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we-love-morioh-cho · 9 months ago

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Chapter 58 - Kaato's Return

I try to avoid long, speculating posts for my Jojolion liveblogging BUT Chapter 58 has my mind racing with ideas and I'm so excited for the Higashikata family drama that I need to get this out of my system. This single chapter has more character intrigue to me than other entire parts of Jojo, that's how much I love this stuff 😭

This post is really, really long and messy and probably more headcanon than actual analysis and will not be very polished. It'll likely age poorly and be very wrong but this is legit some of the most enjoyment and interest this franchise has ever given me. To avoid spamming the tags, I'm shoving a lot of ideas into this single post so I apologize in advance.

Kaato

One thing I've had spoiled about Kaato is that she isn't the main villain but that everyone wanted her to be. So I'm already really excited for her character but I'm not sure what to expect. Given how Jojo is written, I'm expecting there to be more to the child murder. Her intro referenced Jolyne a lot, soooo I'm thinking she was pressured by someone / set-up.

Maybe I'm just falling for her scheme like I did with Damo, but her grief and pain here feels genuine to me. If there is more to the murder, then this is a tragic situation for Kaato - she was separated from her children and has been iced out of her own family. There must be a reason she could never tell them the truth too, maybe she's still in danger?

This series tends to neglect mothers in the narrative so I'm enjoying their focus in Jojolion, plus there's some sort of parallel with Holy being established. I'm trying really hard not to stan her before knowing the full story in case it's absolutely fucked up but god is she iconique. I'll talk about her in passing in other character's sections, there's already A LOT to say and already she is a very high tier character to me.

Josuke and Kei

Poor Josuke man.....I was not expecting the hospital scene and it really got to me 💔 I'm so glad Jojo has been exploring it's protags' internal lives more in later parts, I would say since Jolyne it's felt more introspective and emotional. I'm glad poor Josuke is getting to have his grief explored and shown, it makes the storytelling so much more impactful to me at least. I must ask why Kei wasn't at the hospital, surely she must know of Holy's condition and should be involved too. Have her and Josuke even really spoken since early Jojolion? I need more of Kei as Holy's condition becomes more and more important.

What on Earth does Josuke feel seeing Kaato show up? We don't get an answer in this chapter BUT I am hoping him and Kaato will interact in the future and this will be brought up. There's just a lot of directions to go with this dynamic and I hope we get it explored. He was pretty passive during Kaato's scene, I kept hoping she would point him out and question his presence but fair enough. Also, it was interesting how him and Kei were the two outsiders during this scene - as their mother is dying, the mother of the Higashikata family appears and is clearly involved with Jobin who is also vying for the miracle cure that they need too. Crazy potential here with these characters.

Norisuke

Not to be a Kaato apologist already but I have some things to say about this man. I'm assuming that, if there is a deeper secret to the murder, he's unaware of it, but I really have to ask why Kaato wouldn't tell him?

I get that telling your two youngest kids that their mother was in jail for killing a child would be rough but GODDDDD he couldn't even tell them when they got older or at least keep his story straight? Also, evidently Jobin and Hato never told their siblings about their mother - how did that conversation go? Norisuke had to be the one to enforce that rule and I'm sure it was not an easy process.

Did Norisuke ever talk to his eldest children about their mother leaving? Because with how Hato phrases it, it seems like he brushed it all under the rug. And while it's obviously sad the two young ones never knew about her, imagine what the two eldest kids felt having known her then watching her be dragged away????? He never even showed the little ones a photo of her, that is insane and just next level to me. Was Kaato's crime not widely discussed in the town? How did neither Joshu or Daiya ever hear about it somehow?

This section originally spiraled into a HUGE theory / headcanon / speculation discussion on how the Kaato situation might've led to a divide in how the eldest siblings and youngest siblings were raised, but I'm gonna wait on that thought until I know more and give it it's own post in the future sometime.

Jobin

Jobin was a pure menace this chapter and I fucking loved it. He really let his convicted-murderer mother into his family's house, didn't inform anyone of her release, and shows up as soon as she leaves to casually drop that he orchestrated this whole thing. And then he rocked up like this -

I'm guessing he watched / listened to the whole ordeal from afar and just chose to watch the chaos? I have a lot of thoughts and theories about how Jobin views his younger siblings and this chapter doesn't help lol. Why did he do this? What did he gain from this? Absolute deranged menace behavior lmao

I'm now thinking that Jobin and Norisuke's issues with each other may have originated from Kaato. Jobin is clearly close with mommy dearest and seems to take her side over his dad's. I'm not.......the biggest fan of potentially blaming Kaato for Jobin's issues and I hope this isn't just an 'evil mother turns son against poor father' situation because I am not a fan of that trope.

Kaato briefly mentions that she's helped the family's success so I'm wondering if she is behind Jobin's philosophy of advancing the family's greatness beyond Norisuke's smaller ambitions. You know that other trope of women in patriarchal systems using their cunning and male relatives to exercise great power from the shadows, a la Agrippina and Nero? Yeah.

Anyway, him and Kaato are obvs scheming and I am so fucking keen and ready - Jobin has been a great antagonist so far and I am here for the fucked up mother-son team taking on Norisuke. The Higashikata family drama has hooked me from day one and I really enjoy the focus on their dynamics. Norisuke's final line this chapter is incomplete as he ponders something about Jobin, I love the mystery set-up with what could be going on. I adore how character-driven this story is and how personal the stakes are - I've ALWAYS wished the series explored the Joestar family more in-depth and, while it's obviously different, this part is making me veryyyyy happy with the Higashikatas. A++++ content for me and Jobin remains both compelling and really fucking funny.

Daiya

Not too much to say but this shit is so sad to me. Her entire life, Daiya's father and two eldest siblings never told her about her mother, to the point she seems surprised to even have one? Maybe this is just meant to be a joke about her being dumb / she's more surprised her mother is alive but still. Norisuke couldn't show her a photo, or give her closure or anything? A memento to think of her? Even a story so she could at least know something positive about her own mother who she surely must have wondered about before?!?! Norisuke is on thin fucking ice istg.

I could easily see Daiya latching onto Kaato moving forward and maybe even taking her side over Norisuke. Ofc she loves her dad but she's also a teenager finding out this critical bit of info has been hidden from her her entire life and is clearly so, so excited to have a mum 💔 Imagine how impactful it would be if Kaato managed to win over 2 of their 4 kids, the eldest and the youngest? I don't wanna get into speculating too much though.

Also - it was very sweet to me how Daiya was the one person who tried to approach Kaato and clearly wanted to help her up when Joshu tripped her. Regardless of Kaato's trustworthiness, I just thought that was very sweet of Daiya even if it maybe was naive 🥺

Joshu

Hate him and need to see him die rn. Kaato was completely justified and very based for attacking him and I hope she kills him with her bare hands. Literally the dinner table scene from Hereditary. What the fuck kind of parenting does Norisuke even do? Kaato's here for 5 minutes and puts Joshu in his place, while Norisuke just seems annoyed by him and has nothing to really say about him sexually assaulting Kaato in front of the entire family.

I don't want to imply that a strict mother would entirely fix Joshu's issues but holy shit, at least she would actually do something to discourage his behavior besides sighing and looking embarrassed. Is Joshu the way he is, in part, because Norisuke is a lousy dad who has implicit biases and an acceptance of his son's horrific behavior? Maybe. In an alternate world, could Kaato have whipped him into shape growing up and saved us all? I can dream.

Hato 👑

Fuck!!!!! I love Hato sm and am so so so happy she got a little spotlight this chapter 🥺. Initially this post was just gonna be about her because I'm in my Hato-obsession era so hard rn, but I had too much to say about everyone else. This will be a long section so I saved it for last but I will def return to some of these ideas when I've finished Jojolion.

From a writing standpoint, Hato is so valuable in this chapter. She fulfills a role that really no other character could and its cool to see - Hato is the only character who could realistically convey info to Josuke, and therefore the audience, about Kaato. The parents are too caught up arguing with each other and wouldn't want to tell the whole room about the murder. So who; a) knows about Kaato and her actions and b) has a good enough relationship with Josuke to convey this info to him? Hato. And what's cool is that Josuke knows this.

Josuke is perceptive enough to realize that Hato recognizes this woman and quietly asks her who she is. Despite how personal and emotionally-difficult this moment would've been for Hato, she opens up and tells him (and thus the audience) this family secret.

This next point is probably a bit more fanfic than analysis, but Hato would easily be the closest person to an ally Josuke has in the Higashikatas besides his complicated dynamic with Norisuke. It's really understated and maybe not even intentional, but Josuke and Hato logically should trust each other.

Jobin and Joshu just have an all-out antagonistic relationship with Josuke and have actively clashed with him multiple times. Josuke is on good terms with Daiya and Tsurugi, but not only did both begin by attacking Josuke, but they are both young and cannot always fulfill an equal role to Josuke because of this. Mitsuba and Kaato are currently unknowns, leaving Hato.

Unlike Norisuke, Hato has never antagonized Josuke. She has never gone after someone he cares about and, critically, is uninvolved in her family's shady stuff. She's not in the position to hide vital info from Josuke or scheme against him. All around, Hato seems pretty pleasant honestly and doesn't ever hurt others the way her siblings all seem to do - her eccentricities are harmless and Josuke doesn't judge her the way he judges other characters. In a house full of shady and bombastic people, I can see Josuke really appreciating Hato (Kei should really fulfill this role too).

In the Vitamin C arc, he specifically wants her permission before he kills Damo. Josuke can be ruthless at times, Damo is actively killing the family and it would be very justified for him to just kill the guy BUT he waits for Hato's approval. To me, that really says something - that he respects and likes Hato enough to go out of his way to consult her. Then, Hato and Josuke work together to defeat Damo, both using their stands to overcome Vitamin C. And Josuke's words on Damo being a threat and needing to be defeated helps Hato in her emotional journey - helps her reach the point where she fights back.

They're paired together a lot in this chapter and it's sweet seeing Josuke actually have a nice and healthy bond with someone in this goddamn family 😭 They really play off each other in a compelling and dynamic way, they're open to what the other says and they just generally seem to be on the same wavelength. I just see endless potential in them working together and getting along and maybe becoming like actual siblings and I hope we see more because I can see The Vision and I love them.

Focusing back on Hato, I desperately need to see more of what her childhood was like. What was her and Kaato's relationship? The only thing Kaato says to / about Hato is that she's "as beautiful as ever" and then a little quirk she had as a child. This doesn't give us a lot so I don't have a clear idea of their dynamic outside of wild headcanon. More importantly, Hato knows her mother well enough to anticipate her retaliation against Joshu. This makes me think that maybe Kaato was a stern mother who never took any disrespect and that she potentially had her stand even in Hato's childhood. There's so much potential here but it's too early to know anything.

While I know it likely stems from Araki not really intending for Hato to be a major character, from a Watsonian perspective it amazes me that Hato is as well-adjusted as she seems to be. The amount of disruption she faced as a child, losing her mother and then having her father give conflicting info is insane. Again, how did she rationalize all of this?

And then, worse of all, for her to have to look up her mother's crimes herself and find out about the murder herself - I am begging for a flashback to that event. Did she confront her father? Was Norisuke ever planning on breaking the news to her? Did she ever talk to Jobin about the crime?

I'm not gonna dwell on this too much, but this reveal makes the lack of Jobin + Hato moments so far really stand out. With their father having to raise the young ones and trying to brush everything under the rug, did the 2 eldest siblings ever confide in each other? It doesn't seem like it, their large age gap and Jobin's shadiness around Kaato gives me little hope Hato could find much solidarity with him but I might be wrong. I would love to have a scene of the 2 talking about this or really just interacting in a meaningful way.

This is much more fanfic-y and is my feminist lens coming in, but I can't help wondering if Hato took on a sort of 'motherly' role after Kaato's arrest. I'm not saying Norisuke like demanded she help raise her siblings buuuuuuuut I could see societal expectations and their family's situation causing Hato to take on this role regardless. Jobin was nearly an adult when Kaato left and seemed to go off and start his own family / pursue his own ambitions. He doesn't seem very close with his siblings and, with how much Norisuke has on his plate, I could see some responsibility and expectation falling onto Hato's shoulders. A maid could've helped but it is unfortunately a thing that eldest daughters in a family are burdened with these duties even when older sons are in the family. And with her mother gone and her male relatives set to run the family business, it just feels very likely. Would the eldest daughter even have a chance to run the business?

Hato is close with her younger siblings, she playfully teases Joshu and looks out for Daiya. While she has her own quirks, she is generally much more mature and responsible than most of her family. As the inheritor of the family curse and the business, a lot of focus would've been on Jobin growing up. Norisuke wanted to act like Kaato never existed and Jobin is distant, clearly knowing more. Hato would've been the primary female figure in both Daiya and Joshu's upbringings, she had to lie to them and keep the secret of Kaato for their entire lives. But she's not included in all the other secrets of her family, she's left out of a lot of subplots and the idea of her being involved in the business is never even suggested. Most likely, she'll remain a minor character, but god would I love for all of these intricacies to be explored. There's just sooooooo much juicy potential here, so much family drama and character arcs and social commentary and thematic stuff here and I know I'm overthinking this but idc I love Hato and her unique role in the story and this chapter has really opened my mind to a lot of ideas and possibilities.

Lastly, I just wanna point out Hato's current feelings towards Kaato and how she seems to be distancing herself from her mother. She seems distrusting and literally looks down on here in the panel above - please God give us some interactions between these two, I am so intrigued to see more of what Hato thinks about her. If there is more to the story of Kaato allegedly killing a kid, how will the family react if it comes to light? I hope we see lots more family drama and I am begging for more Hato focus especially, love her so much.

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sirthisisa-wendys · 2 years ago

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UVE BEEN WRITING SO MUCH BENKEI STUFF OMG U CAN REJECT IF U WANT 😭😭😭😭😭 this topic is also like, pretty sensitive but maybe Benkei comforting reader who has sh scars? It'd highkey make me very happy since it's been a struggle 💕

I'm not rejecting this wtf I love Keizo Arashi and I dID NOT EARN MY SPOT AS ONE OF THE TOP WRITERS FOR HIS TAG FOR NOThinNNNgggGG!!!!!!!!! I'm GONNA WRITE IT

Cicatrix: Keizo Arashi x Fem!Reader

wc: 971

tw: mentions of self-harm

masterlist

You stare at the sunshine beating down on the pavement ahead of you. Winter is long gone, and so is your excuse for hiding yourself inside sweatshirts, sweaters, cardigans, long pants, or anything that would hide your arms and legs from the wandering eye.

"Babe, aren't you hot?" Keizo wonders, his face contorting as you walk with him across the street. He's dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans with his head uncovered. "It's like eighty degrees out here."

"I'm fine," you urge him, smiling. "I just get cold easily."

You hadn't found the chance to open your deepest secret to your boyfriend, but you knew the day would come. It would be months before Keizo mentioned it again, though.

That time, you were sitting on the couch with Keizo, dozing off as the TV played a rerun of an old sitcom. Keizo focuses on the show as you're cuddled up next to him.

"It's a little warm," he whispers, looking over at you. "You want to take your sweatshirt off?"

"I'm okay," you murmur, nestling closer under his arm.

