#I don't think this is part of my long fic

[thespianinthebackcorner]

I think part of the reason this narrow definition of "canon" is also part of why people are so incensed about other stuff that has degraded fandom culture nowadays too. Along with a lack of media literacy, people have begun to expect things served to them on a platter exactly as it says on the tin- but that's just not how art works. You cannot have a functional clock without the gears, and good art has a great many gears hidden beneath the surface. For a piece of media to operate at its full capacity and do what it is meant to- in this case, serve as queer representation- you cannot show every single gear in the clock, and often- especially in modern society, where it is still for some reason a dangerous struggle to have that queer representation included in mainstream media- sometimes it is better, necessary, to hide the gears and let the audience figure out the true nature of the clock and what makes it tick the way it does. It's a very recent phenomenon that media has begun to be blatant about their representation and allowed the characters to be obvious about who they are, and people are taking this openness for granted and not looking back to see how we got to this point.

This also means people don't learn to see what is and is not good representation, as when you learn the structure of the gears and how to spy the right kind of a clock, it becomes easier to find the gilded models made only for money and not out of love for the craft and the purpose. If you do not learn to find the "hidden" representation, the gears just below the surface, you cannot possibly learn to find everything below, all the mechanics that make the gears turn, the source of the energy- and, in turn, you cannot recognise a good, beautiful, clock deserving of your love and worth the time and effort made to make it, and you cannot learn to tell those from the cheap imitations made to trick people into buying half-broken clocks with no soul behind their creation, only greed. I myself, as of now, can often only find the mechanics of the upper layers, the more obvious things, and often have to be told what is and is not good representation by those who are more experienced. But it is a skill you must learn and hone, as the more you learn to recognise the maker's mark of a good clock, the more you learn to discard the fakers and push them to do better.

As artisans like I am, it is even more vital a skill, to recognise what you may be unconsciously putting into what you are crafting. I can create a few levels deeper than I can recognise, but analysis of your own work- and asking others to analyse it for you- is necessary to grow this skill so that not only do you avoid mixed messages, you can fight biases hidden further than you might be able to see at first. This is still something I need to learn and hone, too- I still have some internalised ableism, and I've had to come face-to-face with that as I write my first HMS fic (hence why chapter 2 is taking so long, sorry guys. I didn't know it was there until I started research for Heart). I have to learn to discard it and put the effort in to ensure I don't accidentally write that into the story as a subtextual message, and that isn't easy, but I'm learning. And so long as I keep learning, eventually I will overcome it and by nature learn to see and create even deeper into the gears of this clock I am just beginning to craft- and all the others I haven't started and haven't finished and haven't yet come across but will in the future.

I hope this analogy makes some sense.

Discussions of what "counts" as "canon" queer representation fall apart the second you start talking about media older than about five years or so. If your only metric for "canon queerness" is a character looking directly into the camera and explaining their identity in specific, modern, US-American-English terminology, you're not going to get a good picture of what queer media looks like. If your barometer for what counts as "canon" requires two characters of the same gender to kiss on-screen, you're not going to get a good picture of what queer media looks like.

Dr. Septimus Pretorius (portrayed by Ernest Thesiger in 1935's Bride of Frankenstein) was never going to look directly into the camera and explain his sexuality in 2024 terms, but he remains an icon in queer media history. You cannot look at that character (blatantly queer-coded in the manner of the time, played by a queer man in a film directed by another queer man) and tell me that he isn't a part of queer media history.

To be honest, even when discussing modern queer media, I would argue that the popular idea of what "counts" as "canon" is very narrow and flawed. I've seen multiple posts in the past few days that say the Nimona movie is "implied" trans representation, and I just...no, y'all, it's not "implied," it's an allegory. The entire damn movie is about transgender struggle, and the original comic is deeply tied into N.D. Stevenson's own queer journey. It isn't subtle. You cannot look at that movie and pretend that it isn't about trans struggle. It's blatant, and to say that Nimona "isn't canonically trans" is a take that misses the story's entire message, and the blatant queerphobia that almost kept the movie from happening. (I wrote a five thousand word essay about the topic.)

Queer themes, queer coding, queer exploration, and queer representation can all exist in a piece of media that doesn't seem to have "canon queer characters" on the surface. Most queer characters are never going to be able to explicitly state their specific identity labels, be it due to censorship or just due to the fact that scenes like that don't fit in some narratives. Some stories aren't conducive to a big "so what's your identity?" scene.

Explicit, undeniable, "this is my identity in no uncertain terms" scenes are very important and radical, and I'm not saying they shouldn't ever exist. I am saying that you can't consider those scenes the only way for queerness in a piece of media to be "canon."

[marauder-misprint]

I loved Nail polish & cologne, you are such an amazing writer! It's been so long since I read a decent version of Moony in a fic. You made me incredibly happy today 🫣

Sorry if it's rude to ask, any chance you could make a sequel?

Omg, I don't find it rude at all to ask for sequels/more parts to any of my writing! It's one of the highest compliments in my opinion! So, thank you 🥰

Also tagging everyone who asked for a part 2 in the replies/comments ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Fresh parchment & perfume

Remus Lupin x reader

part one

2.3k words

cw: fluff, mutual pining, Y/N, angst if you squint

You want to murder Remus Lupin. 

Okay, not really. But you’re frustrated that he’s taken away one of your simple daily joys: staring at him during class. You’ve been caught staring at him multiple times now and you swear there have been times where he was looking at you first. This never happened before so why is it happening now? 

You come to a conclusion, but you don’t like it. It’s the only thing that makes sense though.

“Lily!” you yell as you enter your dorm and slam the door behind you. “What did you say?”

She looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. 

“About what? To who? When?” she asks, preparing her defense.

“About what I smelled in the Amortentia!”

“You never told me what you smelled,” she says, furrowing her brow. “I mean, I can assume, but you never actually told me. And who would I have told?”

“Oh, I don’t know, James, maybe?”

She laughs. “Potter?” Then she looked down at her hands. “I mean, yeah, we’ve talked a little bit and he doesn’t seem… as bad? But we don’t talk about you.” 

“Oh.” Your voice is small. “Never mind then.”

You collapse on your bed and Lily is sitting at the foot of it within seconds. 

“What gave you the idea that I’ve told Potter about your feelings for a certain quiet prefect?” she asks.

You lift your head to glare at her. You’re not in the mood. 

“He’s been looking at me…” you mumble, which causes Lily to fall into a fit of laughter. “Lily!”

“I-I… I’m sorry, but… that’s ridiculous and you know it,” she manages to say in between her laughs. “He’s been looking at you?”

“Yes,” you say firmly. “He’s never looked at me this much before”

You pause as you hide your face in your hands. 

“He must know and he’s trying to figure out how to tell me that he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Or…”

“Or what?”

“Or he’s working up the courage to talk to you?” Lily offers.

“He can talk to me just fine. We’ve studied before. Played Summoner’s Court. Wizards’ chess. We talk.” 

“Okay, yes, you talk. But have you tried flirting with him?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “No… But then why is he just staring at me and not talking to me?” 

“Why have you been staring at him and not flirting with him?” she shoots your question back at you. 

“I don’t need your logic right now,” you groan, rolling over to shove your face into your pillow. 

---

“Has she always stared at me this much?” Remus asks Sirius nervously as they lounge in their dorm. 

James was at quidditch practice and Peter had solo detention. 

“Can’t say I’ve paid much attention to her, Moony. Might be a better question for Prongs.”

“Why’s that?” 

“Because Y/N’s always with Evans? And he stares at her quite often. Come on, mate. Two plus two.” Sirius gives his friend a sympathetic look. “Have you talked to her at all since?”

Remus doesn’t answer, letting the silence answer for him. No, he hadn’t. The amount of times he’s caught you staring at him over the past two days is startling. Each time, you would turn red and look away almost immediately. He hasn’t been able to focus as much in classes, not when he knows you might be looking at him, not when Sirius thinks he might actually have a chance with you. 

“Have you… oh, I don’t know, considered talking to her?”

“Padfoot,” Remus says tiredly. 

“You can’t ask a girl out without words.”

“You would know.” It comes out more as a sigh. 

Remus doesn’t want to admit it, but yes, out of the Marauders, Sirius had the most experience with girls. But whether his “expertise” could actually be trusted was up in the air. He never stayed with a girl for too long and he wasn’t sure if it was his choice or a result of his actions. 

“Yes, I would know. And if she has been staring at you as much as you claim, even if just these past few days, ask. her. out.” 

“What if she’s just been zoning out? You know, when you stare but you’re not really looking?”

“She’s just been zoned out in your direction multiple times a day?”

“Yes.”

Remus knows it sounds ridiculous, and that’s only enforced when Sirius chuckles from the window where he’s smoking. Then he’s standing up and offering Remus one. 

“Stop being so dense,” he says. “And so hard on yourself. I know what that voice in your head is saying.”

Remus takes the cigarette and follows Sirius back to the window.

“And what is it saying?”

“That you’re not worthy of love or attraction, that you’re not attractive. So how could lovely Y/N actually like you when you’re, well, you.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Remus says dryly before taking a drag. 

“Oi, not saying any of that’s true.”

Remus rolls his eyes. 

“Ask. her. out. And you’ll see that you’re wrong.”

The two boys sit on the window ledge for a while, each going through a few cigarettes. Silence fills the room. Sirius is more than content to just let his brain empty while Remus’s mind is running circles around itself.

Was he imagining the blush when he caught you staring? Were you staring because you liked him? Were you just staring into the distance and turning red because you realized you were staring at a person? How often did you stare at him? Was it because of that Potions lesson? What if you were staring near him and not actually at him? Was he being narcissistic to think you looked at him? He sat by Peter, James and Sirius in every class. It was very logical to think that you were staring at one of them. 

“Shit,” Remus mutters.

“What?” Sirius’ voice sounds far away despite being right next to him.

“She’s been staring at you.” 

Sirius laughs.

“No, Pads, think about it. You’ve been next to me every time I’ve caught her staring. It makes so much sense!”

“Moony. You’re delusional,” Sirius says. 

James enters the dorm. Sirius’ eyes light up.

“Prongs, help me out here!” Sirius calls as James throws his bag down on his bed.

“Yeah?” 

“Y/N. Has she been staring at me or Moony in class?” 

“I’m not getting in between you two if you’re fighting over a girl,” James says, laying down on the floor near the window.

“Not fighting over a girl,” Remus says, giving Sirius an annoyed look. “Padfoot just figures you’d know who she stares at, if she’s staring at all, since you, you know, stare at Lily.”

“I do not!” James exclaims as he sits up rapidly.

Sirius laughs, “She’s not in here and we know you do. Don’t lie.” He pauses for a moment to light a new cigarette. “For Moony’s sake, does Y/N stare at him during class?”

James slowly lays back down while giving Sirius a wary look.

“I swear, if I get hexed for answering…”

“Not going to hex you!” Sirius says.

“She stares at Moony. A lot. Think she pays more attention to him than lessons.”

“So she’s gone for you!” Sirius barks, clapping a hand on Remus’ knee and causing him to grimace. “Fucking told you!”

---

You make a serious effort to not look in Remus’ direction during classes. It kills you. It’s been your habit for years and you’re quitting cold turkey. You’re both grateful and mortified that Remus hasn’t called you out for it; he can’t call you out for it if he hasn’t talked to you. 

It doesn’t help that Lily has started gently nudging you every time Remus enters a room or sits remotely near you. She doesn’t have to say anything for you to know what she’s thinking. 

“You’re the first thing he looks at when he enters a room,” she whispers during Transfiguration. 

“Or he’s looking for the Marauders,” you retort just as quietly. 

“Yeah, right,” she says sarcastically. 

Professor McGonagall flashes a harsh look in your direction and the two of you fall silent. You’re thankful that she didn’t call you out, or worse, ask you to share what you were talking about with the class. That would have been mortifying. 

You’ve been successful in your mission to not stare at Remus so far, despite the insatiable urge to do so pulling at your eyes. You swear, the man is magnetic. It doesn’t help that Lily has suddenly become relentless in her nudging and subtle poking.

“What?” you hiss, looking down at your notes.

“He keeps looking this way.” 

You roll your eyes and turn your attention back to McGonagall. While Lily’s words stoked the flame of hope in your heart, you didn’t need to be losing house points for not paying attention. 

When class ended, Lily put her things away at record speed.

“Potter! Wait up!” she calls, leaving you behind.

You frown as you briefly watch her go. You usually walked to your next class together. You knew that she smelled something like James in the Amortentia and that had fueled her new friendship with him. And as much as you liked seeing your friend this happy, you didn’t like that it meant walking to your classes alone. 

Except when you exit the classroom, you aren't alone. Remus is right at your side. You walk in silence for a few paces. It’s not uncomfortable but it’s charged. Despite the other students in the corridor with you, you swear you can hear every step you take. It doesn’t help that you can feel your heart beating in your throat. 

“How’ve you been?” you ask. You keep your face straight, knowing that if you look at Remus, you’ll likely trip, fall and embarrass yourself.

“Oh… I’ve been relatively good.” He pauses momentarily. “James hasn’t shut up about what he smelled in the Amortentia.” 

