

“First, blow your God-damn nose.”

Max gives her a dirty look.

“Fool...” she grows warningly.

So he does. It's a horrible, heavy sound but he seems to breathe more easily afterwards.

When he rises to sitting and lets her settle beside him, she allows him the water. This is followed by a cup of the tea that the women have been making from those hardy, mentholish herbs coaxed from their bounty of ancient seeds. Max raises an eyebrow at it, questioning.

“It won't poison you. It's supposed to be good for this kind of thing. Capable's been giving it to the War Boys.”

Max takes a sip then puts the cup down hastily, raises a hand to to hover in front of his nose as his expression grows slack with another building sneeze. Furiosa catches the weak –uhh- at the back of his throat as he tucks a cloth over his nose and smothers the sneezes to tight, almost soundless exclamations. She can feel the mattress shake with the suppressed force but it doesn't seem to hurt his ribs so much that way. When he keeps shuddering with sneeze after sneeze, she rests a hand on his heaving back. She fully expects him to shrug her off as soon as he regains his senses, but he actually tolerates the touch. God he is warm though. It's like sitting beside a furnace.

Eventually he recovers enough to drink the tea. He looks up at her over the cup, not seeing her at all but looking over some inner wasteland brought closer by the fever. He blinks at her in surprise when she takes the cup form him, as though he expected someone else.

“M' gonna go to sleep.” He rasps; a long speech by his standards.

“Good idea. You're safe here.” She agrees.

This time he uses her shoulder as leverage to lie himself down, and when she sits beside him on the narrow mattress he doesn't shy away. It must be the fever making him docile, like a fierce dog undone before a hearth fire. She is fascinated by the slackness of his rough hands against the cotton sheets, by the shadows under his eyes and the flush at his cheeks that makes him look almost like a doll. His breathing stays raspy and she can hear the sickness in each breath, but it slows to a steady, satisfying rhythm.

She thinks he must be asleep already when one eye cracks open.

“Say that again?” Max asks in a cracked whisper.

“Say what again?” Her mind casts back a few beats and- oh.

“You're safe here.”

As if that was all he was waiting for, he falls asleep at once.

END.

#salamanderskin's fic #sneezefic #hurt/comfort #fever #caretaking #whump

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Into the Dark (3/?)

A/N: Reader gets into some pretty dark thoughts. mentions of suicidal ideations and self-harm. Sorry. I’m working through some things today. Implied smut so +18. 

The wedding preparations and learning your duties keep you busy. So busy that you don’t see your intended but for meals and in passing. He mostly ignores you unless his mother is watching for which you are grateful. Your emotions are wrung out. You have no feelings left to spare for Thor’s sulking. 

You’re far from home and patently unwanted by the person who is supposed to spend the rest of his life with you. Thor isn’t outright cruel to you and Sif, because of convention can’t approach you first. So you simply give her a wide berth and avoid her too. Let them make eyes at each other. What do you care? 

At least that’s what you tell yourself but every glance you catch Thor making sears your heart like cold iron. Odin and Frigga restrict Sif to training soldiers to keep her away from Thor. Trying to spare you the pain of being outright dishonored. Thor doesn’t kiss her. But more than once when you’ve been looking for him to tell him Loki or his Mother or his father wanted him, you’ve found him murmuring of love into her ear. You simply clear your throat and calmly state that someone wanted him before turning on your heel and leaving. 

You can’t even be jealous. They had centuries together. You’re the interloper. The thing he didn’t want. You keep the pain close to your chest. This is not your kingdom. These are not your friends. Thor will always be their first priority, regardless of the love Frigga may have for you and the esteem Odin holds your family in. You only show any distaste for the situation in your private journals. Writing angry letters and doodling various ways you’d happily end your life. Stick figures walking off cliffs and making nooses. It’s the only outlet you have for your unhappiness. You tell yourself that this is your duty. You tell yourself that this is home. You try. You get to know the palace children. You learn the ropes from Frigga. You spend hours researching protocol and diplomacy. Anything to stay busy. 

Frigga sees your distress. She knows that the iron burns on your arms and hands are probably not all due to your own clumsiness. She pleads with Odin to let you go home. To cancel the wedding and send your dowry back and send you with it, but he won’t. He knows what comes. He saw the same soothsayer that Frigga did. Thor needs you whether he’ll acknowledge it or not. As the wedding draws nearer your smile gets more brittle and you feel less and less like trying. You’re tired of the stone wall of his indifference. You wish you had never been born and honestly, you feel abandoned. 