"Okay, I'm gonna turn the A/C on." He moves to turn the air conditioning down a few degrees. You do feel guilty for making him turn the air on, but you know you've got to keep appearances up, even though you were terribly hot. Keizo climbs back onto the sofa and lets you rest on him, your head fitting just right on his chest while he continues to binge-watch his show.

Only an hour or so later, you hear Keizo rumbling to himself, his mouth muttering words you can't quite comprehend in the middle of your sleep.

"Baby, I'm gonna take your sweatshirt off. You're sweating a lot." You drag yourself from the depths of sleep to attempt to stop him, but the deed is halfway done when you shake yourself out of your comfort and into the genuine discomfort of--

Your fingers grab your outerwear as it surrounds your head, clutching it protectively before Keizo can see. "You're really warm," Keizo reassures you, and you know you're sweating, but it's a small price to pay to keep your secret hidden. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," you urge him, pulling the damp sweatshirt back on. "It's fine."

"It doesn't sound fine," he presses, frowning. "I'm not going to hurt you, y/n. I just want you to be comfortable."

"Keizo, I'm fine. I said I wasn't hot."

"But you were sweating. A lot. Are you afraid I'll dislike what I see under there?" he teases, but when he sees the look on your face, he stops. "I'm sorry, y/n."

"You don't have to be sorry about anything." Your words don't reassure Keizo, though. He tilts his head to the side, blinking.

"You know I love how you look, regardless of how you feel about it."

"I know," you nod slowly, trying not to crack under pressure.

"I just want to ensure you know I'll never be offended about your appearance. We're taking things slow and not rushing into... things," he continues, wrapping his arms around you. "That doesn't mean I'll never want to be intimate with you. And if you have an insecurity, I want you to feel confident enough to tell me. Deal?"

"D-deal," you mutter, looking down at your arms. Keizo kisses your cheek and lays back down on the couch.

"You can lay on me again if you want. I won't try to take off your sweatshirt. Promise."

"Can we..." You pause, considering your request. "Can we maybe take a shower together?"

"Sure," Keizo nods. "It would be smart before we go to sleep."

In the semi-darkness of the bathroom, you undress on your own. Keizo is just outside the door, waiting on your word to enter. You step into the shower and turn it on, waiting for the glass door to fog up before you call out for him to enter.

You don't see Keizo enter the bathroom, but you hear him undress, and then a hand pulls on the shower door, letting him into your personal space. This is the first time he's seen you naked, and you're not even sure he can see you with your back facing him.

Keizo pulls you close with a tender grasp, placing a chaste kiss on your neck before tucking his face into the crook. "You like hot showers?" he asks, and you chuckle, the fear in your stomach subsiding a bit.

"Super hot showers," you reply, and Keizo laughs.

"I'll remember that." Another kiss is placed on your cheek, then he grabs the soap and a loofah. "Let me take care of you." You allow him to do just that, his motions careful and tender. You allow him to touch your arms, each finger running over the ridges, noticing silently. Keizo doesn't remark on the scars, and for a second, you wonder if he even really understood what he felt.

But when you're both done in the shower, and Keizo brings a towel out, you watch as he dries you off in silence. When one of your arms is dry, he brings it up to his lips and kisses the scars one by one, his eyes closed as if he were kissing the stigmata of a saint. He repeats this ritual again, then dries the rest of you off.

"Is this okay?" Keizo wonders, hands running up your thighs. You nod, feeling tears prick in your eyes. "Just as I thought," he practically sings. "You're still beautiful."

"You don't mind the scars?" you croak. Keizo shakes his head.

"Battle scars are just that. And you survived every single one." You toss your arms around his shoulders and hold him close, forgetting your nakedness entirely.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"No," Keizo sighs, wrapping his arms around you. "Thank you."

#arashi keizo x reader #keizo arashi #keizo arashi x reader #keizo arashi fluff #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fluff

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belovedcherie · 2 years ago

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I posted 498 times in 2022

That's 498 more posts than 2021!

94 posts created (19%)

404 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@luymani

@pcktknife

@tizzymcwizzy

@belovedcherie (lol its me)

@buggachat

I tagged 497 of my posts in 2022

#art - 137 posts

#reblog - 128 posts

#fav!!! - 101 posts

#cherie's chats - 69 posts

#miraculous ladybug - 64 posts

#project sekai - 56 posts

#cherie watches stuff! - 30 posts

#cherie's aesthetic - 21 posts

#spy x family - 20 posts

#splatoon - 18 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#if i had a penny for everytime we were worried bakugou died i'd have 2 pennies which isnt a lot but its concerning that it happened twice..

My Top Posts in 2022:

THAT TEASER IS GOING TO PUT ME IN A DAMN COMA

9 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

thoughts on multiplication

bc i need to scream about this SOMEWHERE. LIKE WOW. OKAY.

obviously spoilers are under the cut !!

tld;r: yelling abt adrien and WHAT ARE EVERYONES INTENTIONS??

ADRIEN FALLING FOR MARINETTE ADRIEN FALLING FOR MARINETTE ADRIEN FALLING FOR MARINETTE ADRIEN FALLING FOR MARINETTE

yes im gonna yell about this first because adrienette holds my HEART YOU DONT UNDERSTAND THEY R EVERYTHING TO ME </3

ive been waiting for adrien to pin for marinette in canon for so long and season 3 def delivered with the little stares he was giving her BUT NOW THAT ITS FRFR HAPPENING?? HIS BLUSH WHEN HE LOOKS AT HER IN THE MORNING? HIM IMMEDIATELY CALLING HER UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT TO TELL HER HOW SPECIAL SHE IS? SOBBING

okay but the fact that he probs tried to kiss her every. day. we only saw 3 sequences but if that montage happened over the span of several weeks..... i am swooning. i am in tears. shambles.

adrien had me KICKING MY FEET AND RUNNING LAPS OKAY I HAD TO PAUSE SO MANY TIMESSDHFK

that being said before i write an essay on light of my life adrien lets talk abt,,,

reverse love square??

i love the idea of reverse love square bc adrien being a lovesick fool for marinette is my aesthetic but iM JUST HJDGSFSGKF BC OF THE TIMINGG

i was kinda hoping for some sudden rapid development today but im not complaining at all dw 🙏🏾 simp-drien is enough

the ladynoir moments are real cute tho :( them playing cards im cryingsdjhs

im excited to see the ship dynamic in the future episodes heheheh

GABRIEL. AGRESTE.

this man becomes more of a loser every episode what else is there to say

him digitalizing adrien.... funny... not funny haha...funny weird....

i hate when this guy gets smarter cuz he always has some wack trick up his sleeve 😔 but i wanna know more abt those weird siri rings

ALSO HOW DOES TOMOE PLAY IN THIS?? i think she knows hes hawkmoth but why is she helping him?? ik they were leading up to their partnership before so i guess we'll finally see why they were so secretive in the past!!

lie-la

i was gonna talk abt her in the gabriel point but this girl is so annoying she deserves one for herself

SHE GETS ON MY LAST NERVEEE

the genuine irritation i feel whenever i see her character on screen is actually funny

"ladybugs just a kid we need to forgive her ;(" GIRL I HOPE PARIS CAN FORGIVE U FOR THE CRIMES YOU'VE COMMITTED??

im sorry theres nothing productive to say abt her other than the fact that it seems shes going to play a bigger role this season (sadly) (but also yay cuz she brings the spice)

okay last point is abt felix

HELP WHEN HE APPEARED AT THE END 💀💀 THIS GUY WAS HERE THE WHOLE TIME????

i hope and PRAY he treats dusuu well homegirls been going through it D:

WHAT. ARE. HIS. INTENTIONS.

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11 notes - Posted June 21, 2022

i saw miraculous was trending and i was like OMG IS THERE FINALLY A NEW SEASON 5 EP?? but it was just beau 😭

12 notes - Posted August 30, 2022

HI so um. back in 2020 kade made this meme thing and i dont think ive ever recovered from it bc I WAS SO TOUCHED LIKE 🙁 NOBODYS EVER MADE ME A MEME BEFORE

since we started talking again a month (+ a day bc i am late) ago i had the idea to make him one in return bc TALKING TO U MAKES ME SO HAPPY AND U DESERVE THE WORLD !!!

sooo here ya go @luymani ILYSM!! happy one month anniversary /p (that sounded way funnier in my head im so sorry LMAO)

13 notes - Posted August 9, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

thinking abt my son syaoran li ♡

See the full post

27 notes - Posted July 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #omg fun !!#i dont have much stuff cuz i started my blog in the summer but lets try to beat some of these stats next year :D #the bakugo thing being my longest tag LMAO #long post #cherie's chats

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thekingslover · 3 years ago

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Dean’s at this speed-dating event only because he lost a bet to Sam. But just because the bet stipulated that he come to this event on this Friday night, did not mean he had to actively participate. He signed up. He’s here. Now, he’s going to sit in the corner of this bar and drink until this nightmare is over.

He signed his name-tag Eddie Van Halen. That has been the giveaway of his whole attitude. People would walk up, see that name, and turn around. They know he’s not serious. It’s worked well all night.

Until suddenly, it doesn’t. A man slides onto the barstool beside Dean’s and orders a beer. He’s an awkward-looking guy with messy dark hair and an ill-fitting suit under an even iller-fitting overcoat. His features are nice enough: strong jawline, eyes Sinatra blue. He grips the beer bottle with long fingers. Under that terrible overcoat, his shoulders seem pretty wide.

He looks at Dean and offers a tiny smile. “Long night?” He squints at Dean’s name-tag. “Eddie?”

Dean blinks a few times. “Eddie Van Halen,” he says.

The guy - his name-tag simply reads Cas - tilts his head ever so slightly. “I apologize. Do you go by the full name?”

“Dude. Eddie Van Halen. Van Halen?” Dean asks with increasing incredulity. This guy has to be messing with him. But when Cas just frowns, Dean has a sinking feeling that no, he might just not know. “You don’t know Van Halen? The band.”

“Oh? Are you famous?”

Dean covers his face with both hands and takes a breath. When he lowers them, Cas is looking at him with bright, curious eyes, like he’s genuinely interested. He really has no idea.

But, weirdly, Dean doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he laughs for the first time in a long time. “Think I found the only guy in the whole world who doesn’t know...” He shook his head. “Just call me Dean.”

Cas’s smile spreads a bit wider. “Hello, Dean.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Cas.”

They spend the next hour talking. Cas has a corporate job that he hates. When he starts to explain it, Dean can’t help but space out, even as he tries hard to pay attention. Cas just laughs a little, a sound that reverberates in Dean’s chest - it might just live there forever.

When Cas asks Dean about his band, Dean has to come clean. “I’m not in Van Halen.” He motions to the name-tag. “This isn’t my real name.”

“Oh,” Cas says. He presses his lips hard together and squints - his thinking face, Dean is learning. “Why would you lie?” Before Dean can answer though, his face shifts, and his whole manner deflates. “Oh, Dean. You wanted to be left alone. I’m sorry.” He starts to stand up.

Dean, panicking, reaches out and touches his arm. “No, you’re wrong,” he says. When Cas looks back at him, Dean laments, “Well, okay - not wrong. But. I don’t mind right now.” He clears his throat. He’s not good at this stuff. “With you.”

He must have said something right, though, because Cas’s face lights up like Christmas morning. “Really?”

“Yeah, man. Just... sit back down, okay? Let’s have another round.”

Cas sits down, closer than before. Their shoulders brush. Cas places his hand on Dean’s knee as he tells a particular impassioned story about a bees. It’s not usually Dean’s kind of thing but he’s enamored anyway. He thinks maybe he could listen to Cas talk all day in that deep gravelly voice, with that passion in his eyes.

They stay at the bar even after the event ends, until it is closing-time and the waitstaff is lifting chairs onto tables, cleaning up for the night.

Dean can’t quite believe how time flew. Paying his tab, walking outside, feels a bit like coming up for air after swimming underwater. With Cas beside him, he kind of wants to drown.

They stand in the parking lot, facing each other. Cas has his hands in his pockets. Dean wants to grab him by the lapels and kiss him. But he also wants... more than that.

“You have a pen?” Dean asks.

Cas blinks at him for a second and then digs a pencil from one of his pockets.

Dean peels off his own name-tag and takes the pencil. He scribbles his number across the bottom, then presses the name-tag onto Cas’s chest. He keeps his hand there a moment longer than needed. Then two.

Cas reaches up and places his hand over Dean’s, right there over his heart.

“Will you call me?” Dean asks.

“Of course, I will, Eddie.” Cas offers another secret smile, and Dean likes having this inside joke with Cas now. He wants so many more.

“Good,” Dean says and steps closer. Cas’s secret smile stays and Dean can see it much better now. His favorite though, is when he feels it against his lips.

When Sam asks him later how it went, Dean thinks of Cas and of that kiss, and tells him, “I feel like a rock star.”

#i wrote something #destiel #deancas #au #speed dating au #meet cute #first kiss #FLUFF #alcohol cw

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awsugar · 3 years ago

Note

I don’t understand why some big mcr blogs slate anyone who believes gerard and frank had a thing, like our view didn’t arise from nowhere there’s clearly evidence that has led us to think this. I get disliking those who push frerard in frank and Gerard’s faces (barely anyone does this nowadays) but slating people for believing they had something in the past is kinda ridiculous imo. Franks solo music speaks volumes but if you read into it you’re demonised as a frerardie

mmmmm am i down to clown today... ok i will speak.

actually im going to put this under a cut bc my last ask was a long one and i feel like i am going to talk about this for way too long bc its 1am and im honestly a little tipsy.

note: i just finished answering this it took me an embarrassingly long amount of time and i dont think the person who asked this is even going to read it but i apparently have a lot of thoughts and no one ever wants to listen to me lol

firstable yea actually unfortunately anytime they do a livestream, or anytime anyone SOMEHOW RELATED to them does a livestream. there are ppl in the chat talking about frerard. they both have comments off on insta now, i didnt actually read the comments that much and franks have been off for ages but im positive there were people in the comments talking about frerard. i mean fuck, franks LAST tweet he qrted someone who tagged him in the replies of a pic of The Kiss. so i mean yea its definitely not a majority but it still happens extremely frequently.

this is like. genuinely really funny to me bc im sure frank didnt see it, i think he knows enough not to look at the chat for the most part. but the moral is that its 2021 and people STILL dont know how to act. i wont go on about it but it actively enrages me anytime i watch a stream. rule one of real person fandoms is keep all that shit in your fan spaces. which is actually why i prefer tumblr. none of them are on here. actively engaging in mcr fandom on twitter is too close for comfort, especially since frank follows a handful of my friends and also like. knows me.

so like moral of my most times unavoidable wall of text is that ppl are right to be frustrated with the fans who act this way. i am extremely frustrated with them. and i think for the people who have never like tinhatted or anything, this type of behavior stands out and makes an impression and becomes the like. poster child for ppl who are like 'hmmmmm but what if.' about the frank and gerard stuff.

anyway, moving on, i think a lot of peoples hang up is that they view it as rpf. which i have a couple things to say about actually. its no secret that i have read a lot of rpf. i had never heard of fanfiction until i started getting into mcr in 2008. that was my introduction. and at the time, in that community, it was completely normal. and it was for a loooooooooong time. i knew of people who didnt read fic or felt weird about it but the majority of people i interacted with DID read fic. and on top of that, the people who didn;t were nothing like they are today. we all got along. no one was like demonizing people who did read fic. in 2012 when i think mcr tumblr was at its peak, ALL of the most popular blogs were "frerardies" (hate that term). they all talked about and recced fic and a lot of them wrote it too. everyone had a boyfriends tag. anyway when i came BACK to the mcr fandom in 2016 after a couple years away post-breakup it was still like that. people talked about fic all the time and you didnt have to like, hide it in fear of being labeled as a terrible person.