You try not to laugh. “Lily’s not been too shy about it either. I think she’ll say yes sooner or later.” 

Remus gestures ahead of you to where the two are. “Seems like it.”

Silence falls between you again. You were used to being with Remus in the quiet; that’s how it usually was when you studied in the library together. Except that was different. When you studied, you had your books in front of you and you were both scribbling away, scrawling on  parchment until your inkwells ran out. 

“Did you really smell the library in the Amortentia?” you ask, breaching the silence. You’re not really sure what made you ask, but something inside of you needed to know.

“Erm, yeah. Yeah, I did,” he answers. He’s not looking at you in the same way you’re not looking at him, meaning you’re both trying to gauge the other’s expression in your peripheral vision. “What did you smell? You got pretty quiet after smelling the potion.”

“Oh, um, I smelled… nail polish, chocolate, parchment,” you listed off with a glaring omission. 

Remus let out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding. He didn’t want to admit that he was disappointed in your answer. He was hoping you had smelled something more obviously him. It didn’t register in his brain that he was the chocolate and parchment you smelled. 

“That all?” he asks hesitantly. 

“Was the library all you smelled?” you retorted defensively. 

You saw his features tense. 

“Was it?” you repeated, more gentle this time, like talking to a scared child. 

“It was the library. Everything that encompasses my usual visits,” he starts to say as he turns to look at you. “The books, fresh parchment, ink, your perfume.” 

You stop walking. Remus notices immediately, having been watching you and your expression. His heart is racing in his chest. He can’t tell if your reaction is good or bad, based on your wide eyes and sharp intake. You swallow, looking up at the taller, scarred boy next to you.

“My… perfume? You smelled me?” you ask. “You smelled me in the Amortentia?”

Remus flushes with embarrassment. He feels like he should’ve known better than to trust Sirius on this. He was a self-proclaimed ladies’ man afterall. 

Remus nods. He doesn’t know if he trusts his voice, but then he starts rambling.

“I thought… Sirius said you couldn’t look away from me so he said I had a chance, but obviously, if you don’t feel the same way… I don’t want this to change anything between us. I don’t want it to be awkward. I really value our friendship. I’m so sorry if I just ruined it, but I like you. I really do. I have for a while, but I’ll try to stop if it makes you uncomfort-”

“Remus,” you say firmly as you grab his arm. 

He stops talking immediately. His eyes search yours for an answer that he realizes he probably cut off. 

“What do you always carry with you and share with me in the library?” you ask, your voice just as firm.

“Chocolate?” His brows bunch in confusion.

“And what you always, always have a fresh roll of?”

“Parchment?”

“And… I may have smelled one more thing. In the Amortentia.” You took a breath. “Your cologne.”

“My cologne?” he echoes like how you had repeated him earlier. 

You wait for him to connect the dots, pressing your lips together. 

“So you smelled chocolate, parchment and my cologne?”

“Don’t forget nail polish.”

He chuckles. He takes your hand that’s on his arm and holds it in his own. 

“What you’re saying is that I do have a chance? That Sirius was right?” 

“Sirius was right,” you laugh. 

“In that case, would you like to come with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“I would love to come to Hogsmeade with you, Remus,” you answered with a smile.

Maybe Sirius does know a thing or two about girls, Remus thinks as he walks with you to your next class. 

Tags: @oursweetmoony, @pinkdaiisies, @iloveremmy, @3sriracha, @auntjezzy

[drunktuesdays]

MR FRODO!!! DONT GO WHERE I CANT FOLLOW!!!!!

i'm no happier about this than you are. do u understand how long i've escaped hockey.... i mean, i'm not an animal. i've sampled their wares. i've perused their markets. and on cold nights when there was nothing left in my "marked for later" tab, i've gone hunting on their land. but i've never bothered to learn enough to picture them. do you know i've read almost every good fic in the sid/geno tag and only i found out what geno looks only like two years ago? i've been STRONG. except i guess that time sashayed ALMOST got me into that one retired guy who i thought was so fucking hot but no one ever wrote fic or posted about him so it didn't go anywhere.

anyway what i'm saying to you is that i don't like what's happening for me. unfortunately, grace, it's hard times over here. i'm almost done my biannual reread of the 2 million word fic where harry potter becomes part phoenix. i'm BORED. I AM BORED!!!!! and when i scroll and i see my friend talking about a man absolutely humiliating himself because he's desperately jealous that he wasn't featured in an instagram post? i'm supposed to SCROLL PAST two boys giggling and whispering because they've never experienced this feeling before and don't think anyone else has?? HELLO. i'm interested. i'M INTERESTED. i don't wanna watch hockey and i swear to god if anyone tries to teach me ONE thing about the game i will SCREAM!!!! but i also want very very very badly to read about them frotting until it kind of hurts and then secretively thinking like, "did we invent doing that.....no one else can possibly have figured that out....."

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

I'm so excited for you, my friend!! Thank you for diving in. 🥰

I like this line, because it's what made Dean stop. In my head I feel like this version of Dean has pushed away so many people and the reader is the first person in a long time to genuinely say that she was "worried" about him, and it strikes something in his chest because he couldn't remember the last time it happened. That's the headcanon in my head anyway lol.

Oh yeah, that's a totally accurate observation, poor Dean. 🥲 He hasn't allowed himself to be "worried about" in a long time, since he and Sam started up their own lives.

Also the spice was.... 😱🌶️🔥. I literally cannot write smut to save my life, but you always write it so well! I also liked that you didn't do it as intense as omegaverse usually is, because we both know how it can be 👀

ahaha thank youuu 😘 It's really not easy for me, but I write it when I feel the story warrants it. And totally, the more subtle approach was what I was going for loll! I don't think I could write the aggressive smut that omegaverse fics tend to be. 🤪

OH MY WORD DEAN SHUT UP! I promise it's okay! She loves you and she can see that you're not a bad person because you literally have been nursing her back to health with her broken ankle 😭 Not to mention you guys are fated! She's not going to let you go no matter what you do.

Lol RIGHT?! How many times do we have to go over this, Dean???? 😭

But again... on brand for Dean to hate himself and to think he's not good enough -sigh- just means that you get to spend more time wrapped up with him trying to convince him 😊😉. I also believe that Dean loves intimac, that he does crave that connection with someone, not to mention I still love what you do in your Midnight Espresso series with Dean being a little touch starved for non-sexual touch. I feel like you've also implied this here and it is marvelous!

This is where I have to beat down the "not worthy" aspect of Dean's personality when it comes to love and intimacy. 😭 But I SO agree with you -- he craves it, even though he doesn't feel like he deserves it half the time. That's a big theme in Midnight Espresso, so I love you so much for enjoying that aspect in that series and in this one. 🥹💓💓

I'm literally cackling. I can hear Dean saying this to his significant other. Meeting Baby for the first time holds the same place in his heart as meeting Sam for the first time 🤣 ALSO, I wasn't ready for the palm kiss. Palm kisses and forehead kisses DESTROY me.

LOL this part of the scene was so vivid in my mind -- I have no doubt he'd be just like this when his girl meets his Baby. 🤣🤣 Oh same. I LOVE hand kisses and forehead kisses. They're so wholesome. 🥹

I like that this was an alternate ending to the dumpster fire that was the end of Supernatural. That it's Dean and his girl out on the open road listening to a Led Zeppelin song holding hands in the front seat of Baby was just beautiful in the best way and a perfect ending to this mini-series my wonderful friend!! I am going to miss this couple so much, but it really was a fitting end for them 🥰

Honestly that's the biggest compliment I could get on this story! 💕💕 It's the two of them riding into the subset to some Zep tunes, on their way to see Sam and his new little family. I might come back to write their little reunion, but until then, I'm so glad you've enjoyed this snowy, angsty ride. 😘❄️💜💜

Against the Wind - Part 4

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: The grand finale...

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, knotting, claiming, fluff and feels.

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 4: Running to Live

His cold hands are warming on your skin as he slides them underneath your sweater. They move smoothly up your back, bunching up the material. You break from his kiss only to help him get the sweater off you, followed closely by his pants.

Your sweatpants slide down your legs with just a sharp tug, baring most of your body to his gaze. His eyes drag over your exposed neck and shoulders, your breasts cupped in your bra, down to your panties and bare thighs.

A shiver runs through you, both from his heated gaze, and from being exposed to the cooler air. Even with the fire going and the heater running in the cabin, the frigid air outside is unforgiving.

You have no problem with the way Dean guides you down from the chaise to take advantage of your nest on the floor, right in front of the fire. He draws you into a sensuous kiss, sucking your lower lip into his mouth and grazing with teeth.

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return. You reach up to caress his cheek, feeling the prickling of his stubble. Your fingers thread into his hair, and you pull him back down for a devouring kiss.

Dean’s brows furrow as he holds you to him, wanting to feel every part of your skin against his. His calloused fingers map their way down your side, and across your back to unhook your bra. His lips veer away from yours to burn a wet, heated trail along your neck. His teeth come out to graze your skin, down your throat, down the lovely valley between your breasts.

“Dean,” you gasp, encouraging him when his hand cups one of your breasts. He explores the other with his mouth, teasing a pebbled nipple with his tongue. Your fingers tighten in his hair, your thighs rubbing together between the cage of his knees in the mess of blankets. Already you feel slick forming at the apex of your thighs and slipping down in between.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin. “Fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You can’t help but smile. Your face warms either from the fire dancing shadows across your bodies, or from him, his attention, his warmth, and the heat in his eyes when they meet your again. His hand slides down your body, over your hip and squeezing your thigh as he opens you up further for him.

“Tell me what you want, Omega.” While I still have control, his tone implies. His voice is gravel and sin while his hand moves swiftly and smoothly up the inside of your thigh.

“Touch me,” you breathe.

Nodding, he hooks his fingers around the hem of your panties and slides them down. You help him kick them off. Afterward, his thumb brushes over your mound, making you sharply inhale and squeeze his shoulders encouragingly. His fingers dip inside your wet heat, his brows raising with a smirk, as he feels the sheer amount of your slick already coating his digits.

“Fuck. This all for me, baby?” he remarks.

You hold onto the back of his neck with both hands as you nod, biting your lip. Your hips begin to cant against his hand on reflex, urging him to touch you.

“Alpha, please…” you implore, in a ragged whisper. He swallows your plea with a ravaging kiss, but he still gives you what you want. His thumb circles your clit, earning a moan from you into his mouth.

Soon, two of his fingers plunge slowly inside you, working you open, drawing more gasps and shudders of pleasure from your body. His length continues to strain hard against your thigh, but for him, it’s worth it to draw every sound, every time your body writhes and arches against him, craving release.

With a few more purposeful strokes, your inner walls clamp tight on his hand, and a flood of slick coats his knuckles even more. You gasp his name, your hands squeezing his arms just as tight as your pussy around his fingers.

Your skin is beginning to get dewy with sweat, and he kisses some of it off you when he trails down your chest. You stroke down his arms, down his back, whatever you can reach as you catch your breath. But then, his name falls from your lips with a firmer tone.

Dean raises his head, and you gently push at his chest. His brows furrow in confusion, only for it to be replaced with a smile of surprise when you curl a thigh over his hip and guide him onto his back. His head just manages to fall on one of your pillows, but he still utters a small grunt. You giggle down at him, bowing to meet him for a kiss.

He smirks and holds onto your hips, playfully squeezing your ass. “My wily omega.”

“Thought I was your cheeky omega,” you tease.

He snorts. “That too.”

You giggle some more as you treat him to the same path of open-mouthed kisses down his neck. Except this time, you hook a hand behind his neck, and you trail your tongue around his mating gland. You feel his jolt of surprise, as well as his instinctive growl of pleasure in response to his mate. Or at least, not yet…

His heart pounds in his chest.

“Omega,” he says, a warning not to tease as his grip tightens on your hips.

The command in his voice makes you shiver, but you smile and nuzzle his cheek in affection. You kiss your way down his body, playing special attention to his nipples, his stomach, the soft V and the happy trail of light brown fuzz leading you down between his hips.

Your fingers slide down his hardened desire through his underwear, earning a grunt from him, along with a shifting of his body against the blankets. Your lips curve as you nuzzle him there as well, letting your lips drag across his impressive length.

His fingers tangle in your hair when you hook your nails around the waistband and free his cock from its confines. His boxers join the rest of your clothes somewhere, and finally you get to see all of him, as much as he takes in all of you. Your hand wraps around his girth, your thumb circling around the sensitive, weeping head of it. Dean groans, a sound from deep in his chest.

You don’t know this, but it’s been a while since anyone but his own hand has touched him. That’s not the only reason his body has been calling to yours, but it plays a part in how fucking good it feels, and how much more he wants you.

He feels your intentions when your hand moves down his shaft in a teasing caress, your fingers tracing around his knot. A shudder rattles down his spine, makes his desire burn hotter in the pit of his stomach.

He can’t fucking take it anymore. He needs you, needs to be inside you. Needs to take you the way his instincts demand.

He grasps your shoulder before you put your mouth on him. You blink up at him, with a question forming on your lips, but he hefts you up onto his chest by your arms. He cages you there with a kiss filled with abject need.

