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yee-fxcking-haw · 4 years ago

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•Don't Say His Name•

Summary: This is a part two to Forget That Extra! There will at the very least be a third part, since this one ends unresolved and I have SO MUCH of the story left in my brain.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader (both Bakugo and Reader are aged up to 18+)

Warnings: Rough sex, degredation, impact play, ddlg terms, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, a sprinkling of knife play, fingering, ruined orgasm, Dom Bakugo, Brat/masochist reader, tiny bit of angst.

Word Count: 6,115

Part One • Part Three

A/N: As far as tagging goes, I tagged those that commented on part one, and those that liked the post about this part. If you would like added/removed just let me know!

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You walk down the hallway with all the confidence in the world. "You're my woman now." He had said. Katsuki Bakugo's woman. That's you. Walking through his agency covered in bruises he had left, and only he could see. It makes your insides twist and spark with excitement, the idea of belonging to that explosive hero.

You're on your way to his office now, coffee in hand as you try to make an effort at being an actual partner instead of just his play thing. You made sure to get the right kind of milk and sugar, and extra caramel of course. The past few weeks have been all about learning things like that, the little details about each other that exists outside the bedroom or a stuffy closet.

Just as you make the final turn to Katsuki's office, you see a wild flash of green hair and hear an excited voice say your name. A bright smile spreads across Deku's boyish face, cheeks all pink and freckled. He's all dressed up in his hero costume as he bounces towards you before speaking again.

"Hey! On a coffee run for the boss man?" He jokes, nodding at the hot drinks in your hands.

The boss man, right, he's your boss. He should definitely not have been in your guts less than twelve hours ago, and you definitely shouldn't have his teeth marks on your body.

"Oh yeah, either gotta keep him caffeinated or pick up pieces of exploded furniture, and I much prefer the coffee runs to clean up duty." You laugh with him, both of you knowing Bakugo's temperament far too well.

As you laugh your shoulders move a little too much and the strap of your bag falls off, catching on your elbow and nearly jostling the coffee to the point of falling out of the drink carrier.

Deku's reflexes are like lightning as always, before you can object he's taken the coffee as you slip the strap back onto your shoulder. Your cheeks flush as you mumble a bashful thanks then reach for the coffees.

"No I got it, let me walk with you." He says, "Can't risk dropping the precious cargo."

You both share another chuckle as you anxiously adjust your top, trying to tuck it more securely into your plaid skirt.

"Thanks, Deku, I would've been in for it if I had lost that drink."

You both take off down the hall at a rather lazy pace, sharing some pleasant small talk about your days. You find out that he actually just left Katsuki's office, they were going over some boring publicity stuff for their agencies. As you walk you find yourself laughing a lot, especially at Deku's impression of a very grumpy Katsuki.

You've only met Izuku Midoriya a handful of times, mostly in passing like this. Without fail, he's always kind and charming. He's the kind of person that leaves anyone he meets with warm, vanilla tasting feelings.

"Can I ask you something?" He says with a small voice.

"Of course you can." You say as you come up to the door of Katsuki's office.

"This might be a little out of line, and I completely understand if you wouldn't want to, I just- I was uh- I guess I was w-wondering if you maybe would consider grabbing coffee with me?" He trips and stutters his way through his invitation, and goodness it's so fucking cute.

You're floored honestly, of course you'd love to get coffee with him, it's harmless right? It could be, if you make it clear that you're with Bakugo. That's the problem though, being employed by him means you two can't be public about being together. That shit gets messy fast, so you've been sworn to secrecy.

"You're busy though, so I totally understand if you just can't find the time or if you just don't want to or whatever. I just figure you might like actually having coffee with somebody instead of being sent to get it for them, if that makes any sense… s- sorry… this sounded a lot better in my head." As he talks he fidgets with his hands and shifts his feet a little, emerald eyes searching your face for some form of an answer.

"Deku, I'd love to." You say sweetly before he can open his mouth and fumble through more words.

His shoulders drop and his face relaxes.

"Is six tonight ok? We can just meet here so you don't have to give me your address or go to my place, I know that can be uncomfortable sometimes so I figure meeting at a public place would probably make you feel safer- I guess if we-"

"How about you just text me the address of the coffee place you had in mind?" You say gently, interrupting as politely as you can.

You try to keep your voice down, a creeping feeling snaking up your spine. It feels wrong to be making plans like this right in front of your boyfriend's office, if you can call him that. There hasn't really been a lot of discussion about the exclusivity of the relationship, just that he hated the idea of you belonging to anyone else, and that he hadn't been with anyone else… maybe that talk needs to happen soon.

"Huh? Oh, yeah that's a good idea, I would just need to uh- if I wanted to text you I would need-"

"My number?" You giggle as you pull a sticky note and a pen from your bag.

"Uh, yeah, that would be it." He laughs nervously.

You quickly scribble down your number, your heart climbs to your throat as you offer him the paper.

"I'll trade you." You say, nodding to the coffees before sticking the note on his chest.

An adorable blush spreads across his already rosey cheeks.

"Oh yeah, boss man needs his caffeine." He says as you take them.

Just as you accept the drinks back, the office door opens slowly. The twist of the knob makes your chest tighten.

"Oh, there you are. You were taking so long I thought you'd gotten lost." He says gruffly before taking the drink you hold out for him.

His words bite you a little, but you have to just take it for the sake of appearing uninvolved.

"I thought you were leaving?" He asks Deku with a pointed gaze.

"Oh, Kacchan I was, I just uh-"

"He was helping me, I almost dropped the coffee and he was kind enough to carry them for me." You jump in, trying to defuse the tension building between the men in front of you.

You know bits and pieces of their old rivalry, only those that Bakugo let slip. For the most part they've out grown the school yard beef, but Katsuki is competitive, territorial, possessive. You know that it's grinding his gears knowing Deku was there to help you, which might be a fact you can have some fun with.

"So, six works for you?" You ask Izuku, voice laced with honey.

"Oh! Yeah, yeah six is great, I'll see you then." He says, folding the note with your number before sticking it in his pocket.

"I'll see you then, and thank you for the help." You smile, earning a sweet grin from him as he awkwardly shuffles away.

"Oh of course, it's never a problem! Bye Kacchan, thanks again for the meeting!" He damn near hops off down the hallway before disappearing around the corner.

Slowly, you turn to face your lover, apprehension written all over your face. He just sneers down at you before turning sharply into his office. You stand and watch him stalk to his desk, slightly scared to move.

"Get your ass in here, lock the damn door behind you." He says flatly before taking a sip of coffee.

You do as he says, letting the door close quietly before flipping the lock.

"So, I'm assuming you won't be joining me for dinner?" He says as he relaxes into his large desk chair.

"What? No, we can get dinner, I'm just grabbing coffee with Izuku." You explain, trying to sound nonchalant.

You take a nervous glance around his office, and a fond feeling blooms in your chest. It's organized chaos, as he calls it. The desk is covered in little travel tools and makeshift gadgets. He loves to tinker when he can't focus, he says it gets his mind back to a place where he can. He's talented too, could honestly run a whole side business on his creations alone.

The one time you proposed it he shut it down fast, he said he had enough jobs to do, that he wanted to keep his tinkering from becoming work. It brings the smallest smile to your face, but you're ripped away from your dreamy thoughts by the sound of his rough voice.

"First name basis, I see." He mumbles before taking another sip.

You can't help but roll your eyes. It's difficult to discern if he's genuinely irritated by you meeting Izuku, or if he's just trying to egg you on. Either way, you're going to have some fun with it.

"Well people don't usually call their friends by their hero names, do they?" You question as you walk around his desk so you can lean your backside against the edge.

Katsuki turns his chair to face you, glancing over your body once before finding your eyes. His gaze lingers on the undone buttons at the collar of your black top, revealing what you think is a tasteful amount of decolletage.

You sip your own coffee as he analyzes you, seemingly taking the bait.

"Friends?" He asks quietly, quirking an eyebrow.

"Ya know, someone who gets coffee with you instead of sending you on an errand to get some for them?" That was a bold move that will inevitably come back to bite you, but that's exactly what you want.

All of his fine muscles shift and tighten under his well tailored dress shirt as he leans forward in his chair. He places his elbows on his knees, and folds his hands under his chin as he glances up at you through his eyelashes.

A tense moment is spent between you, your chest lights up with nerves just a little bit. You hate it when he's quiet, he's much easier to read when he's mouthy.

"Sounds fun!" He says with far too much enthusiasm as he shoots up from his chair. Before you can reply, he's put his whole body in front of yours. He sets his hands on the desk behind you, efficiently caging you in.

Just like that, the air is hot and thick between you. He looks down his nose at you, waiting for you to answer. His eyes scream "try me" and it makes you dizzy. When you feel his hands slide over your knees, your head spins even more.

Willingly, you let him spread your legs open so he can settle his hips between them. As he moves in your skirt bunches up, revealing where your socks end to expose the thickest part of your thighs. Like a moth drawn to a flame, his hands are on the skin instantly. For some reason, that part of your leg, specifically when they're spilling over some snug thigh highs, makes Bakugo absolutely feral.

"So you don't care if I get coffee with him?" You ask, bringing your hand to tilt his chin up.

Reluctantly, he rips his eyes away from your legs so he can glare at you.

"I don't give a fuck who you get coffee with." He shrugs before sliding his hands up so he can grab your hips with greed.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't disappointed by how little he cares. Where's the guy that fucked your brains out because you simply talked to another dude? You're practically going on a date and he's just… fine with it?

"-But if you're going to get coffee with that damn nerd-" He ducks down and brazenly licks a hot strip up the side of your neck.

The sudden contact makes your eyes flutter as your chest deflates, a shock of heat already thrumming through your core.

"You're gonna do it covered in marks…" He abruptly scrapes his teeth against your throat, easily biting hard enough to create a bruise, as if you don't already have enough.

"... And filled with my cum." The statement makes you gasp, there he is.

His fingertips dig into your hips as he pulls you forward on the best, bringing your crotch flush against his while he looks down at you with a patient expression. The feeling of his hard-on pressing against your core will never get old, it never fails you send shocks up your spine and make your cheeks hot.

You're feeling spunky today, dangerously bold. A terrible idea creeps into your mind, wrapping it's fingers around your common sense.

You slide your hands up his abs, allowing yourself a moment to admire how sturdy he feels. Your hands secure themselves on the folds of his collar so you can bring his face back towards yours.

To mock him, you bring your mouth to his throat and let your tongue drag up his hot skin.

"That's funny." You say with a low voice before you plant a kiss right under his jaw.

"He said the same thing." You punctuate your lie with a nip to his skin.

"Oh you stupid woman." He huffs before he snatches you by the waist and hauls you off the desk. Your legs don't get the chance to hold you up, he spins you around and kicks the back of your knees with his shin, causing you to fall forward immediately.

Once you're kneeling he grabs the hair on top of your head and drags you along beside him. You yelp and grab at his wrist as you try to shuffle after him on your knees. He plants himself in his desk chair, not releasing his hold on your roots for a second.

He pulls your head back slightly, glaring down at you with furious ruby eyes. He looks so delicious like this, dressed in all black, hair and eyes wild as he plans how he'll break you.

His other hand comes up to grab your jaw a little too gently, eyes flashing down to where your skirt is still riding up.

"Are you trying to get hurt?" He asks calmly, thumb running over your chin.

"I'm trying to get fucked." You state simply, dropping your jaw open so you can take his thumb into your mouth.

He watches you carefully, breathing a little heavier when you swirl your tongue around the pad of his thumb before releasing it.

"-But if all you're gonna do is fuck around like this, I think I know somebody who might be up for the job."

All you can register is his face twisting as he realizes which way you're going, before the hand on your jaw pulls back. You brace for the slap, ready to feel the hot pain shoot across your face. Your thighs even clench a little in anticipation, but it doesn't come.

He just chuckles, laughs right in your face as he reaches for the drawer behind him, the hand in your hair releases too.

"Oh, I'm sure he would be." He pulls out a small black bag from the drawer, then slowly unzips it to reveal a wooden paddle.

You can't help but squirm where you sit as you watch him flip it in his hands before turning back to you.

"But there's no way in hell that prick can get you shaking like I can." He sets the paddle on his desk so he can start to roll his sleeves up.

You watch him carefully, nearly drooling over the way his strong forearms flex as he rolls the material of his shirt up. Your hands pull at the bottom of your skirt anxiously, needing to fidget with something desperately.

"I don't know about that, Suki, the shy, quiet ones are usually the nastiest, isn't that right?" You say coyly, trying to regain some control.

You're referring to yourself and he knows it. Hinting at how depraved you can be in the bedroom. You know he's right, he's the only one that can fuck you up the way you need it. It's fun to watch him twitch a little when you hint at Deku being able to compete with him, though.

"Get up here, bend over." He says shortly, neck and shoulders tense.

You're getting to him.

"I think I like it down here, I don't think I want to bend over just yet." You say with a deceptive sweetness.

Feeling bold, you slide your hands up the insides of his thighs, feeling the taught muscle under his dress pants.

Before you can reach his erection, his hands are latched onto you again. One in the back of your hair, the other crushing your throat.

"I fucking dare you, disobey me one more time. You will end up with a busted ass and a ruined orgasm, that's a fucking promise." He snarls at you, bending down so he can glare right into your soul.

His threats don't do a damn thing to calm your rebellious streak, if anything, it lights a fire under your desire to be the biggest fucking brat.

"The busted ass part doesn't sound too bad." You struggle to get the words out, working against the harsh grip on your throat.

He rolls his eyes before almost throwing you out of his hands. He sends one to the collar on the back of your shirt, and the other slides around the back of your thigh. With the new hold he roughly hoists you into his lap. You can't help but squeak when your stomach hits the tops of his thighs. Your knees barely touch the ground and your hands grab at the desk in front of you, trying to steady yourself.

He flips your skirt up and smooths a hand over the curve of your ass.

"Oh trust me, you'll fucking get it." He sends his hand cracking across your cheek, earning an involuntary moan from you.

Your body responds to the sharp pain immediately, cunt clenching and inevitably soaking your panties even more than they already are. You glance back at him as he rubs over the welt he's just created.

"These are cute." He says with a bored voice as he pulls at the string of your thong with one finger.

They're nothing special, a simple pink fabric thong. You didn't put on anything special since you were definitely not anticipating a situation like this to arise. A little foolish now that you think about it, given how many times he's grabbed you by the wrist and hauled in into some forgotten room for a quickie. Never in his office though, especially not during business hours.

Before you can quip back, he's pulling out his pocket knife. He grabs your skirt and hikes it up to your waist before he runs the point of the knife down your lower back. He uses the dull side of the knife, careful not to cut you, but the point of the blade still offers icy friction against your heated skin. Teasing you with the possibility that he could make you bleed.

You squirm in his lap as goosebumps raise all over your skin, pulling a deep breath in when he dips the blade under the waistband so he can flick it up, expertly slicing through the fabric. He makes quick work of it, cutting the pesky fabric out of the way so you're completely exposed to him.

"Does pissing me off always get you this wet?" He asks before flipping the knife away so he can run a finger slowly down your folds.

"That's from thinking about my date later."

That comment earns you a very sudden, very hard strike with the paddle. You bite your fist to muffle the cry that tears out of your throat, desperate to remain unheard by anyone outside of the office.

"Oh hell fucking no." Katsuki growls before quickly snatching up both of your wrists so he can pin them behind your back with the hand not wielding the paddle.

"You want to be a mouthy slut, so be it."

Another skin splitting hit to the other cheek. The pain is blinding, causing your body to jolt and twitch in his lap. You know your ass is going to be purple and welted for days, but there's not a chance you'll complain, because you absolutely love it.

"Is that all you got, sparky?" All you want is more, more bites, bruises, paddles. Anything Katsuki will give you, you'll take it with greedy, desperate hands.

"You're such a masochistic little bitch." His voice makes your pussy contract around nothing, then you feel the shameful sensation of your slick dripping down your thighs.

His hand comes up to grab at the reddened flesh of your ass, digging his fingertips in with a sneer. You feel his dick twitch against your stomach as you writhe from the sharp new pain he inflicts.

"You want me to touch you here?" He ghosts his fingers over your dripping core.

The tease is almost enough to make you break… almost.

"I'd rather save it for Deku."

There is no composed chuckle, no warning swat, not even a breath before you're shoved off of his lap so you can fall to the floor in a pathetic pile of bunched up clothes and desire.

You try to scramble to your knees, but the bottom of Katsuki's expensive dress shoe meets your sternum and forces you on to your back with a harsh push. He moves like a wolf, planting a knee on either side of your chest, caging your arms under his strong thighs. He leans over and seizes you by your shirt collar.

"You're a fucking idiot, you know that right?" He barks down at you, eyes ablaze with disdain for your bratty antics.

"You're gonna choke on my cock for that one, smart ass."

You shouldn't get a thrill from such a nasty threat, but your mind spins and your body sparks.

He makes quick work of his belt and pants, shoving them down quickly to expose his straining cock. It never ceases to make your mouth water, every inch is perfect. He's thick and heavy looking with a beautiful curve that feels devine inside you.

"Open up, and don't try anything cute." He huffs before grabbing the hair on top of your head to bring you towards his dick.

He slides into your mouth with ease, sliding the underside of his head along your tongue. You have to drop your jaw pretty much all the way in order to fit him, but you always love that part.

"Look at me, watch me the whole time." He orders, fist grabbing a little more firmly at your hair.

He presses himself into the back of your throat, the taste of the precum he's smeared along your tongue finally hits your taste buds. You savor the taste, eyelids fluttering ever so slightly but never closing.

Your eyes meet his just as you remember to relax your throat and let him all the way in. He somehow slides down your throat even further, balls pressing into your chin. You can't stop the drool that spills from the side of your gaped mouth or the tears that prick at your eyes.

He grins down at you, predatory and ravaging. Your legs twitch as your hands slide up to hold his sides, clinging to the fabric of his shirt as he starts to set a slow pace with his hips.

It's not the merciless throat fucking you anticipated, but he did only just get started. Something deep in your chest resents the slow pace, something depraved inside you wants him to use your throat until you're heaving and sobbing.

You moan around his cock and try to convey desperation in your eyes as you watch him move above you.

"Oh you poor slut, I know you want more, but you haven't fucking earned it." He says as he presses all the way in again, but this time he holds it there.

You dig your nails into his sides and close your jaw around him a little more, teeth teasing the skin of his hard on. His lip twitches into a snarl like a dog about to snap. He snatches your nose with his fingers, closing off your airway. You don't panic, not even close. You just glare up at him, having played this game many times.

"Little miss composed, huh? How about now?" He presses impossibly far into the back of your throat.

For the most part, your gag reflex has been trained out of you, but somehow he hits it right away. You open your airway and attempt to gasp, a fruitless attempt since all you can do is choke on his shaft. He doesn't release the hold on your nostrils, just glares down while you struggle under him.

Suddenly, but not soon enough, he releases your nose and rips himself from your throat. You let him pull you along like a ragdoll as he settles back into his chair, pulling you to your knees as you sputter and gasp and cry. He grabs you by the hair at the back of your head with one hand, and by the jaw with the other, a hold he's always been fond of.

"Now, unless you want to keep choking on my cock, I suggest you remind me who's about to fuck the breath out of your lungs." He says, low and vengeful.

You're nowhere near ready to give in, all kinds of lust oozes through your body. It's spreading like molten lava, destroying every ounce of self control you've ever had.

You feel drool start to pool on your chest, becoming suddenly aware of how much you're salivating.

Oh what a terrible idea.

You spit right in his face, body moving before your mind has a chance to tell it to stop. For the first time since this all started, you feel a little bit afraid. You welcome it though, scarf it down and wish there was more. You're like an adrenaline junkie, and your addiction is the menacing way Katsuki is looking at you right now.

He slowly wipes the offense off his cheek bone, giving a small, astounded laugh before he brings the palm of his hand to crack across your face.

You cry out as your thighs clench beneath you, your body giving away just how much you adore being treated like this.

"Do it again, please fucking do it again, make my day, bitch." Katsuki barks in your face, hands starting to shake a little. He's losing his calm facade, which is exactly what you want. He just needs one final push.

You open your mouth, ready to retort, ready to mouth off like the miserable little brat you are. You don't get the chance though, the words are smacked right out of your mouth as he hits you again. The sharp pain sends another shock of desire straight to your weeping cunt. You cry out as your head snaps to the side.

You take account of the drool leaking out of your mouth, the tears dripping out of your eyes, the slick sliding down your thighs. You're burning up and your vision is becoming unreliable. It might be about time to give in a little, indulge poor, pissed off Suki. You've gotten enough of a beating, now it's time to stroke his ego and get what you want.