i always discussed this stuff, fic and theories, openly on this blog. for YEARS. the first time i noticed the rpf shift was 2019 tbh, when my blog was suspended and i (not related) had a mental health crisis and i spent a handful of months off tumblr, when i remade on a different blog suddenly it seemed like people were like noooo you cant talk about that. ppl who read fic are disgusting. if you think something happened between them you're homophobic. i was like honestly baffled bc i didnt know how it had seemingly changed so much in a matter of like 4 months or so. but thats the society we live in now lmao.

anyway the other thing about rpf is that i think most of these people are hypocrites. bc almost everyone makes an exception for unholyverse. theyre like ok i will dabble in the most popular fic and see what its about while still demonizing the people who read OTHER fics. like ugh.

also i have noticed its an age thing. a lot of the time. almost every mcr fan i personally interact with or know, which is a lot of people, read fic, used to read fic and just sort of grew out of it, and/or (usually and) believe something happened between them. but everyone i interact with is an adult and all of my closer friends are long time mcr fans like me. i feel like the percentage of fans who are minors who are extremely anti-rpf is way higher than the percentage of adults. and i think thats just due to the fan culture we grew up with and the fact that young people a lot of times are like..it seems very performative in an attempt to be the least problematic person that ever lived.

also random side note its really funny to keep updated with this debate on twitter. they literally yoyo there. frerard is ok on a bi-weekly basis.

anyway back to what i was originally saying which was that people view tinhatting as rpf and therefor not okay. which like idk maybe i sound crazy but i also always said this when i was in the phandom and discussing like dan and phil and whether or not they were soulmates before they came out, i don't think tinhatting is rpf. or like. idk theres a part of me that can see why people think rpf is a bad thing even though if i was famous i wouldnt care if people wrote fics about me. but like. analyzying the real life things that people have done and said in public (important). in order to try to contextualize their relationship or understand that dynamic better. well i mean first of all its not fiction. but like i do think its a lot different than writing explicit bdsm fic about them.

and i know a lot of the people on here who dont like actively participate in these conversations do like. see where we're coming from. with the frank lyrics and millions and like all of that stuff. they just dont talk about it. i mean *I* have stopped mostly talking about it at all unless its vague, due to the current climate and opinion. and sometimes we'll all have a moment of hysteria where we've all decided its ok to speak about. me right now apparently.

anyway im positive no one read all of this. i need to learn how to be brief but ive been saying that my whole life. but you're right. to me its clear that there's a bigger story behind it than frank and gerard just being buddies who were in a band together. a logical conclusion. and i wish we could just all get along again instead of people being sooooo mad about it.

#anonymous #asks #im gonna make queue bend and break #frerard

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sugar-petals · 4 years ago

Text

♡ physical affection; levi

↳ NOTE. characterizing boyfriend levi, my passion project lmao! with some sexy moments included 👀

WORDS. ⇢ 7k

tags / warnings. ⚠️ smut, fluff, soft sub!levi x female reader, hurt/comfort hc, angst, shower sex, blowjobs + handjobs + boobjobs (yep. spoiling the captain), face-sitting, protected sex, soap kink, season 3-4 setting, no manga spoilers

Ready for a surprise? It’s not really about what kind of skinship he’s extremely selective about and what not. This is only something people would perceive about him at first glance. Instead, it comes down to how emotionally sheltered he feels. Because of his experiences, that predicates everything else. Which is why Levi’s sexuality is as complex as it is.

But also, in its sudden perfect expression once a person gives him a different perspective: That’s the time when he is touchier. The more in private, the better. The lights down low, with only a candle or two shining from another room. Broad daylight brings the harsh truths and the shaking ground. Nighttime is when Levi feels more intimate and open to caress, down his back and arms, the shoulders, the side of his neck. Done with extreme gentleness, and all of your deep respect.

If you offer him an environment of trust, Levi is open to almost anything and would even magically doze off in your arms for a little while. Breathing softly, resting for the first time in weeks, the brows becoming less tense the deeper he sleeps. You asking if you can stroke his hair (carefully, not messing it up or anything) is something he can’t say no to. The closet romantic in him will fulfill you any reasonable wish as soon as you’d ask anyway.

We know how receptive the captain is to a request, and how much there can be a soft spot for somebody in his heart. If you’re forward enough to just ask, Levi sets himself that goal and opens up. He is diligent with it just as you’d expect. That especially includes the things he says are „absolute horseshit nonsense“ and „disgusting, useless activities“ when reacting to newly formed couples kissing in the survey corps at the other end of the room. Is he a hypocrite and a hater? Actually— not at all.

Levi is a raised rather than born skeptic. Between courage and care, he is always gonna be torn. Both didn’t work in his favor at some point. But at the end of the day, he fears recklessness more than being cautious. Looking at these couples, he knows that they could lose each other the very next day. Or hell, the next hour. Not everybody has 200 titan kills.

Not everybody is a physically indestructible Ackerman destined and designed to escape death and outlive others whether they want it or not. And showing themselves this vulnerable out in the open is even more dangerous considering all the political intrigues, chaos, attacks, and espionage going on.

When he’s scoffing at skinship in the survey corps, it’s not his intent to ruin the couples and their little happiness in the present moment (nothing he sees as more tragically precious), or say only he can have a relationship because he’s strong enough to make it survive. If anything, Levi is the prime example of how all his connections were doomed exactly because of his status pulling in all the danger. He very well and painfully knows.

What I mean is: He sees the brutality of consequences that can create more misery than if two people would just go about their business. Levi already dreads that the same might happen to him. But after all, the behavior of others is easier to rectify than his own undeniable feelings for you. Which he cannot control in any way, which is why he reacts to others instead. Looking at other people holding hands, he’s also afraid how dabbling in love is a distraction from threats that can even backfire on uninvolved others if someone is suddenly in harm’s way.

Levi does associate physical touch with something that takes an otherwise observing mind off when it shouldn’t be. To him, it creates something so valuable that can become an unintended burden through all kinds of circumstances, he’s seen it all, it’s terrible he had to. And the reason why he has such a torn relationship with it. You really have to know your stuff to build a resilient little bubble where Levi is not constantly hypervigilant and either past- or future-focused.

Which is pretty damn hardwired into him. It’s almost impossible to bring on that kind of atmosphere spontaneously. It has to be ritualized. His intelligence comes with the downside of overthinking and having problems with spontaneous romance, it’s good to direct his thought into something that’s always done in a specific, structured way. You sit down with tea, put the candles on, Levi finishes cleaning his weapons, makes everything combat-ready and usable in seconds, and you carefully lay down on his impeccably made bed together.

Which he never uses, Levi sleeps in chairs. Or on the ground, so he can feel any titan steps in the distance with his whole body, using the cleanest possible mat or towel as a mattress and nothing else. The bed he basically just makes to have it neat, and for you, and to have a spot to lay together.

But yeah. He will never remove his harness. Not even when you’re sleeping with each other. He’s not once gonna risk having to put it on in a hurry. The only time you will be skin to skin with him is for not even five minutes under the shower. It’s when his cleanliness beats his anxiety around being always ready, which is why that’s a time to fully cherish.

And then, he really has no qualms about you wrapping your hands around his soap-covered torso in the shower anyway. It’s the only time his inner default germaphobe is not vehemently screaming inside his already heavy heart. It doesn’t have anything to do with you, this is about his demons only, confronted with the immense relief you give him. If the latter wins over his mind’s struggle, Levi might draw out the shower time sometimes.

The other voice that tells him ‚don’t make it end so soon’ is now finally convincing him. He will dial down the water stream so he can hear what’s going on outside better to compensate, to know if there’s any ruckus or approaching hazards. Levi has instructed a fast runner among the cadets to bang on the front door under any critical circumstances immediately in the first place.

Levi says he wants to save water, too. He won’t admit it, but he also turns the showerhead to a medium pressure to hear your calm, almost-quiet moans — the barracks have terribly thin walls — better when you’re sucking him off. Slowly, smoothly, not too much spit. Folded towel under your knees because Levi insists, and he is right. The showers in the survey corps have uncomfortable floor tiles.

He makes sure you won’t get soap in your mouth as well, I don’t have to tell you that he is very circumspect. Levi isn’t usually feeling overly heated in moments like this, but he gets hard and releases fast. You swear his cum tastes like afternoon tea with milk but you won’t tell him that. And who doesn’t like tea and Levi’s homemade milk, no complaints alright.

What’s still a shame is that Levi, always being in such a constant hurry and alertness, puts too much stress on his body for him to become horny all the way. In fact, he often forgets it. He feels numb, and can’t fully take in the sensations. Levi has not been able to feel a lot of genuine pleasure in his life.

A racing mind is an absolute sex killer, and his adrenaline spikes are so high in combat that most normal things don’t do anything for him. Which is why he brews his tea extra strong. But seriously: It’s a concerning thing. And it tells you to take your time. With his whole body, doing the things he loves the most. And what else could that be? It’s straightforward: Keepin’ it clean.

You make sure that Levi feels extra comfortable by thoroughly massaging his loins and thighs with a sponge during foreplay. Yes, you’re gently working him up. All in circles and light brushing motions. Lots of soap. Suave and bubbly, like silk on his skin. It’s handmade, with oat milk, lavender, and honey. For your honey. You regularly gift a new one to him to try out scents and have supply. You can guess how much Levi appreciates it, to the moon and back in fact. The present box is neatly stored on his office table where he can always see it.

Sending out its balmy fragrance throughout the day, making the room smell amazingly aromatic to him. His nose will never grow tired or accustomed to it. Levi puts the soapbox in a drawer within literal split seconds when someone who isn’t you enters the room. „Tsk, announce yourself when you knock…“ That could even be the newest recruit who doesn’t know anything at all about the place and people. But this is just a you and him thing.

Levi doesn’t want nosy questions from the squad even though nobody would probably even notice the soap laying there in its case, much less ask him about it or the fresh scent in the air because duh, it’s Levi’s office. But it feels absolutely personal for him — so he reacts sensitively about it. This man would probably protect your lavender soap with his blades if he had to.

The captain is very secretive about your relationship in general. Who on earth would go as far as buy him a new scented bar of joy bi-weekly? At this point, he would crawl on hot coals, needles, lava, ice shards, desert sand, and a mile-long straight of legos (laid out by a maniacally laughing Zeke personally) for you.

Although you wouldn’t allow any of it. Nothing should ever hurt those kitty paws, I mean captain hands and captain feet. You’d put Zeke on blast on your own, luring him with a banana to confuse his senses and then, whack, homerun the monkey into the ocean with Levi’s bristle broom. Problem solved. Anyway.

Levi wouldn’t hurt himself willingly that way either, the ice shards don’t stand a chance. He has sworn to protect his own life out of self-respect, to honor those passed by living on bravely toward the goal they worked for and being the one always coming home to you. You can rely on him.

So enough about gleaming hot coals and Zeke’s evil legos, back to the point — you already get what I mean. Levi might seem totally grumpy on the outside, but for sure is a devoted man, a caliber as always. He takes all of your presents to heart and is unbelieving as to why he’d be deserving of so much. You prove a point using the gifts as regularly as possible on his body. Where he can feel every bit of your fondness of him. And remember it with muscle memory. Oh shit, this soap does smell so good. As anything on him, who are we kidding.

Dousing Levi with all your attention is the best thing ever. He feels great relaxing with you, and his face softens up. He’s looking at you with a tiny smile in response to you whispering sweet things to him, all while you’re using the sponge on his legs, the chest, and ever-tense back that can definitely use some alleviation. „Thank you for cleaning me“ has got to be the best thing ever to hear from Levi Ackerman. It means the entire world to him. Captain, your mommy kink is showing. His arousal increasing is a natural side effect in no time.

Recently, you’ve been slipping his cock between your breasts as well, and it’s been slowing him down a lot after an eventful mission. While at the same time making him more in the moment, he really enjoys you gradually lathering him up like that. The feeling of skin on skin is amazing. It might be something that… often crosses his mind when he trains during the day, but he can blend it out for the important things. Until you do it all over again, and he ruminates about how much you turn him on until the sun rises.

You also never do a blowjob hands-free. Why would you, anyway? His body is amazingly buff and compact, you want to hold onto those gorgeous lil’ hips and his own hands that need a fair share of holding after carrying the world. You feel him twitching on your tongue when you run either hand over his ass and abs, making sure to trace across all his most erogenous spots there. What’s more: Levi feels really protected and soothed when he feels your palms on him under the streaming water, he can’t explain it.

That's why you like doing shower handjobs just as much. I don’t have to tell you that Levi really delights in them as well and his poker face regularly cracks a bit. His eyes fixate on you, you can tell the connection and involvement. He thinks your fingertips are heavenly, a welcome change to his rugged days.

He loves how softly they tease and stimulate him with the smallest movements and subtle presses. Yes, Levi doesn’t like rough action, those are vulnerable moments. He has enough brutality elsewhere, violently jerking him off and insulting him would be entirely inappropriate and even scare him.

He’d probably brush your wrists off right away, it’d be so uncomfortable in the silence of the evening. A tender chain of kisses on the nose tip, chin, collar bone, and especially forehead gets him going a lot more. The more chaste and doting the kiss, the more he melts on the inside.

His anxiety baseline goes down, and he feels like he can let you in. However you guide him and however you choose to indulge him with your lips, Levi is on board, quietly enjoying. Since it’s something that he’s still feeling so new to, leaving you the active role comes naturally.

Stroking him with a deep pace, carefully brushing your lips against his to give him goosebumps — Levi definitely grows into that. In those moments, he really feels taken care of, in safe hands, hands that will stay with him. He’s gonna be surprised just how good something like this feels many times. And be overwhelmed by pleasure to the point where it almost frightens him, he didn’t have that a lot until now.

The satisfaction of a spotless table simply does not compare. Just so you know: He will either be dead silent or mumble under his breath nonstop. That he is okay with you touching him below the belt and even take him in your mouth tells you how much Levi trusts you, how much he knows you love him, and how meticulously he’s already scrubbed and shaved himself beforehand. Yes, the sheer preparation. He puts a lot of work into his body. He couldn’t stand you becoming dirty.

That’s also why the shower is the place oral goes down. And even there, he uses like ten cleaning products to double rinse the stall and himself before and after. Mind you. He sees you eating healthy, brushing your teeth well. Your lips are very beautiful and a masterpiece of nature to him. So it’s not you who he thinks is dirty. Levi is pretty damn paranoid about his own skin and hygiene. If only he would think about himself the way he thinks of your body.

He feels like he has to earn it, be acceptable, and prepare himself endlessly to enjoy touch. Even then, he thinks he must be ugly and revolting. You have to respect him fussing about it rather than forcing him to cut down on his routines. You don’t criticize his perfectionism and see the motivation behind it. So instead, you reassure Levi your own way.