“I can’t. Can’t wait anymore,” he says. He drags his fingers through your folds and earns another moan from your when he finds your clit. “You ready for me, Omega? Need my knot?”

“Yeah,” you nod, agreeing against his lips. “Need you, Alpha—”

No sooner had the words escaped your lips, when Dean rolls you back underneath him. But this time, he guides you onto your stomach, then raises up your hips, until you’re on your hands and knees. You catch your breath as you regain your bearings, shooting an incredulous smile over your shoulder at Dean. He smirks back at you, but his gaze is intense, his pupils darkened with the alpha inside him. 

Still, he soothes a hand down your back and steadies you with a hold on your hip. You feel him slot himself behind you, guiding his cock at your entrance. His chest presses hotly against your back.

“Last chance, Omega,” he says, his voice tight with restraint.

You look back at him again over your shoulder, your mouth threatening to frown. You reach back and sink your fingers into his hair with a sharp tug. “Do it.”

He sinks into you with one smooth plunge. It’s a relief for both of you, your mingled moans echoing in the near silence. All that’s left is the sound of your quickening breaths, of skin against sweat-slick skin as you move together.

Dean brushes your hair away from your neck. He kisses and licks his way along your bare shoulder, and finally the back of your neck. You’re trembling by the time his lips find the sensitive flesh of your mating gland. It echoes with the pulsing from your core as he continues to drive into you.

“Alpha,” you gasp on reflex. You squeeze his arm; he has it wrapped tight around your middle. Your pleasure builds ever closer to that crescendo, especially as his thrusts become ragged, at an angle that zips delicious tingles through your core. “Close…just…I need…”

Dean isn’t so far gone. He hears you, and helps you, reaching his hand around to strum his fingers insistently on your clit, along with his final thrusts.

Finally, it tumbles you over. Your inner walls become impossibly tight around him as he draws out your second release—one that triggers his own. Dean groans into your ear; his knot swells and locks into place, and he spends himself deep inside you. He pants hot against your neck, but even though he fastens his lips there, he hesitates, once again making you shudder. 

“Do it,” you repeat, in a coarse whisper. You’re close to tears. “Please. Want you, Alpha. Need you…”

Once again, he hears you.

His teeth sink into the back of your neck, making you cry out. But your pain is quickly overshadowed by a deepest pleasure, thrumming along with his.

 Afterward, Dean holds you in his arms. The warm glow of the fire paints your skin in its light, despite the utter darkness in the rest of the house. 

While you both wait for his knot to subside, you revel in the fact that you know he’s content. You can feel it through the newly formed bond. He traces random shapes in your skin, which still glistens with a fine sheen of sweat. The fire he stoked doesn’t help to cool you down, but you don’t care.

Nothing else matters but this. You turn your head toward him over your shoulder. He meets you there with a gentle kiss, much more gentle than any other you’ve shared before. It feels right. 

When he parts from you, he presses another kiss to your forehead. Then he leans back a little and sighs. You feel his thumb trace the raw flesh around the claiming mark on your neck. A small shiver runs through your body. Maybe on another day, you’ll mark him in return.

“It’s too damn late,” he says, breaking the silence. “You realize that right?”

You shoot him a frown. “Too late for what?”

“For me to let you go,” he says. 

His words both warm you and make you sad. Just how little does he think of himself?

“Dean,” you say, endeavoring to be patient. “You’re my true mate. Do you know how rare it is that we’ve actually found each other?”

Dean remains quiet.

“And after everything you’ve done for me,” you add, “how can I not think you’re a good man? How can I not think this is right?”

He seems to consider your question. His gaze briefly falls, then meets your eyes again.

“You don’t know me that well,” is his answer, with a wry turn of his lips. 

You reach back to caress his cheek. “Then tell me. Tell me about, um…tell me about how you became a hunter. From your dad’s journal, I got the sense that it’s a family thing.”

A vendetta, you wanted to say, but you keep that thought inside.

Dean chuckles, dropping another kiss onto your shoulder. You feel the pleasurable rasp of his stubble.

“Yeah, more like a family business,” he says. 

He tells you why John Winchester started writing in that journal in the first place. Dean explains it in his own words, of what his family was before and after a demon broke into his brother’s nursery. Your heart continues to break for him, over and over, the more story he tells. Your shock can only reach new heights when he tells you about angels and demons and everything in between. 

There are moments where he pauses, needing the time to find his words. He’s talked for so long that his knot finally softens, allowing you to withdraw from him, just to turn in his arms and be able to see his face. He bundles you in the blankets to keep you warm, but he also keeps you close, with a loose arm around your waist as he continues. 

You sense that he’s not telling you everything. How could he? A lifetime of blood and wins and incredible losses; family gained, and family lost, endless saves, and so many near misses. You listen with rapt attention (and a lot of shock) to everything he can share, but your heart twinges when you see how he struggles to talk about his mother’s most recent death. Then his best friend Cas. 

You realize that this man, for all his self-deprecation, is a hero. More so than you already knew.

“After the whole Chuck thing was done, I thought we’d just…go back to status quo. Me and Sam against the world, you know?” Dean says. He gives a rueful smile. “Then Sammy tells me he knocked up his mate.”

You smile. “You’re happy for him though.”

“Course I am,” Dean nods. “He never thought he’d get to have all that. A badass chick who can keep him on his toes, a house, the kid, the whole damn thing. He’s downright respectable again.”

His brotherly pride and his humor are tinged with something else though. You think you begin to understand. His losses have weighed him down, leaving him aimless and living in that in between, not unlike the ghosts he used to hunt. You know the feeling. 

You thread your fingers with his, earning his attention. 

“You can have that too, you know,” you say. “I mean, I don’t want to skip ahead, but I feel like things are going well here, despite the whole busted ankle thing.” 

Dean slowly smiles, shaking his head. He brings your hand up to his lips. 

“Okay, enough about my Hallmark movie life. What about you?” he asks. 

So you tell him. 

You two continue to share and explore, both in words and with your bodies, until morning comes. 

It’s another week in the cabin before Dean insists on helping you down the mountain. Your ankle has gotten a little better, but at this point, you need to see a doctor. It takes a couple of days, going as slow as you need to. He ends up carrying you for most of the way anyway. You tell him over and over that he doesn’t have to, but your alpha is stubborn. 

Once he gets you back to the city, you two take a shuttle to the nearest hospital. X-rays are taken, and you get a new cast for your officially fractured ankle. At the very least, you don’t need surgery. You’re able to call your mom from there and let her know where you’ve been, that you’re all right, and best of all…that you’ve found your mate. 

You cry along with her on the phone, this time for a good reason. The best reason. 

When you’re eventually released from the hospital, Dean picks you up in a sleek, black Chevy that has your eyes wide. 

He grins at the look on your face. “Hey, sweetheart. Come meet my Baby.” 

He parks the car and keeps the heater running while he comes around to you in swift strides. He takes your crutches and slides them into the backseat, then helps you into the passenger seat. 

“It’s beautiful, but my God, how old is this thing?”

“She. She’s a she.”

“Oh, pardon me,” you say in amusement. “Do I have some competition here?”

Dean gives you a teasing smirk. “Well, technically, she’s been with me a lot longer than you.” 

You scoff incredulously. He laughs and takes your hand, pressing a kiss into your palm. You discreetly study him and marvel at how much lighter he seems. You don’t know how much is because of this, what your hand in his symbolizes, and how much is because he’s reunited with something important to him. 

“It’s okay, Omega mine,” he says, with a measure of desire in his eyes. “From now on, you’re my priority.”

Your spine prickles with the same arousal you can feel from him through the bond. You lean across the way and share a thorough kiss. 

Until a horn honks loudly from behind. You both jolt, but Dean’s face falls into annoyance. He shoots up a choice finger at the car behind him in the rearview mirror. You laugh as he begins to peel out of the curved pick-up and drop-off zone in front of the hospital. 

“Where are we going, Dean?” you ask, still smiling in amusement. 

“Wherever we damn well please.” He turns to you with a hint of a smile reforming on his lips. “Want me to take you back home? We can sort out the logistics on, uh…well, this.”

You think about it. He poses a good idea, but at the same time, you’re not quite ready for this part of the adventure to end. 

“How long has it been since you’ve seen Sam?” you ask.

Dean blinks at your question. He whistles lowly. “About a year. Jesus, since my nephew was born.”

You smile and reach over, resting your hand on his thigh. 

“Let’s go see him, then,” you say. “I want to meet your family. Then you can meet mine.”

After that, you two can figure out the rest, like where to live, and how you’ll live. 

Dean raises a brow. “Really? That’s like, a thirteen-hour drive.”

You shrug. “I’ve always wanted to go on a real road trip. Can we get some food first though? I’m starving.” 

He laughs and nods as he stops the car at a red light.

“What do you know? A woman after my own heart,” he says. His amusement eases into a gentler smile the longer he stares at you. You smile back, and you give into the urge to lean in again, meeting your lips with his. He brushes your cheek tenderly with his thumb. 

“I know what this needs,” he says lowly. Your brows draw together in a silent question. 

He pulls away to reach into the side compartment along the driver door. He fishes out a cassette tape labelled Zeppelin IV. You bite your lip and try not to say anything smartassed.

Damn, this man is old school. 

He skips ahead until he finds Track 7, just as the light turns green. A melodious guitar riff fills the car as he turns onto the main road with your hand wrapped in his. 

Made up my mind to make a new start.

Going to California with an aching in my heart…

AN: And that's all, folks! 🥹 I truly hope you enjoyed Against the Wind!

Like I said in a recent update, I have more stories in store for you guys. January 3 will be Part 1 of Outlander -- sequel to The Honorable Choice -- a Western AU with Dean as our resident cowboy! I'll post a sneak peek on that one soon.~

But in the meantime, I hope you'll let me know what you thought of ATW! 💜💜

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Series Masterlist

Jacklesverse Bingo Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist 

Follow @zepskieswrites (with notifications on) to get notified every time I drop a new story or chapter. 💜

Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1)

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl

@thebiggerbear @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @deans-spinster-witch

@deans-baby-momma @sanscas @kaleldobrev @spnwoman @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@globetrotter28 @adoringanakin @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @iprobablyshipit91

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @pieandmonsters

@deansbbyx @sarahgracej @chernayawidow @mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @mxltifxnd0m

@my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester @rizlowwritessortof @samslvrgirl @tortureddarkstar

@tmb510 @syrma-sensei @artemys-ackles @malindacath @mrsjenniferwinchester

@jc-winchester @charmed-asylum @fromcaintodean

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: my head is fucked

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Andy brings you breakfast in bed. You can't help but feel the guilt rippling off him. All of this is penance on his part. 

It's as close to vindication as you'll get. You're mother would never admit what she did, let alone apologise. That's when you see her again. You're not so sure you ever want to. 

The world is distant. It doesn't feel quite real. It's like a dream. The edges aren't quite sharp enough and the colours are cloudy. 

You look down at the plate and your stomach grumbles out of basic need. You don't have much appetite but your biology is at a constant battle with your mind. You shouldn't be able to breathe but you are, you should take your meds but you don't feel all that different.  

A poached egg, whole wheat toast, turkey bacons, and thick greek yogurt with fruit. It's all very healthy but a bit more than you would eat, when you feel up to it. Your breakfasts are a hard-boiled egg or a small cup of hot oats and milk. 

"I hope it's okay," he hovers at the foot of the bed. He's dressed already. You're less than put together. You're still groggy from a grief-laden sleep and the hangover of the bitter revelation. You wear his borrowed shirt and gym shorts, your messy hair untamed despite your efforts.  

"I called in to the office. I don't think I could focus of I tried," he explains. "And there's too much to be done here." 

"There is?" You nibble the toast. 

You'd hoped for some time alone. Not to think, just to be. You're still lost in all of this. The anger, the hurt, the regret, the confusion, and shame... 

"Sweetie, you don't have any clothes. I have a spare toothbrush for you but it's a travel one from a hotel. And you'll need everything else, right? Soaps and whatever." 

"Oh, I... I don't... my mom has all my money..." you utter and deflate again. You put down the toast. Your stomach is roaring but you just want to puke again.  

"I'll deal with that. Don't worry. She's not as clever as she thinks." He puts his hands on his hips. He does that when he's upset. He used to argue with your mom and stand like that. "Please, eat. Your clothes should be dry soon." 

"My clothes?" 

"I threw them in the wash for you--" his sentence is punctured by the doorbell. His jaw ticks. "I'll deal with that. Probably Mrs. Potter trying to give me more casserole." 

He leaves and you put your focus on the plate. You shouldn't just eat because you're hungry, you should eat because he went to all this effort. You pick up a slice of toast and break through the soft yolk. 

You eat deliberately. Chewing slowly, methodically. A shrill yowl tightens your throat around a swallow. You know that shriek. 

You carefully slide the tray forward and balance it on the legs as you angle out from beneath. You go to the window and try to see past the eaves and awning. You can't. Only the police cruiser and a familiar car... 

You listen. The noise wafts in from the bedroom door. You follow it and peer down at the front door. It's muffled but clearly coming from the porch. 