"P-please, Daddy, I'm s-sorry." You sniffle, glancing up at him with big, pitiful eyes.

You don't expect the third slap, it's white hot and full of venom. You know without a doubt you'll be sporting a shiner from the assault.

"You're a little liar. You're not sorry, you just want me to put my dick in that stupid little cunt." He's almost yelling, trembling a little more as he sneers down at you.

If he wasn't pissed before, he sure as hell is now.

Perfect.

"How else are you going to send me to Deku full of your cum? Or am I going to have to ask him to fill me up?" Do you ever know when to stop?

"On my desk, now." He doesn't give you a chance to move on your own, he hoists you up by your waist and sets you on his desk. The abused skin of your ass stings against the cool wood. He pulls you by the hips so your ass is sat right on the edge.

He presses his face into your neck as your arms fly around his shoulders. His hot, open mouth against your neck makes you feel so incredibly dizzy. The soft feeling of his tongue contrasting so intensely with how harsh he's been.

"You make me want to blast this whole building to pieces." He huffs against your neck, your hands find his hair and you feel just how sweaty he is.

He braces one arm on the desk as the other reaches up to move your skirt out of the way.

"God, you're filthy. I can fucking smell how soaked you are."

His teeth sink into your neck as he unceremoniously slips two fingers into you. No, he doesn't slip them in, he shoves them in.

"Suki- fuck-" You say before a moan sneaks out of you, falling on his greedy ears.

"Huh uh- you can't keep that prick's name out of your mouth, say his name. I don't want to hear your whore mouth say mine." He crooks his fingers perfectly as you gaze at him with disbelief. The pads of his fingers hit that sweet spot inside you, and all you want to do is cry out for him, cry out his name.

"N-no, please, let me say yours- shit- please!" You shiver when he brings the heel of his hand to press into your clit as he continues to play with your insides.

"Then are you sorry? Really fucking sorry?" He asks as he adds a third finger.

You clench down on him, hips rolling forward as you let out a sad little sobbing sound.

You nod up at him, struggling to find the right thing to say. Obviously, that's not enough for him. He rips his hand out of your hole and slaps your cunt with incredible force.

You cry out and try to bring your legs together, but Katsuki anticipates this. Grabbing the insides of your thighs, he forces your legs open, causing you to lose balance and fall so your back is flat on his desk.

"I'm sorry, I didn't fucking hear you." He says as he grabs his cock and starts to pump himself just inches from your burning center.

"I'm sorry, I am, I'm so sorry, Suki." You say urgently, pushing yourself up on your elbows so you can truly meet his eyes.

Your core just aches as you glance down at his hand stroking his erection.

His free hand comes down against your pussy again, making you jump and whimper. The sting is exquisite, but the throbbing in your walls overrides it.

"I don't believe you, give me one good reason I shouldn't blow my load all over your thighs and send you on your way." His hand picks up speed and you start to panic a little, he might go through with it. You've pissed him off enough, it can't end like this though, no way in hell.

As quickly as you can, you rid yourself of your shirt and your bra. You leave your skirt and your socks on, knowing that combination is a favorite of his. He watches you like a hawk as you lean back down onto your elbows, eyeing the fading bruises all over your chest and down your stomach.

"Because baby," You coo as you bring your fingers to your mouth, "you need me as bad as I need you." After wetting your fingertips, you bring them down to slide over your hardened nipple.

His hand falters slightly as he watches you play with yourself. He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth when you tweak the sensitive bud.

"God- fuck- you little tease." He whines before shifting towards you.

In some ways, Katsuki is a simple man. All it takes it some teasing and some tits and he's a goner.

In the blink of an eye, his hands have a hold on the backs of your thighs as he folds you up. You feel the tip of his dick rest against your entrance and you almost scream.

"I'm going to ask you one more time, are you fucking sorry?" He's on his last leg of restraint, the grip on your thighs is absolutely bruising and you can see beads of sweat rolling down his temples.

"I am! I swear I am, I don't give a shit about him- I don't- fucking hell, Suki!" Before you can finish, his thumb is rubbing at your clit as he slides in.

Every nerve in your body responds as he does, you throw your head back and let yourself feel it completely. The drag along your walls is maddening. The second his head presses into your cervix you moan and twitch, and more tears pour from your eyes

"I'm going to make sure you are." He growls.

After he slowly pulls back, he fucks into you like it's the last time he'll ever get to. Every thrust in makes you see stars. You let a sob wrack your body as you claw at the desk.

"How would you feel if I couldn't stop saying some other bitche's name?" He says as he delivers a particularly harsh thrust.

Your stomach twists at the thought, jealousy claws at your insides.

"Makes your skin crawl doesn't it?"

"I didn't m-mean it, I'm s-sorry, sir." Your body rocks on the desk as his hips meet yours, so much rage behind his movements. You feel your body start to tighten, the nerves in your core start to get that wonderful warm feeling.

"Why do you keep doin' that shit then? Huh?" You feel a small twinge of guilt because of how genuine the question sounds, how there's just a hint of genuine confusion in his voice.

"Baby- I- fuck- I didn't mean it, I swear- shit, I'm so close." Your walls start to pulse around his cock, the rest of you starts to squirm.

"You want me to hurt you? Is that it?" He smacks the underside of your thigh after his question, earning a deep moan from you.

"Fuck! Yes, I love it when you hurt me." You admit, voice warbling as your orgasm approaches rapidly.

"Then just fucking ask me for it." Then he stops, stilling completely inside you. It's enough to drive you up a wall, your orgasm runs away from you. All of the building pleasure slips through your fingers.

"No no no! Suki please, I said I was sorry, I meant it, please I was so fucking close!" You beg as your fists hit the desk, almost throwing a tantrum.

"Maybe Deku can help you finish." He says shortly as he pulls out and starts to fuck his fist, with a groan and his head back, he finishes on your thighs as promised. You watch in horror as his release paints your skin white, his soft moans and sighs fall on your ears and it makes your heart sink.

He wastes no time in tucking himself back into his pants, making himself look composed in record time.

"I have a lot I need to get done this afternoon, clean this shit up and be home by eight." He says with a flat tone.

You just lay there dumbfounded as you watch him stalk out of the room without a glance your way.

You did it. You pushed too damn far. Katsuki never leaves you hanging like this. There's always a few gentle kisses, a few mumbled reassurances, it's never like this. Even when it was just quick fucks in a closet, Katsuki would offer you a few moments of comfort afterwards. You hit a nerve, you must have. Something far past you're usually bratty teasing.

The sound of the office door closing makes you flinch. You glare down at the mess he's left on you, eyeing the shredded remains of your panties on the floor. No way in hell you're going to coffee with Deku, not with the horrible feeling settling in your gut. You don't know if Katsuki will even want to talk to you, but you have to try, you have to make this right.

Taglist:

@iloveitblackbhna @midnightartist @oblxvion @imonlymildlyinsane @kasumireads @nobody-says-hello @kibayoukai @michigood9618 @evierena @kimchi123n

#bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou #mha bakugou #mha smut #my hero smut #my hero academia smut #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo #bakugou x reader #dynamight #king explosion murder #lord explosion murder

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miyagihawk · 4 years ago

Note

it's not an ask, but i don't know if i can send it on your chat, so... i saw your post about a song and a character from cobra kai and automatically thought of sk8r boi (avril lavigne) and robby 😩😩😩 have a nice day and don't forget to drink water 💞

THANK U FOR THE REQUEST i love this song sm

sk8r boi | robby keene x reader

warnings: swearing, some catcalling

summary: he was a skater boy! she said see you later boy! he wasn’t good enough for her! (hehe)

“Come on Riley, Mom wants us home by 6 and we still have to get stuff from the store,” you crossed your arms, annoyed at your brother. He ignored you, dipping down, wheels first, into the concrete bowl.

You shifted on your feet, feeling uncomfortable standing at the skate park with your ballet attire still on. You’ve just come back from rehearsal, and you had to pick up Riley because Mom was working a late shift.

“Shit Riley, I didn’t know your sister was hot. Qué pasa ballerina?” one of his friends winked at you, making you roll your eyes in disgust.

“Hey, do a little twirl for us princess,” another boy whistled and you glared at the group.

Pigs. Boys are pigs.

“Riley, let’s go,” you said firmly, turning away and heading to your car, leaving him with no choice but to follow if he didn’t want to walk home.

Your brother’s friend group of skaters hollered and whooped as Riley caught up to you, and you had to focus on your breathing to calm your anger. You hate being made fun of, but you reminded yourself that they were just a bunch of stupid, hormonal, punks.

“Your friends are assholes,” you commented, and your brother only nodded in agreement.

“Hey,” a voice called from behind you, but you kept walking, assuming that it was just another guy trying to poke fun at you.

“Hey, wait,” the person said again, this time grabbing your arm to stop you.

You turned around quickly, pulling away from their grip. “What?” you snapped, meeting a pair of calm green eyes.

It was one of Riley’s friends, the one with long hair. You don’t remember him saying anything to you earlier; he seemed to be quiet.

“I just wanted to say sorry. About them. They don’t know how to talk to girls, I promise they’re not that bad,” he said, holding his skateboard at his side. His genuineness surprised you.

“So you do?”

He gave you a confused look, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Know how to talk to girls,” you clarified and he chuckled.

“I know a thing or two. I’m Robby,” the boy stuck out his hand for you to take.

“Wow you’re good,” you joked. “I’m Y/N,” you took his rough hand in your soft one.

After that day at the skatepark, you couldn’t stop thinking about Robby.

You don’t know what it was about him. Maybe it was his glittery eyes. Or his pretty hair. Or the way he smiled with his whole face. Or maybe it was how he talked in a way that told you he was smarter than most people.

Maybe it was all of those things that made you daydream like a schoolgirl with a crush. And all you wanted to do was see him again.

“Jenny doesn’t even deserve the variation, I mean we all saw what happened last time. She almost fell off stage! Anyone but her should have it,” your friend Abby ranted, sipping on her milkshake.

It was after rehearsal and your friend group decided to go to a diner to get food.

“It’s clearly favoritism. She could do the whole routine wrong and Ms. Adams would still choose her. I think Jenny’s parents are definitely bribing her,” your other friend Vanessa added to the gossip.

The whole time, you were half listening to the conversation and half thinking about a certain skater boy. You couldn’t even control it; your thoughts always somehow drifted to him.

“Oh my god. Skaters,” Abby whispered, making you snap out of your daydream. You looked up to see a pack of boys coming into the restaurant, holding their boards at their hips.

Among them was your little brother and your heart raced as you recognized all of them.

It was like your overflow of thoughts about him had somehow materialized right in front of you. Robby.

Your hands started to sweat and you contemplated if you should hide or say hello, or just act like you didn’t see him.

You decided to go for the latter, and you slumped down in your seat to make yourself less noticeable.

“God, look at them. Skater boys are the scum of the earth,” Abby uttered, making a face of distaste.

“I would never date one. Even that’s below me,” Vanessa scoffed in reply.

You felt your cheeks heat up at their remarks, now feeling ashamed for your growing feelings for the very thing they were so disgusted at.

“Same,” you replied, despite feeling conflict in your heart. You looked over Vanessa’s shoulder to see him laughing with his group, and his happiness made your heart warm.

Before you could look away, his eyes met yours. You cursed internally at your ruined plans of trying to ignore him, but the damage was done. You shot him a small smile and a nod before returning your gaze back to your friends.

It took everything in you to not look at him again, especially with the feeling of his stare on you.

“Holy shit. One of them’s coming over,” Abby said in a hushed tone, your stomach dropping at her words.

You looked up to see Robby heading over to your table as you panicked on the inside.

“Hey Y/N,” he said as he approached, and you looked back at his table to see his friends watching.

“Robby! Hi!” you greeted nervously. “Uh, these are my friends. Abby and Vanessa. Girls, this is Robby,” you introduced them.

“Nice to meet you,” he nodded at them, and they waved. Their smiles were definitely fake, and you could tell how hard they were judging the boy in front of you.

“So, um, do you guys come here a lot?” you tried to make conversation, but the air was too awkward to be saved.

“Not really, our usual place was closed so we came here,” Robby explained, glaring at his friends who were starting to boisterously taunt. “I should go. Sorry about them. Again. Just wanted to say hey.”

“All good,” you laughed. “See you.”

As he walked back to his table your friends turned to you, mouths agape.

“You know him?! What was that?” Abby inquired, giving you a look of disbelief.

“He’s... he’s just my brother’s friend,” you shrugged, trying to play it off.

“Just your brother’s friend. He totally had heart eyes for you Y/N!” Vanessa nudged your side, making you shake your head in denial.

You rolled your eyes, but what she said gave you butterflies. “No way, I’ve only met him once.”

“Whatever, just don’t fall into the trap. You’re too good for a skater. They’re scum, remember?” Abby said, as she chewed obnoxiously on a fry. You found yourself suddenly annoyed at her.

“Yeah, of course. I would never,” you contradicted your feelings.

They were probably right. You don’t even know Robby, and you were from completely different worlds.

You told yourself that you would push away your growing feelings for Robby. But you couldn’t help but be excited when you have to pick up Riley from the skatepark. You couldn’t help asking your brother maybe too many questions about him, and you couldn’t help looking out for him every time you would go to the diner with your girls.

He would always talk to you, making you giddy for the rest of the day. You found yourself wanting to see him more and more.

“So how long have you been skating?” you asked the boy beside you.

You were waiting for Riley to finish so you could go home, but you let him take his time.

“I started when I was 11, but it’s been on and off,” Robby replied. “Have you ever skated?”

You laughed at the thought of yourself on a board. “Never. It looks cool though,” you watched as your brother skated off some stairs.

“I think you’d be good at it. I mean ballet and skating are pretty much the same thing,” he grinned at you, making you blush and look away from him.

“Ballet and skating couldn’t be more different,” you disagreed.

Robby shrugged. “Wrong. Both are centered around balance. Skating, if you think about it, is choreography. Sure we’re not as graceful, but it’s not as different as you think.”

You smiled to yourself at his wiseness. “I guess you’re right.”

There’s a moment of silence between you two as you both sat at the edge of the bowl.

“So when are we starting?” he spoke, making you tilt your head in confusion.

“Starting what?”

“I’m teaching you how to skate,” he answered nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t giving you a choice.

“What? I-I can’t skate,” you stammered. The thought of you embarrassing yourself in front of him made you want to puke.

“Which is why I’m teaching you. Come on, I promise I won’t let you hurt your pretty little ballerina face,” Robby smiled.

Your head suddenly felt dizzy at his small remark. Pretty. “I don’t know Robby...”

“Tomorrow. At 5. I’ll even take you to that diner you like after. It’s a date,” he said surely, making your cheeks warm up again.

A date? Your heart fluttered at the thought of him wanting to hang out with you. Alone. On a freaking date.

“Okay, fine,” you bit your lip, trying to hold back a huge smile. “But only because of the promise of food.”

“I hate you,” Robby huffed as he watched you effortlessly roll past him on his skateboard.

“I can’t believe you compared this to ballet, this is so easy,” you jeered, laughing at his defeated look.

“Oh calm down Ms. Black Swan, you haven’t learned any tricks yet,” he stood up, walking over to you. “I’m going to teach you an ollie.”

He grabbed the board and stood on it, leaning down on the edge with one foot so that the board was wheels up on the other side. “Just do that.”

Robby handed you the skateboard, and you copied everything he did. Except you lost your balance and the wheels slipped from underneath you. You grabbed onto his shoulders as a reflex.

Your breath hitched as Robby’s placed his hands on your hips to steady you, and your faces were inches away. He was so close that you could feel his breath and see the pattern of his eyes.

“Not so easy, is it now?” he said softly, still holding onto you. The air was now filled with a thick tension and you felt woozy from being so close to him.

“I... I guess not,” you fumbled over your words, feeling incredibly nervous looking into his eyes.

None of you were pulling away, and you weren’t sure if you should be the first to do so.

“Can I kiss you?” Robby whispered, making you breathless. You were sure that he could hear your heartbeat, because it felt like it was consuming you.

You only nodded, feeling speechless, and he leaned in to press your lips together.

It was everything you’ve ever dreamed of. And you dreamed about it a lot.

“You’re so much different from your friends. How come?” You chewed on a fry, questioning the boy sitting in the diner booth in front of you.

Robby tapped his lip in thought. “I don’t know. Maybe I just balance out the group. You’re different from your friends too. I mean I’ve only met them once, but I don’t think they like me,” he replied, and you cringed at the memory of your friends being so judgmental.

“That makes sense. And sorry about them. They can be... mean,” you apologized on their behalf, almost in the same way that Robby would for his friends.

“Speak of the devil,” Robby looked behind you, making your eyes widen. You turned around and there they were. Abby and Vanessa. You didn’t even care that they were hanging out with you; you were worried that they would see you with Robby.

You slumped down in your seat like you did when you were trying to hide from Robby before. “We should go now, right? It’s getting pretty late.”

Robby gave you a weird look, “Um... sure.”

“Y/N?” a dreaded voice called your name before you could make your escape.

You faced your two best friends. “Hey guys,” you said sheepishly as they walked up to your table.

“What are you doing with him? Oh my god, are you two on a date?” Abby gasped.

Vanessa joined in, “You said you’d never date someone like him. Oh come on Y/N, you know he’s not good enough for you. What happened to boys like him are below us?”

Robby’s face flashed with pain, but you were so selfish that you didn’t even notice.

“No- I- We’re just friends, I swear it’s not a date. I would never-” you stuttered, trying to save yourself, and you didn’t even think of Robby’s feelings at all. In the moment you only cared about your reputation and what your friends thought of you.

The boy you liked so much got up from the booth, throwing a wad of cash on the table. You felt your heart break as he walked away without a word and clenched fists.

You got up to follow him, but your friends pulled you back. “Just let him go Y/N. He’ll just break your heart,” Abby said coldly.

You ripped your arm away from their grip, running through the diner to catch up to Robby.

“Robby! Please, stop, I’m sorry,” you called after him, trying to keep up with how fast he was walking.

He ignored you the first time, increasing his pace.

“Please, Robby, can we just talk about it? I’m stupid, okay? Don’t go,” you pleaded, and he finally stopped in his tracks.

You’ve never seen his face like that, a mixture of anger and pain. The fact that it was directed towards you made you want to just melt away.

“You want to talk? Am I even good enough to talk to you? I’m sorry, should I be on my knees right now your majesty?” he said angrily, and you felt like crying.

You shook your head, “No, no Robby I swear I don’t think of you that way. I said things that I don’t mean and I’m so sorry. I- I just... my friends were saying all this shit about-”

“Just- just stop. You’re saying different things to different people, and I’m just supposed to trust you? And what, was I just going to be a secret? Look, I have to go,” he turned around to keep walking but you took his hand.

“I was going to tell them Robby, I like you so much and please, I’ll fix it. I’ll talk to them and-”

He cut your frantic rambling off again, “Y/N... I like you too alright? And I get it. I get wanting to fit in with your friends, even if you don’t agree with them. I learned from it myself. I just need time to think about all of it.” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

You nodded in understanding, but your heart was hurting. “I’m sorry,” you said one last time before he took off on his skateboard.

a/n: why was that sm longer than i planned... also sorry for any mistakes im too lazy to edit. there probably won’t be a part 2 because the song doesn’t have a happy ending lol hope u enjoyed!!!!

#cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai x reader #cobrakai #robbykeene #Robby cobra kai #Robby Keene x reader #Robby Keene imagine #Robby Keene

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ask19thcentury-doctorgilbert · 4 years ago

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Hey there! I thought I’d answer this ooc because Gilbert would never give a straight answer to these questions and after last night’s post I’m really down to talk more in depth about the doc’s mental health.

But before I dive into that, I just wanted to say thank you? I’m really glad to know that you think I do a good job at handling the portrayal of his mental health struggles, that really means a lot and is one of the best compliments I’ve been given ;v; I try to be as realistic and sensitive as I can and I’m glad to know that it pays off!

Alright, onto some headcanon rambling. Fair warning, this post is long and I go off into several tangents sdjjkds

Trigger warnings for the content below: depression, anxiety, suicide, childhood neglect / abuse, self-harm, and bad coping habits.

There’s at least 6 points in Gil’s life wherein his mental health was at its worst: the death of his father, the majority of his duchy years, frederick’s death, the napoleonic era, the entire stretch of the gdr era, and those years between the fall of the wall and him leaving to go to university in Zurich. I can write an entire post about each of those times, but for the sake of answering these asks, I’ll be focusing mainly on the first point and his crusader years.