The more he sees you having fun and enjoying his body, the more accepted, confident, and clean he feels. Most people would like to see their partner play up the enthusiasm obviously (unless you have a ‚hiding his amazement’ emo boy kink, which is exactly why you like Levi don’t cha), but it’s particularly meaningful to Levi. Guess why he looks up to Armin’s mentality, and Hange is one of the few people who truly vibe with Levi.

She’s easily amused, dedicated, swooning, excited, and constantly eager. Levi does appreciate a bit of zeal in someone. If you’re a little ardent about touching him, it’ll give his esteem a boost he’s long needed, oh god. Nobody has the guts to praise this guy like that, even if he’s so extremely good-looking. Don’t let him off the hook there. Give him feedback, you’ll be surprised how much it resonates.

It’s already apparent to yourself how keen you are being touchy with him, hell, you’re so in love. Still, it’s a good idea to give him an idea how stoked you are. He doesn’t like it fast and brutally raw without a second thought, but passionate is a whole other debate. A simple „Levi, stay like this, let me do it“ or „Levi, you smell so good“ works wonders. Say what you think and his ease will set in. And I don’t have to tell you that you won’t look like sex is a chore anyway. With Levi, that’s an honor and a pleasure.

That he puts his faith in you and gives you his time is already a massive deal and goes against everything we know of him, what he’s used to, and how his avoidant personality works, being so ridden with losses. And it’s all because of how much you desire and approach him. That’s what it comes down to.

Even if he’d suffer decades from yearning, he’d not go out of his way to kickstart something, never ever. He’d feel like he’d cause you so much trouble. You wanting him so badly and treating his body like a treasure on the other hand changes his mind.

It proves him wrong all the way. There is still time to enjoy love, the chance is now. Anything else would plague Levi with solitude and self-pity all over again. And the feeling of missing you around in his rooms. Two teacups on the table until he grows old and grey are his ideal of a good life, after all. He will open himself to your emotional and physical presence, realizing how touch-starved he is, and how much it improves his life to have someone to kiss and lay down next to at night.

The even breath at the back of his neck gives him a sense of finally someone sticking around with him side by side, even if he’s gone during the day. It feels good and right to be wanted by you, and nuzzling his face into your cotton dress. Your commitment gives him the little smiles and the silver lining he’s been searching for. He can’t label that feeling, but it’s joy of life and humankind, more than just a willingness for it. He would stay forever pained and bitter if he wouldn’t invite it in now, and you won’t waste that chance with being silent.

You’re attracted to everything about him, tell him, make him aware. The voice, the hair, the mannerisms, his height, his abilities, his mind, his care for others, the posture, how soft his cheeks are, the list is endless. Levi won’t miss how much he’s your type at some point. Which gives him a lot of ease, comfort. You show him that his inferiority complex was an entire smokescreen in his mind.

He fucking deserves to be called handsome. And by the way — you can lust over him as much as you want when he’s made that time window for your couple stuff. It’s good if you make it as obvious as possible for him. Which is hard to hide anyway. You’ve been masturbating over Levi just sitting there sternly writing something. And he’s like why, and you’re like, it’s you! Look at you!

Levi does want you to touch his skin all over but it’s always sore. And he remains insecure on many days. So he only has particular comfortable spots in the first place. Since hardly anybody dares to touch him, and even if he pats someone’s shoulder nobody would ever be courageous enough to reciprocate, you would feel a bit like a lab scientist. Silently theorizing over him at first even if you really don’t have to. Other people say they’d rather run towards a titan than expose themselves to Levi’s moods, swords, and barking tone after trying to caress him in any way.

News flash, Levi has had such terrible moods since forever because there’s no affection coming to him from anywhere just because people decided he might not need it. And no, he won’t yell at you for touching. He finds it very sweet of you instead. Touching Levi always creates an occasion that will float around in his head for the entire day, that’s guaranteed. He sees how someone goes out of their way and cares for his well-being. He might not like it like standing in the middle of the whole corps, but anywhere else is fair game, at home anyway.

The pressure of dealing with threats he can manage to a degree, and he has lord how many coping strategies. The lack of love he cannot. Big difference that everybody seems to confuse. On top of how he has to be unrelenting in his position because battlefield and the Yeagers being a pain. Most people — except maybe Armin — see that as a closedness to touching altogether.

The whole world seemingly can't intuit Levi’s craving of gentleness behind the arguably pretty convincing armor, but still. It seems like only a few souls ever think about the Levi that sits down on his bed in the evening completely depleted. You have to make it clear to yourself and him that it’s obviously a one-dimensional way of looking at Levi Ackerman and not good for him.

Which has covertly shaped how he interacts with others in return like a vicious spiral, which is why he blames solely himself for his depravation. And, how severe and untouchable the circumstances made his character. Yes, Levi despises himself for being inaccessible and unable to change it on top, added to how it happened to him over the years.

Which he had pretty much zero influence on being basically at the gunpoint of life. It’s what you hate seeing the most and comfort him about with brewing tea. It definitely comes back tenfold, Levi won’t take it for granted when you brush out his hair and speak soothingly to him in the evening. „I don’t care, those are all reasons why you’re the apple of my eye“ seems to be what makes Levi’s heart a little mushy in particular.

He is very preoccupied with blame at the start of your relationship. Levi is torn apart by daily guilt and a constantly looming perception of failure to show an opening to his heart. He also crumbles under how the majority of people don’t take him seriously, overreact, or fear he snaps back into soldier mode — he doesn’t — when he does show affection.

That you gaze behind his reputation and touch him without prejudice is the most important thing to him. You can ignore his mad and gloomy expression, Paradis has carved it into his face for half an eternity (the other half is for you and him when this is over). It doesn’t mean he’s angry on the inside about you. The causes for his madness are way elsewhere, knowing his early story it goes without saying. What made Levi callous and broken-hearted are things very opposite to you.

Those who only see and enjoy his fighting personality probably want him as their poster boy, people who are reflected enough to bother with the idea of a private, cuddling Levi are the only truly caring ones. Because private Levi needs that physical and emotional connection the most. Patting his cadets on their heads is only a little, albeit meaningful moment. The teacup is still half-empty regardless if you wanna think of it in those terms.

Because he can only do so much in terms of initiative — which already shocks people to the point of paralysis, which ruins the moment since he assumes it’s not appreciated then — and it’s only one-sided. Giving isn’t fully making him happy even if it’s his only option given how most people perceive him.

The teacup only fills to the brim if Levi can let go for like half an hour getting some good ole kitty on your lap treatment. He silently lays there and enjoys your hand rubbing at the back of his neck. He looks genuinely peaceful that way. His hand palms gently at your thigh and knee, and rests there all tranquil while he ruminates about his day and how lucky he is to have you.

The whole ‚theorzing rather than going for it‘ thing stems from you listening to those people a bit too much at the beginning. Instead of asking Levi directly about touch, and to be fair: Not a single human being has done that yet, you try to figure him out at a distance. Which is also a good thing though.

You learn about many Levi habits others would overlook, misinterpret, or don’t think have any meaning. The more you learn about him, the more understanding you become, the more protective you will be, the less he will avoid intimacy. Because Levi really doesn’t want to shy away, but often his body has too much memory in it to be instantly receptive. So it rather starts with the mind, then.

The irony is. Levi rejecting bonds with others as not to have them weigh heavy on his mind when fighting will only make it worse. You make a statement to him that if he fully immerses himself in what you have, he can fight better and actually be without those godforsaken regrets he’s always talking about. That’s why when you’re having sex, you make him look in your eyes and kiss their lids, and wrap your legs around him very firmly because Levi has to know he’s deeply yours.

Hugs, the same thing. You squeeze the last curse out of him every time and tell him to hold you tight as well. You do have to tell him twice. Just because Levi is the strongest man in history, doesn’t mean he embraces very roughly. In fact, Levi is not used to this at all. Even more irony. Paradis’ ever-swearing, most badass titan killer with the physical excellence of a hundred acrobats can’t execute the simple act of putting his arms around you in a normal, casual way.

The why is the harder thing to talk about. Last time he got proper, truly loving hugs was way over 20 years ago. From Kuchel, during a time where he was too young to remember these things long-term. Let that sink in. It confuses him when he does it and even more so when others do. Kissing Historia’s hand even as a light official gesture was already completely unusual for him and a first time.

Levi doesn’t go beyond what he sees others doing in that regard. No extra miles, just imitating. Now think of him with something as big a deal as embracing his lover for minutes. He lets his arms just hang there and you gotta make him learn how to intertwine fingers or how to press his palms on your back. You’re the one holding him tight there, while Levi’s mind and stare go blank, he’s even more speechless and perplexed after confronting his uncle back then.

I’m not kidding. You have to ask Levi to be forthcoming with those things as well, it simply does not occur to him, and he’s unsure about everything there is to it. What a loveless world this guy is in. If it already frustrates you to see him struggle, imagine how deprived he must be. One of his inner blocks is, Levi has major jealousy of guys who are what he thinks a better hugging height. It’s obviously the other way around to anybody who’d be in love with Levi.

Of course he has the best hugging height by far. What’s not to like? He’s ideal. But in his perspective, imagine all these people above him wrapping around each other in moments of enthusiasm, shoulder-level on shoulder-level, or only with slight differences. And when it comes to him, it feels awkward because they feel strange bending down only for him and Armin.

And that’s probably the issue. Because it’s much better not to bend and try and intertwine, but just have Levi bury his face into your winter coat without a hassle. You don’t have to be perfectly chest to chest to make it work. Besides… romantic hugs are always a bit different. And, you invite Levi to do exactly that with you. Since Levi’s pet peeve is politeness, you’ll also have to show him the difference between mere courtesy and love, he hasn’t fully learned it either.

But just so you know. Levi is not a naive baby or raging bull in a china shop once he has given his love to someone. He observes well, adapts well. When it’s heartfelt, when it’s the right moment, it comes out almost by surprise, he’s feeling it and he will respond to you. With serenity and intent.

If there’s someone who can be unpretentious with physicality, that’s him. He just has to transfer that to romantic gestures and Levi will be the perfect lover after some time. He’ll end up like, „Eh, so what. We do this hugging thing!“ — Hilarious. Levi, knowing his battle tactics, does have a sort of innate courage to approach bodies: This time, it’s about someone he wants to give pleasure and gratitude to, though. Which will feel very different.

And you’re a lady he’s all whipped for, that changes everything. He might sort of try to lean at the wall next to you, to murmur about you kissing him after eating cake so he’s full of crumbs „and now I have to dust it all off again, hmph“, but he is not prepared for another kiss and you tickling him pinned against the wall (he’s not ticklish, but you still love it, and Levi has a thing for you being all over him despite his stoic face).

So yeah, Levi will be super grumpy and do the „Oi oi!“ thing, but also turn around so you won’t see the blush. Man, is he embarrassed. He will try to waddle away awkwardly to do paperwork, but no chance if you tug him back by the sleeve, dust off his shirt from crumbs, and squeeze his cheeks into a perfect Levi snoot. I’m telling you, he has a nice pouty face.

He might assume that you’re out of your mind because nobody has done that with him yet, but once you tell him that you just wanna look at him because every day might be the last, he sees the point of your antics. Merely saying you kiss him just because won’t make sense to the captain, it’s gotta have a purpose for the future.

So, you will tell him to always remember what your soothing lips do on him before he draws the blade tomorrow, and that he has plenty of filthy crumbs to come home to. „I think that’s right by what we’ve seen today“ is what he’ll admit, and carries you off to the bed to get grinding because all that stuff made him kinda turned on. Or rather, you grind, Levi on the other hand gets flustered. He complains about you being a tease at length since he’s having a huge she-pinned-me-to-the-wall boner.

You sit on his face to take it even further and as his favorite treat, end of discussion, your goddess is here mister. Geez, you’ll make him a hot mess. That dick won’t go soft anytime soon. You’ll talk to him about when his face is already ruined with cake crumbs, he has nothing to lose, gotta clean up anyway. The grumbling noise from below tells you that the argument is a good one. For good measure, you palm at his trousers to see his legs react and his voice suddenly hitch. Ah, it’s a wonderful day.

Levi knows a thing or two about holding his breath correctly, but what he likes the most is that he feels perfectly sandwiched between thigh Rose and thigh Maria. Yeah, he does consider them his personal comfort walls and hopes they’ll always be there. Congruently, Levi wraps his arms around them, in fact it’s locking rather than wrapping, and you’re like I see wow he’s serious.

On goes his tongue lapping away between your labia pretty much incessantly. The arousal is so intense, you have to breathe in yourself. Oh shit, Levi is gonna try to finish you off, shots fired. Not fast, but insisting. He does not bother with you panting pretty damn hard whatsoever. He’s calling people like that, but Levi might be the real brat all along.

Fair enough, he currently doesn’t hear anything, which he also loves the idea of. All day, people everywhere are talking nonsense, and now he gets to enjoy perfect silence. His ears are small, they’re easy to cover with thighs. He just goes on and on and gets you past lord how many brinks with a heated buildup.

There are a lot of evil things Mister Zeke has said and committed, but by far the most offending thing he has yet insinuated is that Levi is not popular with the ladies. Blasphemy, treason, outrage, éclat, trickery, criminal offense, international slander, the most grueling case of fake news since the horse left the building, and no, Jean is not meant. With those oral skills, any lady interested in him would get a permanently bleeding nose and something else permanently wet as you can personally attest to.

If Paradis would even remotely know what he can do in bed (and they would if Connie told them, he lives next door), even more people would run down his house than they already do to get a piece of him. Jesus Christ, the Ackerstamina. But I mean. People are probably suspecting it.

How can you not move like a god in bed if you can bend yourself into any Pythagorean shape mid-air. Him being a fighter also gives him experience with managing energy when you have sex, I’m not kidding. Levi can even handle you thrusting right back on his tongue, and even your jokes about how he’s getting the cream to his tea now.

Levi is already kind of dripping in juice. His fingers are sweaty, this time it’s something on his face and hands he prefers though. He won’t wipe it off just yet. So you take on the task to put a condom on him — kind of expensive, mysteriously imported, gotta make every one count my friend — and have Levi take you from behind to soil the bedsheets completely at this point.

Levi lets all the leaking happen, of course he notices, and yet he’s too focused on you gripping his cock hard all the way. So much for walls. Levi has to surrender to the thought of you squeezing him in any way you fancy at this point. That doesn’t just include the face, that much he learned. His cock is gonna fall off, you tighten up so much and make him squirm, Levi’s all blissed out.

He can’t handle your ass either. He just stares like the Founding Titan invented a brand new method to hypnotize the Ackermans or something. Although. Why’d you need to come up with something, though? People they love completely enthrall them already.

If we know something by now, it's that every Ackerman gets completely fucked in the head out of the blue and sent to another dimension when they’re with the love of their life, no hypnotizing device needed. Levi is clasping his teeth for his dear life back there. People asking him if he’s gone mad he’d answer ‚maybe‘, but if you asked him if this made him lose it he would admit it.

Since he doesn’t know what to do with his hands again, you ask him to place them at your waist. „Properly, now slide in, Levi.“ — He takes his time for the first few thrusts, grunts, but gets the hang of it, in fact he’s a pro in the making. All that vertical maneuvering can turn into horizontal maneuvering very quickly. Levi feels so strange and so good at the same time, it’s overwhelming. How can something he thought would be so dirty be this amazing?