You twist the handle nervously and open the door a crack. You can't see past Andy as he stands staunchly on the mat, arms crossed. You glance an officer's belt with the radio attached and your mother's snarl lashes you like a barb. 

"He has my daughter. She's sick--" 

"She's an adult," Andy insists. "I'm not holding her against her will." 

"She can't-- I am her legal guardian. She can't be here on free will, genius." 

"Ma'am," a stern female voice warns. "Sir, where is the daughter?" 

"She's sleeping." He lies. 

You let the door fall inward. You don't want to be in trouble. No one seems to notice. You stall and shiver on the threshold. It isn't cold, you're just scared. 

You make yourself step out. There's not much room. As Andy stands like a wall. You peek around him. 

"Hi," you murmur. 

"My baby," your mother throws her hands up and comes forward. Andy moves to block her. "You can't keep me from my girl-- where is her oxygen? Officers, she needs air!" 

“No, I don’t,” you say, quiet but firm. 

Your mother flinches but doesn’t relent, “he’s manipulated her. I can call the doctor right now and you’ll see. She hasn’t been without her tank in years. She could die--” 

“That’s not true,” you murmur. 

“Ma’am,” the female officer warns. “Let her speak.” 

You look around with wide eyes, taking in the full scene. Andy stands just behind you, you can hear him exhale. A male officer is on the other side of your mother. You open your mouth then shut it. 

“Sweetie,” your mother reaches for you and you shy away. 

“Alright, Jackson, you stay here, I’m going to talk to her. Alone,” the female officer says. She reaches out and waves you to her delicately. “You wanna come with me? We can talk. Just you and me.” 

You gulp and look at Andy. His blue eyes blaze as he meets your gaze. He dips his chin slightly. You turn back and nod. As you cross the porch, your mother tries to latch onto you. The other officer, Jackson, pulls her back. 

You sidle past her and follow the woman. She takes you to the curb. You look down at your bare feet then at her. 

“I’m Officer Patel. What’s your name?” She asks. 

You answer and she shifts so you can’t see the house. “Me and my partner came because we got a call about a possible abduction. We’re just here to hear the full story. What’s going on here?” 

You rub your neck and fidget. You can’t tell her the truth. Not the full truth. You can’t tell her your mom lied to you. Not even that she hit you. You don’t want to go back to court. You don’t want to tell everyone how stupid and pathetic you are. 

“I’m here.... because I want to be,” you shrug. 

“Your mother says there was an argument.” 

You chew your lip, “she couldn’t find her pills. She left. I don't know... I don’t know why she came back.” Your chin trembles and you clasp your hands on your shirt hem. You sway back and forth. “She doesn’t love me.” 

You hang your head. That’s it. What you always knew deep down. What’s so clear now that she’s ground you into dust. You’re nothing to her so she made you into nothing at all. 

“She’s your mom, I’m sure you two will work this out. Me and my partner are just making sure you’re safe. We were told that man is keeping you here without consent.” 

You flinch and shake your head furiously. You wave your hands, “no, no. Andy... Andy helped me and... I shouldn’t be here because... because... because I’m a loser and.... my mom... my mom...” you stutter. “She doesn’t want me.” 

“She says you’re sick? You need oxygen?” She prompts. 

You twiddle your fingers. “No, not really. Not... all the time. I can breathe, see?” 

She watches you, “right. How old are you, miss?” 

“Twenty-four.” 

She nods. “You’re not a minor?” 

“No,” you blurt out. Many assume as much, especially with you always hiding behind your mom. “No, I’m an... adult.” 

“Do you want to press charges against anyone?” 

“Charges? For what?” You wonder. 

She sighs. “You’re free to go. You’re grown up and you can make your own choices without mom.” She tuts and turns to look across the lawn, “Jackson, come on.” 

You peer over. Andy stands, arms crossed, staring at you. Your mother rears like a snake, muttering under her breath. You head back up the walk and Officer Patel speaks again. 

“You have to leave, Ma’am.” 

You stop and peek over your shoulder. Patel points to your mother, “we will escort you if need be.” 

Jackson looks at her. She snarls and stomps her foot, “oh don’t you even think of touching me.” She huffs and storms past him. She comes down the steps and you think for an instant, she might push you. She stops beside you. “I took care of you, sweetie. Do you think he will for long? After he figures out what you are?” 

She continues past you. You continue up the paved squares and past Officer Jackson as he follows. As you come up to the steps, you hear the engines turn over. You’re suddenly very tired. 

“Andy,” you drag your feet over the mat. “I want to lay down.” 

“Alright, honey. We’ll sort everything out later,” he turns and stretches his arm across the door frame as you enter.  

He shuts the door as you stagger on, eyes hazy with tears. Your own mother despises you. She’s right about him too. He’ll hate you one day but you don’t know what to do to change any of this. 

💙

Andy makes you finish breakfast before you lay down. He’s right. It’s good for you to eat and you haven’t been doing a lot of that. 

You lay down for an hour before you sense him getting restless. You can hear him downstairs. You can’t be lazy. You don’t have any excuses anymore. You’re not sick, just weak. 

You make yourself get up and venture downstairs. He’s in the kitchen, flicking through his phone as it rests on the counter. You clear your throat and wring your hands as you enter. 

“I’m sorry. I was upset. It’s really stupid but sometimes I just... can’t do anything. Even if I try. I’m sorry, Andy. I’m... so sorry.” 

He faces you and his face contorts in a spectrum of emotion, “oh, honey, you don’t need to be sorry. I put your clothes on the couch for you. Just waiting. Take your time.” 

“Waiting for me,” you frown and look at the floor. “My mom lied. A lot. But I don’t think she was wrong about everything.” 

“What do you mean?” He shifts closer. 

You shrug, “me. I’m... I’m useless.” 

“No,” his voice hardens. “No, take it back.” 

“What?” You pout and bat your eyes as you peek up at him. 

“You’re not going to talk about yourself like that. Not with me. So take it back.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry--” 

“Apologise to yourself,” he insists staunchly. “Honey, don’t let her control you. She’s gone.” 

“But... but...” 

“You’re adjusting. I understand that. I’m not expecting you to be okay right now. Be patient with yourself. Be patient with me. We’re both... figuring this out.” 

You nod and your lips twitch. You could cry. 

“Thanks, er, I’ll... change then. Um, Andy... are we going somewhere?” 

“Sure, sweetheart. I mentioned earlier, didn’t I? About clothes? I tried to get the officers to agree to an escort to go to your mom’s but you saw her. She’s not in her right mind,” he explains. 

“Yeah, that makes sense,” you flutter your fingers nervously and he looks down at them. You clasp them over your chest to make them stop. “I’ll hurry up then.” 

You turn and scurry out. You go into the front room and grab the neatly folded clothes. He keeps everything so tidy and in its place. You go to the bathroom and set it on the counter. 

As you take your panties from between the jeans and tee shirt, you hesitate. It’s a bit embarrassing to think of him washing your underwear. You could’ve done it if he showed you where the machines are. 

You shrug it off. You’re just happy he helped. It’s a nice feeling when people do things for you. 

You change and bring out the borrowed clothes. Andy is still in the kitchen. You stand in the doorway. 

“Where do I put these?” You ask. 

He pops his head up and tucks away his phone, “oh, I can take care of them.” 

“Thanks, Andy, but uh, could I see? I’d like to know where everything is so I can help.” 

“Help?” He approaches and takes the clothes, his hands brushing over yours. “With what?” 

“I don’t know, everything?” You say. “You helped me so much and I want to do the same. I want to be useful. I want to be... better.” 

The tension leaves his shoulder and he smiles. “Alright, sure, that’s nice of you.” He goes to step past you then stops. “Sweetheart, you know, your mom is wrong. About everything. You’re an amazing girl. Really, you’re wonderful. And today, I want you to try as much as you can to forget. I want you to feel good about you, because you should. Because you deserve it.” 

You swallow and bounce nervously on your feet, “Andy, you’re so nice.” 

“I’m just being honest. Should’ve tried that a lot sooner,” he says. 

[hitorim106]

"A Wolf At My Window"

synopsis: Childhood friend Caleb pays you a visit in the middle of the night. word count: 1.8k notes: This is the first fic I've posted in a long long time (so nervous!!), but I want to post more Love and Deepspace Vocaloid song fics so.... I was listening to Romeo and Cinderella by Doriko and could not stop thinking about Caleb to this song so... Enjoy your food freaks. warnings: Forbidden love, friends to lovers, Juliet complex, childhoodfriend!Caleb, naive reader, love and obsession, coming of age, rebellion, not beta read we die like granny?

ロミオとシンデレラ

0:58 ──♡───── 4:41

Caleb had always been there. In the morning when the sky bled with pink and gold hues, waiting for you outside the door. At school, where his laughter was a shield, making sure no one saw how you shrunk under the attention. In the evening, when the soft glow of the lamp on your bedside was often shared with his silhouette, leaning against the frame while he teases you for reading romance novels instead of studying.

For years, he had been your constant. Your safe place. And maybe that's why you haven't questioned why his presence felt heavier than normal lately. Or why his gaze lingered too long. Why, when you met his eyes, you felt something tightening in your chest that had nothing to do with comfort.

Tonight, he wasn't waiting by the door. He wasn't teasing you about your choice of fiction, or ruffling your hair as he walked past. Tonight, Caleb was at the window.

You swallowed, gripping the edge of the blanket, staring at his silhouette through the glass. Your heart pounded. The rational part of you knew you should be started, maybe even a little scared. But you weren't.

With shaky fingers, you open the window.

"You know," you whispered, your voice barely above the wind, "normal people use the front door."

Caleb's lips curved as he pushed the window up further. His hands—big, sturdy—gripping the frame as he hoisted himself inside, "And normal people don't let in wolves after dark," he murmured, his voice lower than usual. Softer.

The air in the room changed.

He didn't step back. Didn't put any space between you two. Instead, he reached up, fingertips brushing against your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. It was a simple touch. Barely anything. And yet, it felt like everything.

"Caleb—"

"Shh," he whispered. You froze as his thumb traced your jaw, tilting your chin up. "You always look away when I get too close."

You swallowed, "Well maybe you shouldn't get so close, then."

His smile deepened, but there was something unreadable in his expression. Something that sent a slow heat curling down your spine.

"That's the thing," he murmured, leaning down, his forehead nearly brushing against yours, "I don't think I can stop."

Your breath caught.

His other hand found your waist, fingers curling slightly—possessive, firm, like he wanted to make sure you didn't step away. But you weren't going to.

"How far can we venture tonight?" You whispered before you could stop myself.

Caleb stilled. His grip on your waist tightened just enough for you to feel the heat of his palm through the lace of your pink pajama top. Then, slowly, he smiled again. This time without amusement, without teasing.

"You tell me," he said, voice low, "but I'll warn you, I don't like being told to stop."

A soft shiver ran through you.

Your fingers curled against his chest, not pushing him away, but grounding yourself, "Be gentle," you murmured, looking up at him through your lashes, "I still don't like bitter tastes."

He exhaled, something like frustration flickered through his eyes. "Then don't tempt me."

You bit your lip.

And then his restraint snapped.

His lips found the corner of your mouth first, brushing, teasing, like he was waiting for you to push away. When you don't, he takes more. A slow, drawn-out kiss, his hands slide up, fingers pressing into the back of your back, pulling you closer. You barely had time to breathe before he kissed you again, hungrier this time, like he was trying to make up for all the times he held himself back.

When you break apart, you were breathless. Your head was spinning.

"Caleb," you whispered.

He studied you, something unreadable in his expression. Then, slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out. A silver chain. A delicate charm at the end.

You frowned. "What's that?"

"A promise," he murmured, lifting it, carefully fastening it around your wrist. "That I won't let anyone take you away."

You swallowed. "That sounds more like a collar than a promise."

His lips twitched, but his grip on your wrist was steady. "Same thing, isn't it?"

You should've been alarmed. You should've questioned him.

But as you looked at him—the boy who had always been there, who had always protected you, who had always wanted more but never dared to ask—you realised something.

You didn't want to run.

Not from him.

Not tonight.

Maybe not ever.

The thought should've scared you. Should've made you take a step back, regain some distance. But you didn't move. Instead, you let your fingers brush around your wrist. The metal was cool against your skin, delicate, but firm. A promise, he had said. A collar, you had called it.

Maybe it was both.

You looked up at him, at the way his purple eyes burned in the dim glow of your bedside lamp. You had never thought of him as dangerous before. But now, standing here in the silence, the window still cracked open, letting in the cold night air, you realised—

He was the wolf if your story.

Not the prince.

Not the hero.

But the one who came I through the window instead of the door.

And you weren't stopping him.

His fingers traced the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse fluttered. He hadn't let go since he put the chain on you.

“You’re quiet,” Caleb murmured, watching you too closely.

You wet your lips. “I’m thinking.”

A slow, knowing smile. “About what?”

You hesitated. “About how my dad doesn’t like you.”

Caleb exhaled through his nose, like he expected that answer. “That’s nothing new.”

"He's going to notice if I start wearing this." you held up your wrist, the chain glinting in the low light.