To answer the first question, I think Gilbert’s first major depressive episode happened when he was a child after his adoptive father, Otmar Beilschmidt, died. He was a constant, comforting presence in the boy’s early life; someone he knew he can depend on and turn to if things ever got too scary or overwhelming. Even after he got ‘turned’ into a representative and the heads of the Order formally took him in, little Gisil still kept being stuck to his father’s hip. And Otmar, as unsettled as he was to find out that his son was suddenly some kind of miracle child, did his best to come to terms with it and help his son cope with his new nature too.

(Slightly off topic side note but I always had the idea that Otmar never really got over reacting with shock whenever he witnessed anything that confirmed that his son wasn’t fully human anymore, like watching a small scratch stitch itself back together. Gisil, being a perceptive and sensitive child, would catch on to that quick and I’m 100% sure he’s asked his father if he was afraid of him before. To which I’m sure Otmar told a half-truth and said that no, he wasn’t afraid of him --- After all, how could he be afraid of someone that God created to bring some good into the world?)

Either way, the sudden loss of that steady, dependable figure in his life really knocked Gisil’s world out of balance and triggered his first major depressive episode. He wouldn’t eat much at mealtimes and found it hard to sleep at night which would then translate into the kid being far more irritable and restless than usual during the day; prone to tantrums and crying if something didn’t go his way. But instead of someone sitting down and trying to understand why he was acting out, he was chastised for acting the way he did; told that he was allowed to grieve his father, but he had to be more mature about it and behave better. Not wanting to disappoint the adults who would be looking after him now, Gisil taught himself how to swallow back the hurt and put a lid on it. It didn’t make him hurt any less, in fact it may have started to translate into physical symptoms like a mildly upset stomach or a headache, but it didn’t bother anyone and his new parental figures seemed to approve so he just came to accept that it must be the right thing to do.

While he eventually got over the worst of the pain relating to his father’s death (or at least learned how to stuff it far enough in the back of his mind that he could pay it no mind) those symptoms continued to quietly haunt him. Mikael was prone to having trouble sleeping in the night (and he often passes the time by practising his writing, or sometimes he’ll get up and sneak out of the sleeping quarters to just sit in the chapel. sometimes praying, sometimes just sitting quietly and hoping that the silence and the coolness coming from the stone walls would somehow lull him to sleep) and to having days where he acts more hot-headed and impulsive than usual.

The disconnect between desperately wanting to be the ‘good’ person he believes he was created to be and some of the awful things the Order has done to do ‘good’ in the name of God also feeds into that depression and anxiety, especially when he keeps bottling it up because he really has no one to talk to about these things and because that’s what he’s used to doing. This internal conflict will eventually bubble over in his Duchy years, a period of time where Gilbert’s whole mental and emotional well-being was incredibly fragile. (If you wanna read more about what happened during that time, I have an old post about it here. Trigger and content warnings are at the very beginning!)

As for the second question, I think it’s safe to say Gilbert was messed up by essentially being a child soldier. Physical damage doesn’t stay long but the mental/emotional damage was extensive.

Even if his first depressive episode was triggered by his father’s death, the things he saw and experienced during his time as the representative of the Teutonic Order, definitely helped to make things worse. All the bad habits and symptoms he experienced in his youth continue to haunt him until adulthood. Gilbert would still rather brush someone’s concern off with an ‘I’m fine’ coupled with a reassuring smile than risk bothering them with whatever he’s dealing with. Since staying with Konrad and Reiner (who have their own struggles that deserve its own post) he’s learned to open up a little more with enough prompting, but he’d still much rather keep his problems to himself. He still regularly struggles with insomnia that gets worse when he finds himself in a slump, which then translates to frustration, irritability, and a tendency to neglect self care like forgetting to eat. He’s struggled with suicidal thoughts before and has made an attempt on two occasions: once in his Duchy years, the other right after the Napoleonic Era came to a close.

I think another thing that really added fuel to the fire is just the nature of Gil’s existence? Like most nations in his generation have had the chance to just roam around being children in their childhood, some might have even been cared for by the ancients, but he’s never had any of that? He had 10 years of it as a regular human child and then another 8 years after he was ‘turned’ of simply tending to sick and injured pilgrims. He had only 18 years of relative normalcy before he was thrown into a life of constant war, made out to be some holy figurehead, while I feel like most others had much longer. His ability to compartmentalize, to separate the self from the nation, was lacking compared to others in his cohort because he was just so young, physically and in nation years, when he was thrown into the mess. He’s a child nation who’s still young enough to remember his life as a human, to remember what it’s like to think and feel and to fear like a human and I think that messed with his ability to cope. Templar and Hospitaller might be the only ones who can understand what that was like since I think they were thrown into the fire relatively quickly after they were turned as young kids, but Ezekiel is far away and Sanson... Well, we all know what happened to poor Sanson.

The good news is, in the modern day, he is doing so much better since he started regularly meeting with a therapist and getting on the right medication regimen. It took him a while to really accept the fact that he needs help, even if logically he knew this was the right thing to do. There are still bad days but the genuinely good days far outnumber them now and that’s worth the uphill climb that is trying to sort out his issues.

#answered #[ headcanon ]#aph prussia #hws prussia #gilbert beilschmidt #depression tw //#anxiety tw //#suicide tw //#self harm tw //#childhood neglect tw //#gilbert looks put together on the outside but #he's really that image of the china cabinet with all the dishes pressed against the door #and if you open it everything's just gonna come crashing down #but he tries to do better #and tries his goddamn best not to repeat the bad parts of his upbringing #when it comes to raising his boy #in fact he tried so hard that he messed it up BUT #thats a conversation for another day

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purrincess-chat · 4 years ago

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Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH22

And we’re back! Chapters will resume posting on Fridays both here on tumblr and on AO3 (linked below). I hope you’re ready for the second half of this story. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve that are different from last time, so I hope you all enjoy it!

Previous First Next AO3

Chapter 22: Mean

Marinette chewed her lip, picking at the hem of her shirt. She’d been too nervous to sleep, and the coffee she drank on the way to the hotel made her jittery. Clara and her manager flipped through her designs, the silence eating away at Marinette’s composure. Did Clara like them? Hate them? Had Marinette let her down? Why wasn’t she saying anything?

Clara glanced up at Marinette, a smile curling on her lips. She stood up with an amused giggle and took Marinette’s hands. “Oh, Marinette, you can chill. These designs really fit the bill. Choosing you was in good taste. Eloise, send these to my tailor, posthaste.” Clara winked, and Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. “Truly, great work, Marinette. I love them.”

“I’m glad. Thank you so much for this opportunity.” Marinette bowed.

“Although your formality is rather cutesy, there’s no need since you and I are friends, you see.” She spun Marinette around and pulled her in for a hug. “I felt a connection with you right away. If you ever need anything, you just have to say.”

Marinette’s chest swelled as Clara pulled away and brushed her nose with a finger.

“Eloise, write a check for her beautiful mind.” Clara ordered, pacing over to the piano. “I’ve got an idea for a new song that will be simply divine!”

Clara’s manager tore a check from her book and handed it to Marinette as Clara began to pluck at the piano. Marinette did a double-take to make sure the decimal was in the right place, but before she could protest, Clara’s security guard ushered her out.

“Goodbye, my dearest friend. I’ll miss you until we meet again!” Clara blew a kiss.

As the door closed behind her, Marinette glanced down at the check, heart pounding. Clara liked her designs! She considered Marinette a friend! Oh, she’d love to see the look on Lila’s face the day Clara walked the red carpet in Marinette’s dress.

“I’m so proud of you, Marinette!” Tikki said as Marinette tapped the button for the elevator. “You worked really hard, and it paid off.”

“I’m just happy that Clara liked my designs. It’s not about the money for me. I want to design clothes that make people feel good,” she said, stepping onto the elevator. “I can’t wait to tell everyone over tea this afternoon!”

“Will there be cookies at the tea party?” Tikki asked.

Marinette shot her a knowing smile and brushed her kwami’s nose with one finger. “Control that sweet tooth of yours.”

“I want to celebrate your accomplishments!” Tikki shot back indignantly. “If there happens to be cookies there, then so be it.”

“Tell you what,” Marinette said as the elevator dinged on the first floor. “I told everyone to come over at 2. Why don’t you and I celebrate now? Let’s go get some ice cream.”

Tikki perked up, ducking down into her purse. Marinette shut the clasp as she paced out the front doors of the hotel. Pulling out her phone to see where Andre was stationed today, she failed to look up as she rounded the corner and collided with another person.

“Sorry!” she gasped as they both stumbled backward, but upon seeing the face of her victim, her face hardened.

“Finally apologizing for trying to upstage me? It’s about time,” Lila said.

“I’m sorry for bumping into you. Nothing else.” Marinette rolled her eyes and stepped around her.

“So, you’re not sorry for abandoning all of your friends then? For turning your back on Alya?” Lila asked.

Marinette’s hands balled into fists, but she didn’t stop. “Alya made her choice.”

“And she chose me over you.” Lila smirked. “She even got us matching bff necklaces. She’s so sweet.”

“Congratulations. I’m sure your genuine friendship built on honesty and trust will last a lifetime.” Marinette retorted.

“I’m just glad she finally deleted her blog dedicated to that insect. She has so much more time on her hands to do all of my work,” Lila said. “You know, I’m class representative now since you deserted your post.”

Marinette bit her lip hard. Lila was taunting her, and she knew it. How could anyone be this vindictive? Marinette had always known Lila was evil, but she really had a way of one-upping herself. Marinette made a promise with Adrien to stay out of it, but no matter how far she ran, Lila was always right behind her.

Marinette spun around with a sharp retort on her tongue, but a silver limo pulling up to the curb cut her off. She half expected blond hair to pop out, but to her surprise, it was Martin who appeared.

“Hey, Marinette. I saw you walking, so I had my driver pull over.” He flicked his gaze between them. “Do you and your friend need a ride?”

“Ha! She and I will never be friends. I have much better taste,” Lila said.

Martin eyed Marinette, eyebrows knitting together when she shifted her weight.

“Then if you don’t mind, please leave her alone. She’s my friend,” he requested.

“You don’t want to be friends with a loser like her. I’m the great-granddaughter of world-famous piano player, Victor Laurent,” she said, fluffing her hair. Her sinister smile said that she’d taken all of Marinette’s friends once, and she’d do it again.

“Victor Laurent didn’t have any children. He died alone at the age of 72 from pneumonia…” Martin tilted his head to one side. “And anyway, Marinette’s great-uncle is a world-famous chef with his own brand of cookware—my mom loves his knives. Not to mention she knows Jagged Stone and is good friends with Adrien Agreste. She has a lot of connections.”

Marinette stifled a laugh as Lila gasped in offense. Martin blinked in confusion as Lila stalked off with a huff, glaring over her shoulder at them.

“Who was that girl?” he asked.

“One of the worst human beings you’ll ever meet,” Marinette replied. When Martin seemed confused, she added, “It’s a long story. I was actually on my way to get some ice cream. Wanna come?”

“Sure.”

Andre was in Marinette’s favorite spot in the Trocadero—a fitting compensation for the unpleasant encounter they’d just had. They found a bench, ice cream cones in hand, and Marinette flopped onto it with a sigh. Lila was insufferable, but Marinette wasn’t going to let it spoil her day. Clara liked her designs. Nothing else mattered.

“So, that’s the girl who turned all of your friends against you?” Martin asked, and Marinette nodded. “Wow. No wonder you changed schools. I would have changed cities.”

“I thought about it.” Marinette took a spoonful of ice cream. “She’s super manipulative, and if you side against her, she does everything in her power to ruin your life.”

“She sounds like Gabrielle just without the muscle, but at least we don’t have to put up with her now that her family’s bankrupt,” Martin said.

“Yeah…” Marinette lowered her gaze. “I bet you were really happy when you found out about Gabrielle.”

Martin shrugged. “I’m glad she doesn’t pick on everyone anymore, but I can’t imagine losing everything. I feel kinda bad for her… Is that weird?”

“I don’t think so,” Marinette said. “Actually, I feel the same way. No one deserves to go through that.” She pursed her lips, jabbing her ice cream with the spoon. “I’m surprised you of all people don’t hate her. She was the worst to you.”

“I try not to hate anyone,” Martin said around a bite. “I think everyone has good inside them deep down, and with the right influence, anyone can change if they want to.”

“So, you think Gabrielle could be a good person?” she asked.

“Well, sure. Why not?” Martin quirked a brow.

Marinette eyed him, a small smile curling on her lips. She sat up and turned to face him.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Uh, sure. What’s up?” he asked.

“It’s a long story, but Gabrielle and I are kind of friends now. I think…” Marinette admitted. “I haven’t told anyone because of everything, but I think you’re right. Anyone can be nice if they want to be, even Gabrielle.” When Martin seemed stunned, she curled her shoulders and added, “Do you hate me?”

Martin’s face softened, and he shook his head. “Of course not! I could never hate you.” He assured her. “I think it’s good. If anyone can help Gabrielle find the light inside of her, it’s you, Marinette.”

She leaned back on the bench with a smile, the spring sun warming her cheeks. Winter was over, leaving the cold and dreary behind. Nature was turning over new leaves. A fresh start, just like Marinette wanted. She took a deep breath, picturing all of the good things in her life. Adrien, Macy, Eliott, Martin, Gabrielle. Chloe, weirdly. Her parents, Tikki, Master Fu, Chat Noir, Clara. New opportunities. New beginnings.

She exhaled, letting all of the negative flow out with her breath. Lila had no power over her anymore, and after two months of running, Marinette was finally free.

♪♫♪ Cruel Summer ♪♫♪

Marinette hummed jovially, the heat from the tea kettle on the stove warming her arms. Her friends would be over soon to celebrate her presentation. After her run-in with Lila earlier, Martin dropped her off at home, where her dad made special macarons for their celebration. Talking to Martin eased her nerves, and Lila’s empty threats were far from her mind. Today she was celebrating.

It was the first time her new friends were coming to hang out at her house. After seeing all of their extravagant homes, Marinette might have felt self-conscious about her family’s tiny apartment, but her friends never gave her reason to worry. If only Adrien were joining them, but he was busy with a photoshoot. He promised to make it up to her, which had her head swimming with possibilities. Oh, she hoped whatever he had in mind involved kissing. Three almosts was driving her wild. Would she ever get to kiss those perfect lips?

And what were they now? Were they dating? Marinette didn’t know for sure, but they had to be pretty close, right? Adrien was so bold with her lately, complimenting her, touching her face, her hair, her hands… One of these days she’d snatch those lips down to hers if he didn’t kiss her soon. Kissing Adrien—the thought alone made her melt.

She wanted to hear his voice, but did she dare call him? He probably wouldn’t answer since he never brought his phone to photoshoots—always so professional. Then again, she could listen to his really cute voicemail… And she still hadn’t told him how her presentation went. Maybe she’d leave him a message. Girlfriends were allowed to do that, right? Oh god, Adrien’s girlfriend! She’d have to get used to calling herself that. Okay, no more stalling. New beginnings. Marinette wasn’t going to second-guess herself anymore. She was going to charge forward with confidence!

Pressing the call button, she chewed her lip with a giggle. This was really happening! One cute voicemail, then the next time they saw each other, she was going to kiss Adrien on the lips. Then they’d become boyfriend and girlfriend, date throughout the rest of collége and lycée, go off to university and get married, have 3 kids, and a hamster named-

Wait!

What was she going to say in the voicemail? She didn’t know how to be cute and flirty! Every time she tried, she ended up rambling about her toothbrush or falling down stairs. She needed to write a script. Abort! Abort!

“Missing me already?”

Marinette’s heart skipped at Adrien’s flirtatious lilt.

“Adrien! You answered,” she gasped.

“You called me, and you’re surprised I picked up?” he chuckled.

“Well, I thought you had a photoshoot, I was just going to leave a message,” Marinette said.

“I just got done with makeup, so I have a few minutes. I was actually thinking of calling you,” he said. “I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

“No worries. I understand.” She assured him.

“I take it your presentation went well?”

“Yeah! That’s what I was calling to tell you. Clara loved my designs! I’ve never been so happy.” Marinette paced the length of her living room, biting back a smile. “I ran into Lila as I was leaving, but not even she could ruin my mood.”

“Whoa, wait! You ran into Lila?” Adrien asked.

“Ugh, yeah, but it was fine. Martin swooped in before she got me too riled up. She even tried to lie him out of backing me up, but he totally called her out. I’ve never seen her pout so hard.” When Adrien remained quiet on the other end, she added, “I’m fine, really. I’m not going to let her bother me anymore. This thing with Clara could open up a lot of opportunities for me.”

“I guess you’re right. Lila only wishes she were half as talented as you. You’re amazing, Marinette,” Adrien said, bringing a familiar warmth to her cheeks. “They’re ready for me on set, so I have to go.”

Marinette tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, sorry for interrupting. I just wanted to tell you the good news, and…talk for a minute.”

“You can interrupt me anytime. I’m always happy to hear your voice,” he said. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.” Marinette bit back a smile.

“Oh, and congratulations! You deserve it, Marinette.”

Marinette hung up with a dreamy sigh, hugging her phone to her chest. She was going to replay that conversation in her head for the rest of the evening. Before she could get lost in her lovestruck daydreams, the doorbell rang.

“Congratulations!” Macy hugged Marinette’s neck the moment she opened the door. “Oh, I knew she was going to love them!”

“Uh, I think you’re choking her.” Martin pointed out, and Macy let go.

“Sorry! But you did it! A major celebrity is going to wear your designs to an official awards show. That’s huge!” Macy squealed. “Oh! Is this your living room? It’s so cozy!”

As Macy pushed past Marinette into the apartment, Martin presented her with a bouquet of flowers.

“We picked these up for you on the way.”

“Thanks! That’s so sweet.” Marinette gestured him in, moving to find a vase in the kitchen. “Where’s Eliott?”

“He’ll be here soon. He was auditioning for another play today, so he’s running late,” Macy explained. “Your house is so cute! Did you make these pillows?”

“Uh, yeah. They were one of the first things I learned how to sew,” Marinette said, filling a vase in the sink. “My dad made macarons, and I’m making tea if you want any.”

Martin helped himself, taking a seat at the table, but Macy moved over to the bookcase to look at their family photos. Marinette set the vase in the middle of the table and grabbed the cups from the cupboard.

“Are you feeling better now?” Martin asked while she set the table. “I mean, after running into that girl earlier?”

“Yeah,” Marinette said, surprised by how much she meant it. “I’m not worried about her anymore. I’m fine.”

Martin relaxed. “Good. You seem happier now than when you first came to school,” he said. “I could tell how sad you were, even when you were smiling.”

Marinette grabbed the kettle from the stove and pursed her lips.

“I guess I’m not as good at hiding as I thought.” She laughed bitterly. “It’s been hard, but I’m really lucky to have people that support me. I have you all to thank for that.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?” Martin smiled, an expression Marinette returned.

“Right.”

“Marinette? Is this you?” Macy held up a baby picture. “You were so cute!”

Marinette’s cheeks burned, but before she could snatch the photo away from her, the front door flew open. Eliott burst in, hair disheveled and eyes wide with panic.

“Eliott? What’s-” Macy started.

“I need help!”

#mdcspr #my writing

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chuckaf · 4 years ago

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Chuck Fic Rec List: Updated

So my fic rec post was in my notifs again the other day, and I noticed a while back that the formatting on the post has gotten all messed up and it’s also had like three reblog additions to it anyway meaning there are three versions out there lol. so, I wanted to do another list of chuck fic recs! I’ll keep the other one up still, so I’m not gonna repeat every fic here, just some I really recommend. I’m also adding the fic summaries, which I didn’t on the old post, and some more of my own opinions so, buckle up for a long post!

Chuck Versus the Steampunk Chronicles | Steampunk.Chuckster

1896. A world powered by steam, where humans and machines coexist, and airships are the fashionable mode of transport. The US Empire's deepest and darkest secrets arrive at Chuck Bartowski's doorstep. Have they fallen into the wrong hands? Or will the inventor prove his mettle, even while he's forced to hide from the very people he's protecting? AU, ongoing chronicle, Charah.

A genuinely incredible AU story, with an entire crafted world and universe, so detailed it frequently blows my mind. There is heart and family and infuriatingly brilliant slow-burn, plus a buttload of danger and super fun historical/steampunk action. Oh how I LOVE it.

Chuck vs the Charade | somedeepmystery

When computer nerd Chuck Bartowski returns home to an empty apartment and a dead girlfriend he finds himself embroiled in a deadly game of espionage and deceit. Everyone around him is playing a part to get what they want and when he starts falling for the new woman in his life, he can't help but wonder if he can trust her or if she's the one he should fear the most.

An action and twist-filled AU based on the movie Charade, which is just such a brilliant fic concept I absolutely adored it from the start.