And since this position allows him to penetrate you even deeper, Levi gets the full experience of being inside of you times two. The wet noise already turns him on, his body feels so warmed up, and he feels really shocked he’s doing this. Although his face won’t show, it’ll be concentrated as before. On the inside, Levi is losing it.

He can’t get enough of your body and how you tell him what to do, Levi will be driving it home in no time. You’re gonna have your jaw dropped by how lusty he can get yourself, but also love how he’s really breaking a sweat just because of your hard grip. Who would have thought. 14-meter class titans got nothing on you. Levi’s entire neck and chest is glazed over. You call him out on it, all you’re gonna get is a little ‚tch, that’s your fault, woman‘. I mean of course it is. He’s literally at your mercy. I told you he’s hilarious.

Little did you know that Levi will straight-up ignore his sweatiness and just continue, one heartbeat at a time, to really fill you out and make you feel good. Can you imagine. Levi dedicating like 20 minutes to make sweet love to you doggystyle.

He has a good feeling for keeping you just on the verge of cumming. He even reaches around to press two fingers into your clit after five minutes of figuring out his angles. You didn’t expect this at all. It’s as if Levi can read your mind going „but his hands are gonna get really messy, why?“ — he just goes on rubbing and says, deadpan: „Miss, do I look like I care.“

Some dirty things in the world are just there to annoy him. They’re not existing to make his life easier. And toilet humor-related things: We know Levi’s stance on that. Wet pussy on the other hand: Surprise. He thinks of it very differently. Levi is pretty caught off guard by the fact that you loving and adoring him is the reason you’re leaking so much.

It sinks in (um, literally) that you’re all drippy because you really want him inside. Not to mention that he constantly realizes just how attracted to him you are. Your desire for him, that’s Ackerman kryptonite. Levi doesn’t miss your eyes, nope. That motherfucker is a damn good face reader.

And— How warmed up your body feels in his hands, how you’re breathing. How you’re telling him exactly how to tilt to hit the good spots. How you’re sucking in air when he does just that. How you sound, grip the pillow, the sheets. Your goosebumps all over your legs. How your lips part. How you wait for every thrust. The way you tell him how good it is. Your pulse. Your own sweaty back, letting his hands on your waist slip and slide a little with the rhythm.

How he’s struggling not to moan his soul out and chokes back. How you’re softly moving to glide off, he’s gonna lose his mind. How much you’re enjoying him and how cute you tell him he is. Whatever you’d ask of him, he’s so ready to fulfill it. You having the absolute hots for Levi is probably gonna preoccupy him for the whole night while you’re sleeping and he sits in the chair.

He’s been shooting grumpy cat level eye daggers with extra Ackerpoison at the corps couples for walking around showing any signs of this. Making all those lovey-dovey faces or going to the back of the barn together. Levi has chased them with his favored broom to whoop-diddly-doop those horndog soldiers back on track, swirling his weapon of choice around to send a sweeping cloud of dust after them.

Whereas now… he has to deal with the fact that he really loves all that horny stuff. Cognitive dissonance 101 is striking him out of nowhere. I mean he’d not fuck in the barn, that one is truly disgustingly shittily bastardly filthy or however he’d word it, but you get the gist. He caught feelings and caught pleasure — and that’s such a good thing.

His problem is, Levi wouldn’t know how to fawn right back at you. Except saying „good job“ like he’d praise a cadet, but he decides that’s not something to say during sex. He’s very right about that indeed. So instead: He will always reply to you accordingly and with Levi-typical honesty.

If you say you love how he kisses your neck from behind, he will tell you he’s enjoying it as well because damn he loves that spot indeed (titans can tell you a story about it… Levi has such a neck fixation, that fucker). And: Letting actions speak the loudest with him. He’s a practical guy. Levi’s hands can to the most complicated reverse grips and all that crazy human Beyblade shit. Getting you off at his fingertips is gonna be his easiest exercise ever once he gets into it.

He doesn’t even do it to show off at this point. Levi is just that kind of a sex machine and eager to please, not to mention god, is he obedient and a giver in disguise. If Levi were offered the most luxurious, expensive tea available versus your breasts to suck on for a week given he’s free of titan duty… that cup is gonna turn cold. He loves the skinship and he loves giving you a fuckton of orgasms, as many as you like and as many he has time for.

Self-explanatory, this is something he will not feel one bit of regret about. Hours touching you is the farthest from wasting time to Levi. The less he holds back with his love, the more secure things become. He doesn’t feel the misery he thought he’d run into, nor does it feel like a reckless act that’s only something feeble.

The new soap every other week on his table alone reminds him you’re here to stay and like his every quirk, and make this a private thing rather than something to parade around. You never lied saying „Levi, you’re mine.“ He does wrap his head around the fact that all of this is happening with time.

Levi finds your relationship meaningful because it gives him feelings and exactly that emotional harbor he never had before, and he gifts you the reverence of your lifetime since Levi doesn’t half-ass anything. You reassured and guided him so much, he looks up to that, it breaks down his prejudice against loving more and more. That’s how you’ll feel intimate in all kinds of ways for very intense hours he can spare to make the most out of it.

From the light touch at his arm to making out until the candles burn down. And if you tell Levi to sell the deal and dedicate his heart, how can he not take that as a serious order. He has to be guarded to put his guard down, and that’s what you can offer him, and he will create something lasting out of it. Promise is promise to him, we all know.

RELATED: sub!levi hc (tea shop au) | life after war (levi’s happy end)

multifandom mlist | levi writings on ao3

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djpurple3 · 3 years ago

Text

Donnie and the late night emergency super special secret recipe Raph hot chocolate

ROTTMNT fic, 5500ish words, under the cut. I got a lotta feelings about Raph and Donnie and i accidentally wrote 5k words about it.

Characters: Raph, Donnie. Mentions of Splinter, Leo, Mikey, and April.

Warnings: Food, step by step making of food/drink (it’s kinda vague tho), mentions/talk of neglect, anxiety, touch starvation, insomnia? (cant think of much else but yeah).

Headcanons: Autistic Donnie & ADHD Raph solidarity babeyyyy, some angst about their childhood, touch-starved!Donnie.

Set about 6 months after Shredder/season 2 finale.

Do not tag as t*cest

Summary: Donatello’s been... withdrawn lately, and it’s really starting to worry Raph. He decides he needs to step in with some good ol’ fashion Big Brotherly Instincts, hot chocolate, and late night heart-to-hearts, and see if he can get to the bottom of this before their relationship falls apart any more.

--- --- --- --- --- ---

Donnie is in his lab again.

Raph lingers outside the closed door, knowing he can't hear whatever Donatello is doing just like his brother can't hear him shuffling and sighing outside - Donnie has long since soundproofed his lab. …Donnie seems to have made a habit of soundproofing things, now he thinks about it. Maybe Donnie thinks they're too noisy. Raph wonders if he should be feeling guilty for that or not.

But that's not why he's loitering. Well, not tonight's reason. He's working up the courage to enter; to barge in, perhaps. Because he's worried about his little brother. Though to be fair, when is he not? It's good Raphael doesn't have hair, because between the four of them, he would have pulled it out years ago.

But Donnie's been spending even more time holed up alone in his lab. He's been explicitly excusing himself from stuff. He's been acting weird, even for Donnie standards. Weird like he’s avoiding them, and in all the years he’s known Donatello, his brother has never really done that. Mikey went to give him a hug a week or two ago, and the moment there was a hand on his arm, Donnie had gone stiff and dodged out of the way, bumbling out a reason that went back itself halfway through, and then he'd bolted from the room.

Raph's been racking his brain to think of when the last time he'd actually seen Donnie just... hanging out with them really was. He hates that the realisation he comes to is one that tells him that it must have genuinely been months by now.

And look, Raph's not good at time. Time slips by really fast or goes so slowly, or both at the same time, and in his memory things that were years ago feel like they happened yesterday, and things that happened yesterday feel like years ago. It’s jumbled and tiring to keep track of. April said it was an ADHD thing.

But still. It is not a good enough reason to have let Donnie drift so far away. Donnie wasn't good at asking for stuff from them. Like... asking for comfort, or emotional support. If he could build himself some machine to take care of it, he'd never bring it up. Hell, he'd never bring it up anyway, but Raph had considered himself pretty good at telling when his little brothers needed a hand, or an ear, or a shoulder.

Had. He doesn't think he's very good at it anymore.

Raph's pacing. He isn't scared of knocking - or, at least, he shouldn't be. But he has to admit he is afraid of being shut out. Donnie's good like that, and something about this feels risky, like a last chance. Though that could be Raph's anxiety talking.

It's been doing a lot of talking recently.

He wonders if he should ask Splinter to deal with it. Maybe it'd be better for Don to hear whatever he needed to hear from their dad, rather than from his probably frustratingly overprotective big brother. But Raph's heart aches at the mere thought of pawning off his brother's emotions to someone else. He wants to help. He might make it worse, but he wants to at least prove to Donatello that he is willing to try. It might make the difference.

Though he might be being dramatic.

Raph is still pacing, lost in his own thoughts (drowning in his own fears), when the door slides open with a hiss, and Raph is rooted in place as he sees a very tired Donatello standing there, without his mask and in his pyjamas, arms folded, staring at him.

"What are you doing, Raph?"

"Oh! Donnie! Aha, fancy meeting you here. Me? I-I was just... going for a walk."

Donnie raises an eyebrow. "...Right. Of course. A walk, up and down the same two metres of carpet, for the past forty minutes. Outside my door. At 2am."

Raph blinks, before rubbing the back of his head, trying to laugh it off. "What? Me? No, I-I wouldn't... I.... how do you know?"

Donnie dryly points upward, and Raph tilts his head up to see a security camera fixed on him.

"Oh."

"Oh indeed," Donatello agrees, fixing him with a tired and stern look as he shifts his weight to lean against the doorway. "Look, can I help you?"

Ah, an in.

"Yes!" Raph seizes the opportunity with both hands. And Donnie. Though he quickly puts him down because he’s grabbed Donnie by the shoulders before he could think not to and doesn’t miss how his brother has flinched. "Sorry. Yes, you can."

Donnie’s face is pinched with an expression that is doing its best to be polite.

“Can…” Raph is suddenly aware how close he is, how uncomfortable Donnie looks, and how far out of his depth he really is, and steps back, rubbing his arm. “I’m sorry, Donnie. I… I just really need to talk to you. Do you have a moment?”

Donatello’s face drops, but he doesn’t slam the door in Raph’s face. So… booyah. First obstacle cleared.

But what happens next makes Raph feel worse. Donnie’s face goes blank, and he steps aside with slumped shoulders to let Raph by.

“Hey,” Raph steps back again, putting on his bravest smile. “Tell you what, it’s cold, it’s late, and it’s time for a talk. You know what that means?”

A smile tugs around Donnie’s lips. “Super special secret recipe Raph hot chocolate?”

“Super special secret recipe Raph hot chocolate,” Raph agrees, and he turns and offers his shell to his brother, like when they were little, when his spikes had first grown to perfect handhold size and he became the family’s favourite climbing frame. “C’mon. Kitchen time.”

Donnie stares for a moment, unmoving, and Raph does his best to keep smiling. Was this too much? The others would not have hesitated. Probably wouldn’t even have waited for an offer.

Don’t let me lose him. Please.

Donnie hesitantly closes the distance, and Raph looks away to feel with relief the added weight of Donnie scaling his back, to settle on his shoulders.

“Lead the way, big red,” Donnie commands, and Raph feels Don pat him on the head lightheartedly.

He doesn’t bring up how his brother is shaking.

--- --- ---

It really doesn’t take long to get to the kitchen. It could have taken shorter, but Raph decided against jumping down to the first floor, especially seeing as Donnie usually didn’t do that himself, and got a heart attack and a half when the rest of them did.

If Donnie notices the effort, he doesn’t say anything.

Raph shivers despite himself. It’s winter and it does get cold, but it’s always warm in the kitchen. He has to stoop to enter normally, and he reminds himself to pause to let Donnie down before he goes in – last thing he needs to do is give his brother a concussion.

He ushers Donnie in and shuts the door tight behind them. Even if anyone else were awake this time of night, they shouldn’t be eavesdropped-on. And Raph has to admit, he notices tension leak from his brother’s shoulders at the sound.

Raph kicks himself into action, and goes about pulling out the pan he needs, the milk, the chocolate (he has a secret stash of actual chocolate bars he has to hide from the rest of the family for this reason, because the sneaky extra word in the title of his magnum opus is emergency super special secret recipe Raph hot chocolate). He pulls out multiple little containers of spices and sets them out on the bench, and stacks all the ingredients, double checking he has everything he needs.

He’s so caught up in organising that he spooks when Donatello speaks.

“Are… Can I watch?”

Raphael freezes. Normally he does this in private, and brings the hot chocolate with him, which he would have done if this wasn’t one of his make-it-up-as-he-goes-along plans (his best kind). He’s fiercely protective of his recipe, not even Dad or April knows how to make it.

“Y’know what?” Raphael says instead, making sure to shoot his brother a wink, “sure. You’re worthy of my secret. Juuust as long as you don’t tell.”

He sees a shift in Donnie’s body language out of the corner of his eye as he turns back, before Donnie slips out of his seat and in beside Raph. Raphael lets him tuck in in front of him, having more than enough space to loom over him if need be.

“Oh…” Donnie picks up one of the spices, eyes wide with realisation as puzzle pieces of flavour click into place. “That’s it.”

“Yeah,” Raph smiles, and sidesteps his brother so he can have enough elbow space to pour the milk into the pot, though he doesn’t miss how Donnie tenses when he steps away.

That… that’s different now. Raph had been wondering if it was touch-related, like too much touch. Now he’s beginning to wonder if it’s the opposite.

Is that even a thing? He doesn’t know.

He’s melting the chocolate on autopilot, his hands long since having memorised this routine, and he’s oblivious to Donnie’s observing eyes as he slowly stirs.

“Oh, you use that brand,” Donatello suddenly comments, jolting Raph back into the moment. “No wonder I couldn’t place it.”

“Yeah.” Raph turns the wrapper over in his hand. “It’s a little rare, it’s hella pricey, especially seeing as it comes all the way from New Zealand, but damn if there’s nothing else like it.”

“Mm,” Donnie agrees, and his thieving hands have snuck a piece before Raph can think of stopping it.

“Wh-hey!” he shakes the wooden spoon at Donnie, who now has a very smug look on his face as he savours the richness of the chocolate now melting on his tongue. “Hey, that’s for super special secret recipe Raph hot chocolate only! Stop eating my stash.”

Donnie sticks his tongue out at him. Raph tries not to laugh but he can’t help the snort that’s ripped out of him, and he tries to hide it as he turns away, and turns the heat right down.

“Oh, don’t worry, dearest brother,” Donnie leans his head against Raph’s arm and Raph has to bite his lip to keep the relieved smile down. “I won’t eat it all. Probably.”

“You better not,” Raph jokingly grouses. “I spent months finding a hiding spot that actually works.”

Raph can feel Donnie’s shoulders shake with gentle laughter more than he can hear it, but it’s more than enough for him.

It’s looking good so far. Raph hands Donnie the spoon and tells him to keep stirring slowly, before stepping away to wash his hands. When he comes back, he takes back over and starts to pepper in the spices. A pinch here, a pinch there, some more of that, and he knows Donnie likes it a bit more mellow so a bigger pinch or two of that.