His fingers curled around your wrist. "So don't take it off."

"Caleb—"

"I mean it." He pulled you closer, voice soft but firm, "It suits you."

You swallowed. "That's not the point. You know what he's like. If he founds out—"

"I don't care."

His voice wasn't sharp. Wasn't loud. But it cut through the air between you all the same. You felt your stomach twist, my breath catch. "You're not the one who has to deal with him."

His jaw tensed, "No. But I could take you away from it all."

You froze.

He wasn't teasing.

He wasn't being playful.

He meant it.

And for a single, wild moment—you wanted to say yes.

You wanted to be like those girls in the stories, the ones who ran away with their prince charming, who let themselves be carried off before the clock struck twelve. The ones who didn't have the think about their father's disappointment, or their mother's worried sighs, or the way everyone expected them to be good, obedient, reasonable

But this wasn't a fairy tale. Real life wasn't a fairy tale.

You stepped back. Just a little. Just enough for your back to hit the edge of your desk. "You're talking I'm some princess locked in a tower."

"Arent you?"

You glared. "I have a life here. A family. You can't just take me away."

Caleb studied you for a moment. Then, finally, he exhaled and let go of your wrist, his touch leaving behind the phantom warmth of his touch. "Fine," he said, too easily. "Then let me be the one who stays."

You frowned. "What?"

"You heard me." His expression softened, but there was something dangerous under the surface. "I won't take you anywhere. But I'll make sure no one else does either."

Yet another shiver runs down your spine. "That's not how this works."

He tilted his head. "Then how does it work?"

You hesitated.

Because deep down.. you knew.

If you told him to stop, if you told him to leave, he would.

But you didn't want him to.

You just didn't know if you could handle what it would mean if he stayed.

"I don't want to be someone's Juliet." You muttered, not looking at him.

Caleb let out a low chuckle. "I know. I'm not asking you to be."

My stomach twisted again. "Then what are you asking?"

Silence.

And then—

His fingers brushed under your chin, tilting your face up.

"Stay with me." He murmured, voice low, steady. "That's all."

Stay with me.

Not run away with me.

Not be mine.

Just stay.

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

Because if you said yes. I knew this wouldn't be some fleeting thing. Caleb wasn't someone who let go. He wasn't someone who would let you change your mind later.

If you stayed—truly stayed—then you were his.

And the worst part?

You wanted to be.

Caleb's hands were warm, steady. His presence wrapped around me like a vice, unyielding, inescapable. But even as your breath caught in your throat, as his fingers dug into your waist just enough to make you aware of his weight, your mind drifted, pulled back by the ghosts of childhood, by something so simple, so innocent.

Caramels.

Your mother used to make them from scratch, stirring the golden syrup over the stove, the scent of butter and sugar thick in the air. She would hum while she worked, the same old tune she'd sung to you as a child, and when the caramel had cooled just enough, she'd cut them into little squares, wrapping each one in wax paper.

They were soft, sweet, melting on your tongue in an instant. A taste that lingered, that filled my mouth with warmth and comfort.

Caleb used to steal them when we were kids. He'd wait until Mom wasn't looking, grab one from the counter, and flash you a smug little grin. "Don't tell," he'd whisper, voice thick with mischief.

You never did.

You still remembered the way he'd look at you after taking a bite—chewing slow, savouring the flavour—before offering you the other half.

Sweet things should be shared, right?

But that was the thing about caramel, wasn't it? It was easy to choke on if you weren't careful. Too rich, too thick, too overwhelming.

And now, with Caleb pressing you against the desk, his body so close, his hands so firm, you felt like you were choking again—on something just as intoxicating, just as dangerous.

He wasn't offering something soft this time.

He wasn't giving you the last half.

He was taking.

And you still weren't stopping him.

"Tell me you don't want this." His voice was low, rough against your ear. "Tell me to leave and I will."

You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into his shirt. "Caleb..."

He waited. Patient, like he always was. But you could feel the tension in him, the way his grip tightened, like he already knew you wouldn't say it.

Because he knew you.

He had always known you.

And maybe that's why you had never been afraid of him.

Even now, when you knew—knew—that this wasn't something you could undo, that crossing this invisible boundary meant there was no going back, you still weren't afraid.

Because Caleb had always been there.

At every birthday. At every graduation. Through every stupid heartbreak, through every moment you'd felt alone.

He had been there, waiting.

And now, as your heart pounded in your chest, as his fingers traced slow, deliberate circles against your hip, you realised something terrifying.

You'd been waiting too.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[mistresslrigtar]

@pelicanpig's answers

Thanks Poposusz! :)

Last song:  "I Don't Care" by Fall Out Boy

Favourite color: yellow, specifically pale sunshiny yellow or mustard. None of that neon or chartreuse business

Last book/fic: Currently listening to The Hobbit audiobook and catching up on A Link to the Stars (not simultaneously)

Last movie: Wicked part 1

Last show: How it's Made - the one and only time I've watched it

Sweet/spicy/savory: Sweet or savory. It depends on my mood.

Relationship: Married (with kids!)

Last thing I googled: how to spell chartreuse 😂

Current obsession: Recently learned how to play Minecraft and now I'm busy amassing an army of wolves while my husband fights all the bad guys for me. That's part of why I've been so MIA all over fandom...

I'm looking forward to: Finishing all these WIPs that I keep saying I'll finish 😭 Also, springtime since it's my favorite season!

No pressure tags: @mistresslrigtar @mailrebel (I know you love long reblogs friend 😂) @breezybeezz @zolanort @fan-girls-r-us

______________________________________________________________

Thanks @pelicanpig for the tag! (I love Minecraft and have been wanting to play again, but I know if I do all my writing will cease because it sucks me in, so I am holding off and it's been a difficult thing to do!)

Missy's answers below!

I trimmed the previous content of this post because it was LONG, but I wanted to play! 😅

Last Song: Animal I've Become by Three Days Grace

Favorite Color: Pink of any shade, but especially hot pink

Last book/fic: One Dark Window by Rachel Gillig/The Absence of Hate by petalpusher aka @crowcaws (it's a LoZ/SW cross-over and it's good ya'll!! Picture this: Link/Inquisitor w/ memory loss and Zelda/potential Jedi; do you really need another two reasons to check it out? 😂🤣)

Last Movie: Venom: The Last Dance - I don't recommend-suffers from bad editing

Last Show: The Night Agent on Netflix - I'm bored with this show, plus the lead reminds me of Cal Kestis from the SW video game Fallen Order and that's all I can think about when I watch it 😂

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Savory for food/sweet and spicy for reading 😅😳

Relationship: very happily married with two amazing boys 😊😊

Last thing I googled: how to spell Cal Kestis (see above lol)

Current Obsession: Legend of Zelda is strong with this one 😉

I'm looking forward to: my next vacation; it cannot come soon enough. I just need to plan and pay for it...

I tag @daemosdaen , @bahbahhh , @drsteggy (maybe not the tag game you were looking for, but here you go!), @karama9 , @amelias-hart , and @crowcaws

10 people I’d like to get to know better

10 people I’d like to get to know better

Since I had two separate tags in this, @spaceyjessa and @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog I decided I would make a separate post.

Last song:  with lyrics: Beautiful Boy by The Last Dinner Party (I found out about this band like two weeks ago and now I’m going through a phase I’m obsessed)

Without lyrics: I am ready by Kevin Kiner & Sean Kiner: from the bad batch season three soundtrack. Been listening to it a lot lately, as it feels pretty prevalent to the time of my life that I’m at

Favourite color: light pinks and baby blues

Last book/fic: the last book I finished was defy the storm, by Tessa Gratton (I’m getting closer and closer to being caught up on THR)

Fic: Mace Windu fixes the timeline (You should read it, it’s wonderful) 

Last movie: the rise of Skywalker (yes, I love the sequel trilogy and what about it 💅)

Last show: the bad batch... I’m re-watching, again... how predictable 🙄

Sweet/spicy/savory: I have a big sweet tooth, especially when it comes to chocolate

Relationship: single real life, but in love with countless fictional characters inside my head🤩

Last thing I googled: what does the quest cookies and cream protein bar taste like? (look, I have arfid. I can’t just buy new things to try without knowing exactly what I’m getting into first)

Current obsession: Star Wars, duh! Specifically clones and TBB, the Mandalorian and the high republic

I look forward to telling you: that if you’re reading this you’re wonderful

No pressure tags (and I’m sorry if you’re being tagged again)  @clonethirstingisreal @eobe @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream and anyone else who would like to.

[leupagus]

Please enjoy this section of "A Song of Darkness and Dawn" that's at least three fics into the future (somewhere around season 8?) that I've had in my drafts for literally a year

Happy anniversary?

"Father never talked about the Rebellion," said Lady Stark after a long moment. "At least not with me. Our septa taught us about it, a bit. How King Robert made his claim to the Iron Throne in part through his grandmother, Rhaelle Targaryen. She was the younger sister to King Jaehaerys and Queen Shaera."

"You believe Daenerys's claim to be stronger than mine?" He took a breath, wondering at himself even as he said, "It may well be."

Lady Stark gaped at him. "'It may well be'?" she echoed, incredulous. "Whatever happened to 'the Iron Throne is mine by right' and 'all those who deny my claim are my enemy' and 'I alone can unite the realm'?"

"I don't sound like that," he snapped, ignoring her badly-suppressed snort. "Robert won by right of conquest more than birth, and three dragons gives Daenerys Stormborn a better claim than any bloodline. But the more I think on it..." He sighed. "I suspect that there is no such thing as king — or queen — by right. It's simply a pretty phrase for those in power to pursue what they want, at the expense of their duty to their people." He glanced at her. "What?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, though her expression was odd. "I just never expected to hear such things from you."

"It's your fault, if it's anyone's."

"Really." This expression was more familiar: a glower. "I'm sure this will be interesting."

"You took Winterfell back, despite having no real claim other than the..." He cast about for the right word, "sentiment, I suppose, of the Northern lords."

It wasn't the right word, he soon discovered. "I'm a Stark," she replied hotly. "My family's held the North for thousands of years!"

"But you're not the heir to Winterfell," he pointed out. ". Daughters can inherit — but they usualy don't, not if there's a son living. And your father had three."

"None of whom want to be Warden of the North!" She looked ready to kick him. "And you yourself granted Winterfell to me—"

"And I meant it," he said, stepping back a judicious pace. "You've rebuilt the Keep and brought order back to the North, made it safe for your people. Now you're preparing them for the Great War, and I'd ask for no one better. You're doing your duty. But it was a duty you sought, and a duty that rightly belongs to someone else."

"It's a duty I'm suited to," she countered. "Just as you were suited better to be Lord of Dragonstone and Master of Ships than to be Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

Stannis jabbed a finger at her. "That was completely different!"

"Only because King Robert gave Storm's End to Renly outright," she said, raising a finger in turn. "You're the one who considered it a slight, even though Dragonstone was the holdfast given to the heir to the Iron Throne, which you were, until Joffrey was born. Not only that, you were the only man Robert could have trusted to rebuild his fleet. And," she added, pushing his hand down when he tried to interject, "You would have hated being Lord of the Stormlands."

She said it with such triumphant confidence that he was left gaping at her for a moment, before hurredly pulling his hand away from hers. "I admire your confidence, my lady," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "But bear in mind that I am Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

"Yes, and if you were there, you'd hate it," she said blithely. "You'd have to deal with people, throughout the day and every day — and not just people who do as you tell them. You'd have to listen to the complaints of smallfolk about their taxed grains, hear out disputes between two holdings that have been fighting over the same half-acre for three generations; you'd have to listen all the wheedling lords and the irascable septons and blustering tradesmen. You'd have to offer comfort to the sickly who come to you for the healing touch of their lord, attend feast days and wave and smile at the crowds, accept the flower crowns the children weave for you at the tourneys. You can't just shout. You have to care, and be shown to care. You—" Suddenly she stopped and laughed. "I wish I had a mirror right now, to show you your face."

"Flower crowns?" he asked, wincing. Shireen would look well in them, at least.

"Good thing I didn't bend the knee, Your Grace," she said, "if the mere thought of daisies wrapped around your head makes you rethink the entire enterprise. What did you think being king meant?"

[non-un-topo]

what are each of the queer quartets favourite cities/places and what do they think of each other's choices?

Ohh this is really interesting to think about!! And you're testing my geographic knowledge lol.

Andromache

This is... a hard one, considering she would probably be the single most well-travelled person in the world. I feel like she couldn't possibly choose a favourite, but she would have a few places that hold a ton of value to her because they were places where her life changed --- the desert where she met Quỳnh being one of them. I feel like Andy would love a place that was free and open, without borders. Somewhere just filled with horses. Fjords, maybe. Somewhere that reminded her of the ancient world, where she could be at peace.

The others would call her an old woman for this, but they would feel a longing for it, too.

Quỳnh

Samarkand. Maybe I'm biased, because I can picture her so easily loving the mountains because of one of my fics lol, but there's also history here. I imagine her and Andromache spending a ton of time here, or coming back after decades or centuries, as they would travel along the Silk Road. Just think about all the changes they would see. It's mind-boggling.