Two Sides of the Same Coin | dettiot

When you're a spy, there's all kinds of occupational hazards when you work with another spy. For Sarah Walker, though, one mission becomes a life-changing experience. Because working with Charles Carmichael leads to protecting Chuck Bartowski.

The first time I read this fic my mind was just blown to its genius. Such a brilliant interpretation of what the Intersect and its concepts set up in the show could be, and ooooof the Chuck/Sarah interactions, my HEART. Related to it, its companion piece:

A Flip of the Coin | dettiot

What made Charles Carmichael agree to become Chuck Bartowski? Well, to start, it wasn't as much of a change as you'd think. A companion to the early chapters of Two Sides of the Same Coin from Carmichael's perspective.

Chuck vs The Butterfly Effect | n7agentbartowski

Chuck Bartowski is a normal guy who just hit rock bottom. No girlfriend, no career and no super computer stuck inside his head. It isn't until Chuck meets a gorgeous stranger on the beach that he begins to think his life is about to change for the better. An AU Chuck fic without the Intersect. "Change one thing and it changes everything."

I said it on the OG post, but this story has one of my top 5 Chuck/Sarah fic meetings. So funny, so... very Chuck. The story is a little angsty overall, but a great read.

Chuck vs the Rogue Spy | Crumby

When a rogue spy from Chuck Bartowski's past shows up to help him during his first solo mission, Chuck hopes that he'll finally find out what happened to Sarah Walker. Post-S2 AU.

There’s a lot of Season 3 fix-it fics out there, which I don’t usually read bc I actually love season 3 lol, but this one’s a good one! A twisty deviation from canon, but still feels really true to character.

Chuck Versus the Nerds Rewrite | Steampunk.Chuckster and David Carner

What happens when two nerds talk endless hours about their favorite TV show? A new take on the show you know, but with the flair, twists, and turns you've come to expect from Steampunk . Chuckster and david . carner. Somewhat canon. Charah.

As the summary says, a different take on the show, which honestly makes a couple changes I would too, but also adds a bunch of fun twists and plots that make it totally new and fresh. Seeing Chuck and Sarah’s thoughts in the more canon sections is just delicious, too.

The Trapped Assassin | SarahsSupplyCloset

After a mission goes awry, the CIA's most lethal assassin is ordered to take vacation while her superiors figure out what to do with her. But when she meets a disarming tourist, their immediate connection only adds to her disillusionment with the agency and her career. Will he be enough for her to finally take the plunge and leave the only life she's ever known? Charah AU

A warning for the very justified M rating if you don’t like that sort of thing, but this is definitely a plot-heavy fic, too. A really neat Sarah-heavy AU, with a whole lotta Chuck/Sarah fancy French vacationy goodness.

Chuck vs the Second Chance | malamoo

AU from mid-season 2 and onwards. Chuck and Sarah part ways only to be reunited years later. COMPLETE.

Literal, crying-at-my-screen angst. Not even a super happy ending. But a brilliantly written, part-reflective/flashback fic, exploring what would’ve happened if Chuck and Sarah’s relationship really was an assignment all along-- and the aftermath. It’s heartbreaking. But if you want a little heartbreak, this is your fic.

Ready at Your Hand | dettiot

In the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, a Catholic plot against the queen comes to the attention of spymaster Sir Francis Walsingham. To protect Elizabeth, he develops an unusual plan: hide the passing of intelligence between two agents by a false romance. When Lady Sarah Walker and Chuck Carmichael meet, though, their pretend flirtation becomes much more.

I love Chuck fic for the very reason that it’s inspired such adventurous and totally unique AUs. Here’s some Elizabethan fake-dating Chuck and Sarah! They have to be so Proper, it’s like that hand moment from Pride and Prejudice but Elizabethan and times a billion. The pining!!

Sarah Versus Getting Married | Steampunk.Chuckster

Sarah Walker is getting married. Canon. Charah.

I’d recommend all of SC’s fics if I had the room, and I’m already recommending a ton sksks but most of my fic recs are AUs, and this one isn’t! It’s canon, and covers some of in the gap in 4x24, with Sarah just before the wedding itself. Super sweet, heart-tugging, brilliant.

A Chuckmas Carol | Mikki13

A new twist to Dickens' beloved "A Christmas Carol". When Sarah begins to shut out the world around her, three spirits come to show her the error of her ways. Season 3 AU.

Another Season 3 AU, this one written pre-series so it definitely doesn’t fit to canon, but it’s still wonderfully rich in character depth and angst and it also made me cry. Plus, festive!

Chuck Versus Thin Ice | Steampunk.Chuckster

On the doorstep of the Olympics, top American curler Sarah Walker has lost her mixed doubles partner and her boyfriend in one fell swoop. Her coaches throw newbie Team U.S.A. curler Chuck Bartowski onto her team and thrust them into the Olympics, hanging America's curling hopes on two people who only have a short amount of time to learn to trust one another. Charah AU.

Do you like curling? Or the Winter Olympics? It doesn’t really matter because somehow this fic made me extremely invested in both of those things, as well as Chuck and Sarah and them being INSUFFERABLE. Catch me now knowing a ton about curling thanks to this fic.

Walker’s Eleven | Moonlight Pilot

Not the same plot as the movie. Sarah Walker never got out of the con game or became a spy, and now she's on her final con. What happens when true love and betrayal get added to the mix? Twists, turns, and Jeffster!

Con!Sarah always interests me, and this fic is full of her. Lotta con plot, lotta Chuck and Sarah.

The Detective and the Tech Guy | thecharleses

Sarah Walker is a Pinkerton detective. Chuck Bartowski is an electronics genius. They wouldn't have met except for a case of mistaken identity and murder. Will the detective and the tech guy solve the mystery, distracted by the riddle in their own hearts? An homage to The Thin Man film series. Formerly co-written by Steampunk . Chuckster and dettiot, now ONLY Steampunk . Chuckster.

Everyone in this fic is so damn cool. There are so many martinis. But also great heart and family and like, standing up for who you love, and later also Chuck with Baby Clara content which frankly the show robbed us of. Also, PI!Sarah!!!

Gravity | Poetic4U

AU. Sarah makes a decision that altered her life forever.

This is just a one-shot, which many of these stories are not, so a good one if you don’t fancy a big read! Just because it’s short, though, doesn’t mean it’s lacking; a really awesome what-if AU, and heavy on the Chuck and Sarah.

A Yuletie Tale | Steampunk.Chuckster

Sarah Walker was dumped the day before Christmas Eve, and her Plus One at her work’s annual Christmas Eve Soiree is now officially a Plus Zero. Her best friend Ellie Bartowski has a solution to her problem, and Sarah finds she isn’t quite as sure about it as Ellie is. AU Christmas Charah.

I’m particularly in love with this fic because, instead of beginning with a meet-cute, it involves Chuck and Sarah already two years into a friendship-- Sarah is Ellie’s best friend. And she’s been crushing harrrd on Ellie’s brother. Also Chuck is in a tux. It’s pretty.

Set, Spike, Dive! | Frea O’Scanlin

Chuck never expected to even make it to the Olympics. Everything is working against him: he's too tall for a diver, too inexperienced for a medal, too much of a wildcard to really make his mark. But an unexpected meeting at the airport, some intriguing new friends, and a whirlwind romance on the sand just might set up London 2012 as the time of Chuck Bartowski's life.

A London 2012 AU, because why not. This is just a fun Olympic-y ride!

OTP (One True Pairing) Prompts | David Carner

A series of Prompts I found online about different times and places in Chuck and Sarah's life. Mostly AU, mostly one-shots. I assume mostly fluff, but I might get deep. I doubt it, it's me. Charah...ALWAYS (It says complete, but if an idea strikes me...)

If you’re not so into long stories, this fic is perfect. Individual set-ups and stories, all Chuck and Sarah, and all super cute. You could dip in and out and just pick a scenario you enjoy.

Chuck vs The Frontier | ninjaVanish

AU: Chuck was enjoying a simple life as a 19th century watchmaker until an encounter with a beautiful Secret Service agent thrust him into a world of intrigue and adventure he never wanted. But then, with Agent Walker around, it can't be all bad, can it?

This fic gets props for being historically-set but still including the Intersect. Again, a historical AU, so the pining!! the need to be Proper!!! But besides all that, there’s a lot of action fun as well.

Chuck Versus The Crosswalk: Remastered | WvonB

Will a last minute mission help our two favorite characters finally get together? This is the remastered version of my first story.

The original version of this fic is on my first list; this is the updated version! It’s not a complete AU, instead a story that diverges from canon, so if you’re more into canon characters and setting than a new AU scenario, this is a great fic for that.

Little Girls, Paper Wreaths, and Choc Chip Cookies | DanaPAH

Very AU: Sarah Walker is a single mother whose Christmas spirit needs a boost after a tough divorce. She isn't quite ready to go looking for romance, but her little daughter's affection for their new neighbor may lure it right to her doorstep, anyway.

An incredibly sweet AU one-shot where Chuck and Sarah are new neighbours, and Sarah has a super cute little girl. So much sweetness and love and hope. I love this fic so much it literally led me to write my own neighbour-kid-AU, so, not to toot my own horn but I’ll link it here anyway.

May Your Walls Know Joy | halfachance

Looking for a fresh start after some tough times, Sarah and her three-year-old daughter move to LA. When they meet a sweet curly-haired nerd who lives next door, though, Sarah realizes they might just find more happiness than they'd ever imagined, if only her past doesn't catch up to her first. AU.

It’s what the summary says; if you wanna read, feel free!

Chuck vs the Sound of Music | quistie64

AU. Chuck, nerd extraordinaire, is a man with seven children and Sarah must protect them all from Fulcrum's evil designs. Warning: there will be singing.

I mean. Not much mystery as to the concept with that title and summary lol, but this is a super fun, soft ride with a lotta sweetness, and yes, singing.

Just Two People | David Carner

Meet Sarah Walker PhD, Psychologist, specializing in personality traits. Meet Chuck Bartowski, man who has left THE electronic company of 2020. When Burton Consultants tries to figure out what is wrong with the morale of Orion Industries, what happens when a guy named Chuck meets a woman named Sarah. I'll give you a hint, it's me writing.

David’s done something pretty special with this fic. It’s Chuck and Sarah centric, but very much an ensemble piece, too, with a lot of Team Bartowski and other familiar faces throughout.

Chuck Versus the Con Game | Steampunk.Chuckster

AU. Chuck and Sarah are partners in the con game. It's an existence wrought with danger and violence. Every day could be their last. Every mission could be the end of the line.

This is where I freak out SC and declare this fic the reason I ever got hooked on Chuck fic and then wrote Chuck fic, and the reason I still love it today but. that is true lol. Just so. so good. It’s also written with the chapters out of chronological order, which is super fun from a reading perspective. But con!Sarah AND con!Chuck?? Best. The kind of fic you will be thinking about for days (if not, y’know, years).

As you can tell by the repeats, I highly recommend just about anything by Steampunk.Chuckster, dettiot, or David Carner, but there are a TON of amazing Chuck fics and authors out there. I’ve never known a writing community so wildly creative-- there are so many unique AUs and canon explorations and story concepts that this show has manifested, and it’s all so much fun.

Most of the Chuck fic community is still over on FFN rather than AO3, so if any of these whet your appetite, feel free to have a browse there for more stories. I’m sure you’ll find something great. Personally, all the incredible writing there has also led me to write a buttload; I’m at halfachance on FFN, so if you see any of my stuff or wanna chat fic, feel free to message me there or here.

Happy reading, folks!

#chuck #fic rec #chuck fic #nbcchuck #praying if i edit this to add to it or i reblog it to add to it all the links stay and the line breaks don't disappear sksks #the old one still looks okay on desktop but it's messed up on the app and on mobile and it's just all generally messy #so i've been wanting to make this for aaages lol yay to finally doing something! woo!

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Die For You

Requested by Anon: “hi :) can I request Jennie scenario based on The Weeknd’s song ‘Die For You’? I also wanted to say I really love your works, they’re really good”

Pairing: Jennie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,705

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Fluff, Near-Death Experience, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Thank you anon! My schedule is getting busy again, so writings may take a bit longer to get posted; I apologize for the delay with this one, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Let me know what you guys think!

PS ~ This is my first time writing a song request, so I kind of just went with it lol. It’s a little messy, but I think it has charm. Happy reading!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Jennie Kim has a magnetic pull to her -- one that is relentless and unwavering once it takes control of you. It’s hypnotic in every way; sweet torture in its truest form; and you’re always left to pick up the pieces.

The arrangement that you share with Jennie has been clear from the get-go: friends with benefits, no strings attached. Neither of you have time for anything serious, and this seemed like a win-win: always having someone to come home to when you happened to be in the same area at the same time? Hell yeah.

You hate that you want me

Hate it when you cry

You're scared to be lonely

'Specially in the night

Gradually, though, things got messy -- lines became blurred as feelings mixed into the equation. You did everything in your power to make them go away, reminding yourself time and time again of the agreement you had. But in moments like these, as you lay in bed with Jennie, her head resting on your chest as your hand runs through her hair, you can’t help how your heart swells. Pale moonlight traces patterns on the floor, wiggling its way into the room to offer a soft glow and ambiance. In here, you’re untouchable: no cameras or prying eyes; it’s just you and Jennie, free to be yourselves. Given this fact, you’ve grown to have a love-hate relationship with these four walls; they’re your haven -- your refuge -- but they serve as a brutal reminder of just how limited your relationship with Jennie is.

Nothing is certain: weeks turn into months -- especially when she’s on tour or otherwise occupied with her busy schedule -- and you’re left to your own devices, waiting on her return. Each day without her brings you closer to believing that you’re strong enough to move onto something better -- something more consistent; but then there she is, knocking on your door again, completely pushing that absurd idea from your mind. One smile from her is enough to reel you back in, and it only makes you feel more conflicted.

Jennie stirs in her sleep, nuzzling her face closer into you as she brings a hand up to rest against your collarbone. Her body twitches lightly, lips pursing and pouting against your neck, and you wonder what she’s dreaming about. She doesn’t seem to be distressed in any way, so you take the opportunity to get a good look at her. Within the next couple hours the alarm would be blaring that sound that you despise more than anything else in this world, signalling for her to get ready and head off to the airport to leave you all over again. Despite the circumstances, you're comforted by the fact that she always makes sure to set it for the very last second, barely giving herself enough time to catch her flight -- she wants to spend every moment possible with you, and she makes it a point to do just that. Tearful goodbyes in the back of your car would be too involved for your “relationship”, so you always try to seem unaffected (or, at least, as close to that as you can manage). You save your tears for when you arrive back home, where you spend the evening coming to terms with her absence. She would never tell you, of course, but her flights are known to bear witness to plenty of sadness for her as well; with each new mile added to the distance between the two of you, her heart breaks a little more.

~~~~~~~

It’s been 4 months since you last saw Jennie. The time apart had offered you a new perspective, something in the long nights without her affirming what you already knew to be true -- you weren’t capable of continuing on like this much longer. Nothing about your situation was ever simple; the instant you began catching feelings, it all became muddled. The one rule set -- the only principle you were tasked with following -- had been broken, and there was nothing you could do to repair it.

A knock at your door echoes out across the empty apartment, and you quickly put down the food that you had been preparing. With a swift adjustment of the dial, you set the burner to simmer and make your way to the door. None of your friends had mentioned that they were coming by, so you’re genuinely clueless as to who it could be.

“Jennie?” Surprise is inadequate in describing the feeling that courses through you upon meeting that familiar gaze. The metal of the knob is cool in your hand as you grip it, knuckles turning white while your emotions run wild. She had failed to let you know that she was coming back to town, neglecting even to text you recently.

“Miss me?” How are you to answer that? Part of you wants to blurt out your thoughts, effectively ripping the metaphorical band aid right off, but another part of you wants to deny her: the past few months had allowed your feelings to become somewhat dormant as you attempted to see a future beyond this arrangement, one void of her presence. It’s completely normal to feel like that, you tell yourself. It’s strange, but as in love with her as you are, you’re almost as equally indifferent about it all. How many more times could you watch her walk away, only to string you along until she came waltzing right back in?

The more important question of the matter is apparent: how would you even begin to tell her what you’re feeling? In the past, you’ve tried to make her aware of what you’re going through, only to be met by a change of topic. She always stayed reserved, opting to spend your time together talking about anything other than that.

Deciding that you were taking far too long to respond to her, she steps into the room, closing the door behind her. The time away from you had affected her more than she’s willing to admit, and she’s more than ready to embrace you. Her arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling your body flush up against hers, and she sighs at the feeling. “I’ve missed holding you, Y/N.” The sweet nothing does it’s job, making your heart flutter as the words register in your mind. You’re still tense, though, and she doesn’t fail to notice; before long, soft kisses are being trailed across your face -- her attempt at relaxing you. Sometimes you wonder if she knows your body better than you do: it responds to her, just like she knew it would, and you loosen up.

After what feels like minutes of just standing there, bodies intertwined, her hands make their way to your hips. She leans forward and ghosts her lips over yours, her gloss smudging a bit in the process. A battle is being fought in your mind: should you allow yourself this indulgence? Or is this the time to be strong and finally put your foot down? The choice is made up for you by the way that she slowly backs you up against the wall, along with how her mouth brushes against yours as her warm hands steady you. Before you can stop yourself, you close the distance.

Her lips move against yours in perfect time, a delicious rhythm being set in the process. It brings to mind the notion that maybe -- just maybe -- the two of you are meant to be. After all, you fit together like a puzzle, being complete in the presence of one another.

As her fingers play at the band of your shorts, hands roaming further with each needy kiss she presses to your lips, you debate with yourself. Her actions tempt you to cave in and give yourself up to her, but you decide that you can’t go down that road again. At least not until everything gets sorted. Quickly -- as to not give her anymore time to change your mind -- you step back and run a hand through your hair. Hers is messy, lips red and pupils blown wide. She reaches out for you again, but you simply hold your hand up in response.

“I can’t, Jennie.” The words come out as a reluctant declaration, your tone sounding tired.

Her brows furrow, but you continue.

“I can’t keep doing this.”

“Elaborate.” Her demand is clear, but you miss the effort that it took for her to come off that way. At your words, panic began to course through her; she can’t lose you.

“Whatever this is,” you say, motioning between the two of you. “I can’t be someone who waits around for you all the time, just keeping your bed warm.” She wants to laugh at that one; it’s almost comical how far you are from the truth. Jennie knows she’s good at hiding her feelings, but she’s shocked that she managed to make you believe something that ridiculous about yourself. You mean the world to her -- she’s just too afraid to admit it.

“Y/N--”

“No, don’t even try to change the subject; I’m sick of it. Please, just listen to me for once.”

A subtle nod from her serves as your cue to continue.

“I never meant for things to get like this, Jennie, believe me. But I can’t pretend anymore: I like you, a lot. And after having you in the ways that I’ve had you…” you pause, allowing your eyes to trail up and down her body as you clench your jaw, “I can’t bear the thought of someone taking my place when I’m not around. Do you know how hard that is to deal with?”

Happens every time

I'm scared that I'll miss you

I don't want this feelin'

I can't afford love

She seems stunned, to say the least; she blinks a few times before gathering her thoughts and speaking up. “You’re all I think about, no matter what I’m doing.” For a second, you’re hopeful: your heart beats a little faster at her confession, and you finally believe you’re getting somewhere with her. Sadly, she continues: “But I can’t afford that. I don’t have time for a commitment like that, and we have something good right now. I’ve seen plenty of relationships go bad and end in heartbreak; why should we risk it?”

“Aren’t you tired of it? Sometimes I really start to think that you like me back, but then you’re as guarded as ever, pushing me away again. I never know where I stand with you. So unless you tell me how you honestly feel, you’ll have to take me off your list of fuck buddies.”

Your language catches her off guard, seeing as how it’s unexpected and unlike you. How are you so oblivious? You’re so much more than that to her.

“Fine, Y/N! I’m in deeper than I care to admit. I’ve tried to run from it, but I can’t. You’re the one person I can’t seem to forget, and I can’t stand you because of that. And yeah..” she pauses, a bit exasperated, and takes a deep breath before continuing. “I won’t deny that I’ve been with other people when I’m away.” You close your eyes at her admission, that familiar sadness beginning to seep in -- it wasn’t anything you didn’t already know, but that doesn’t make its confirmation any easier to hear.

“They’re not you, though. They don’t know me like you do… they’re not fun like you. I’ve never felt like this about anyone, and I don’t want to. It terrifies me.”

“That’s kinda part of the deal, Jennie -- it’s a scary thing. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but I’m willing to try with you. What we have right now is wearing me down, and I don’t deserve it; so either listen to your heart and be with me, or you won’t be seeing me again.”

Following your ultimatum, she doesn’t dare speak. Her brows are slightly furrowed again, jaw set, and she’s looking at the ground. Out of habit, your arms cross against your chest -- being vulnerable is never something you particularly enjoy (especially with so much on the line) but you’re sick of beating around the bush with her. One of the first lessons you ever learned from Jennie is that she avoids her feelings at all costs; so, standing there, you wonder what it would take to make her finally open up. Would your absence be enough? Maybe you were foolish for thinking so.

With every second that passes, silence remaining unbroken by the words that you so desperately want to hear from her, your heart sinks more and more. Every insecurity you have is swirling in your mind, further clouding it. Her lack of a response confirms your fears, and you nod quickly, knowing what you have to do.

“Okay, I get it. I’m gonna take a walk, but you can stay here and take a shower since you just got in. When I come back, though, I want you gone.”

She doesn’t even raise her head to look at you. Inside, her heart is breaking; every fiber of her being is begging to say something -- anything -- but she stays quiet. It’s hard enough for her to keep her feelings for you in check with the arrangement you have now; if you become official, she won’t know what to do with herself. She’s falling hard, but she’s fighting it all the while -- her lifestyle doesn’t have room for love. You deserve someone who can be with you whenever you want them, not someone who’s always a world away. Calls and texts only go so far, and she knows it wouldn’t be enough for either of you. She’s spent your latest stint apart attempting to come to terms with the idea of life without you; it’s the last thing she wants, but she needs you to move on and find someone better. For you, she’s willing to hurt, so long as it means you’re happy.

After a beat, she accepts your words, confirming that she heard you by giving a simple nod. Any remaining hope you were clinging to fades away completely, and you’re left feeling empty. Now at the coat rack, you pull your jacket over your shoulders and slip your shoes on. “There’s food on the stove, by the way. Don’t let it burn.” You say over your shoulder, too sad to look at her again. Maybe that’s some sort of symbolism: the wonderful thing you had spent so long creating was fizzling out right in front of you, Jennie being the one who could fix it all. She can step up and repair things, but that doesn’t seem very likely to happen. Tears are brimming in your eyes, and her heart breaks at the sound of your sniffles.

Even though we're going through it

And it makes you feel alone

With a thud, the apartment door closes, and Jennie finally breaks down. It all hits her in an instant, and soon she’s sliding down to the floor, her tears mimicking her actions as they fall onto her cheeks. Why did this have to be so hard? Seeing the pain etched so plainly into your features was definitely the hardest part to all of this; she’s being cruel to be kind… if only you knew that.

I try to find reason to pull us apart

It ain't workin' 'cause you're perfect

And I know that you're worth it

I can't walk away, oh!

As soon as Jennie had realized her feelings all that time ago, she racked her brain for any and every logical reason to end things. She would pick fights over small things, praying to every higher power that you’d get tired of the stupidity and give up on her. So many other people had in the past, so why wouldn’t you? Knowing that you’re different from all the rest -- perfect for her in every way imaginable -- only scares her more. You lit a fire in her heart the day you met, and it’s only grown stronger ever since.