He sets them back on the counter and focusses on not over-heating the milk. Usually he leaves the putting-lids-back-on for later, but he sees Donnie do it for him, and shoots him a smile of thanks.

It doesn’t take much longer after that. He takes it off the heat and switches the element off, before going to fetch their mugs and a ladle.

“Is that really necessary?” Donnie nods at the ladle. “Surely we could just dip the mugs in.”

“That’d make such a mess!” Raph gasps, clutching the ladle to his plastron. “The ladle is an integral part of the process! Do not mess with the process, Donatello!”

Donnie’s laughing at him, and he’s so happy to hear Donnie laughing again. “Of course not, of course not, Raphael,” he placates him, trying to sound serious but his smile giving him away. “One cannot mess with the process.”

“Damn right.”

Raph dishes out the hot chocolate, artfully filling Donnie’s mug to almost-the-brim, before handing it to him, pressing it into his hand because he knows that when Donnie is tired, his hand-eye coordination is one of the first things to go.

He gets himself a mug too, before sitting down at the kitchen table. Donnie hesitates, eyes flicking between the seat opposite Raph and the seat beside Raph. Raph takes a sip of his drink, and without making eye contact, pulls the chair beside him a little out.

An invitation.

Donnie pauses, before slinking around the table to slip in beside him. He takes a sip of the hot chocolate, and Raph watches even more tension just bleed out of him, the crease between his eyebrows that seemed so permanent as of late finally easing.

“Mm, even better than I remember,” Donnie hums.

“You say that every time.”

“It’s true every time.”

Raph takes another sip and smiles to himself. He makes a slightly different recipe for each family member. Leo likes a kick of chili in his. Mikey likes it when he leans a bit more into the nutmeg-ginger-cloves; he says it tastes like gingerbread but a chocolate drink. April likes it with mint. He keeps it plain for Splinter, the one or two times he’s done it for him. And, well, he knows how Donnie likes his. And clearly, he’s nailed it this time, because half the mug has gone already.

“Help yourself to more,” Raph nods at the pot, and Donnie hums but says nothing more.

They sit in silence for a moment or two.

Then, “you wanted to talk?”

Raph winces, and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I… I do.”

All of a sudden, the set of Don’s shoulders are far too stiff for Raph’s liking. Damn it, he’d seen him, just before. His brother is in there. He just doesn’t know what Donnie’s waiting for.

“It’s nothing…” Raph cuts himself off there. Nothing serious? Nothing major? Nothing wrong? All of those are false. Because it is serious, but he doesn’t want Donatello to feel like he’s in trouble, because that ego of his makes him shut down, and Raphael will never get to talk to him.

“…Am I in trouble?”

Right on cue.

“No,” Raph turns to him now. “You really aren’t.”

Donnie looks at him now, searching Raph’s face for something. Raph doesn’t know what he finds, but it seems to placate him.

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t really know how to word this.” Raph fumbles, turning his cup in his hands, before sighing. He’s getting a headache.

He reaches up and unties his mask. He’d almost forgotten he hadn’t taken it off. He puts it down on the table and starts folding it, letting Donnie watch him, and wait.

“And before I say anything wrong,” he adds, “I don’t mean to insult you, and I-I… I value you dearly, Don.”

“…Ooookay?”

His brother looks uncomfortable. Raph kicks himself for ramping up the emotions so early. He can’t help it. Asking Raph to control his emotions is like asking the sea to stop washing up onto the beach every minute. Or something. He rubs his temple and tries to keep the metaphors at bay.

“Have we upset you?”

Donnie freezes, and blinks at Raph. He seems… bewildered at the question.

“I just, I know after… a-after Shredder,” Raph manages to stammer, and they both wince at the name, “that it took us all a lot to recover, like, physically. And it’s only been a… what, a few months?”

Raphael scratches the side of his head and curses himself for not really knowing.

“Yeah,” Donnie finally pitches in, and his voice is quiet and a little shaken. “It’s been six months. I’m… everything’s healed.”

“Ah,” Raph holds up a finger, takes a sip of drink, before continuing. “Everything physical’s healed.”

And yes, there comes another flinch from Donnie. Raph’s found the nail and the haystack and still managed to hit it on the head.

“And I realise… uh, I ain’t been too good at making the rounds.” Raph shakes his head. “I… I’ve been putting my head down and pretending to be okay because that’s easier than talking about it.”

Donnie makes a sort of a tch that makes it sound like he agrees.

“A-and it ain’t been any good for anyone!” Raph has set his mug down, and he can’t keep himself from gesturing wildly in the air. “I know Dad’s been talking to Leo, at least. And Mikey… he said he had someone to talk to, and I know Draxum’s become a bit kinder recently. But I know April’s been busy as all hell recently, and-”

“What does it matter if April’s been busy?” Donnie snips, and it’s Raph’s turn to flinch as he finds a sore spot. “I have other people to talk to. I have other friends.”

“I’m not saying you don’t,” Raph shoots back quickly, but Donnie averts his eyes because they both know the other is lying. Mikey and Leo are the ones who are good with friends. Donnie’s not good with people, and Raph…

He’s… he’s not good at letting people do their own thing. It’s one thing about Dad that he can really understand now, understand why he was like he was when Raph was the only one old enough to talk and walk around on his own. Because little Hamato Yoshi was neglected too.

So he doesn’t trust himself with new people too well, because he knows he’s… controlling?

He puts his head in his hands. Is this just… his character flaw times twenty? Was this necessary? Would Donnie just brush this off as Raph being Raph? Would he resent him?

“Hey, big guy.” Donnie puts a hand on his arm. The contact is delicate and hesitant, like Donnie isn’t sure he should, if he’s allowed to, and that tugs at something fresh and painful deep behind Raph’s plastron, because why wouldn’t he be? “I can see all that negativity rattling around in there. Just get to the point, alright? Then I can see if I need to be offended or not.”

Raph can’t help but laugh. Donnie pointedly drinks more hot chocolate and wiggles his eyebrows at him.

“I’m worried about you.”

The words tumble out before Raph can think of a better way to say it. He’s no Doctor Delicate Touch, or Doctor Feelings. He’s no good at this.

But there is no way he’s leaving his brother to fend whatever’s going on in that massive head of his by himself.

Donnie pauses a moment, takes a long drink and sets down a now empty mug, before sighing. “When aren’t you?”

Raph laughs, short and bitter, but it’s enough to draw a look of concern from Donnie, to clue him in he means it this time. Though, he always means it. “I know, I know,” he huffs. “But… Don, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before.”

“…Like what?”

“Holing yourself up. Avoiding family activities. Being really, like, short? Curt? With us, if that makes sense? And how you flinch when someone touches you.”

Donnie’s eyes are wide.

“Yeah,” Raph nurses his drink and shoots him a sympathetic look. “I’m a bit more observant than you think, I guess.”

“I…” Donnie stammers.

“I’d been wondering if somehow it was all too much? Like, I know about sensory overload sorta stuff, April’s been helping me understand, and hell, I feel that. But this seems… the opposite of that?”

“I…” Donnie blinks a few times, before pushing the empty mug away and turning away. He folds his hands and hides his mouth behind them, staring at the wall. Raph’s seen this enough to know what’s up. Donnie’s debating with himself. Weighing the risk and reward of being open with him.

Raph lets him. He gets up, and picks up both their mugs, and goes for a second serving. His mug wasn’t even empty yet, but he doesn’t want Donnie to feel any more singled-out than he already does.

He’s partway through ladling more drink into Donnie’s mug when his brother finally speaks.

“…I think I’ve developed mild touch starvation.”

Raph tenses, pauses for a second to make sure he doesn’t overfill the mug, and carefully sets it down, before topping his own red mug up too and letting the ladle splash back into the pot. He takes a moment before ferrying the drinks back to the table.

And as he sets Donnie’s mug down in front of him, he doesn’t make eye contact. He’s waiting for Donnie to get on a roll. He usually does. But if he doesn’t, Raph will sit back down and talk to him about it.

“It… It wasn’t on purpose,” Donnie accepts the drink with a shiver, also not looking up at Raph. “I didn’t mean to avoid you guys for so long. I just… there was so much to fix. Raph, I lost almost all my tech to Shredder. I haven’t even managed to finish rebuilding Shelldon yet. There’s so much I can’t replace yet and… I guess it all ran away from me.”

Donnie rubs his eye as he talks, and Raph slips off to the side to return to his seat. Donnie angles a little towards him, not looking at him but clearly still talking to him.

“And it’s cold all the time recently, so I didn’t really click that was a thing that was wrong. Sure, I got lonely, but I just… just wanted to get through it. Power on through, if you will.”

Donnie takes a drink, and Raph’s eyes flick to his brother’s face to watch that damn crease between his eyebrows ease a little again.

“I didn’t realise I kept turning stuff down. I was… fixated, I guess.”

“Easy to do,” Raph agrees, voice quiet. He’s more sort of rolling his mug between his hands than he is drinking.

Donnie snorts a little at that in agreement. “I didn’t really realise I had… I didn’t know until…”

“Until Mikey went to hug you two weeks ago?” Raph guessed.

“Damn, you are good.”

Raph smiles despite himself. “I just try to pay attention to you guys. I want to help when and where I can.”

Donnie’s eyes are on him, and they are analysing him. Raph takes a drink and pretends not to notice. He wonders what Donnie finds.

Finally, the scrutiny eases when his brother sighs. “I… I’ve been researching touch starvation, and all that.” Donnie rubs his eye again. “And, well, it sounds right. Maybe it hasn’t been long enough. Maybe I’m making it up, but...”

“Nah.” Before Raph can think not to, he’s reached out and patted Donnie on the shell. “I trust you to know yourself. I…”

He realises Donnie’s gone tense under his hand.

“Oh, shit,” he whispers. “I… is this okay?”

Donnie shudders. His lips are moving but he’s not saying anything. Raph almost goes to move his hand but before he can his brother makes a desperate noise he hopes never to have to hear again.

It sounds like a wounded animal.

“Can I hug you?” Raph’s voice is low and urgent.

Donnie’s nodding.

Raph sweeps Donnie up in his arms the moment he starts to nod his head, and curls around his smaller brother as best he can, feeling Donatello gasp, feeling him go tense, and then feeling him go limp, plastering himself against Raph’s chest and melting into his warmth.

Despite turtles being cold-blooded, Raph runs hot. It must be the human DNA in his favour. But right now it’s perfect for looking after his little brother, who is now all but clinging to him.

“Oh,” he hears Donnie breathe to himself. “Oh, I was right.”

“Is this okay?”

“Yes!” Donnie flinches at his own volume. “Sorry, sorry. Yes, and I swear to god, Raph, if you let me go I will-”

“I ain’t letting you go,” Raph says firmly. “Your new problem is getting rid of me.”

Donnie laughs, hiding his face in Raph’s plastron. “That’s not a problem,” he murmurs, and Raph has to bite his lip because suddenly there are tears in his eyes. Curse his overemotional state. This isn’t supposed to be about him.

Suddenly, Raph feels really small.

He curls around Donnie as tight as he can, and he wasn’t sure when he started shaking. But under his fingertips, from where his hands are all but plastered against Donnie’s shell, he can feel the healing scratches, scars from Shredder…

He shudders himself, and ducks his head. Don’t think about it.

“Raph?”

Don’t think about it, I said.

“Raph, talk to me, bro.”

“I was scared,” he finally blurts out. “I was scared I was gonna lose you.”

“Lose me? I’m right here.”

“Not like that,” Raph shoots back, frustrated at his own emotions as his tears spill over, and he tries to turn his head away to hide it. “I… I don’t know. You know me, Don.”

“I do,” Donnie agrees, and he pulls back enough to reach a tea towel on the kitchen table, and use it to dry Raph’s face.

“And… I,” Raph lets him, before turning his head away again. Because it’s been so long now, and Shredder isn’t coming back. But fuck, that thing nearly killed him, nearly killed his brothers, nearly killed Donnie right in front of him and if he had been even a little bit slower he wouldn’t have a brother to hug.

Without thinking, his fingers trace the scars on Donnie’s shell, and Donatello takes a sharp breath in. The sound of realisation.

“Hey,” Donnie’s hands cup his face and force Raph to make eye contact. “Raph, look at me. I’m safe. You saved me. Shredder’s gone. We… we did it. I’m safe, okay? I’m healthy. I’ve healed from that.”

“I…”

“You took more damage than I did. In the least, we’re matching.”

“…Donnie.”

Donnie studies his face, expression falling as Raph can’t keep from crying, and Raph screws up his face, eyes tightly shut.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “This is supposed to be about you. This ain’t Raph’s Pity Parade.”

“Pity Parade?” Donnie scoffs. “No pity needed or earned, Raphadaelious. Anyone would be reacting like this after what we’ve been through.”

“But I’m not anyone,” Raph blurts again. “I need to be there for you guys. I need to be, like, the shoulder. Y’know?”

Donnie forces him to look him in the eye, and Raph’s eyes widen in shock as he sees he’s made Donnie cry too.

“Who looks after you, Raph?”

Donnie is blunt, and to the point. Raphael doesn’t have an answer.

“That’s what I thought,” Donnie hums. “…Tell you what, let’s make a deal.”

“...I’m listening.”

“You help me with my… problem,” Donnie looks down at his own hands, which he’s since peeled off Raph’s face. “And I’ll make sure you’re not in this alone.”

“Donnie, you’re not a problem to fix,” Raph interjects, making his brother look up again. “You’re a person, who needs help. But you’re not some machine that if I adjust the settings just right, you’re magically fixed, okay? I just… I don’t want you to depersonalise yourself that much.”

“That’s... a big word.”

“I’ve been trying to pay more attention.”

“It’s been working,” Donnie tries to smile. He leans back, and Raph gives him the space he’s silently asking for. Donnie takes a moment to dry his eyes, before getting to his feet, sliding out of Raph’s arms.

Donnie’s shivering. Raph wants to sweep him up again because he knows how cold it gets. He knows about the icy-hot burn touch leaves behind when you don’t have enough. It’s been years, but now Donnie’s told him the words for it, Raph knows exactly what he means.

Raph is the oldest, and the strongest. He was not allowed to handle his younger brothers until he could control his strength. And Splinter wasn’t exactly the most present back then. He was so glad his brother’s never really had to go through that themselves. He was so glad Splinter is better now, both in his own mental health and as a father. He wishes it could wipe away the bitter loneliness as a kid. He wishes it could smother out the panic he still feels the minute he’s left alone.

He’s overprotective. He fawns. He doesn’t want anyone to feel as lonely as he used to. But now the problem? The problem is that he’s failed, because a touched-starved Donatello is standing in front of him, drinking his second mug of emergency super special secret recipe Raph hot chocolate, and if Raph had been a little more… something… he could have prevented this.

“Donnie, I’m sorry,” he says, and Don looks at him with a strange look on his face.

“It’s… it’s not your fault, Raphie. If anything, it’s mine. I knew, on some level, it’d be bad for me. I… just didn’t care, I guess.”

Raph winces, but he does have to admit that he understands the feeling.

“We’re your family. We should have been able to see something, and step in sooner.”

“It’s okay,” Donnie says, and the worst part is that he’s earnest.

“It’s not.”

“It is,” Donnie shakes his head. “Because I… I could also see that the ice was thin, Raph. Leo was prepared to bite my head off at every dinner for weeks. Mikey was so shaken, you remember, right?”