The boys would probably want to hear her stories about this time and her trade route travels. Yusuf would probably think she's nuts for liking the cold. Andromache would probably feel very sentimental, maybe even a little sad that the times had changed so drastically.

Yusuf

Baghdad! Mostly because of the presence of the Grand Library (Bayt al-Hikmah). Part of the Abbasid Era, but I don't think Yusuf would have cared about the Caliphate so much as he cared about knowledge and art. I can imagine him geeking the hell out in the library, and of course being devastated when it was destroyed. There are actually some fantastic fics that explore this, where I got this idea from (x, x)!

The others could only love him for this, I think. Maybe the women would have hated Baghdad, but they grow to love it purely because of Yusuf's love for it.

Nicolò

Cairo or Damascus, depending on which direction he and Yusuf travelled out of the Holy Land. I'm going to choose Damascus for now. In the cinematic universe in my head, this was where they fell in love. These were also the places where Nicolò's beliefs changed, and he started to live for a greater purpose than he had thought before.

The others would think he's a sap for this, and probably make fun of him (lovingly).

[bluejayadler]

Is Desire a "friend" of Charles

Got another NGL. Apologies for the delay. This one is only partially my fault. The app didn't initially tell me I had this message, so I didn't see it for 3 days. The other 2-3 days are cause I'm slow. Anyhow, here's the prompt:

And my long rambling 1 am response is below the read more. (No editing, no reviewing, we sending this like the Night Nurse sent herself. Enjoy!

It seem taken for granted that Charles is a friend of Desire's. Why?

I actually don't know. I don't think he is a friend of Desire. I can see the narrative play here. Desire and Despair in the Sandman universe are twins and its regularly mentioned that Desire and Despair are connected, one leading to the other. We taste despair when we desire things we cannot have or things we lose. At the same time, despair can make us desire things - things that would spare us from that despair. So Despair and Desire are very tightly linked and often seen together. And since the boys are inseparable, I think people are drawn to the fun narrative options there. A lot of what I've seen when Charles is tied to Desire is actually Desire seeking Charles out. I haven't read all the Sandman comics in a long while, so I am rusty on things. Still, I do know that Desire is pretty involved in humans lives. Not for the human's benefit but for Desire's entertainment. So I've seen a few fics and headcanons that are essentially, Desire sees that Despair has a plaything in Edwin and so decides to claim the other one in the pair for themself. Which I think can be pretty fitting for Desire's character. I don't really find that as much fun to explore for Charles's character though - for me personally.

I think one reason I struggle to tie Desire to Charles is because so much of the discourse I see is around intimate desire (romantic or sexual) - mostly the idea that Charles is in love with Edwin and desires Edwin but is consciously or subconsciously denying that desire. And I admit, I personally struggle with reading romantic/sexual coding outside very formulaic tropes. I do love payneland as a ship and think that it's endgame for the show. I love the friendship and partnership the boys have. I agree they have "married for 30 years" vibes. I think Charles needs to have his own arc before he realizes that and he needs to learn what love is, given his own abuse history and how that would impact his perception of what love means and if he's capable or willing to give it in that way. At the same time, a LOT of the scenes the fandom points at as proof of Charles's romantic feelings towards Edwin, I don't see that way. I don't read them that way. This might be due to my being very ace/aro or my particular brand of neurodivergent, as I struggle in real life to read a lot of social cues around romantic/intimate relationships. That "they were roommates" joke...yeah, I've done that...to friends who were dating prior to moving in together and only realized they were dating when they announced they were engaged. Not kidding or exaggerating. So yeah, I struggle with reading Charles as madly in love with Edwin romantically in season 1. And I don't associate him with Desire in that regard.

But I do think there's a fun (for me) way to explore Charles being associated with Desire from how I view the season's events. I don't think its as a "friend" though, even in the way that Despair claims Edwin as a friend. First of all, I don't think Charles is as much fun to play with. Charles does have a lot of desire, and there's the obvious relationship with Edwin, be it romantic/platonic/whatever. But for the most part, Charles sets his own desires aside for others. He is the people pleaser and will put his own desires down to put others first. So I think he'd be hard to hold in Desire's realm/power. Not because he doesn't have wants and desires but because he is someone who has gotten very good at setting them aside. He's essentially built up a little resistance, I think. But there is one major desire I think would draw Desire's attention that Charles couldn't protect against.

One desire that Charles held throughout his life that even carried over into his afterlife - to be enough.

Charles wants to be enough. His breakdown at the cliff is all about that. His breakdown in episode 5 is an extension of that. Even in episode 1, we see his reaction to being called out as not appearing to be the brawn. Its played for laughs, yeah, but he gets defensive. He doesn't brush it off or ignore it or even laugh it off. The brawn is his job and he needs to do it, to be good enough at it to protect Edwin and this afterlife they've made together. In ep 3, he starts to touch on the abuse he experienced. "No matter how good I was". Because however good he was at whatever he did, it wasn't good enough. No strong enough. Not fast enough. Not good enough at sports. Not good enough in school. Not good enough when he was alive. In ep 4, he says he's not good enough to help Edwin or Crystal, to save the Devlin girls. Even in death, even as a ghost helping so many others, he's not good enough. He helped save Crystal and Niko. He helped the WW1 ghost move on. He's helped dozens probably hundreds over the years, but its not enough. He's not enough. Not enough to stop his dad hurting him. Not enough for his friends to care for. Not enough for his school to tell the truth. Not enough for Edwin to admit what's going on with the Cat King. Not enough.

Charles just wants to be enough. He has always wanted to be enough. Its the one desire he never sets aside. Its the one desire he holds so tightly to himself that its the first true desire we see burst out of him when he lets the mask of a smile slip away.

And I think this would be an interesting angle to have Desire come in from. Because Charles doesn't know he desires Edwin. He says he doesn't know how he feels but he, they, have forever to figure it out. Imagine Desire showing up and Charles having that confusion - because he hasn't been running from his love of Edwin, he just doesn't know what it looks like yet. But then Desire points out that "desire" isn't just intimacy or sex or pleasure. "Desire" can be a lot of things, like wanted to be enough.

I know I'm a bit biased, as I don't often connect with romantic/intimate plotlines. I love found family and yeah, payneland is a ship I really get behind because its foundation isn't just romantic/intimate like many ships I've seen in tv/media. But I would love to see Desire come in in a different way and explore the different desires characters can have, not just for an intimate relationship, but other things (also not for things like greed or wealth or power as that's already been played out). I think Charles's desire "to be enough" is such an amazing thing to explore as so many viewers would relate to it as well. 

[dragqueenstarscream]

I have a fic request: Optimus helping Starscream with his polishing.

good as new

tfone starscream x optimus prime

contains: developing relationship, secret relationship, polishing, wing kink, allusions to interface

"i like what you've done with the place."

optimus merely hummed in reply as he examined the bottles of polish sitting on the shelves in the private washrack. it seemed that sentinel prime's reputation for excess extended to his personal life as well. optimus couldn't even begin to imagine caring for his finish with cheaper polish when he was still cogless. that luxury simply didn't exist to him.

truth be told, optimus didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. this had all started when starscream somehow managed to break into iacon tower with information about an attack megatron had planned. why starscream would want to betray megatron was beyond optimus, but regardless, the two had continued to meet in secret, with starscream always providing optimus with some crucial information. eventually, the two had formed something of a relationship, though whether that was platonic, romantic, or something else entirely was unclear to optimus as of now.

tonight wasn't a night to discuss megatron's next move or where the quintessons might be heading. optimus had invited starscream to iacon tower - under the cover of night, of course, as tongues would wag if it got out that optimus was bringing a decepticon into his own home - simply to be with him. he'd thrown out the idea of offering to polish starscream, knowing that the seeker valued his appearance. starscream had latched onto the idea instantly, which led to where they were now, in the primes' private washrack. optimus told himself that this was just him trying to extend a peace offering to megatron's second in command in exchange for more information, but he knew in his spark that it wasn't the case.

"getting rid of those obnoxious statues was a nice touch," starscream said, bringing optimus back to the present. "how long did it take you to melt those down to scrap?"

"most of them were destroyed when we fought to free you guys," optimus said. "taking the rest down was just part of the renovation."

he finally settled on a bottle of polish and made his way over to the bench where starscream sat. the former high guard bot raised an eyebrow, then relaxed when he saw the polish optimus had chosen.

"good choice," he said as optimus sat behind him. "you know how to use that stuff?"

"i think so," optimus said. "i haven't done this before, but it can't be too hard."

"what do you mean, you..." starscream's voice trailed off as the realization struck him. "primus, what did sentinel do to you bots?"

starscream stood up from the bench and started to search around the washrack. "come on," he muttered, "where did that pompous aft keep his... gotcha!"

he returned to the bench with a tool in his servo. optimus felt embarrassed that he didn't know what it was at first.

"know how to use this?" starscream asked. optimus shook his head, and starscream scoffed in disbelief.

"we didn't get much time to ourselves in the mines," optimus admitted. "the most cleaning we got was a trip to the washracks."

"unbelievable," starscream grumbled, rolling his eyes. "here, gimme that."

optimus handed the bottle of polish over to starscream, who opened it up and poured some drops on what looked like a circular pad.

"here, you pour some polish on right here, then you turn it on and work it into my plating," starscream said. "just take your time with it, and don't press too hard."

optimus felt unsure of himself as starscream handed him the polish and the tool. still, he knew that he had to get this right. he wanted to prove to starscream that he could be a kinder bot than the false prime before him. this peace offering would be a good start.

and maybe starscream would actually trust him with more than just information, but optimus didn't want to think about that now.

"this won't be too loud, will it?" optimus asked. "we can't have anyone hearing what's going on and getting too curious.

"that thing?" starscream snorted. "if that's as pricey as i think it is, you won't have to worry about noise. now, quit worrying and get to work."

"if you're sure," optimus sighed as he got himself seated. turning the polisher on, he felt relieved as it only made a low hum, not enough to grab the attention of anyone walking by.

now that he thought about it, he didn't know where to start. he didn't want to start polishing in an awkward spot and hurt starscream by accident. after a moment's thought, he settled on starscream's wings. they were broad, flat, and made a good surface to test the polisher on. taking a deep invent, optimus leaned forward and began to polish starscream's left wing.

the reaction he got wasn't what he expected at all. starscream's whole body shuddered, and he let out a long, shameless moan that had optimus blushing. he quickly pulled the polisher back, afraid that he'd accidentally violated a major boundary.

"hey, what the-?!" starscream sputtered and turned to face optimus.

"sorry," optimus said rather quickly. "i just didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything."

"hey, no no no!" starscream scolded him. "i'll tell you if you're crossing a line, prime, but that felt good. go back to doing that!"

"alright, if you're sure," optimus said. starscream huffed and turned back around. optimus took that as his cue and returned to polishing starscream's left wing.

the smaller bot relaxed completely under optimus' touch. he leaned back towards optimus, engine purring. occasionally, he would tell optimus to lighten up on the pressure, but for the most part, he had no complaints. optimus knew by now that that was as close to a thank you as he would get out of starscream.

as optimus moved from the tip of starscream's wing inward, he noticed a shift in starscream's behavior. the closer he got to starscream's wing hinge, the louder starscream's engine revved. when optimus polished the base of starscream's wing, the smaller bot flexed his digits, clenching and unclenching his fist, and he let out an unusually soft sigh. it sounded bizarre coming out of someone with such a normally abrasive voice, but optimus found, to his embarrassment, that he wanted to hear it again.

"you know," starscream said, speaking up for the first time in a while, "it's a shame you were a miner before you became a prime. you would've made a killing doing this."

"i'll take that as a compliment," optimus said with an awkward smile.

once optimus was certain that he'd polished starscream's left wing until it sparkled, he moved to starscream's right wing, a bit more confident this time. starscream kept purring as optimus polished him, his optics closed, intake hanging open. optimus would've been lying to himself if he said that he didn't find starscream attractive like this, not angry and barking orders, but rather relaxed and at ease.

"i'll have to keep coming back to you for this," starscream said. optimus felt a flicker of hope in his spark. he quite enjoyed the prospect of seeing starscream more often.

again, optimus moved the polisher closer and closer to the base of starscream's wing. once he reached the hinge, starscream let his head roll back, eyes half lidded, looking almost delirious.

"better be careful with that, prime," he smirked. "don't go leading a mech on."

"what do you mean?" optimus asked, despite having a guess what starscream was talking about.

"you keep touching my wings like that," starscream purred, "and i might think you're coming onto me."

optimus didn't believe that he had the gumption to say what was on his mind, but he kept a straight face and simply said, "maybe i am."

this only made starscream's smirk grow into a dangerous grin. despite having never seen it before, optimus knew what that look meant.

once optimus had finished the right wing, he turned the polisher off and asked, "how do you feel?"

starscream flexed his wings, a self satisfied smile on his face. "not bad, prime," he said. "for your first time, not bad."

optimus tried to sound more sure of himself than he felt. "glad to hear it. now, where else do-"

"optimus," starscream said.

uh oh, optimus thought. full name.