~~~~~~~

20 Minutes Later

You have no real destination in mind; you’re content with just allowing your feet to take you wherever they wish to go.

Chatter from across the city makes its way to your ears, oddly offering a sense of comfort in your time of need. The night sky is full of stars, and the city bustles with life and activity. As you pass different businesses and shops, their iridescent lights shine just for you. Distant cars honk as they traverse the streets, and your mind begins to think of all of the different things those people might be doing right now. Surely some are having a great day, maybe on their way home, eager to be greeted by their loved ones. Others might be hurting just like you.

And you won't find no one that's better

'Cause I'm right for you, babe

I think I'm right for you, babe

Jennie fails to realize that all you want is her; you’re not naive -- you know how crazy her schedule is, but you’re more than willing to make sacrifices if it means she’ll be yours. No one makes you feel the way she does, and the thought of spending your life searching for something that can never compare scares you.

A slight breeze rolls in, ghosting over your skin, and you’re reminded of all the times she would pull you in close to keep you warm. Her sweet perfume would fill your nose as you snuggled into her embrace, sharing the heat that her coat offered. Getting over her would definitely be a bitch.

It's hard for me to communicate the thoughts that I hold

But tonight I'm gon' let you know

Let me tell the truth

Baby, let me tell the truth, yeah

The peace -- if you can call it that -- is broken by a shout. “Y/N, wait!” Confused, you spin around on your heel towards the voice. It’s Jennie; she’s sprinting to you, her brown locks bouncing and flowing in the wind with every step. Conflicted, yet again, your feet appear to be rooted in their spot. What does she want now? It seems that every time you get your hopes up, she’s always letting you down. With this in mind, you slowly turn back around and continue your walk. Eventually she’ll catch up to you, but you need the extra time to gather your now-jumbled thoughts.

Just know that I would die for you

Baby I would die for you, yeah

It all happened in a blur. As you began crossing the street to put more distance between Jennie and yourself, the high pitched sound of tires squealing against the pavement rang out. The car came out of nowhere, barrelling straight towards you with no signs of stopping; they had run a red light. Your eyes locked with the driver’s, both of you donning an equally terrified expression, and you had no time to react. Just as the bumper was about to come into contact with your body, you were instead forcefully shoved out of the way. Another person -- your savior -- comes tumbling with you just in the nick of time, and the driver swerves around you.

“Are you okay?!” It’s Jennie; her voice is ripe with worry, her thoughts focused solely on your wellbeing. She doesn’t even notice the cut that she received from the fall. You bring your hand up to her forehead to assess the wound.

“Y-yeah, I’m good. But you,” you say, touching her injury and eliciting a pained hiss from her in the process, “...are not.” The two of you are breathing hard as adrenaline courses through your systems; once it has died down a bit, you stand up and check each other for any more sore spots.

“Thank you, Jennie. I don’t know how to repay you for something like that.”

“I’d do it again a million times, Y/N. I’m sorry for putting you through all of this. I came to tell you that I love you, and that I’m done running. Seeing you leave really put things into perspective for me.”

“Am I supposed to believe that, or will you change your mind again?” The words are harsh, your voice laced with the bitterness that you still hold onto. You can’t find it in yourself to cushion the blow much; you’re still hurt by what’s happened in the past, and rightfully so. Beyond that, though, you’re trying to be cautious; after hearing her confess like that, you know there’s no going back.

“Okay, I deserve that one. But I mean what I said. You’re the best thing in my life -- the best I’ve ever had -- and I just want you to be happy. I’ve always been afraid that I can’t give you that if I’m so far away all the time.”

“Oh, baby,” you start, cupping her cheek and running your thumb across it soothingly. She leans into your touch, and your expression softens. “All I’ve ever wanted is you. You’re everything to me, you know that? We can do this together, so long as you’re willing to try.”

“I am.” She utters before pulling you in, sealing your new agreement with a kiss. Her lips move against yours gently, taking their time as they attempt to make up for her previous behavior. It’s soft yet urgent, a million different things passing between you without words.

Suddenly, you pull back, and Jennie panics for a second.

“Did you turn the burner off?”

“Oh shit!” She exclaims, a look of pure fear gracing her features.

Just as that cold, prickly feeling of dread begins to spread throughout your body, she grins.

“Yes, I did.”

You roll your eyes and huff loudly at her, delivering a rough shove to her shoulder.

“Don’t do that to me!”

She responds by pulling you in again, kissing away your frown. “I love you, too, if you didn’t catch that earlier.” You declare, feeling her lips turn up in that beautifully iconic smile of hers. She hums at that, pulling you in closer just as the chilly wind blows again. Huh, maybe the universe had been listening all along.

#jennie kim #jennie x reader #blackpink angst #blackpink fluff #blackpink #blackpink imagine #blackpink oneshots #jennie imagine #jennie kim x fem reader #die for you #let-them-read-fics #blackpink scenarios #kpop #kpop scenarios

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castieltrash1 · 5 years ago

Text

dangerous territory → clint b.

gif credit (x)

summary → clint stays behind during a mission, leaving you alone with him in the avengers building. seeing him sprawled out on the comfy lounge room couch gives you some naughty ideas -- only adding to the tension your relationship already has.

word count → 6.7k (literally wtf)

warnings → i ignore the entirety of iw/endgame except for clint’s makeover, extreme sexual tension, smut; switch!fem!reader, switch!clint, couch sex, oral (both recieving), fingering, slight overstimulation, dirty talk, praise

a/n → literally idk if i should be ashamed or not but im Horny 4 Hawkeye!!! oopsie !! also there are like .3 smut fics for him on here and im determined to fix that

---

Quiet was not a word you’d use to describe the Avengers Facility.

In fact, with Steve’s loud orders, Bruce’s lab explosions, and Sam’s boisterous laughter -- not to mention the never-ending petty arguments that managed to revert the Avengers to 11th graders in their first debate club -- it was the farthest thing from quiet.

But, now, with zero disagreements and zero distractions, you’d been able to enjoy the building all to yourself. Almost. Of course, the one time you got to avoid a mission, you ended up falling into an even worse situation.

You’d covered for Wanda last mission, and she’d insisted on paying you back for the newest one. It wasn’t high stakes by any means, but the work itself had countless components and everyone who was nearby -- or at least on the planet -- had been called in to fill some role.

Everyone, of course, except you. And Clint.

Suddenly the idea of being stuck in the Quinjet with everyone’s post-mission moodiness sounded very appealing. You could feel a headache growing as you wandered around the kitchen, doing anything and everything in your power to avoid him. He was not supposed to be here. Hell, he didn’t even like stepping foot in the place unless the world was in immediate danger.

Of course, you weren’t the only one to notice his odd attitude. Natasha gave him a confused look when he mentioned staying behind, but decidedly hadn’t commented, almost like she’d already pieced together the reason for Clint’s actions. Knowing her, she probably had. But, even Wanda shot a glance that worried you -- though you seemed to be the only one to catch her squinted green gaze before it disappeared. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what she saw in his mind.

Sure, you had a couple of ideas as to why he would choose to isolate himself with you, but you tried to not let those thoughts consume you. The others wouldn’t be back till midday tomorrow -- if all went well -- and you were not about to spend the next 36 hours soaking your panties with stupid fantasies.

Unfortunately, even when ignoring Clint, your mind was still focused on him. When you passed by the gym or shooting range, antsy to get your daily work in, one quick thought of seeing Clint’s arms -- tensed as he loaded his bow, muscles straining and eyes focused on his target -- was enough to have you quickly walking in the opposite direction.

But, now, as you make your way into the lounge to relax, you can’t find it in yourself to care. You have just as much of a right as Clint does to walk around whenever and wherever you please. In all honesty, you feel even more entitled considering you’re the one actually living in the tower (at least most of the time.)

He’s exactly where you expect him to be -- he may be fast and quiet on his feet, but you’ve been keeping tabs on him, for your own sake.

It’s a bit odd seeing a book instead of a bow in his hands, but you’re not entirely sure you should be focused on how his fingers wrap around the thin pages, thumbing the corners so gently--

“Done avoiding me, are you?”

Well, shit.

His gaze remains on his book -- though the very few pages he’s turned assures you he’s not paying attention to whatever riveting story Tony has stocked his shelves with.

“What are you talking about?” you ask. There’s a moment of temptation to take a seat next to him on the couch, as close as possible. To feel his strong arms around you, smell the raw masculine cologne he always wears a bit too much of -- heavy on his neck and sharp jaw that you know your lips could curl around so perfectly if given the chance.

You swallow heavily and take a seat in the chair across from him, sinking into the expensive fabric.

“Tony picks good furniture, right?” Clint sighs, book closing without so much as a dog-ear mark as he leans back.

It’s silent for a second, and you’re entirely sure you’ve missed a part of the conversation during your mini black-out, but Clint doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, waiting patiently for your answer. You consider it a small win and accept the change in topic with an awkward laugh.

“Yeah. Didn’t think price made such a big difference.” There’s a firmness to the chair that keeps you from sinking, and mentally, you consider if it’d be strong enough for other activities. “How much you wanna bet he spent on each of these chairs?” you question, genuinely curious. “I gotta guess at least two grand.”

Clint’s cool eyes glint playfully. “Three,” he challenges with a smirk that sends a shiver down your spine. “Though, you should really try this couch. Definitely my favorite thing here.”

There’s just a hint of suggestion in his tone -- the kind that you’d miss if you weren’t trained in reading people. It’s not unexpected, though. You’d have to be a fool to not recognize the exact same longing stares, the same lingering touches that Clint offers you. But, that’s what makes it all more intimidating. It’s an unspoken thing, and at this point, that’s what feels most convenient -- even if your lonely nights spent moaning his name are growing far too common for comfort.

Still, you can’t exactly ignore him, and his eyes follow you closely as you make your way to the couch, falling into the comfy cushions with a huff.

“Wow.” You laugh. “No wonder you’ve been spending so much time down here.”

Clint raises an eyebrow. “So you have been paying me some attention. Interesting.”

If he notices you shift as far to the other end of the couch as possible, he doesn’t mention it.

“Don’t take it personally, Barton,” you huff. “I’m used to keeping an eye on everyone around here.” It’s not entirely a lie, but he manages to see right through the half-truth regardless.

“So you avoid everyone, then?” There’s no hurt or misunderstanding in his voice, not even confusion. He knows what you’re doing, knows why you can’t bear to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds.

“Still don’t know what you’re talking about,” you deflect, closing your eyes and letting your head fall back onto the couch.

He just chuckles, a low sound that makes your stomach clench unconsciously. You expect him to keep pressing you, work you up until you spill your guts, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even say a word as you hear the rustling of paper and feel the couch move slightly as he shifts.

You turn your head towards him and open one eye, then both as they go wide. Clint has taken on a whole new level of comfortable, feet perched on the coffee table and one arm resting on the back of the couch while his free hand flips through the same first few pages as before.

In all honesty, you suddenly find yourself happy that Steve and Tony are gone -- otherwise they’d be scolding Clint for his manners, and most definitely not ogling his firm legs in those tight, black jeans.

You drag your gaze back up his body, stopping near the hem of his shirt, where his new position has allowed for the fabric to ride up his stomach. It’s just a sliver of skin but the image is enough to make your heart race. There’s a faint dip in the muscled hip line leading to his jeans, and if you stare extra hard, you can see the light trail of thin hairs disappearing under the fabric.

Swallowing heavily, you quickly look back at Clint’s face, holding back a gasp as he stares back at you.

“So,” you fill the silence before he can, mentally thanking Natasha for her training on keeping your composure. “How’s that book of yours?”

Clint just grins for a second -- you both know he’s caught you. “It’s alright. Not the most interesting thing in the building right now, though.”

You gulp. “Yeah… The place is big. Lots to explore. I don’t think I’ve even seen every room--”

“I have a feeling you know that’s not what I mean,” Clint cuts you off with a chuckle, and you send him a challenging glare.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you scoff.

He hums, before his tongue peeks out to swipe across his bottom lip. “You’re sounding awfully like a broken record today.” His icy, pale eyes return to his book, and you watch as he lifts his thumb to his wet lips, tongue darting out the lick the tip. You can practically feel the action, and almost whine in disappointment when his hand returns to flip the page.

Clint is downright grinning at this point, and you know he’s taking in every breath, shift, and blink of yours. “But, I know you’re not actually confused,” he continues. “In fact, I’d argue you like this game of ours a bit more than you should.”

You know if you brush it off again, he’ll drop it. He’s too nice to make you uncomfortable, and his statement hangs in the air with a heavy weight.

“You know, Barton?” you shift from your spot on the couch, eliminating a good chunk of the space between you and him. “I think you’re smarter than most people give you credit for.” He raises a brow, and you would believe his undisturbed look if you didn’t see his fingers twitch against the spine of the forgotten book.

“Tell Nat that,” he jokes, and you grin. Seeing that little crack in his facade, the way he fills the conversation with a joke, the discreet but heavy swallow he tries to hide -- it’s all enough to power you to move closer, until there are mere centimeters between you two.

“Hmmm, I don’t think I’ll be telling Natasha anything from this conversation of ours.” Keeping your attention on the slight tense of his jaw, you push the book from his hands, and he immediately drops his feet from the table to discard it in their place.

You pause for a second, glancing at Clint’s lap then back at him, and he doesn’t hesitate to reach out and grab your hip.

“Get over here already,” he groans, both arms wrapping around your waist to situate you in his lap. His hands are warm and firm and everything you could have ever imagined, and you automatically roll your hips down onto him. There’s a pleased moan from you both, and his own hips jolt in a way that sends you even closer to him, until your chests are touching.

He immediately dives for your neck, scruff tickling the sensitive skin as he breathes you in deeply. “I gotta admit,” he murmurs, letting his lips graze the bottom of your jaw in the most sinful way, “you look so much better sitting here than standing around in the kitchen.”

You drag your fingers through the long hair on the back of his head, tugging it playfully. “You’ve been watching me, Barton?”

He hums, squeezing you just as teasingly. “I do a lot of staring when it comes to you, babe.”

You pull him from your neck by his hair, and he looks up at you with the most mischievous glint in his eyes. The nickname makes you undeniably flustered, but you force the embarrassment away.

“I don’t know about you, but I think that’s what you call creepy,” you mumble, leaning down so Clint can feel your words against his own lips. He immediately darts forward, but you pull back with a sly grin, watching his eyes darken at the action.

“I think,” he growls, catching you off guard as he pushes you back onto the couch, making you jostle as you try not to fall off the edge. He steadies you with a large hand, and you only jolt again when he uses his free hand to spread your legs, caging you in as his hips drop between your parted thighs. “You’d be a hypocrite for saying that.” He drops back to your neck, and you can feel his smile before his teeth sink into your skin lightly -- just enough to make you gasp.

He continues to litter your neck with kisses, and you watch in awe as his toned arm tenses by the side of your head -- the thick black lines of ink rolling as his muscles flex.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you taunt, back arching as his tongue darts out to lick a stripe up to right below your chin. “You gonna fuck me?”

Clint bites the edge of your jaw in retaliation to your words, before he pulls back just enough to stare at you with a lustful gaze.

“Not yet, baby. Not that easily.” One of his hands trails up the front of your thigh, before it busies itself with the hem of your shirt. You try to hide your disappointment, but Clint notices it, of course, and just shakes his head. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on letting you leave this couch anytime soon. You’ve made me wait long enough for this… I’m gonna take my time with you.”

He finally presses his lips to yours, and you hungrily reach and tug until he’s as close as possible -- until you can feel the denim of his jeans scraping deliciously against your thighs as you tug his bottom lip between your teeth. It’s messy and entirely uncalculated, and your nails catch in the wrinkles of the back of his shirt while his own fingers tug impatiently at the bottom of yours.

You part from him for a second, and his own greedy mouth follows yours, only managing to press against the side of your lips. “You act like you’ve made this easy for me,” you retort, and his chest rumbles against yours as he chuckles.

“Oh honey, I think I’ve made it quite obvious I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day you walked in here.”

“Clearly, not obvious enough.”

Clint huffs, warm breath hitting your cheek. “What’d you want me to do? Huh?” He shifts so his words make their way directly to your ear, each syllable accentuated with a puff of hot air. With him this close, neck just below your nose, you can take in the heavy smell of that sharp cologne you love so much.

His calloused fingers dip beneath your shirt, but instead of the obvious trail up, his hand trails down to play with the hem of your shorts. “Tug these little things off in front of everyone? Show them all how worked up you get me wearing these? Is that what you want?”

Your hips lift in a silent plea, and you groan. “They’re comfortable.”

“Maybe for you, but I find myself very uncomfortable when you wear them.” He snickers, and if you weren’t so turned on, you’re sure you’d roll your eyes. Only Clint Barton could make a joke about untimely hard-ons during a time like this.

“Then why don’t you take them off?” you groan, and he shakes his head while muttering something about you being bossy.

Still, his words betray him as he tugs the fabric down your legs, as slowly as possible while his eyes drink in the new area of exposed skin. “What part about taking my time with you did you not understand?” The corner of his lips tug in that mischievous way of his, and you have a sneaking feeling his patience is as fleeting as your own.

Proving your point, Clint tosses your shorts over the back of the couch with a grin, then pushes you further up the cushions. You’re almost sitting, shoulder blades knocking the arm of the sofa while your legs bend at the knee to accompany Clint, who scoots back. It’s the perfect and most disastrous angle to be at as you have to both feel and watch his deft fingers trail up from your knee.

You’re a hundred percent sure the effects of your arousal are extremely obvious, but he doesn’t comment on the wet patch of your panties -- though you see his eyes focus on the area between your legs for a second too long before his gaze flickers back to your thighs.