“I do,” Raph murmurs, because how could he forget? And they didn’t really let him help much. But a heart to heart, just like this one, over emergency super special secret recipe Raph hot chocolate, had been enough to start wheels in motion.

“I wasn’t going to make that any better,” Donnie sighs, and he slumps back into the chair beside Raph and leans his head on Raph’s arm. “I have at least a scrap of self-awareness sometimes. Maybe that’s another reason why I stayed out of the way.”

“Wish I had your self-control,” Raph mutters. “I… Mikey and I had a fight.”

“I remember hearing it.”

“We’ve both apologised, and I can tell Mikey’s moved on, but I still feel so bad.”

Donnie shrugs. “We’re family. We aren’t supposed to get along all the time.”

Raph snorts. “If that ain’t the truth.”

They talk more. Talk more about things that matter and things that don’t. Donnie drinks a whole third mug of the hot chocolate (though now it’s more mildly room-temperature chocolate), and Raph manages to successfully put the rest in a bottle to put in the fridge for tomorrow.

He offers Donnie a ride back upstairs and this time Donnie takes it without hesitation, clambering up onto his shoulders gracelessly, yawning widely.

“When’s the last time you slept?” Raph asks as he climbs back upstairs.

“Technically? About 11pm. Properly slept?” Donnie yawns again, and Raph feels him shrug. “Like… a few weeks.”

“Jeez,” Raph whistles lowly. “What’s wrong?”

“Cold, touch-starved, nightmares,” Donnie lists off, and Raph can tell that he’s trying to be clinical about it, but Donnie can’t hide how his voice shakes on the last one.

“Yeah,” Raph admits. “Me too.”

He pauses outside his own bedroom, staring at the red curtain, before shifting on his feet. “When we were kids,” he starts, and feels Donnie’s hand flop down over his shoulder. “We… whenever someone had a nightmare, they’d always sleep better in a pile.”

He’s not necessarily talking about Donnie specifically here, it happened to all of them. But he does vividly remember Donnie shaking him awake late one night, about six years old when Raph was about eight, tearfully asking if he can sleep in Raph’s room tonight, and-

“Yeah,” Donnie whispers. “I remember.”

“Would that help?” Raph shifts on his feet again. “Tonight.”

Donnie doesn’t reply. Raph kicks himself for asking.

“It might.”

Raph looks up to see Donnie leaning over his shoulder.

“I’m willing to test it,” he sort-of smiles, and yeah, Raph can see how tired he really is.

“Great,” Raph tells him as brightly as he can manage. “Is my room okay?”

“Yeah,” Donnie smirks at him. “You wouldn’t fit on my bunk.”

“Shut up!”

Raph pushes back the curtain with a smile, letting the darkness of his bedroom envelop them, before casually punting his little brother into his mattress.

“Hey!” Donnie tries to shout, but he’s too busy laughing.

“Uh huh,” Raph puts his hands on his hips. “Scoot over, small fry, seeing as I need all the space I can get.”

Donnie obliges with a grin. A tired grin, a grin interrupted by another yawn, but a real, actual grin none-the-less.

They get settled, tugging blankets and getting comfortable, and Donnie falls asleep remarkably quickly. He sinks into Raph’s warmth and hangs on tight, even in unconsciousness, and Raph loops his arms around him as safely as he can and closes his eyes too.

For the first time in a long time, his worry is finally set at ease. He doesn’t have to worry about where Donnie is, or if Donnie’s well, or if he’s sleeping, or if he’s okay. Because he knows for a fact that Donnie is safe, Donnie’s right here, and even if Donnie’s not okay yet, he will be.

That’s a super special secret Raph promise.

He curls up and lets the sound of his brother’s breathing ground him. They’re okay. They’re okay. They’re going to be okay.

And they both sleep through the night, for a first time in a very, very long time.

#rottmnt #rottmnt raph #rottmnt donnie #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt fic #djpurple3's writing yo #touch starvation #touch starved!donnie #autistic!donnie #adhd!raph #food tw #food m #neglect m #neglect mention tw

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astermacguffin · 4 years ago

Text

Okay. I warn y'all that this is very much a Poast™. This is another one of Those Poasts™. You have been warned.

I very much blame (affectionate) @autisticandroids for this, since this is pretty much me trying to combine as many concepts as possible from the #mpregpocalypse tag.

In this au, Cas is pretty much just collecting babies left and right. The following stuff are all simultaneously true in this spn mpreg rewrite:

- Cas absorbs the deanlisa baby and carries the child himself. This is his first pregnancy. This is also the most "monstrous" of his children because of the godstiel stuff and the leviathans.

- For maximum effect, I don't want Cas to give birth just yet. I want Benny to see Cas with the baby bump and put the dots together in his head. I want Cas to give birth alone, after Dean and Benny already went through the rift. I want Naomi to take Cas out of purgatory and leave his child alone there. I want Cas to grieve for the loss of his child when he remembers. (We'll go back to this in the future.)

- Dean fucks Casifer at one point and impregnates Cas' body. (I mean, with Casifer peeling off his layers and thotting up the place while in the bunker? Not surprising tbh.) NOTE. I wanna be clear with something: this baby is Dean and Lucifer's nephil. I mean, biologically it's a Destiel baby, but with Cas' grace growing weaker and him being possessed by Lucifer, in terms of grace this is pretty much Lucifer's nephil. (But also not??? Because what allowed the conception to happen in the first place is Cas wanting it SO BAD.)

- No one else notices the conception of this baby because Cas hides it within himself (the same way he did with the deanlisa baby) and pauses the pregnancy at will.

- When Cas meets Kelly, they are very much BOTH pregnant with Lucifer's kid. Remember that screenshot where they both look pregnant and bonding about their babies? Yeah, this is inspired by that. When Cas touches Kelly's baby bump and they like soulbond or whatever, Kelly looks at him and goes "oh you're pregnant too?"

- Cas tells him that it's Dean's child, but leaves out the Lucifer part. They already have one Lucifer nephil in danger, he doesn't need anyone else knowing this secret (especially since he hid the nature of this child so well for so long). Kelly thinks he's hiding it because of the Dean part.

- They both know Kelly's not gonna survive giving birth, so they already have a plan: Cas will transfer the pregnancy to himself when it's almost time for Jack to come out (the same way he did with the deanlisa baby). Cas is confident that he'll survive what Kelly cannot. (His hubris, of course, always tend to bite him back.) Dean, Mary, and Sam arrive just in time to see Cas pregnant and about to give birth. Kelly catches them up on the plot.

- Cas dies of childbirth due to an unexpected complication: the pregnancy transfer triggers the birth of the other child inside him, which makes him give birth to TWO children. The strength of the explosion unfortunately kills both him and Kelly, rendering Cas' sacrifice as pointless. (As much as I wanna keep Kelly alive, the point of this au is to inflict as much damage as possible)

- Lucifer and Mary still get stuck in Apocalypse world, and now Dean and Sam have to care for TWO children, one of which is Jack (who still grows quickly) and...another baby? They have no idea who the fuck this baby is until they find two videos: one made by Kelly and one by Cas (a backup plan they made just in case one or both of them don't survive).

- In the video, Cas reveals that the child is his and Dean's nephil (again, removing the Lucifer part). Dean just takes it in stride (since they had enough sex in the later seasons for it to be a genuine possibility) and takes Cas's word.

- In any other scenario, Sam would definitely be teasing Dean for impregnating Cas. But since Cas is dead and they're still grieving, he shelves this conversation for a future time. (With so much plot happening, Sam never finds the right chance and eventually just forgets it. He's just happy that he was right all along.)

- They agree to never let anyone else learn about the baby's nature, which the baby seems to understand as well, choosing to not manifest any angelic abilities. In fact, the baby internalized Cas' instructions to keep all their secrets under wraps that the kid goes selectively mute throughout the series. (I wanna see Eileen teaching ASL to the kid.)

- The two babies scenario works great for two reasons: it satisfies my "give Dean a baby" instinct (that pretty much drives my baby jack truthing) while still keeping Jack the way that he is in canon.

- Dean lets the baby rest on Cas' chest for a short while before wrapping Cas up with the curtains. Both Dean and the baby cry over the body.

- I want to give Jack as many Problems Disorders in this au. I want him to be jealous of the way Dean treats his twin (because they're pretty much twins, right? They have the same grace-father, they got birthed by the same body, so yeah).

- Dean treats the baby with as much care and love while still treating Jack like shit. Sam once calls him out on it and says "Dean, they're both Cas' children." Dean throws out an "I can hardly look at the freak" rant. Jack wakes up Cas from the Empty, yada yada.

More fucked up shit below the cut:

- I wanna keep this as close to canon as I can, so Dean would still exhibit suicidality before Tombstone. You would think that the baby would at least hinder this instinct, but he genuinely believes that he's poison and that everyone he touches dies. (And besides, Sam is good with both Jack and the baby so they won't need me anymore, right?)

- Cas comes back, and things mostly stay the same as in canon (except there's now a baby there, who honestly won't influence much of the plot until later). Dean never really apologized that much to Jack in canon (and I still hate it) but in this au, it would work perfectly. I want Jack to believe that Dean still sees him as a freak, even if he's a bit nicer now that Cas is back. (I can and will put my entire pussy into the Dean-as-John, Jack-as-Sam parallels.)

- When Jack kills Mary, Cas hides it from Dean and Sam. We're going full Torturewife on this one, folks.

- Jack's truth spell forces Cas to confess that (1) Cas hid the fact about Jack's soullessness; (2) Cas lied about Jack killing Mary, and; (3) the Destiel baby is technically a Dean/Lucifer nephil. Chaos fucking ensues.

- Dean has to confront the fact that both of the kids (HIS kids) are Lucifer's spawn.

- Chuck doesn't really care about the baby since it never manifested any powers (yet), unlike Jack (who is a genuine threat to him).

- Moriah happens, Jack dies. (And it's even more fucked up now because despite being soulless, Jack remembers all the insecurities he got from Dean. The "It's okay, I understand" line Jack says to Dean while having a gun pointed to him is sooooooo.) Rupture happens, their divorce is finalized and Cas takes custody of the baby.

- Cas having some father-child bonding with the baby as a breather between all this fucked up stuff.

- The Trap happens, they make up, and oh? Who's this person who helped Cas escape and get the flower? It's the deanlisa baby, but now grown! Together with Emma! She was thankfully found by her big sister, Emma, when she was a baby in purgatory. She had to grow up fast and now they survive together.

- After eating Eve in order to save Cas, the deanlisa child is now technically the new Mother of monsters. Dean explains the Chuck problem, so the two choose to come with them to help.

- Cas never really explained the deanlisa baby, huh? When they get back with their now grown child (and Emma, who doesn't really hold a grudge over the entire Sam killing her thing) and Cas explains, Dean is baffled but takes it in stride. I mean, they just made up! He doesn't wanna fight with him anymore and he wants the family together again!

- They make the two stay with the baby so they'll be safe in the bunker while they try to trap Chuck with the Mark of Cain spell. It fails, of course. (But hey, at least there was sibling bonding time in the bunker.)

- Billie brings back Jack and they formulate a plan (Billie doesn't go evil in this one btw.) They strengthen Jack, Jack knows that he'll be a bomb and is totally fine with it. "Maybe if I do this one good thing, Dean won't see me as a freak anymore." Remember, Jack internalized a lot of the shit Dean said.

- Cas attempts to call out the self-sacrificial bullshit and that Dean actually loves him, but Jack insists. "You would do the same! In fact, you have done the same! (In reference to the Empty deal, which still happens here btw.) I'm just learning from all of you." If there's one thing I'm obsessed about in fics, it's when Jack calls them out for learning martyrdom from team free will.

- Dean finds out about the plan and tries to talk Jack out of it. They have a heart-to-heart, Dean finally fucking apologizes for all the complexes that he's given Jack, and Jack (for the first time) finally believes that Dean doesn't see him as a monster anymore. Jack stops the process so he doesn't become a bomb (but at least he's stronger than he was before).

- They call Billie to come up with an alternative plan. She considers the options, and says an alternative plan would be harder and would require more players in the field. "As long as we don't have to sacrifice any of our loved ones anymore, we're good," Dean says. "I don't think that's an easy request, but we'll try," Billie says, giving a pointed look at Cas. (Hmmmm, wonder how this would come to play later?)

- Billie points out that the destiel baby is in fact not powerless, but is instead choosing to supress their own power. If the child can be convinced to unlock their own capabilities, then perhaps they might stand a better chance at winning.

- They spread out to gather more allies: Sam goes to Rowena, Dean goes to Michael, Billie goes to Gabriel (yes, he's alive here), and the kids stay in the bunker with Cas to try and explore each other's abilities. (Since I hated the Michael-Lucifer nonsense of 15x19, none of that happens here. Lucifer doesn't go back and Michael doesn't betray them.)

- Jack finds out that he can push out all the energy he gathered for the bomb into a one-time-use blast. They find out that the baby can apparently enhance the power of whoever they're holding. And the new Eve apparently has traces of Godstiel/Leviathan still in her after being in the womb with them. (She also spends the time catching up with Cas because they've not seen each other for years.) Emma is just vibing there, adoring her powerful younger siblings and interrogating her father's...husband? Boyfriend? Ex? (She's still confused about their status.)

- This goes just like in S11, and they go all out and attack Chuck together until he's weak enough for Death's scythe. There's one shot where the kids are just holding hands to power each other for Jack to deliver a fatal blow. Billie is just around the corner, ready for the final blow, when Cas turns to Dean.

- "Dean, I need to say something." Cue the 15x18 confession scene, except this time Dean knows about the deal now. So the moment Dean realizes what Cas is doing, he tries to stop him.

- "Stop, please stop. Don't say it, you don't have to say it." Because of course, happiness is in just being, it's in just saying it. And Dean knows what true happiness would do.

- But unfortunately, Cas has to do it. (Billie talked to him about it, and her scythe won't exactly do a clean job with something as powerful as a Chuck-Amara hybrid. I don't know when or why they fused together since the bomb plan was cancelled, but it happened here okay? Yeah. So they need something that is guaranteed to be older and greater than God or the Darkness—the Empty. Billie can only go there, but she can't summon it to be on Earth. Enter Cas' deal.)

- Cas says "I love you," Dean reciprocates, they share a final kiss, and then Billie finally reaps God. The Empty arrives to take Chuck, and Cas shares one final moment with his kids before accepting his fate.

- Billie goes to the Empty to make sure the job was done, and she finally gives the Shadow the sleep that she promised. She uses her scythe on the Shadow, because death is the final slumber. (Of course, you can't exactly kill nothingness; she only destroyed an embodiment/personification of the Empty.)

- Post-fight. They're happy because Chuck is finally defeated but also...Cas. Before they even have the chance to process what the fuck just happened, Billie is back and she has Cas with her. "I just put the Shadow into sleep, so it's not like anyone would notice," she says. The problem is that Cas is still very much asleep. (He still has some grace here btw. Maybe he's not at full angel anymore, but he's not fully human either. There wasn't a need to cut out his grace without warning.)

- Dean and the kids crowd Cas' body. The baby's touch on Cas's shoulder (which burns a mark that parallels Dean's) is what wakes him up. Reunion kiss!

- Happy ending! Michael (with Adam) goes back to heaven to fix things, and they are very much implied to be a couple. Midam rights babyyyyyy! Gabriel goes back to roaming the world and occasionally visits the kids.