"yes?" he asked. to his surprise, starscream reached one arm back, grabbed the back of optimus' helm, and pulled him in for a kiss. it was awkward at first, as optimus nearly knocked his forehelm into starscream's chin, but once he let himself lean into it, he realized just what was happening.

starscream was actually kissing him.

and optimus enjoyed it.

it only lasted for a few moments before starscream let go, but optimus wished that it had lasted longer.

"keep that up," starscream grinned, "and you might get a little more than that."

"just a little?" optimus said jokingly.

"i'm willing to negotiate," starscream chuckled as he turned around on the bench, now straddling it and facing optimus.

"now," the seeker purred, fluttering his wings enticingly. "other side."

optimus knew where the night was going, and for once, he was willing to let starscream take full control.

turning on the polisher once more, optimus leaned in and began working on starscream's left wing.

[hunters-vigil]

Her Champion - Mavuika x Kinich's older sister!Reader - Part Four

First Part Previous Part

request: do you think maybe you can do another one which talks about how the reader is Kinich’s older sister and having an affair with Mavuika?

Warnings: Warnings: mentions of R's and Kinich's childhood (Kinich's lore), fighting, violence, suspicious looking positions, guns (Chasca's weapon), R thinks Mavuika is trying to proposition/make sexual advancements but Mavuika isn't, implied past abuse to R - Mavuika figures out something happened in the past.

Fic under the cut, don't repost my stuff on other platforms, i have ao3 which my fics are also available on.

Mavuika wanted to know more about you. She couldn't ask Kinich easily, he would ask why, and that would be too difficult to explain. Not to mention the possible cost of such personal information… No, her best bet was during the next spar against you, but she needed to consider it more. How long until you lost interest in sparring with her? Did you only agree to a second one because you felt like you had to?

You felt so mysterious to her, so many layers she wished to unravel, how her fingers ached to gently touch your cheek, how her eyes lingered on your scar- the questions in her mind. How did you get it? What happened to make you and Kinich the way you both are?

This wasn't relevant to her duty to Natlan at all…

Mavuika shook her head, clearing the thoughts from her mind as she went back to looking over the paperwork that had been recently submitted to the Speaker's Chamber.

The thoughts Mavuika was having, she should not be having them, not when she knew her duty and where her destiny led. Where her life would lead up to…

Sparring with you would count as training for you both. That's how she could answer anyone who questioned her.

///

Your brother had friends. That was evident each time someone came to check on him. There was the happy ocean girl, Mualani, the timid girl who loved the rock you gave her, Kachina, that saurian-vet guy who Ajaw called a quack, Ifa, and a adolescent qucusaurus he brought with him, Cacucu. You liked Ifa immediately after hearing Ajaw while, Mualani being a little too boisterous for your tastes, and Kachina… she gave you pause, would you be more like her if you had healthy childhood?

You were unaware that there was also another girl until she arrived from the sky, staring down at you until you spotted her. Flying on a giant gun of all things, which so happened to be pointing at you when you looked up. Chasca quirked an eyebrow as you were quick to aim your weapon at her, cryo energy swirling around your body.

"We seem to have got off on the wrong foot, I'm looking for Kinich." The girl announced, but that wasn't enough as the cryo energy continued to swirl.

"I'm Chasca, Flower-Feather Clan. We've fought together in the Night Warden Wars? Fine. I didn't come here to fight, but if it's a fight you want…" Chasca stated, as you stared at her, waiting, "are you going to introduce yourself, or do I tell Kinich I fought a stranger in his front garden?"

"You tell Kinich," you jumped up into the air, sending icicles after Chasca, "his sister kicked your ass!"

"Sister, huh?" Chasca flew out of the way easily, unbothered by your attack, but that fury coming from you, it reminded her of someone, "you'll have to reach me first-"

You reminded Chasca of herself, especially when she was younger.

"Must you fight above the pplot of embercore flowers?" Kinich deadpanned as he arrived, while Ajaw took a different approach.

"Fight! Fight! Fight! Tear her eyes out!"

Chasca turned her head to acknowledge your brother, which was a mistake. She began to lower her flying gun closer to the ground as she saw him, low enough that with enough of a run-up, you tackled her off of it. The gun landed in the landing in the flowerbed embercores, while you two landed in the bed of sweet flowers, with you on top of her.

"Bite her thoat!" Ajaw screeched, but you only stared down at Chasca with a cold glare, her hands stuck as you clamped yours down on her wrists, your weight pressing down on her thighs to try keep her still. Kinich was quick to put Ajaw into a timeout after that, whacking him flying before he approached slowly.

"You know the longer you keep her there, the more you'll have to make it up to her." Kinich stated, unbothered at you straddling Chasca, while she raised an eyebrow, watching how you seemed to think it over, let out a grumbly sigh, then quickly scrambled off of her.

"You going to explain what just happened?" Chasca turned to your brother, who watched as you disappeared further into the mountains.

"You're lucky you didn't try flip her, or you would be a popsicle right now. My sister doesn't take kindly to things being pointed in her face…" Kinich let out an uncharacteristically tired sigh, "thank you for not attacking her."

"Well, I'd say she started it, but- I didn't know you had a sister." Chasca changed her train of thought, her eyes trained on Kinich as he stared at her.

"It never came up. Most people have met her by turning up here looking for me. That includes Mualani and Kachina." Kinich stated, folding his arms, "what was it you came here for, Chasca?"

///

Meanwhile, you could feel the heat of embarrassment flooding your body, your feet carrying you away, eventually up a tree with enough cover for you to hide in peace. Something about the gun pointing at you from above, sent you into fight or flight mode… how in the abyss were you supposed to make it right with her? What was her name again? Chasca, Chasca… oh.

The Night Warden Wars…

"Xilonen? Are you up there?" The Archon's voice snapped you out of your haze, carefully peeking over to spot the sunglasses-clad fiery woman looking up at you, her face melting into some expression you didn't understand as you met her eyes.

"I wasn't expecting to see you today." Mavuika beamed, not even bothering to take off her sunglasses as she began to climb the tree, eventually face to face with you, "are you alright? You look… frazzled."

"Frazzled?" your eyebrows crinkled together in a way that Mavuika, if she was a wide eyed giddy teenager again, would call cute… Luckily Mavuika's sunglasses hid that expression, schooling her face before putting her sunglasses away properly.

"Anyway, I was looking for Xilonen, I wanted to talk to her about a new upgrade for Flamestrider, my motorbike, can you see it down there?" Mavuika smiled as your eyes eventually followed where she was pointing, spotting the strange machine on the ground nearby.

"I'm not the weapon forger." You deadpanned, not understanding why Mavuika was smiling so much.

"I know you're not, but that doesn't mean I can't spend time with you… we need to schedule our next spar, and maybe some other activities-"

"Other activities? I'm not- am I allowed to refuse? I know you are the Archon…" Your voice trembled, eyes widening as Mavuika looked momentarily confused, before realising what you thought she was trying to ask for.

"Uh, not that, wow, uh, let me take you to dinner first at least." Mavuika's eyes widened, spotting how your arms wrapped around your torso almost to hide your body from her, even though your clothes were there…

"I'm not good company." You brushed her off, directing your attention to the soil that was on your clothes, reminding you of what you did.

"What happened?" Mavuika's eyes trailed down your legs, holding back from reaching out to touch you as you shifted uncomfortably.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I care-" Mavuika began, but your eyes were cold as you met her warm ones.

"We sparred together once." You deadpanned, reminding her momentarily of Kinich, but your voice held a bit more… confusion in it. Did you really not see the interest you held?

"And I'd like to do it again. I happen to think you're rather interesting." Mavuika smiled, about to nudge you with her elbow, but you stared at her arm confusedly, moving away from it almost unconsciously.

"The appeal will wear off quickly, then you'll go back to your duties and… tracking down Xilonen." You waved her off, but it was only making Mavuika more determined.

"I happen to be quite stubborn, just ask Xilonen. I know she crafted your weapon for you too." Mavuika smiled, before it slowly disappeared into a frown, "do I make you uncomfortable?"

"You confuse me," you let out a sigh, avoiding Mavuika's gaze as you tried to figure out the words, "Chasca visited home, looking for Kinich. She flew in on that giant gun, looming over me. I… I'm not good company. I should go."

Mavuika caught your shoulder before you could climb out of the tree, but the panicked look on your face had her let go quickly.

"Who hurt you?" the fire in her burned brightly as you looked back at her for a moment, your gaze icy as you gave no emotion back to her as you left with only parting words.

"Who didn't?"

[welcometoteyvat]

finally typing up my late lantern rite thoughts (very long). overall 100/10 quest I love hu tao

The amount of Xingqiu's brother mentions were insane. Surely we'll see him either as an NPC soon, right? Right? /j Honestly here he sounded pretty competent, nothing like "a simpleton" like Xingqiu's troubles voiceline suggests hmm...

The little model animations were SOOOOOOOOOO GOOD. contributed a lot to the experience and made it feel so much more alive. hu tao's expressions especially, but also yun jin's expressions, and Xiangling's "come back, get over here and eat!!!!!1!1!!!" was also really fucking funny. they've been adding these small animations for a while but this event specifically had so many of them and the effort paid off <3

in a similar vein I'm impressed how smooth the animation/model actions were when Xiao put the sigil on us

hu tao lan yan and qiqi fill in the gap fic please

timaeus is kind of silly, also very funny he and ying'er still going strong 2 years later. he's literally learning liyue language for ying'er? genuinely his dedication is impressive. they should make events replayable because how will everyone who missed 3.5 windblume know why timaeus simps for someone a whole country over

we finally know what the fake chinese characters in all those liyue signs represent (kinda ig). I need to look over this part again

if hu tao&/xiangling or hu tao &/yun jin stocks on ao3 don't increase after this I will start biting. MY GIRLS T_T T_TT_T_T_T_T_T_T. bro the farewell section was so tender I enjoyed it greatly. Their relationships with each other got developed on screen.. yun jin and hu tao's banter especially was really cute and really shows us their relationship aside from the hints in their VOs

YUN JIN OPERATIC HILITUNE ON SCREEN. the fanvid of it from bilibili can finally rest, thanks for your service, canon got here 4 years later.

Yun Jin, having practiced the tao dou opera, MUST have known something correct?? or else she wouldn't have asked hu tao so many times to promise to come back, right? She trusts Hu Tao so much :'''' . if Hu Tao says she can handle it, Yun Jin knows there's no stopping her, and she will find a way, but it doesn't stop her from worrying nonetheless :''').

hu tao's death flags during part 2......

my agenda is speaking, but I wish Xingqiu and Hu Tao directly talked during the farewells section. something something chivalry and sacrifice. Hu Tao makes her peace with giving up everything to resolve the Tao Dou issue, but is Xingqiu at peace with losing a friend even tho its selfish of him to want her to stay? he has personal stakes in this please just let them talk a little

I'm really really glad they went through with the death, they showed Hu Tao's emotions, they showed her father and grandfather waving her off. I broke, she looked so tired but satisfied (thinking about her vision story, where she waited so long for her grandfather to never appear vs him visiting her for just a brief moment here)

my other favorite shot is when traveler pulls her out and she looks at them in muted surprise. she just looked so sad and fragile and in need of a hug :(((

the Themes (waves hands wildly). hu tao's father's lingering regrets were his fatal flaw, and so Hu Tao settles her affairs properly and steels herself before going to die. she leaves behind the plum blossom branch just like her grandfather left his hat.. genuinely what the hell. the parallels between her cutscene goodbye and her saying "happy lantern rite" kills me

the epilogue last year with the fontaine tourists was pretty fanservicey, and tbh the epilogue the year before was also somewhat fanservice to me, (liyue gang dinner and zhongli venti teasing) though I liked it better. However I think this epilogue was actually really good— the hanging out and the fluff felt natural, it fit with everything else and wasn't super sudden. Maybe this was because of all the setup that happened (Yun Jin and Xiangling's promises to Hu Tao, Xiao and Yelan's dynamic built up in Perilous Trails and their earlier exchange), so the payoff is good instead of forced. After the trials and danger they got put through, everyone gets a chance to relax, and I appreciate the slice of life after the main plot. also Yun Jin's opera was crazy good considering it was not a cutscene, the animation and camera angles really sold it

I thought the special guest was xiao again, like how LR 3.4 had him dragged to the harbor by Hu Tao.... xiaolan banter was also v good though.

THE ADEPTI. they're still watching over Liyue in their own way :') the affectionate bickering about hu tao's name :''''''''

I barely mentioned lan yan in this... her part was pretty minor ngl, her habit of learning everything about a person to the point of sounding a bit creepy is kind of fun though.

alright. fantastic quest absolutely no notes I got almost everything I ever wanted and I am so glad Hu Tao had such an incredible 2nd story quest. chongyun and shenhe exorcist lantern rite next year?