Every dress fitting something needs to be nipped in. Every endless day trying to arrange for a week of feasts makes you want to tear your hair out. Instead, you seek solitude. Long forgotten corners of the library. Dusty books no one has looks at in centuries. You hide just to have a moment alone. You don’t even feel like a princess. You certainly don’t feel like yourself. You’ve never felt so alone or desperate. When the week of feasts start you cast a spell on yourself. One for contentment. You are content and the storm in your mind is calm. You can’t care about Thor and Sif because the sky is blue and so is your dress. You don’t care about the mocking laughter when Thor dances with Sif instead of you because the stars are different and it’s fascinating. 

Every day you are calm and smiling and content. It’s magic but no one needs to know that. No one needs to know that as you sink into your bath, sinking low in the water you wonder if you really can drown in the bathtub if you try hard and believe in yourself. The day of the wedding not only are you content but you are slightly drunk. It quells the terror nicely. It keeps your knees from shaking so you can walk. 

Neither you or Thor look at each other as your hands are bound. You because you can’t stand to see the indifference on his face. Thor because you aren’t Sif. You aren’t who he wants and he cannot simply will you to be. When Thor kisses you, another dutiful, dispassionate peck there is polite applause. He looks at you, a flicker of you think perhaps, interest when he tastes the alcohol clinging to your lips. He walks you to the reception hall, stone-faced and silent. You are silent but smiling. Drunk and bespelled just to avoid the crushing weight of the anger and pain threatening to push the air from your lungs. He escorts you to a chair and in the din, after a week or more of not so much as glancing at you, he speaks. “Y/N, are you well?” he asks too quietly for anyone else to hear. “Of course,” you say, still smiling and slightly vacant because the spell won’t let you not be okay.

He looks into your face and then quietly pours you a goblet of water, pushing it towards you, “Drink that,” he says sternly. The spell tells you that it’s the start of a love story. That everything is fine. So you drink it. Anything uncomfortable gets pushed from your mind. When he leads you dutifully through a first dance, avoiding glancing at Sif and keeping his hands firmly in polite positions, you are still smiling. Still vacant. Just being close to Thor hurts. So he isn’t Thor. He’s a nameless, faceless stranger. 

You don’t remember most of the feast but, you don’t want to either. When Thor puts your hand on his arm and leads you towards your shared chambers you don’t feel humiliated the way you might otherwise have done when someone shouts for him to just pretend that you’re someone else. 

Thor shuts the chamber door and shuts out the light. His hands are confident as he strips you. Confident and dispassionate. You knew vaguely that this was coming. It’s a duty. Even if you don’t want it. Even if you had hoped that this would be less... clinical. You stay bespelled and wish you had drunk more wine. Thor strips you gently and tucks you into bed and then strips himself before joining you. Even in the dark he’s hulking and muscular. “Do you consent?” he asked quietly. If you object, he’ll stop but you know that it’s your duty and you must. “Of course,” you say, “It’s what I’m for I suppose.” You are tired and it’s harder to stay bespelled. That was unintentionally blunt. Even your husband winces but he nods, “I suppose so,” he says. 

That hurts. It stings. And despite the spell, you blink back tears thankful for the dark.  Thor is gentle with you, careful not to hurt you. He’s surprised that you’re still a virgin and looks at you guiltily when he’s spent. He looks at your back in the moonlight. The soft skin he’d been pretending belonged to Sif. You turned away from him as soon as he moved off of you. Any discomfort you felt your own to deal with. You don’t want him to touch you. You curl around your disappointment flowing down your cheeks in silent tears. It wasn’t supposed to be dutiful and clinical. You weren’t supposed to be drunk and bespelled. It was supposed to be love. Sweet, and maybe shy. You wake in the morning long before Thor after a fitful sleep. You feel sick and sad and all you want is to lay in bed and wallow in it. Instead, you go to the stable. You know Thor won’t want to see you anyway, and frankly, you don’t want to see him either. So you get on a horse and you ride. You have no destination. Unless it’s just “away”. You wander far. As far out as you please and to hell with the whispers. Thor doesn’t want you. To him, you’re less than a duty. You’re a burden. 

When Thor wakes alone he feels guilty all over again. He deflowered you and you spent the night tossing and turning next to him, uncomfortable and homesick. You deserved better. He should have at least held you. But, judging by the fact that your pillow was still damp from all the tears you cried, he didn’t think that would have helped. He thought of you. Vacantly smiling. The burn of liquor. Strong liquor on your lips. You had had to be drunk and bespelled to go through with this. He promised himself that he’d try to be better. He watched from the window. Your small form on horseback, riding like an army was after you. Desperate for exertion. For freedom. For a sense of normalcy. He watched and frowned. He knew it was unlikely you were pregnant after last night but riding like that was unacceptable. The sooner you gave him his heir and a spare the sooner he never had to touch you again. An arrangement that would probably, he reflected, make you the happiest you’d been thus far. 

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