His calloused fingers trail the edge of fabric around your legs, rough skin providing a type of friction you can’t begin to explain. His touch is fleeting and he changes the amount of pressure with every swipe of his thumb, always pushing just enough to let you know he’s holding you down. That you can’t escape him -- as if you’d even think of trying to do so.

“Your legs are so sexy, you know that?”

You let out some type of pleased whine, a sound that Clint relishes as he tightens his grip on your thighs. “Make the prettiest sounds, too,” he continues, and then his fingers are right there. One hand holds your left leg down, while the other covers your panty-covered core. His thumb rubs into your desperate, throbbing clit, and you use your little amount of freedom to push your hips up, wanting, needing more.

Clint immediately presses you back down, and you watch his tattoos shift just slightly as he adds more weight to his hand on your thigh.

“Please, please.” You revert to begging at your lack of movement, losing all shame in regard to your desire. It’s obvious you need Clint -- any excuses or lies from before long forgotten. You need his movements to speed up, the slow circles of his thumb providing barely enough friction.

He just chuckles, but relents a little and you downright purr as the thin fabric of your underwear drags against your tingling nerve endings. It’s impossible to move under Clint’s weight, but all the muscles in your lower half flex and twitch as they desperately search for release and relief.

“How about…” Clint trails off, fingers moving upward to grab the waistline of your panties, “we get these off?”

You’re sure if you nod any faster you might make yourself dizzy, and Clint just smirks in that knowing way. That way that lets you know he has you right where he wants you. Right where he’s been waiting to have you.

The article of clothing is soon flung behind his shoulder just like your forgotten shorts -- and you can only faintly remind yourself to make sure you grab everything before the others return. Though, at this point, you think anyone could walk in on Clint between your legs and you’d still be begging him to make you cum -- audience or not.

“Fucking Christ,” Clint groans, palms sliding between your thighs to spread them, giving him a full view of your glistening core. “I swear, you’re gonna kill me.” Seeing his flushed cheeks, mussed hair, and greedy fingers, you’re not sure you can reject that statement.

He removes his hands for just a second, but you don’t dare close your legs, and he has the audacity to wink. Before your mind can even process the action, though, he’s pulling his shirt off, arms crossing over his chest as they show off in their full glory. Hips, stomach, chest, arms -- they’re all exposed so quickly and your eyes drink in the features as fast as they can. Clint throws the shirt to the side -- you have a feeling he’s utilizing his perfect aim to create a clothing pile -- but you just stare at his shoulder, where the ink spreads to areas you’ve never had the chance to see before. The olive green accents contrast against his tanned skin, which has gained a light sheen from the sweat of his arousal.

As he leans back down, Ronin’s portrait stares you dead in the eyes -- quite literally. If you didn’t know the deeper meaning, you’re sure you could mistake the skull as a danger warning to the man pressing a kiss against the inside of your knee.

Short hairs chafe your legs as Clint makes himself comfortable, pressing his jaw against you. When his hot breath dances over your center you almost squeeze your thighs together, but he’s there to push them apart with a chuckle.

“No, no…” He pulls away barely, and you take in a deep breath to calm yourself. “You’re gonna give me what I want, ok?” His fingers are gentle, and so are his eyes when he glances up to you. He’s hopeful, pleading almost, but stays respectful. “If that’s ok, of course.”

You almost want to cry, because how could he think any differently, but you just nod. “Please Clint, touch me.”

He sends you a lopsided grin, and then he’s right there, pressing a kiss against your clit. The feeling is completely different from before, lips slick and soft unlike his rough thumb. All the air in your lungs leaves your body as you let out a sigh of relief, body finally relaxing as it gets the touch it needs.

You reach down and your nails scratch his scalp lightly before you grip his hair in a tight hold. He nuzzles against your hand and groans against you, and the feeling of control makes your blood run hot through your veins. One of the most powerful men on Earth is between your legs, sucking softly on your clit like it's the only thing he could ever want.

He traces circles on your thighs with his coarse fingers as he warms you up with gentle licks and the occasional curl of his lips around your most sensitive area. You let him have the satisfaction of your spread thighs, but you periodically tug on his tousled locks to remind him that he’s the one between your legs. It’s the perfect balance of dominance -- the type that makes your head spin and your eyes roll back into your head.

Clint presses another kiss to your clit before traveling lower and the intimacy of the action makes your skin flush. You can tell he’s not going to be holding back for much longer though, if the desperation of his descent is any indication. His fingers join his attack as he spreads your folds, tongue dragging the entirety of your core.

“So good, baby. So fucking good,” he mutters, mouth impatient as he covers as much skin as he can at once. It’s fast and downright dirty as he presses his tongue into you, eliciting a groan from your parted, panting lips. You’re dripping at this point, and he laps up the mix of saliva and arousal with a yearning thirst.

It’s all so overwhelming. His fingers are digging into your skin -- likely to leave faint marks -- and the scruff framing his jaw scrapes and leaves your skin burning, while the softer locks between your fingers are a comfort to steady you.

The heat building in your body is entirely unbelievable, and your back digs into the couch as you arch into Clint, desperate for all he’ll be willing to give you. You press him closer, and he moans at the power in your hands -- the control you have despite him hovering over you. It’s a mental trip for you both, your stomach and pelvic muscles clenching as they react to his generous, eager giving.

“God, Clint, gonna cum.” The words barely feel like they’re coming from your own body, jaw slack as you tremble in his hold. His index finger presses into you slowly, while his thumb replaces his tongue on your clit. The change of stimulation has you reeling, your grip on Clint loosening as you feel his warm words against you.

“Kinda the point, sweetheart.” Your eyes are squeezed shut, but you know Clint is smirking -- you can practically hear it in his voice.

His finger curls to press against your front wall, and he rubs it gently once, twice, before he lets the digit drag out, sinking in again even slower. The leisurely thrusts continue as his tongue returns to circle your clit, his cocky words from before silenced as he puts his mouth to work. Your breath grows heavier, heart rate increasing with every second. His middle finger joins the first with a steady push, and you clench desperately as they curl and press and rub and reduce you to nothing but putty.

You’re right there and Clint knows it -- somehow he knows it. His fingers move faster, harder, and his lips wrap around your clit with even greater determination. There’s a shift, fingertips grazing the perfect spot as he sucks desperately and it’s over. You’re crying out his name, thighs shaking and you clench and flutter around his never-ceasing fingers. There’s a moment where all senses leave you and all you can feel is Clint, and the spread of warmth between your legs. Your ears ring and your own moans become faint background sounds.

And then, you’re pulling his head back, his tongue still trying to work your sensitive clit. He fights your tug on his hair but you must be begging because he finally relents with a huff. You can hear his breathing, and you feel his shift as he leans back over you, fingers still working you through your high.

“Look at me,” he demands, and his free hand drags down your cheek. “C’mon, open your eyes.” He forcefully grabs your chin, and your eyes open too quickly for your mind to process. It’s all so bright and you have to blink away the splotches of color coating your vision. Clint takes up the entirety of your view, lips wet and eyes dark. “There you go, baby.” He’s grinning and panting and his fingers are still fucking moving.

You whimper and glance down -- as much as his grip on your jaw will allow -- and the view of his tattooed arm between your thighs, veins pulsing as he fingers you is imprinted in your mind permanently. It’s a never-ending high that goes on for a second too long before Clint finally, finally eases his fingers from you. They’re practically dripping with your release, and he wastes no time bringing them to his glossy mouth.

It’s hypnotic to watch as his lips close around his fingers, nostrils flaring as he sucks them eagerly. They come out clean, and his chest rumbles with a groan. “Can’t get enough of your taste. Fuck.”

It takes a second for you to catch your breath, chest heaving and shirt clinging to sweaty skin. But, there’s finally a moment where your legs feel somewhat solid, and you take advantage of the opportunity, bending your leg to put the bottom of your foot on Clint’s bare chest.

He shoots you a confused but intrigued look, and you respond with a lopsided grin as you push him backward, until he’s the one stumbling to find a spot against the arm of the couch. Faintly, you consider the move would be much sexier with a pair of heels digging into his skin, but this will have to suffice for now. Maybe next time -- if there is a next time, of course.

“Now, what are you up to, baby girl?” Clint is practically vibrating with excitement as you gather the strength to push yourself off the couch, ignoring the slight twitch of your exerted thighs.

“Take your pants off,” you say, with little shame. “Now.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen someone get undressed so quickly and the hastiness of Clint’s actions leave him with very little coordination. It takes him three tries to get his belt undone, and he pokes himself with the metal prong when his eyes return to glance at you.

Raising a brow, you put your hands on your hips, and he speeds up. The button and zipper take him twice as long, but the sound when he finally tosses his belt and jeans off to the side is well worth the wait.

He licks his lips, looking up at you -- waiting, watching. Your earlier thoughts regarding his legs are heightened tenfold as you take in his toned thighs and hard cock in-between. He’s thick, the bulge pressing against his boxer-briefs making your heart skip a beat. The mere idea of him stretching you open has you growing too impatient for what you have planned.

“Keep going.” You swallow and hope your voice doesn’t sound too shaky.

Clint’s quick fingers make work of the fabric, and you focus on finishing yourself off. You pull your shirt off and let it drop to your feet before your hands move to unhook your bra. You’re barely sliding the straps down your arms when you hear Clint huff, and you look back to him.

“I wanted to do that,” he almost whines, chest puffing.

You roll your eyes but laugh, and toss your bra to him. He catches it with a wink, before throwing it behind him. Immediately, his gaze drags over your chest, excruciatingly slow. You know he’s taking in every inch, every natural mark that decorates your torso. Normally, you’d feel odd being examined so closely while still being at a decent distance -- but Clint is observant and his eyes are hungry.

Finally, his dark eyes reconnect with yours. “You gonna come sit or should I just grab you?” His tone is playful and daring, but you hear the hint of arousal that suggests he wouldn’t be opposed to tugging you into his arms. You don’t have time for games anymore, though, so you stand between Clint’s legs, and he pats his thigh playfully.

“Hmm…” You bite your lip and shake your head, eyes glistening with mischief. “Not yet…”

You make your descent to your knees perfectly paced, fluttering your lashes as you look up to Clint from between his thighs. He cusses and his arms fall limply to his side as he resigns himself to the torture he knows you’ll be sure to deliver.

“I thought you wanted to take your time,” you tease, fingers sliding up his thigh. Your nails against his skin have him tensing, muscles quivering.

He groans, and tosses his head back. “That was before I made you cum. Just wanna fuck you now -- make you shake again.”

You pinch him. “Sweet-talking will get you nowhere, Barton. You should know that.” But, you still let your palm graze over his hard cock, twitching at your touch. He’s firm and warm, and when your fingers wrap around his length, you realize how deliciously thick he is, filling your grasp fully. The length is there too, just enough to not be intimidating, but the girth has your core throbbing.

“Fuck, Clint,” you groan, giving a slow jerk of your wrist. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

He’s pulsing in your hand, skin flushed and precum beginning to drip from the head of his cock. It coats your hand on the second stroke, easing the drag. Soon enough, he’s practically glistening, and your mouth waters. You have to taste him.

He calls your name, voice trembling, as your tongue darts out to flatten against his tip. “Oh God, please.” He’s flushed, from his cheeks to his tensing thighs, and you’d grin if you weren’t taking him deeper into your mouth. Another part of the burning, fervid desire deep in your veins lights up as your lips wrap around him -- tongue greedy for more as it laps everything it can reach. A growl reverberates through his entire body, and the sound makes your thighs clench.

You spare him a glance, and he looks destroyed. Sweat gathers on his forehead and the veins in his arm pulse as he grips the cushions to stay steady. Sane. Calm.

His knuckles are white and you relieve them by grabbing his left hand in your own, thumb rubbing over the back of his palm. He’s squeezing you like you’re his lifeline, and you reward him with your free hand around his base.

“Fuck fuck, I’ll cum too fast with you doing that,” Clint grunts, and you watch his chest heave as he tries to steady his breathing.

You pull off him with a line of spit, breaking it with your hand as you use the saliva to glide your fingers. He’s still throbbing, and you trace his underside vein with your wet thumb. “I thought that was the point, right?” You repeat his words from earlier with a grin, pressing a kiss against his thigh as your hand speeds up. He’s so close and he needs it so badly, but he finally pulls his hand from yours to grab your moving wrist.

“Not until I fuck you.” He pants, and begrudgingly removes your hold from his cock. “And a couple times, at the very least.”

Your heart races at the mere thought of as many rounds as you can handle, with Clint making you cum again and again. Still, you stand slowly, silently hoping he’ll push you back to your knees and cum down your throat.

But he doesn’t. He watches closely as you straighten out, and you quickly move to straddle him. “Fine, but you’ll let me ride you, understood?” Your thighs brush over him with the lightest touch, and with just one solid movement, you could have him sinking into you. But, you wait. You watch as he swallows heavily, eyes hooded.

Clint gives you a lopsided smile. “No complaints here, babe.” And with that, you reach down to hold his length, pressing the tip against your clenching, wet, core. He gasps, but you shift just slightly, until he bumps your clit. It’s too much and too little all at once, and you let out a soft cry as he jerks upward, precum coating the swollen nub. You reward yourself with one more drag down from your clit before letting the head of his cock push into you.

You’re immediately clenching around his length, and Clint’s calloused fingertips dig into your hips as he helps steady you. It only takes a couple breaths and a slow spread of your thighs to take him fully, arousal coating his cock quickly. He barely holds himself back from rutting into you right away, but you rock your hips and grip his shoulders regardless.

“Fuck,” he half-groans, half-whimpers. “You’re so fucking wet.”

Your nails dig into his skin as you roll again, letting out an incoherent babble of his name as your clit gains friction from his own warm body. You can feel your own wetness dripping down your thigh onto his, and it has you shuddering. It’s so dirty and your fingers move to Clint’s hair, desperately clinging at the long strands. His forehead presses to yours, and he smells like the most dangerous concoction of sweat, cologne, and mint toothpaste you’ve ever had the honor of inhaling.

You join in an almost-kiss that’s all teeth, but he brushes his tongue against your cupid’s bow in a much gentler way, and you know he can feel the shiver that runs down your spine in reaction. He squeezes your hip gently in reassurance, and then his grip on you tightens. It doesn’t hurt, but you can feel the years of arm workouts, and you know there’s no way to escape -- as if you’d ever want to.

Clint’s knee jerks and then he’s thrusting up into you with such force it leaves you breathless. He holds you down and all you can do is gasp and hold him tighter as he pushes into you harder and faster. Every shift provides a new angle and friction as his tip stimulates your sensitive walls.

Your thighs shake desperately and you can hear the wet slap each of his movements provide as you coat his cock in warm slick. He grins at the sight, one hand drifting from your hip until it reaches your throbbing clit.

“Look at you,” he coos and punctuates the words with a rough circle of his thumb.

Your chest heaves as you gasp, but the lack of Clint’s hold gives you a second to grind against him. He grunts as you do, and you chuckle breathlessly against his parted lips.

“And look at you.”

He retorts by way of another rub against your clit, and your laughter quickly turns to a drawn-out moan.

“You look so pretty when you’re about to cum.” He pants between every word, but he’s determined to deliver the compliment that makes your face too warm. You’re not sure how he knows you’re so close -- it must be way more embarrassingly obvious than you thought -- but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when he’s letting his cock drag inside you slowly, with a hard thrust every few seconds. Not when the pressure on your clit is changing so rapidly you can’t breathe.

When you do cum, with a broken cry and shaking torso, Clint doesn’t let up. He goes faster, harder. It’s a never-ending high that turns your brain to mush, and your body into even less. Your thighs burn and your toes curl but all you can feel is the delicious length buried deep inside you.

It’s only during the beginning of the cool down that you tug a little harder on Clint’s hair, and roll your hips a little more. “C’mon, Clint, please. Please fill me up.” His chest rumbles against yours with a throaty growl, and you continue to ride out your orgasm as he fucks into you with a few more desperate, shaky thrusts.

He cums in you thick and warm, with a groan of your name. It tumbles from his lips sinfully, and you commit the sound to memory. The rasp of his tone and the sight of his wet, swollen lips.

It’s not until he eases out of you slowly, and you feel the drip down your thigh that you’re grounded and reminded of exactly where you are. On a multi-thousand dollar couch. Owned by Tony Stark.

“Oh my god, Clint.”

His eyes are closed and you’re sure he’s about three seconds from sleeping for eighteen hours, but he manages a tired smirk. “I know. That was good.”

“No! I mean yes. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

He half-opens one eye. “What?”

“I think we stained the couch.” A quick glance between Clint’s thighs all but confirms it, and you’re not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed by the very large wet spot staining the blended fabric.

“I can’t believe that’s what you’re thinking about right now. After everything that just happened.”

You playfully slap his shoulder as you roll onto the cushion next to him with a huff. He nudges you back with his arm before clearing his throat, and letting out a butchered impression of your voice. “Oh Clint! Your dick was just so amazing!-”

“Oh my god!” You cover your face but nothing stops the laughter that rumbles through your chest -- even if he’s got your tone completely wrong. He just chuckles and wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side with a sigh.

“How much do you think we’ll owe Tony by the end of the day?” He looks down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

He rolls his eyes, but presses a chaste kiss to your hair. “C’mon, you don’t think I haven’t planned out every surface we still need to fuck on before they get back?”

“Clint!”

“See, you keep screaming my name but for all the wrong reasons.” Now you can feel his grin against the top of your head, and it comes into view as he stands with you still in his grasp. You’re not sure how he maneuvers it, but he’s got you in his arms before you can even blink, and the look he sends you tells you not to complain or even question it. He’s not even out of breath -- all things considered -- and when you glance in the direction he’s heading, your eyes widen.

“You have got to be joking…” You squirm in his arms as he sets you down on the table used for almost every meeting, and the mere thought of defiling it forever makes you squeeze your legs together shyly.

But, Clint is quick to spread them, all with a cocky grin and a far too confident tone.

“I don’t know about you…” He begins, as his fingers trail up your thigh. “But I think we could reach ten thousand by midnight.”

If you distantly hear FRIDAY warn adamantly against it -- neither of you mention it.

“Better get started then, Barton.”

---

1K notes · View notes

windless-hurricane · 4 years ago

Text

Sparks

Chapter Three: The Beauty of a Devil

A Reiner x Reader x (Eventual) Jean Fanfic

• ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •

SUMMARY: After the fall of Shiganshina, you joined the military along with your brother. You had hoped to bring peace to the world by doing so, but the world was a cruel place. You seemed to lose more than you gained, but there was always someone - someone who made losing just a bit…easier. You hoped you could keep them forever, but was there ever a guarantee in this world?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hi, all! I know it’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything, but I’m back to finish this series. I want to catch up to where the anime left off. Therefore, as an apology for taking awhile, I’m posting two new chapters today (chapter four will be posted an hour or so after this one)!

WARNINGS (for entire series): Language, explicit violence, talks of death, suicide, trauma, and mental illness, graphic scenes involving blood and/or death, and sexuality.

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

TAGLIST: @lovethemilkteasis @grayxblaze @theyoungblood13 @flowersgirl02 @noodlenerd101 @hanabihwa @drowned-pathetic-rat @bestgirlb @bleepop @miinnttyy @1-800-thanos @lovelime

SPARKS MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

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• ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •

“I need your help, (Y/N),” Eren proclaimed as he slammed his hand down on the table, causing you to look at him instead of your soup.

If you hadn’t known Eren prior to this, you would’ve been startled by his actions, but you practically grew up with him. You were both from Shiganshina and while you were good friends, you weren’t as close as he, Mikasa, and Armin were. You were closest to your brother.

“With what,” you questioned, your spoon hanging from your mouth.

“Learning the maneuver gear,” he explained, an eager look in his eyes.

“Well, haven’t you asked Mikasa? She was really good at it,” you recalled.

“I did, but it still didn’t work,” he sighed. “So, I thought maybe you had some advice, seeing as you were nearly perfect.”

You blushed at his compliment as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Well,” you breathed. “It’s kind of like a swing.”

“A swing,” he asked confusedly.

“It’s hard to describe…maybe Viktor knows how to say it. Hey, Viktor.”

You nudged your brother’s shoulder with your own, but he didn’t respond. So, you and Eren looked over and were surprised to see him in a deep conversation with Krista as Ymir glared at him from across the table. You both smirked.

“He’s going to die,” you remarked.

“Yeah,” Eren agreed with a chuckle, causing you to sigh.

“Well, I’ll try my best to describe it then. When you look at the seat of the swing, you can see that it is completely balanced. Then, once weight is added onto it, it still manages to stay upright. That’s because it balances the weight throughout itself equally. You have to think of your body as a whole and seek balance within yourself. That’s the best way I can describe it. Does that…sorta make sense?”