[captain-gillian]

thank you to @thisbuildinghasfeelings for starting the fandom memories tag, i am, as always, late to this.

i've been procrastinating making this post for two reasons; firstly i didn't want to admit the show was ending, which i know sounds silly but this show has brought so much joy into my life over the last five years, i don't think I'll ever be ready to say goodbye. and secondly, some of my fandom experiences recently have been, to put it lightly, negative and unwelcoming, but I don't want to let one coward sending lesbophobic anon messages stop me from apprecating what has otherwise been such a welcoming joyful fandom experience.

while I didn't find the fandom until 2022, i've been watching since the first episode aired, and this show has brought me so much happiness (and heartache, it is a drama afterall) over the years.

anyways these are some of my favourite memories from this fandom:

finding community

the thing for me that will always stay with me from this show and fandom is the community built around it. this show at it's core celebrates diverse imperfect characters, and the queer community and on the whole the fandom does too. from the moment i started interacting with the fandom, both here and on twitter i felt welcome and accepted and safe to be myself. this fandom came into my life in a difficult time when i was quite isolated and i will forever treasure the connections and friendships i've made through this show, whether we've never talked one on one or whether we talk every day, I'm so grateful for all of you. it's so beautiful that this silly little firefighter show has brought together so many people from so many walks of life all over the world and brought friends into my life I couldn't imagine my life without (shoutout to @nancys-braids & @fallout-mars) thank you for being a space where i feel free to be myself, even while i'm not able to be irl.

getting back into writing

in june of 2022, I wrote my first 9-1-1 lone star/tarlos fic after a long break from writing, and instantly realised how much I missed it. i'd been a bit hesitant to share the fic, but the kindness from this fandom was an incredible confidence boost. i've now written 23 lone star fics (and counting) and connected with so many people over writing, wether it be my fics or theirs and grown so much as a writer and honestly as a person in that time.

the creativity and talent of this fandom

i've never been part of a fandom as creative and talented as this one, it's been such a joy to read so many incredible fics, see so much beautiful art (from pencil drawing to digital art to anne's creative cross stitching) and watch so many great edits and so much more.

live watching/re-watching

being an international fan i can't always live watch, but the times i've been able to live watch or rewatch with friends, here, in dms or on twitter have always made the watch experience so much more enjoyable. these stories have so much more impact when you can share them communually and react together. watching the tarlos wedding live with friends on twitter will always be a cherished memory.

queer nancy being canon

this moment meant so much to me, I saw a lot of myself in nancy from the very first season, and I always saw her as queer but never expected it to be confirmed in canon, especially in such a beautifully casual way. the way this show treats queerness as something expected, and casual instead of the big dramatic reveal it so often is on television will always mean so much to me.

and finally nancymarjan

not to be dramatic but finding a community of likeminded people who understand and also love my favourite rarepair wlw ship was life changing. the fandom experience can be lonely at times as a lesbian and when shipping femslash ships and i'll be forever greatful for nancymarjan nation <3 the best part of fandom will always be sharing the things you treasure the most with people who treasure them the same way.

thank you @everlastingday @nancys-braids @welcometololaland @reyesstrand @tellmegoodbye @bonheur-cafe for the tags, I loved reading your favourite fandom memories.

open tag because i'm so late <3

[writing-zelda-brainrots]

Winx Club? I haven’t heard that name in years. *slides you $20* got anymore drabbles or HC for the Links and fairy reader?

(If that’s okay to ask ofc. I loved Winx as a child and now I think you got me wanting to watch it again. I’ll never get over how stunning those girlies were 😩)

We love our beautiful and badass girls. I really hoe the reboot will do our queens justice (but I am sceptical).

I know that in the previous fic, I mentioned that [Name] had already earned their Enchantix, but I imagined them in their basic Magic Winx/Charmix form in this one.

--

This was the worst.

As if these monsters couldn't be more disgusting, you just had to get caught in a giant Skulltula's web. It was thick, sticky, stringy and stronger than it had any right to be. And you hated it. Any and all attempts to free yourself only resulten in you gatting more stuck.

Thankfully, you had just enough wiggle room to shoot a couple spells at the few remaining Skulltulas that wanted to sink their mandables into your flesh. But who knows how long it'll be until more come.

At this point, you would rather get swallowed whole by one of those "Like Likes" that Hyrule mentioned.

"[Name], are you okay?" Oh thank the Great Dragon, Wars was here. You were wondering when someone would notice that you were missing from the fight.

"Never felt better." You answered with some sarcasm. "This is so gross."

"Don't worry, I'll have you out in just a moment." He took hold of whatever parts of you weren't covered in sticky web and began to pull.

Wars was undoubtedly stronger than you, so he had a much better chance at getting you down. However, he was pulling too hard too fast and the web just wouldn't let go. It was as if he and the web were playing tug-of-war, but for keeps. Particularly, your wings and the rest of your body were being yanked in different directions. It hurt. A lot.

"Stop! Stop! You'll tear my wings off!"

It was only when you started pleading did he stop pulling. Thought he did still have half a mind to apologize.

The next brilliant idea was to cut you loose. But, to be fair, this one was much more successful. With just a few swipes of his sword, Wars had severed the bits of web holding you in place while staying away from any of your body parts. Thankfully, you were spared the fate of faceplanting onto the rocky dungeon floor when Wars caught you.

"Would you look at that, I caught a butterfly. A big, pretty one, too."

"One more word out of you and I swear I'll blast you."

"Fine, fine, just having some fun." He set you down before mentioning for you to follow. "The others must have already gotten rid of the leftover monsters on this floor."

Sure enough, Wars was right. Everyone - minus the two of you - had gathered in the middle room, each giving their reports from when you decided to split up.

"Are you badly hurt?" Time asked as he saw you coming back, pulling some loose hanging webbing from your clothes.

"I'm okay. But I won't be able to fly until I get this gunk off of me." That's going to be a day to itself.

Time gave a small nod of acknowledgement. Actually, taking a good look around at the group, they all looked pretty worn out. "We'll call it a day. Let's go back into town and get some rest. Tomorrow we clear the rest of this dungeon."

There were no objections.

--

Thankfully, the inn was quiet this evening. You didn't know how much more irritated you could be right now, especially if people were running around and causing a ruckus.

You've already gotten the web from your body, so that only left one thing. The part that you dreaded the most: your wings. Your hair had already been a painful mess to deal with, so you could only imagine what your wings would be like.

"How are you doing?" Sky's (or your self proclaimed "Flying Buddy") voice cut through the silence as he stepped through the doorway. He was probably one of the better roommates to have right now. You'd have to thank Time later for putting you with him instead of Wind or Legend.

"This web's really annoying. And it's in some hard to reach places, too." You grumbled, frustrated. "I swear, if I see a single Skulltula again, I'm exterminating the entire species."

"That bad, huh?" He cuckled a little, but stopped himself when he noticed you slightly flinch as you got another sticky chunk out. "Do you want some help?"

A sigh escaped from your lips. "You know I don't let just anyone touch my wings."

"I've had to help clean Crimson's wings many times before. I'm sure I can handle it." Sky sat down on the bed next to you.

"It's not you I'm worried about." You admitted. "I know I don't have my wings out most of the time, but they're still a part of me, and they're really sensitive."

You've long heard stories of fairies losing their wings, either in an accident or by someone destroying them. Either way, it's a horrible fate for someone of your kind. Yes, they eventually grow back, but that takes time, and it doesn't erase the fact that it was a traumatic experience or that it left the fairy vulnerable and weakened in the meantime.

"You're having trouble and I want to help. Besides, you won't be able to reach some of those places."

"You'd really do that?"

"Of course. What are friends for?" He gave a reassuring smile. "Just lay down and I'll handle it. You won't even notice I'm here."

He had a point, you supposed. Guess he couldn't do that bad of a job. You laid yourself on the bed, back facing Sky.

"Just... Be gentle, alright?"

"Promise."

--

And then, they fu-

Btw, if I have convinced anyone here to watch this show fo the first time or revisit it, my personal reccomendation is to watch the Rai English dub (you can find it on YouTube for free) because it's the most faithful of the English dubs (of which there are 5, apparently, and none of them have the entire series). I would also stop watching after season 4/the second movie. Trust me, you're doing yourself a favour by not watching seasons 5-8.

There are the Nickelodeon Specials that condense season 1 into 3 hour long specials and one that covers season 2, but I really don't reccomend them for new veiwers. Just watch the original full seasons. They butchered my precious season 2 so badly.

P.S Also, you should maybe skip the "Miss Magix" episode in season 1. It has a pretty bad scene that mocks a black woman's natural hair. It's a filler episode, anyway, so you're not missing anything.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unorthodox 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you bring order to the disordered life of Captain Syverson.

Characters: Captain Syverson, this reader is known as Izzie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

You have sand it places you don't want to think about. You shake off as much as you can as you approach the carrier plane. Sy greets the pilot as stretch your legs and shoulders. The drive was long and bumpy.

He approaches and points you into the cargo bay of the plane. You load in with the crates and sit on a metal bench mounted to the wall. He sits beside you and splits open the wrapper of a protein bar.

"I can't wait for a greasy burger and fries," you say as you grip the edge of the bench and lean on your arms.

"Yeah? All that healthy stuff ya buy me, I thought you'd be dyin' for a salad."

"Well, I wouldn't eat it every night but I do like to indulge," you hide a yawn in the crook of your elbow.

"How's 'bout you stretch out, Iz?"

The plane engines blast one and the big metal vessel shakes. You brace the bench tighter as the wheels taxi and you take off at a slow incline. You slide into Sy and he steadies you.

When you're level, you pull away. You may as well close your eyes, even if you don't sleep. You move your bag and rest your head on it as you stretch out.

You cross your arms and shake with the constant vibration.

You ease into the metal even if it hurts your hips. It'll be a few hours, then you'll be boarding an actual passenger line. You long for the cushion.

Suddenly, the bench is no longer between you as the plane bounces. You fly off against a crate as another crashes down on the other side of the cargo. You cry out at the shattering pain in your knees as you fly off the floor and hit the mounting bar of the bench directly on your cap.

You're kept from hurdling through the air once more as Sy latches on to and pulls you against him. He has you in his lap, panting as his chest presses to your back. You wheeze through your teeth as you reach for you knee and whimper.

"Izzie! You okay?" Sy hollers as the plane steadies.

"Urggggh, damn!" You shudder. "I-- I-- it hurts, god, it's..." you suck in air then bend over his arm. You vomit onto the floor as you feel the cracked bone rub together.

"Shit," he growls, "Iz."

He lifts you and turns you sit on the bench again.

"Hey, you idiots," he barks over his shoulder as he searches in his pack. "Assholes tryna do tricks or somethin'"

He wraps a cloth around your knee. Tight. He doesn't pau attention to the bile between his boots.

"Needa keep it from movin' too much," he helps lift your legs and angles to sit under them. "I got ya, Iz. Alright?"

You touches your wrist and you wipe your tears with your other hand. He has a gash above his cheek. You reach into your pocket and dig out the packet of tissues.

"You got..." you hold it out and wiggle it. "Blood on your cheek."

His brows draw together then he tuts and shakes his head. He takes the package and pulls out one of the tissues. He dabs his cheek.

"You worryin' 'bout me when you nearly flew all the way home yourself," he shakes his head and crumples the tissue. He tugs out another. "Iz, you got anyone worry about you?"

He unfolds a tissue and pats it against your chin. You're bleeding too. You lidt your head and look down. You have scratches all over your hands and a rip right through your shirt.

"I'll do my best," he avows. "You take it easy then. I got something for it."

He reaches in his vest and takes out a syrette. Before you can react, he jabs it into your thigh and squeezes. You gasp and groan then a heavy warmth spreads through you like a river over stone.

"Morphine," he says. "Takes the bite off."

"Sy," you murmur.

"You'll sleep a bit, okay? Any luck, when you wake up, the doc will be done fixing yer leg."

You hiss and heave. Before you can even think, the blackness speckles over you and blots out the world. The relief is only a dulled pain and oblivion.

🖤

When you wake, you're groggy. Your mouth is dry as cotton balls and your muscles are wound like springs. Your lashes stick as you try to clear the haze.

Your head feels loose on your neck. You see a cup. You're thirsty. You reach for it only to knock it off the table. You groan and drop your hand. There's a tube stuck to it.

"Iz," Sy startles you as he lumbers over. He looks tired. His shirt is sweat-stained and his eyes have bags.

"Sy, where--"

You try to sit up and nearly gag at the agony in your leg.

"Shattered knee cap. Remember, the plane..." he touches your shoulder and rubs gently. "I can get ya some more meds."

"No, no, I... I wanna be awake," you insist and fall back. "Damn it, Sy."

"I know, Iz. It hurts but doc says it should heal just fine--"

"Sy!" You proclaim as you throw your hands up. "How am I gonna work like this?" You sigh and shake your head. "I don't wanna go back to riding a desk."

"Huh? You-- I ain't gon' fire ya, Iz." He snorts.

"Why not? I'm caput," you mope. "How am I gonna jump outta planes or get you your awful tequila?"

"Ain't nothing you can't get over. Izzie, you're strong than most of the men I was in the shit with. Mind my language, but you'll be okay."

"I'm not okay," you cross your arms.

"Not right now but ya will be," he insists.

You look at him and furrow your brow, "since when did you become an optimist."

"Day I met you, sugar," he grins. "Now you let me get the doc, you gonna make it worst with all your squirming."