He gazed at you with wide eyes, not necessarily mesmerized by what you said, but how you said it.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he confirmed excitedly and you smiled.

“If you still need help, you can ask some of the guys,” you suggested. “A few of them did well too.”

“Got it, thank you so much, (Y/N)!”

“No problem,” you waved, watching as he made his way back to the table where Mikasa and Armin were sitting.

You noticed Mikasa glaring at you, but you decided to ignore it and focus on your food instead. However, you were only able to get two bites in until someone else came.

“Do you mind if I sit here,” a deep voice asked and you looked up to see a tall, blonde boy with a muscular build standing in front of you. You realized you remembered him from orientation.

“Yeah, go right ahead,” you said, motioning to the seat in front of you. He sat down with a small creak and you gazed at him for a few moments before turning back to your food.

“You’re (Y/N), right,” he questioned once more and you nodded.

“(Y/N) Bauer. I would introduce you to this oaf,” you gestured to Viktor. “But he’s too busy taking his final breaths.” Reiner let out an airy chuckle as your brother was now arguing with Ymir over something ludicrous.

“I’m-“ Reiner started to say, but you cut him off.

“Reiner Braun, I remember you. You’re the ‘save humanity’ guy.”

“Huh?”

“During orientation, when Shadis asked you why you were here, you said ‘to save humanity.’”

“You remember that?” You nodded.

Reiner hadn’t thought you noticed him, let alone even remembered what he said. The surprise made him oddly happy.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, playing with your food. “The only reason I did was because you looked just as scary as Shadis.”

“What,” Reiner laughed, causing you to smile.

“What do you mean ‘what?’ I mean, look at you. You’re a tall, muscly guy with a sharp face. Intense eyes and a deep voice. Who wouldn’t be scared of that?”

“Not you apparently,” he stated with a smirk. “If I didn’t know any better, (Y/N), I’d say you were flirting with me.”

Your cheeks reddened.

While you did find him extremely attractive, especially when you first laid eyes on him during orientation, you couldn’t let him know that.

You couldn’t let him know that you were taken aback by his strong and unwavering stature, the way the muscle within his jaw flexed with determination, and how his amber eyes burned when Shadis asked him why he was there.

When he answered with “To save humanity,” his voice was deep, but so sure of himself. It permanently caught your attention, but still. He couldn’t know that.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Braun,” you finally countered. “You only interested me because of how overachieving your goal was.”

“Really, how so,” he asked with half lidded eyes. He could tell you were bluffing. You had to save your ass.

“Well, don’t you think saving humanity is quite ambitious? How could one person manage to save millions of people,” you commented.

“Why does one join the military to begin with?” Your eyes widened.

While you were shocked, you were also impressed at his question. You couldn’t help the amused smile that made its way onto your lips.

“A good portion of the kids here are either looking to live comfortably within the inner walls or wanting to earn bragging rights as they slack off in the Garrison Regiment. Why do you think the number of people joining the Scouts every few years is so low? ‘Cause in the end, most people don’t want to leave the walls to fight for humanity. They just want to stay back and watch others do the work.”

“Is that why you joined?” You snorted.

“Course not.”

“Then, why’d you join?”

‘Why did I join,’ you thought to yourself.

Then, it hit you. Their words.

Mommy loves you so much. She loves you. Please just do this last thing for her and hide.

Get my brother and sister out of here! I’ll take care of the Titans! Just go!

I’m sorry, (Y/N).

You clenched your spoon tightly as you gazed into Reiner’s eyes with a newfound intensity gracing your own.

“I joined because-” but you were cut off by a large thud and your brother groaning right after.

You and Reiner looked over to see Ymir pushing his face into the table.

“How’s that for a rude awakening,” she sneered, tearing herself away from him soon after. “C’mon, Krista.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Krista whined, but Ymir had already grabbed her by the arm and led her out of the mess hall.

You sighed.

“What did you even say to them?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled, holding onto his head.

“Honestly, you’re either great at talking to girls or extremely poor at it. There’s no in between,” you commented as you pulled him up by his hair.

Reiner hissed shortly after and you winced at the sight of his face.

“We’re going to need bandages for that.”

__________________________________________

“What’re we doing out here,” you questioned, following your brother through the dark forest. “Can’t we get in trouble for this?”

“Not if we aren’t caught,” he mused with an almost crazy smile on his face.

“I think Ymir hit you too hard. Are you seeing double right now?”

You glanced at the bandages around his forehead and were becoming genuinely concerned that he had a concussion.

“It’s because of Ymir I’m doing this,” he revealed, chuckling breathlessly. “She’s going to hate it when I prove her wrong.”

“You still didn’t tell me what you told her,” you mentioned.

“I tried comparing Krista to a lotus flower and Ymir’s convinced that no such thing exists.”

“Really? Then, what was the whole rude awakening thing?”

“I just told her she was in for a rude awakening and she did that. The audacity.”

“You’re a real idiot, you know that,” you stated, causing him to gasp offensively.

“What?!”

“So, you’re trying to find a lotus flower to prove her wrong.”

“Yeah.” You came to a stop.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“If I’m remembering what we read as kids correctly, those only exist outside of the walls,” you exclaimed in disbelief.

“I mean, yeah. They’re from Asia, but the Asian clan lived here for some time anyways,” he mumbled to himself.

“Huh? You’re talking too quietly.”

“Oh, well, what I meant to say is that humanity once lived outside of the walls, right? So, they had to have brought some with us!”

You watched your brother in confusion as he turned away, moving forward once again. That was weird, you thought.

As you followed behind him, you heard rustling nearby.

“Do you hear that,” you asked and Viktor shook his head.

“It’s probably just a deer or something.”

“I don’t know…”

The rustling grew louder and you both stopped.

“I don’t know if that’s a deer,” you murmured, grabbing onto his jacket.

Then, the both of you could make out footsteps and started to tremble in panic.

“What if it’s Shadis,” you whispered. “I didn’t plan on bothering him today. I’m not prepared to swim again…or worse. Clean the restroom after Sasha’s used it.”

Viktor nearly gagged at the idea.

“This was your idea, Viktor.”

“Well, you’re the one who decided to follow the kid with the possible concussion out here,” he retorted.

“You, idiot. Let’s just find a hiding spot, but move very quietly.” He nodded as you led him through the trees, tiptoeing carefully. You turned the corner of a tree and unexpectedly bumped into a firm chest.

You didn’t get the chance to see who it was as you and the owner of that chest started screaming.

You fell back into your screeching brother and heard three more masculine yells follow suit.

You opened your eyes and saw Reiner, Bertolt, Eren, and Armin all huddled together, panting with terrified looks on their faces.

“Huh,” you gasped, but they didn’t hear you as your brother was still screaming. “Shut up!” You elbowed him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

“What the hell are you guys doing out here,” you questioned, attempting to recompose yourself.

“We could ask you the same thing,” Reiner countered, clearing his throat.

“Uh…good point. This idiot behind me wanted to find a flower to win a bet against Ymir.”

“Bertolt and I just wanted to show Eren and Armin the lake.”

“That’s a better reason than ours,” you chuckled, finally having calmed down. “I’m just glad you weren’t Shadis.”

“You and me both.”

__________________________________________

“Wow,” you gushed, staring at the moon’s reflection from the water. “It’s like a mirror.”

“I know. Isn’t it insane,” Reiner smiled.

It was. It really was. The moon was big and bright, while the water was still and black. They complimented and contrasted each other all at once. It was like a painting that lit up the night. It was stunning.

“I honestly never pegged you to be a softie, Braun,” you teased with a smirk.

“Well,” he smiled. “I thought Eren could use some inspiration for tomorrow.” And you felt your lips lift into a sweet smile.

You meant it. You didn’t expect Reiner to be so caring or considerate, yet he was and you found yourself liking it a lot.

He was big and strong on the outside, but gentle on the inside.

“Well, Eren. Are you inspired,” you asked softly and he nodded with a big grin, causing you to giggle.

“Ah hah,” Viktor shouted and you sent him a glare.

“Hey, why are you ruining the moment,” you questioned.

“I found it, I actually found it!”

“What?”

He sprinted to you in an instant and your eyes widened once you saw a lotus flower resting in the palms of his hands. It was pink and gentle with mud underneath it. It really was…beautiful and the rest of the boys gathered around to witness its beauty.

“It only blooms in mud,” Viktor stated excitedly and you smiled. It had been so long since you had seen him this way and you didn’t want it to end. You wanted him to continue being happy.

“It’s beautiful,” Reiner commented. “A true beauty.” You all hummed in agreement, listening to Viktor’s rant that followed.

However, Reiner never started listening. He was still too focused on what, or rather who, he had actually been looking at when making that comment.

He was looking at you - admiring the way you shone just as brightly as the moon and thought…

How could a devil be this beautiful?

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amwritingmeta · 4 years ago

Text

15x20: New Beginnings

I’d like to speak of the cause and effect of the ending.

I agree that the execution could’ve been skewered just a tiny bit and it would’ve made the overall impression more palatable, but assuming production was at the very least hampered by COVID restrictions, we know that this wasn’t actually Dabb’s final vision. It’s what we’ve got, though, and it still leaves us with a lot of tying up of narrative threads.

How?

We have a final image of Dean and Sam together and I understand why this is irksome and why it feels regressive. Here’s why I think it actually isn’t:

Dark Side of the Moon tells us that Dean and Sam are most definitely not soulmates meant to share a Heaven. Dean’s memories are focused on Sam while Sam’s memories are completely devoid of Dean. Dean also needs to find Sam (and is helped to do so by Cas). Ie. they brothers are not in a shared Heaven, the way Jimmy and Amelia and Mary and John are highlighted to be.

We also know that Heaven’s system is basically a prison for the mind of the souls of those who have died, right? You get stuck in your best memories. This is simply Heaven’s idea of benevolence, because Heaven, and the angels, have never understood how much choice and free will matter to humanity.

So. No matter how much Dean and Sam succeeded in saving the world throughout our narrative, they were still always headed for forced separation and this prison for their minds and being filed away behind one of those white doors, in essence ceasing to exist, and the point of all their trials and tribulations would have been what? Living a long and happy life, only to die and go to what Dean wouldn’t have chosen for himself with a gun to his head? Eternally brainwashed into thinking he’s content?

Can you think of anything more horrible to be waiting at the end of their road?

So the point to this ending we got is, to me, gloriously clear and it’s this:

The journeys of these men, throughout this entire narrative, made the new Heaven possible.

This new Heaven, where there’s freedom of choice and endless possibility for exploration. Where human souls are now granted an afterlife worth actually living, where everyone can reconnect with the people they’ve cared about, the people they’ve loved.

(Buddhists have six Heavens and believe life exists on multiple planes meaning when you die you simply transcend to the next plane where there’s more living to be done) (Swedish children’s author Astrid Lindgren explored the death of two brothers through sacrifice and illness in her novel The Brothers Lionheart and in the mythology of this book the first Heaven one enters just after death is called Nangijala, and once you die in Nangijala you move onto Nangilima and so on) (etc.)

What we get in the Supernatural mythos is that there’s no more prison for the mind. No more only soulmates get a shared Heaven: ie. family genuinely doesn’t end in blood.

So look at what this means for the entire structure of our narrative and our character journeys -->

The Road

If Dean and Sam hadn’t been codependent, they wouldn’t have made those bad choices that brought Cas into the narrative.

If Cas hadn’t been influenced by Dean to rebel and start making bad choices of his own, he never would’ve made Heaven fall apart by trying to stitch it together and teach angels free will and stepping into a leader role he wasn’t quite ready for, and he wouldn’t have begun on the journey that brought him right to the moment when he expressed his need of bringing back a win for Dean, and for himself.

That win, turns out, was Jack.

Cas’ faith in Jack, Cas fighting for Jack, Cas feeling responsible and stepping into the Good Father Figure in order to keep his promise to Kelly and protect Jack was what led to Cas making a bad deal with the Empty, but that bad deal also left Cas with the opportunity to save Dean’s life when death was threatening to break down that door and kill them both.

The remarkable truth that’s added to this moment is that Cas’ journey has brought him to a place in his progression where he’s no longer afraid of his feelings, he’s no longer questioning them or thinking they mean a weakness he shouldn’t let define him, because he realises that what he needs isn’t Dean to love him back for that love to be real, to be valuable and valid. His fear of alienating Dean through loving him is the lie. That’s where his happiness stems from, him recognising and finally embracing this truth.

Because the love he feels isn’t a weakness. It never was: it’s his strength. It’s always guided him, even when he didn’t realise it.

And the strength of it lets him tell Dean exactly how he sees him and that he loves him, and opening up to and being honest with himself is what allows Cas to integrate with his shadow. The Empty takes him, but Cas is at peace, because he no longer fears and avoids his unconscious, he no longer needs to engage in suppression and repression of his emotions, and so his shadow no longer holds any sway over him, which is a fact given to us by how Cas’ ending in this narrative means him being free of the Empty.

A freedom that never would have been granted, never would have been possible, without his faith in, his fighting for and his protection of Jack.

Cas’ words to Dean makes Dean begin his final steps into integration as well, meaning Cas’ declaration of love directly affects the outcome of the fight against Chuck, because Dean wants Cas back, but it’s not everything he’s focused on, since it shouldn’t be everything he’s focused on.

It can’t be, since there are bigger fish to fry, and because of Cas’ view of him, Dean is opening up to his true self, to trust, to having faith in himself, which allows for a letting go of the need for control and thinking it’s all on him and everything is his responsibility or everyone dies.

Thanks to this, we get Dean in teamwork mode with Sam and Jack, the three of them together figuring out how to manipulate Michael into bringing Chuck to them in order for Jack to de-power him.

Dean’s integration is complete, and given to us through the symbology of his inner child (Jack) sucking the power out of his shadow (Chuck) and is then underlined by the ego (Dean) telling his de-powered shadow that it’s to be forgotten. Dean’s shadow, which has fed on and also fuelled the need in Dean for repression and suppression, no longer holds any sway over him.

And Dean’s understanding and embracing of his true identity is highlighted by how he refuses to kill Chuck.

Because that’s not who Dean is: he’s not a killer. He’s internalised Cas’ view of him. Cas’ truth making way for Dean’s own truth to shine a light.

Dean is done with self-denial. And self-destruction.

Which is what 15x20 is all about: that lack of self-destruction and the finality of goodbye.

Because Dean being shown to accept the finality of the loss of Cas has such direct bearing on Dean’s ability to accept the finality of saying goodbye to his brother.

The Greatest Love Story Ever Told

All of this, all of it, is because of and thanks to Cas’ LOVE for Dean.

Thanks to the moment that allowed Cas to express it and to SEE Dean for who he truly is.

Thanks to the moment of Cas’ integration we get Dean integrating.

And it’s so beautiful that it’s the loss of Cas this time that allows for Dean to do this, because he’s always plummeted into despair without Cas. His progression has slowed to a crawl without Cas in the narrative. His entire sense of self, his entire source of faith in anything, being drained out of him.

This has been romantic and lovely and fabulous, but it’s also so unhealthy.

Dean being shown to mourn, to want Cas back, to expect Cas at the end of that phone call, only for him to move away from the need and want to have Cas back, recognising that it’s possible Cas’ return is now an improbability and choosing to look to the future, because now he’s feeling worthy of a future, this is such an important detail for the love story to move from profound bond territory...

(where Cas used the bond forged by Heaven as an excuse for why he kept hanging around Dean) (Dean was his charge, his mission, he was meant to protect him) (a view shattered by Hester in S8) (and properly dismantled by the human!Cas arc) (at least the way I see it because that’s where Cas got that love he feels brought into actual stark relay like oh fuck I’m in love with him)

...to the healthy, selfless, loving side to that bond, which isn’t about self-deception, miscommunication and fear, but about blowing all of that apart, letting feelings flow freely, opening up to the truth of them, the strength of them, and these two men being able to finally free themselves of all those past doubts by embracing their true identities.

I realise there’s frustration that we only got part-textual Destiel. I felt it too. But I never expected canon Destiel. I hoped and wished, but up until Cas’ declaration of love, I questioned whether the studio would be onboard, and it turns out they weren’t okay with making SPN an overtly queer narrative. Was Cas’ declaration of love baiting or BYG? I hope my meta reading in this post will tell you how little I feel it was.

So then. Letting go of the initial shock of it all, I’m leaning on what I did expect: the love story so strongly highlighted in the subtext that we were all left with zero doubt that we’d been seeing it there for a reason.

Subtext is part of the text. For any writer worth their salt, subtext is more important than the surface text. Text without subtext is flat and dull. The text we’ve been dealing with for fifteen years has always had layers upon layers.

These final three episodes, as I’ve already pulled on above, brings it in spades and our subtext tells us plainly:

Dean Winchester is in love with Castiel, just as much as Castiel is in love with him.

How does it tell us this plainly?

Cas is finally able to integrate because he opens up to the truth he’s carried with him for so long: his love for Dean. Unconditional. He no longer needs Dean to say it back, to validate the emotion, Cas is realising that happiness in the feeling itself, in acknowledging it and allowing it free rein. Cas moves into making peace with himself, for himself.

Now, we know Cas loves Dean because, well, declared, but why is it plain that Dean loves Cas back?

Firstly, because of the episode being entirely structured around people in love losing one half. That’s as much of an in-our-faces use of mirroring as underlining of the subtextual love story that we’ve ever gotten from Berens.

Even stronger than the mirroring, for me, is the fact that Cas’ love for Dean allows Dean to finally move into integration.

Cas’ words infuse Dean with a sense of self-worth that immediately paves way for him beginning to have all that faith in himself that Cas has always represented to him. The build from 15x18 through to 15x20 is like a gentle moving away from Cas being the external source of Dean’s faith, to Cas’ love and expressed faith revealing Dean’s internal source of faith in himself.

A source which has been suppressed and repressed out of a whole layer of different fears, which have in turn brought on the belief that a toxic masculinity armour was necessary for survival and that all feelings are weaknesses, but because of Cas’ faith in him, because of Cas’ expressed love, Dean is able to no longer need an external source of faith, because he’s now internalised and embraced the truth of what makes him who he is.

Just like Cas is shown to do, we’re given Dean recognising that the love he feels isn’t a weakness, but a strength, because Cas’ words is about Dean’s capacity for LOVE. It’s this love that takes away Chuck’s ability to tell Dean who he is.

No one can tell you who you are -- you choose who to be.

For his entire life, right up until that moment in that room with Cas, facing death (literally) all Dean can see himself as is someone who can do nothing and who knows nothing except how to give into his anger (he’s never been able to control it because he’s never recognised the source of it) and find something to kill.

This view of himself has been constantly whispered to him and reinforced by his unconscious, his Shadow-side, who’s kept Dean thinking that he doesn’t have good things last for him, ever, so he can’t have love in his life or a future to look forward to, because he doesn’t deserve it. A perpetual emotional roundabout where his Shadow-side has stayed in complete control.

One might argue this has always been the source of Dean’s anger: his inability to dare open up to his true identity that has kept the toxic masculinity armour in place, kept the performance up, kept him more often than not lying even to himself of who he is and who he wants to be, because he never felt there was a choice in the matter.

Truly allowing himself to recognise and feel all that longing for love that’s been like a tight ball in his chest always, meant giving into weakness meant getting Sammy killed or himself or both of them meant failure.

But the only way to beat back and conquer our Shadow-side is by recognising and accepting our flaws and no longer feeling unworthy because of them.

That’s what Cas’ words and his love does for Dean.

That’s right there in the subtext: Dean, even in the moments before certain death, being unable to open up to the truth of who he is and what really drives him; Dean needing his external source of faith, this man that he’s loved for a long time, to tell him that how he sees himself is wrong, to afford him a different view of himself, to bring the truth to light so that Dean can finally feel worthy it, because Dean couldn’t beat his Shadow back on his own, his dark view of himself was much too ingrained for that.

It had to be Cas. The narrative tells us it always had to be Cas. And so it is Cas who saves Dean from himself. And saves Dean’s life. And saves Dean from having to spend his afterlife in a prison of the mind.

Love wins.

And Cas only ever entered the narrative due to Dean’s need to Protect Sammy at all costs, because that has always been such a huge identity marker for Dean, his entire self-understanding and sense of self tied to whether he can keep his brother alive and out of harms way, which, as he grows up, then translates itself into Dean’s enormous capacity for selflessness and caring about others.

His core trait was never weapon, it was shield. It was protector. Stemming directly from all that love he carries around and can’t allow himself to feel because it means weakness and that means death and that means he’s failed and is worthless and around it has always gone.

And would always have gone, too. If not for Cas.

Love fucking WINS.

I mean. DAMN! It’s so gorgeous.

(this angle still holds even if Dean in any way was ever meant to actually reciprocate in that scene, because it’s made so clear to us how Cas never expects Dean to say it back) (if Dean is meant to say it back and the love story is meant to be textual that would be mind-blowing head-exploding joyful news) (but it doesn’t change the subtextual move away from unhealthy holding on to healthy letting go) (the textual would only ever strengthen the fact that we have subtextual confirmation)

But what about...?

Yeah, but what about that ending then? What about the last twenty minutes? What about all the focus on the brothers?

Was the execution of the finale perfect? No, I wouldn’t say it was, but I could see, when I watched the finale again on the 21st, that there was efforts made to make something good enough. Something geared toward tying our narrative up as best as possible with the means presented to Dabb.

I understand why people feel stuff is missing.

Because stuff is missing. Dabb told us they had to change the ending, that they were supposed to have a whole lot of people back to populate Dean’s Heaven. Found family galore. Misha said the same thing. They couldn’t (I’m not going to speculate on why, it’s just clear that they couldn’t) and so the ending had to be modified. To me that’s fairly plain in how it’s structured.

Did they have to focus so hard on the brothers?

Well... given the restrictions, I think this was the only way to end this narrative, because the story has always been centred on these two brothers and the bad choices and sacrifices they’ve made, and the blood, sweat and tears they’ve shed in order to remain together.

Their absolute inability to let the other go actually kick-started their onscreen journey.

Because this is a story about dependency, and letting go of that dependency to make way for a healthy, equal coexisting; which is what, to me, that final shot is all about.

Should Cas and Jack have been there? Sure! There will always be stuff missing from the final two eps that I’ll wonder about. Like, if Cas was never meant to be in the story (as per Misha he was but let’s say for argument’s sake) then why didn’t Dean just ask, very calmly, in 15x19 of Jack our New God: “What about Cas?” and then Jack our New God could’ve answered gently, but plainly: “He’s at peace.” Simple. Why didn’t we get an establishing of Eileen as Sam’s wife? And it would’ve helped so much to have Charlie and Stevie reestablished in the visual narrative as alive, however plain it is to me that Jack will have brought them back with everyone else who were away-ed by Chuck.

Sure, there could’ve been more.

But what I love about that final shot of the brothers is this canonical fact:

It would not have been possible without Cas.

Cas learning and growing and integrating to the point that he knows exactly how to fix the home he’s broken more than once, and how to bring free will, at long last, to Heaven, to the benefit of humanity.

And Dean’s little sideways smile (his “I want this smile”) when Cas is mentioned, when he realises that Heaven is different thanks to Cas, well, isn’t that just the darnedest thing?

*forever headcanon that Dean was expecting to see Cas again somewhere somehow he just didn’t know when and now... here Cas is*

When Cas went, it took a little time to adjust, but Dean let go of Cas and didn’t make a deal and didn’t go crazy or self-destructive, there was no nosediving into depression, because Cas’ words made those types of coping mechanisms no longer necessary.

Dean drinks and indulges at the start of 15x19 because he’s still processing, but by 15x20 Cas’ words have been fully internalised, Dean has integrated, and he’s looking to the future. Set on living, because otherwise he’d render Cas’ sacrifice meaningless.

Dean’s death has zero blaze and glory to it. He didn’t expect this day to be the day. But it is. And he accepts it. And because he does, because he’s open and honest with his brother, because he tells Sam all the words he needs Sam to carry with him, gives Sam all the faith in himself that Cas left Dean with, he’s brought to a Heaven that has been readied for him by the love of his life.

Cas is right there. And he’s been waiting. And he’s used his time well, because Heaven is now the afterlife that Dean deserves. The ultimate salvation. Love and happiness and companionship and LOVE LOVE LOVE. Forever.

If that isn’t the biggest reward for the both of them after everything they’ve been through, I don’t even know what is!

Sam arriving is a given, but I have to say I genuinely do not see Sam as living his life in pain and grief. He’s happy. He loves his kid. He’s a good father. Just like Dean was, and Bobby, and Cas. All the Good Father figures threaded through 15x20. And this narrative has been about these two brothers. It ending on them together, at peace, feels fitting.

Yeah, but shouldn’t Dean have gotten to live his life?

Sure, this is my interpretation 100%, but Dean’s death feels softly ironic and fitting because it is unexpected.

I can’t hit on this enough: there’s no blaze and glory.

Dean was ready to make the most of life, but through accepting death and accepting separation from Sam, Dean is brought into the same moment Cas was brought into, a moment of recognising what’s important, where Dean opens up fully to vulnerability and hands over his trust and faith in that Sam will be fine without him, which pushes Sam into the same integration that Cas’ words afforded Dean. Voicing trust and faith will do that for a person.

And Sam’s arc was always dependent, narratively, on the progression of Dean’s arc, so it makes a lot of narrative sense that this needed to happen for Sam to get pushed out of the nest and forced into having proper faith in himself. Because there’s no other choice.

He’s left doing what he has to and it results in a balance between that family life he’s always wanted (foreshadowed in 15x01) and staying aware of and raising his son to be aware of the reality of their world, given to us via the tattoo on Dean Jr.’s wrist. (oofta I wish he’d had a different name but since everything had to be done in the visual narrative it’s the easiest way to connect us with Dean still being present in Sam’s life so I get it)

There’s also that romantic in me that feels as though Dean is greatly rewarded for all his suffering and struggles, for all those years of living his life in fear and feeling as though he doesn’t matter by not only bringing him into a Heaven he made possible, but by reuniting him with the love of his life and this time they’re equally immortal, equally made of light, equally eternal, equally integrated and balanced and ready to accept all that love and happiness.

That just makes me fucking happy. For them both.

Bring on the New Beginnings

The fact that the narrative has opened itself up to being interpreted as somehow glorifying death or saying that happiness can only be found in death is distressing, but I hope that the threads I’ve pulled on here gives enough of a basis for me to say how I truly feel like this is simplifying why the choice was made for Dean to die.

It’s not about happiness only being found in death.

It’s not about devaluing living your life, it’s about the idea, the soft hope, even the narrative promise that death, for our characters, not for humanity as a whole, but for these specific men, who have always avoided it and made bad deals and feared separation and been brought into a crisis of identity (Dean because he doesn’t know who he is without Protect Sammy as purpose and Sam because he genuinely and continuously seem convinced that he can’t hunt without Dean to lead the way) whenever death has touched them have now reached a point where the separation is an accepted part of life.

And this acceptance is rewarded: because the separation isn’t forever.

Death is not the end. It makes way for new beginnings. For all three of TFW. Actually all four, because of course Jack is included in this endgame.

There’s a transformation that takes place, thanks to them integrating. They get to transcend what’s come before and move onto the next plane of existence together.

Together.

TFW 3.0!

Death on this show has always been about a moment of rebirth, of entering a different leg of their journeys.

I don’t find it out of place at all that the ultimate moment of death for our characters mean just that.

Not an ending, but a new beginning.

In conclusion

Could there have been more? As said, yes. Absolutely yes. But I doubt Dabb isn’t aware of that. I don’t think this is the ending he originally intended. It might have been a brothers focused ending, because I think Dean was always meant to die and go to Heaven, but Dean’s Heaven was meant to be a celebration of found family.

The subtext of this narrative is what I’ve been reading and what I’ve been hooked on for four years, and what I’ll continue to be hooked on for the rest of my life, I’m fairly sure. I wish it could be celebrated, the way it always has been, the way we’ve always known to look deeper.

I hoped Supernatural would turn out to be a vehicle for overt representation. I always hoped that, and believe that was what the writers wanted. The fact that we didn’t get overt bisexual Dean and Destiel as unquestionable canon was distressing to me too and I’ll always think of this ending as a missed opportunity and I wish the CW would learn and fucking do better already.

I understand the frustration, I understand the anger, I just wish we could all look at the richness of this ending and everything it says about the narrative, about our subtext, about our love story, about our character journeys, and lean into the treasury of it.

And omfg we got Cas as canonically queer.

We got a main character on our show that is overt representation, on a journey towards a moment where he gets to express love and hope and clarity and this in turn moving through and enabling the integration of Dean and ultimately of Sam as well.

Truth begetting truth. Happiness begetting happiness. And love saving the day.

So, my friends, I will say this: saying that all the writing is bad, or claiming that there’s no depth, nothing to pull on, that it all just plain sucked, that doesn’t quite cut it. These three final episodes, just as any episode ever of this goddamn show, contain all of those layers and layers, especially when looked at together and certainly when taken into the context of the show as a whole.

And yes, you are, of course, more than welcome to your own interpretation!

To finish I’ll quote Bruce Almighty:

Lovelovelovelovelovelovelove!!

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petekaos · 4 years ago

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2020 creator wrap + a follow forever

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

hiii hello everyone! sorry it’s taken me so long to get on this BUT it’s all for good reason! i thought i would combine this post into me sharing some of the works i am most proud of this year as well as spreading more love in this wonderful little community because i truly love you all tons and being a part of such a lovely group of people has made me beyond happy this year. it’s been a difficult year for all of us and i’m just so glad that i can give back the love and care y’all can give to me 💛

onward to spreading love to people who tagged me, in no particular order! thank you all for tagging me, it means so much and know that i have read through your posts at least twice with a smile on my face.

@wjmild: kylie!! you constantly surprise me with how kind and insightful you are, as well as your dedication to watching absolutely every show with lee thanat in it. you are so smart and educated and every time you talk about your research and your studies i can’t help but feel so incredibly proud of you. i really hope life brings you the peace and fulfillment you deserve. i love you!

@gigiesarocha: cata - it is always such a pleasure to see you on my dash. i can rely on you losing your shit over ingredients every two weeks and every time i see jeff doing things it 100% reminds me of you! you possess such a kind soul and i’m so glad to have had the pleasure of following you this year :’)

@yihwas: sometimes i still can’t believe you know who i am and that we’re grouped together, soph! your blog is such a refuge to me, i adore scrolling through your replies and laughing at all the witty things you say. you are simply so kind and thoughtful in your responses and criticism and you have such talent in gifmaking! i am forever grateful to you for introducing me to new lakorns and to you and shannon for creating @lakornladies.

@morksuns: sumaya! my url twin! i absolutely love seeing you on the dash, it really is that trans desi solidarity, no? your moodboards are always so aesthetic and your blog is so soft and calm. i see you sending such lovely asks to people, including myself, and i truly admire your personality so much!

@gayvlad: nico, my sibling! i love you so much and seeing you on the dash always makes me smile. sometimes you’re too hard on yourself, but that’s okay, because i’m always here for you. i loved your reactions to dbk in live time, and that you’re now as attached to the show as i am. we love a lot of the same things, and i’ll forever be grateful to you for indulging my headcanons and developing them with me, like the ram and bohn friendship. the ram fic of him finding the gym as a home was developed through much of your influence, and i’ll never stop being astonished at how kind and supportive you are. i love you!

@khaotungthanawat: saaaam! your gifs are always a beauty to behold. i admire you so much for making those bl compilation gifsets because that takes so much patience and dedication, especially to find all the moments. i can always count on you for underrated gifsets, too, and i smile every time you send me an ask!

@tanwirapong: roa! oh i adored getting to know you better this year through the gifted gays gc. i remember still when you made a post about there’s an art to honesty and it truly made my day - i sent it to my partner and best friend and they were so fond as well! i will always be so happy about the fact that we both lose it over petekao every now and again, it means the world to me :’)

@emisfritish: your wisdom and way of expressing your thoughts will never fail to amaze me, emma. i can always count on you for calling things like they are and writing out well-worded, thought-provoking posts that express everything i have ever thought about fandom but could never quite write down. it’s such a pleasure seeing you on my dash and honestly, whenever i see tay, he reminds me of you!

so that was everyone who tagged me, for which i am eternally grateful! (if i missed anyone... i am so sorry ily...) now onto me rambling about how much i love specific people in the fandom generally that i haven’t already mentioned.

@earthfluuke: maddie... where do i even start. getting to know you this year means the absolute world to me and i love how many thoughts we can share together and how many aus and ideas we can plot out to the finest detail, but i also love how we can talk about serious topics and irl issues affecting us both and know that the other person will be there. i admire you so much for going on and persevering despite the many difficult factors in your life right now. know that i will always be there - to listen to you, to support your gifs and fics, to develop characters with you, to weigh in on problems or ideas you have. i love you!

@asianmelodrama: faiza!! i can never address you without immediately adding ‘jaan’ after it honestly. you are a sister to me in all things and knowing you has been such an honour. your wise words, your calmness in dealing with things, your infectious excitement - they are all facets of your personality that i both admire and adore. whether it’s getting angry about shitty muslim rep or freaking out about a movie, i know that i can always count on you to be there for me if i ever need it. i hope light and love touches your life always, and you find peace in everything you do. if i ever happen to be in england, i am definitely coming over for your chai :’) i love you!

@yioh: yura my laddoo! i say this all the time, but i simply am so grateful that we met. i love seeing your tags on my posts and i just... adore seeing you doing your thing on your blog, your posts always make me smile. i know school is hard right now, but know that i’m always rooting for you and believe in you completely. words cannot express how happy i am to have found another tamil lgbt person who can understand the same experiences, it really does mean everything to me. and know that i will begin reading tyk soon, i promise, and i’ll tell you all about my thoughts! i love youuu!

@1akorn: shannon!! i still cannot believe people group us together because i’ve always admired you from a distance - imagine my absolute surprise when i found out that you followed me! i 100% rely on you for the good mek content and love your gifs so much. you’re so articulate and speak your thoughts incredibly well, which i truly admire.

@brightwin: jelly - you already know the amount of love and fondness i hold for you. you’re such a kind and bubbly person and your personality shines not only through your tags and responses to people, but also through your gorgeous gifsets that are just so warm and lovely. i can always rely on you to give me updates on all things related to brightwin and 2gether. you’re wonderful!

@yibobibo: aamna! i know i can always get my yibo content from you, and i adore it. i love seeing updates about your bunnies and your kind responses to your anons, you truly are a ray of light! you’re also one of the fairly concentrated cql blogs i follow - and for that i am always grateful.

@metawwin: ali! your gorgeous gifs are always such a light on my dash. i remember once you called me ‘rahulito’ and it made me so soft. your voice and songs are so lovely and i don’t even know where to begin thanking you for sharing your art with us. i know it means a lot to me, and it means the same to many others.

@taytawan: nuriaaa! i remember seeing you so often in the petekao tag and i gotta say that your sets of both petekao and sarawatine, especially the heart eyes series, always make me so soft. and of course, the fact that you gifted me this wonderful url! i will always be thankful for that and for your general kindness and warmth that you bestow upon everyone.

@piningbisexuals: axelle! although we don’t talk that much, i always love seeing your gifs and your thoughts on shows on the dash. i’m wishing you all the best with your thai classes and hope that everything goes well with you! also, you should know that i read that manboss fic you gifted to me at least once a week because it just means that much to me - and i’m so glad i got you into this little silly ship of mine.

@sunsetchimyeon: nene, my pk anon! i love seeing your asks in my inbox and writing essays as replies. having conversations with you was one of my absolute highlights and i’ll always be blown away by how kind and calm and supportive and patient you are! i hope life is treating you well, my friend.

@toptaps: zey!! oh i love seeing your gifs and kindness on my dash and know that whenever i see toptap in anything, he always reminds me of you! also your gifs of sammy? absolutely gorgeous!

@giftedgays: i love you all SO much it is truly insane. being part of our tumblr gc that evolved into a discord server with a thousand channels has been one of my 2020 highlights. i loved yelling with you all about tgg every week and i must thank you all for sitting through my chanonpom breakdowns every second day.

in particular:

@pangwave - dawnie, i love you! i admire you and your no bullshit attitude so much. i know you’re going through a process of change right now, and i could not be prouder of you for persevering through it, regardless of the painful and strange circumstances we find ourselves in. i have full faith in you, and i know that you got this. we’re all here for you!

@doctorbahnjit: - alexa! i still remember when you wrote the first manboss fic and an anon sent me a link regarding it. you are genuinely one of the funniest people i know and you deserve the absolute world. i read out of the blue every day, no kidding, because it means so much to me! thank you for being my fellow chanonpomer, my fellow manboss-er, and just being an all around ray of absolute sunshine.

@gunatps: vee! i have already embarrassed myself enough in my post to you but it’s worth repeating. i adore our eden chanonpom breakdown sessions, which we should have again soon when you have time, and i love us roasting modi in the chat, it truly cracks me up! we have so much in common and i just want to say that i am so proud of you for studying and taking your exams - i know how difficult they are.

@wavelovespang: cass!! how i adore your analyses and breakdowns of scenes and relationships, you have so much insight and wisdom that you spread in such thoughtful ways! you’re so supportive and kind and such a great teacher, i know that. your writing is so wonderful and i’m truly so honoured that we all get to read it, it’s a gift!

@class2clown: angel! i cannot say this enough but i admire your art so much, it’s so so beautiful! you’ve always been so kind and lovely, and just like with cass, thank you so much for organising the gifted week events! although i couldn’t properly partake this year because of time constraints, i loved seeing everyone’s creations and it was super thoughtful.

@soulmatelines: i’ve said this before, jo, but it must be said again: i cannot believe you thought i was cool. i’ve always adored your gifs from afar and you’re such a sweet person! i love love love talking with you in the kpop channel (even if you personally hate 3racha smh), and you truly do bear the novel agenda! i’ve learned about so many more novels i must read and for that i am so grateful :’)

@billkinpp: violet, i will never fail to crack up at a) your and kylie’s plans to run away and get married, and b) you having a thousand sideblogs and complimenting yourself on your own gifs in the tags, as you absolutely should! i hope the next year is kind to you and that your sleep schedule isn’t too fucked up :’)

@vihokratanas: mel, i will always be in complete awe of your gifs! they are always so clean and crisp. i remember still when you were fondestphan and my phannie days flashed in front of my eyes fhsnfg but either way, you’re so kind and sweet!

@pvrrish: eleni!! i don’t think i’ve ever told you this before but i’ve always loved the 2gether poster that you made, i sometimes go on your blog to look at it for like 5 minutes, it’s truly so beautiful! i hope you’ve had an okay year, all things considered, and that life is kind to you!

@lee-thanat: another leesbian, ke! y’all always crack me up in the lesbians for lee thanat channel truly. your simping for ms ladda is so valid, i miss her so much honestly. i hope that the coming year is kind to you, and that you find the peace you deserve!

okay, so i think that’s everyone that i either talk to regularly or admire a lot! in case i didn’t mention you, please please feel free to reach out to me because i mean no offense at all - my brain is small haha. would also like to shout out all my anons who send me asks and bear with my late responses these days because of life, i adore you all and i love answering your asks.

if you’re still reading after this... whole monster of a post, i’m just gonna quickly mention some things i’ve been proud of either writing or making this year. in no particular order:

1. my weary heart has come to rest in yours. this is a fic i wrote in an... interesting headspace, and i was really going through my chanonpom feelings at the time. i’m really proud of how it came out and i adored writing chanon through pom’s pov. also i kinda love how i tied in p’bird’s song prip dtah in with the fic because i adore the song and it fits so well with them.

2. petekao week 2020. i guess this is sort of cheating, because these are technically 7 fics, BUT. i am actually proud of myself for writing seven, and i think they’re all of fairly good quality. i just really love this little universe i created for the dbk characters after the show and this whole week was just so warm and lovely to be a part of.

3. this set of num and prang from a gift for whom you hate. this moment really stuck with me from the finale and i actually am really proud of the colouring and how it came out! i think the blues really popped and i managed to lighten this dark ass scene without whitewashing mek or aye. the fireworks gif also is one of my favourites i’ve made! num and prang’s whole relationship was so pure throughout the entirety of this show, i adored them.

4. but love is impossible and it goes on despite the impossible. this is the longest fic i’ve posted so far and i’m super proud of it - it’s also my most well-received fic. the yunmeng brothers mean the world to me and i just... wanted to write about jiang cheng and his love for his brother and give them a somewhat happy ending, in one future at least.

5. there’s an art to honesty. i think i really nailed my version of kao in this work! i just really loved writing this fic so much, especially because it was right after the whole ‘scandal’ with new happened. i was really just finding a way to separate kao from him, and i delved into my feelings with this fic as well, because i relate to kao in multiple ways. either way, i thought writing this fic was fun and a lot of people loved it too, which made me so soft!

if you’ve read this far, i personally adore you! while this has been a difficult year, i am blessed to have been part of this loving community, and i really hope that next year will be kinder to us all and give us good shows and discussions! i love you all. stay safe and stay kind, friends 💛

#i've been writing this for over an hour but it's WORTH IT i love you all #if i missed anyone feel free to knock me in the head god bless #rahul.txt #creator wrap 2020 #(i haven't proofread pls forgive typos)

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