- Sam and Eileen organizes a hunter's network and organizes a bunch of safety protocols and rehabilitation projects with the help of the new Eve (which most monsters obey, key word most). Oh, and Saileen definitely swings regularly with Rowena (and occasionally with Gabriel when he's around).

- Emma decides that she likes hanging out with the Wayward Sisters better (and you know what? Good for her). The new Eve decides to hang out there often as well (whenever she isn't busy with monster diplomacy or something).

- When Jack finally feels safe and peaceful enough, he reverts back to his child form. The baby, who has been selectively mute this entire time, holds their brother's face in recognition and utters their first word, which is "JACK!" Dean and Cas cry in joy over this entire exchange. (That's his twin! He missed his twin!)

- They move out of the bunker to get their own house by a lake or something. Whenever the topic of pregnancy comes up again ("Dean, when do you want another baby again?"), they can now playfully joke about it and Dean says something like "Don't steal someone else's baby again, okay? The next baby to be inside you needs to be mine." They're both stupidly horny about the subject, I hate them so much.

- Whenever there's an important event, they all celebrate it in the bunker for the extra space (because their family is, indeed, very large). END.

There's something poetic to me about the Empty being the one that beats Chuck in this mpreg rewrite because technically, the Empty is the Original Womb that gave birth to God. It it the nothingness of potential, the dark water of pregnant beginnings.

All this talk about the Empty and stuff also made me stop and think about the metaphysics of spn. The fact that the Darkness and the Empty are two distinct entities says something interesting about the metaphysical reality of spn. It doesn't treat darkness as a mere absence of light, a mere nothingness, but rather a thing/substance of its own. It's a very Manichean kind of metaphysics as opposed to a Platonic/Neoplatonic one. (Oh, St. Augustine would probably have a blast trying to unravel whatever the fuck is happening with spn.)

The fact that it's also Cas' free will that brought upon God's demise? Delicious.

(If you're still reading, congratulations for finishing my very long spn mpreg rewrite. Why did you do this to yourself tho.)

(also apologies if I didn't give a name to Jack's siblings. I haven't thought of a good name for them just yet)

#spn #destiel #mpregpocalypse #long post #literally what the fuck is this post #aster writes #spn mpreg rewrite #tw suicide #tw mpreg

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cotccotc · 4 years ago

Text

✳︎ a gift to @sarangsungs for the @districtninewriters winter fic exchange !! ✳︎

✳︎ genre/s: fluff, jisung x gn reader, non-idol, second date au (i imagined it as a high school au but it doesn’t have to be!)

✳︎ warning/s: none!

✳︎ wc: ~1.2k

✳︎ a/n: LORRAINE !! i’m so sorry for being a terrible secret santa and only messaging you once but as soon as i saw your answers to the survey i knew exactly what to do! i tried mixing a few of the au types you mentioned and i hope it turned out well hehe :) i love you lots and i hope you have a happy holiday season! <333

✳︎ * . ✳︎ * . ✳︎ * . ✳︎

“wait for me! y/n, please-” jisung calls out from behind you, grabbing your gloved hand as you step onto the ice with one of your skates. you turn around and observe the trembling sight before you: jisung is currently wobbling on his skates at the edge of the rink, gripping tightly onto both your hand and the railing. the expression on his face says it all. he’s terrified, mixed with a bit of sheer excitement, and a state of endearing urgency that only you, his date, can rectify. you giggle, stepping back onto the ground in your skates and accepting his mitten-clad hand with both of yours.

“you can do it! i’ll help you,” you assure him. it’s only your second date, and the physical contact between you - though somewhat stifled by the dense fabric in between - sends a shock of warmth up your spine that even the piercing temperature inside the rink could never penetrate. you’ve been taking skating lessons for most of your life, so you’re pretty light on your feet when it comes to the sport, especially at the recreational level. jisung? not so much.

in fact, he may have fibbed just a tad when he agreed to let you take him skating for your second date, citing his “killer blade skills”. you probably should’ve taken his use of the word “blade” instead of “skate” as a warning that he might not have known as much of what he was talking about as he’d led on.

you lead him so that he’s standing in front of you and gently press on the back of his puffer coat to prop him up. “how are you balancing so well?” he asks with a nervous laugh, a little louder than you’d normally expect. his fear has clearly replaced his need for social cues.

you giggle again. “because i’ve done this a million times. come on, i’ll spot you.” you point to the ice ahead. “bend your knees a little and put one foot on the ice.”

“you’ve got me, right?” he asks, glancing back at you for a split second before tightening his grasp on the railing. he’s dead serious, which you wouldn’t expect from someone you’ve only ever gone out with one other time. he really does trust you. you suspect that it’s a reflection of his growing affections toward you, which makes you blush. thankfully, he can’t see your face, and even if he could you’d have used the frosty air as an excuse for your flushing cheeks… but you can’t deny it’s nice to know he trusts your advice and touch.

“of course,” you reply. “i’ve got you.”

from there, he uses the railing to balance himself as he follows your directions, gently bending his slightly shaking knees as he places his right foot onto the ice. once he does so, the blade of his skate swivels a bit, making his nerves come back in full force. “baby! baby, baby, baby-” he rattles off, reaching behind himself to grab onto one of your hands once again. you’re so focused on making him feel safe that you don’t even notice the pet name.

“okay! okay,” you respond, not wanting him to panic. you move so you’re beside him rather than behind him, and you keep his hand in yours with the other placed on his back just in case. “just ease into it. it’s easy getting on, but the hard part will be staying up.” he looks at you with widened eyes and parted lips, obviously distraught by your statement. “but don’t worry! i’ve got you, remember?” you add.

under his breath, he repeats, “you’ve got me. yes. right. you’ve got me. cool.”

you step onto the ice yourself, easily and gracefully turning to him and taking both of his hands in yours. he looks down at both of your feet and squeezes your hands. using your strength to balance himself, he’s able to step onto the ice with his other foot. the blades slide back and forth a bit as he adjusts to this new feeling, but while he finally regains his footing and stands upright, he looks into your eyes with a beaming smile. “you did it!” you exclaim.

he laughs again, still holding onto your hands for dear life. “so… i kinda lied about my-”

“killer blade skills?” you interject. he closes his eyes and laughs, exposing the genuine, heart shaped smile that you’ve always adored from afar. the chill-induced redness in his cheeks becomes even more prominent as you giggle along with him.

“i’m sorry,” he chuckles.

“it’s okay.”

“i just didn’t know how to tell you i’d never skated before. you were so excited about showing me the rink and stuff…”

“sung, don’t worry about it. i totally get it.”

“okay cool.” he lets out a bit of a sigh, his hands still connected with yours. “what now?” he asks with a laugh as you both watch the other skaters pass you buy.

you point to the railing on the right of you. “hold onto that. and… keep holding onto me.” that last bit was selfish. you’re perfectly aware that holding hands while ice skating is dangerous. but you’ll be careful. you’ve got him, after all.

after a little while, you’re able to teach him how to glide back and forth without slipping and sliding as much. the two of you, joint at the hip for the whole evening, talk about everything you never got to on your first date. this includes your history with ice skating, as well as the fears he had about it prior to your arrival at the rink.

“by the way,” he starts as you calm down from laughing at a joke he’d made. “i’m sorry for calling you baby earlier… it was my gut reaction and i didn’t realize i did it.”

“honestly, i didn’t think anything of it,” you reply, finally recalling the instance. “i actually, um…” you trail off, unsure of whether or not you want to continue the sentence. it is a date after all, but he still makes you just as flustered as you’d always been before he first asked you out. “...i liked it.”

his eyes immediately dart up into yours, his attention straying away from the ice below you. as a result, he loses his balance. after a few slips back and forth, he’s sent to the ground with a thud, landing on his back.

and, of course, you go right down with him.

luckily, the plushiness of your coats prohibits any real injury, but both of you end up lying on the numbingly cold ice. you look at him and he looks at you. you both got the wind knocked out of you, but slowly, the two of you can’t help but crack up at what just happened. other skaters pass you, looking down at the two hysterical teenagers laying on the ground below them. but you couldn’t care less. the bright sound of his laughter is healing enough to fend off the harshest chill or most judgemental stares.

“come on,” you say to him as the laughter dies down. you carefully get onto your knees and lift yourself using the railing before helping jisung do the same. “one more lap, then we’ll get some hot cocoa from the snack stand.”

as he comes to his feet, he takes a comically deep breath, exhaling with wide eyes while furrowing his brow at the long path ahead. he takes your hand in his, aggressively grabbing onto the railing with determination. “let’s go, baby.” this earns a big laugh from you, making jisung smile to himself before you lead each other forward... slowly but surely.

✳︎ * . ✳︎ * . ✳︎ * . ✳︎

✳︎ tags: @magglesx, @crscendoforsung, @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @pixielix, @skzctnightnight, @serenityswords-main, @childofthecosmos, @changbinniee, @kpopscape, @skzwriternet (send a 🍓 in my ask box to be added for skz !)

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potionsclasss · 4 years ago

Text

Yes the title is so overused yes I used regardless ok plz just ignore it.

Summary: Draco sees you wearing his Slytherin jumper at breakfast and he can’t help but love every inch of it on you.

Pairing: Best Friend Slytherin Reader x Draco Malfoy

Warnings: Descriptions of physical appearance (mentions of words like slim, small, muscular, etc.)

Word Count: 1.2k

Sweater Weather

The golden spoon absentmindedly slipped out of his ring clad hand and clattered against the cold tile floor, the sound pulling him out of his thoughts. Sucked back into reality, Draco looked up a little dazed to notice Blaise staring at him, motioning vaguely with one finger to the spoon that had fallen to the floor.

“Whatchya lookin at?” Blaise inquired, referencing Draco’s obvious daydreaming, only half caring about the answer as he thumbed through his Charms homework.

Draco blushed a little, inadvertently, knowing he’d been caught. He had in fact been staring at you, unable to avert his gaze. While this was a normal habit for him, admiring his best friends reddish curls and electric blue eyes and freckle dusted nose, he actually had a good reason this time.

He had nearly choked on his orange juice when you had walked into his peripherals just now, his dark green Slytherin jumper hanging loosely and familiarly on your petite frame. You had sat down just a few seats away at the Slytherin table, giving him your usual friendly smile and a giggly wink. Though probably not recognizable to anyone else, he knew his own clothes, and he knew when you were wearing them.

For weeks now you’d been falling asleep in his room. You would often stay up late to help him finish his history of magic homework he had neglected during one of his increasingly common and VERY private bathroom panic attacks only you knew about. Sometimes you’d rub his back as he twitched in his sleep, knowing he was getting another nightmare. But usually you just drifted off together, enjoying the sensation of warmth and velvet darkness and that of not being completely alone.

Staring at you once again he admired the way your white teeth glistened in the morning light when you grinned at him, and allowed his silver eyes to glance down at your pink cherry gloss coated lips for only a second. He imagine what they would feel like. You in nothing but his sweater, pretty pink lips pressed against his, your soft breath on his milky white neck, vanilla bourbon perfume enveloping him in the most dizzying intoxicating way, whispering how much you-

“Draco!” Blaise said again, this time more sternly. A half smirk adorned his face as he already knew the answer - probably.

“What? Yes.. no I mean No.. I mean I’m not looking at anything!”

Draco shot Blaise a glare that told him not to press it anymore.

The three of you were close friends, banding together after being the first ones sorted into a Slytherin first year. But as you got older and grew closer, there were possible some unspoken feelings between you and Draco. Theo questioned the sleepover, and Blaise the list full drawn out looks between the two of you in the Great Hall. It didn’t take a genius to know that Draco wanted you as more than just a friend, and desperately so. He mustered all his self control and tore his eyes away from his friend, collecting his books and strutting off to begin his day in a hurry, but not before shooting one last knowing, icy, “don’t your dare open your mouth you git” glare at a smirking Blaise.

You slipped into Draco’s dorm in a huff, having run all the way from the astronomy tower in order to catch the last of the departing owls for a letter. Cold and flustered you took a moment to compose yourself and looked around, familiar surroundings and smells greeting you.

You took in your neatly folded set of silk pajamas that sat on the foot of Draco’s bed, in case of a sleepover. Your glass perfume bottle sat precariously close to the edge of his dresser, accompanied by his fancy cologne you loved immensely.

With a rustling from the bathroom your favorite blonde emerged, and stopped at the sight of you in his doorway. He smiled and eyed you from afar, drinking you in. His expression was clouded and you walked over to him, a little nervous.

In all honesty you had forgotten you were even wearing his sweater this morning, rushed out the door to breakfast practically in your pajamas as to not be caught in Draco’s dorm by another prefect (god forbid). The only reason you remembered you had it on was because of the way Draco stared at you when you wore his clothes in public, the gaze that had so fondly followed you this morning.

You met his hazy clouded eyes with your big blue ones and tried to read his face. You were always good at seeing his emotions flicker across his eyes, and you sense something off. You probably did steal too much of his stuff after all, maybe he wanted all those night shirts back.

“You’re not.. mad... are you?” You asked softly, twirling your hips so his jumper hanging off of you twirled a little. “You like it on me right?”

He placed a gentle finger under your chin, bringing your face up to finally be level with his.

“Yeah, I love it on you sweetheart.” Draco grinned lazily back at you, admiring your frame while his fingers playing with yours, adoring the sensation of you twirl some of his cold silver rings around his digits.

A soft, breathless smile upturned on your rose colored lips, gloss long gone by the trials and tribulations of the day, and you allowed the luxury of flickering your gaze from Draco’s muscular hands to his piercing eyes. You kept eye contact while you whispered something you’d always thought about.

“I love it when you call me that.”

With a smirk, Draco enclosed your little hand inside his, causing you to break eye contact and look down at his palm enveloping yours.

“I know you do.” Draco responded with a quiet smile, subtly using his grip to tug you just an inch closer, relishing in every second he had with you and every centimeter closer you got until he could almost taste you in every way he’d ever imagined.

You returned your gaze to his, his dark eyes glimmering under the soft golden light of the candles on his dresser, the crushed velvet darkness of the night making the air feel all that much heavier. Your chest swelled, and the warmth his hands were providing spread throughout your entire body, igniting a fire inside your veins, and loving the familiarity of his gentle hold. He looked so honest and genuine, his eyes telling you he wholeheartedly cared about you just as you did about him, and the thought brought a smile to your lips, mirroring the one that rested on him.

Your eyes locked with his for the final time l, falling into his touch, and lips brushing ever so gently against his skin as you murmured, “I love you a whole lot, you know.”

Leaning forward, and pressing a soft ghost of a kiss to your forehead, Draco looked up at the ceiling to gain some composure and try and push down the flurry of emotions that bombarded him when you closed your eyes at the loving action.

“I love you a whole lot too, sweetheart.” Draco

mumbled back voice thick in his whisper.

And for now, those little, secret, shared moments between the two of you was enough.

Tags: @reeophidian @hellounicorn @le-weasley-simp @mrsmalfoy47 @imbadwithunsernames @moonyssky @weasvlys @potterpasties @tsukibaby @drabblingdraco @dracosathenaeum @theweasley15 @dreaming-about-fanfictions @dreamy-clousds @slytherin-chaser @malfoymxnor @witchyxmalfoy @wingardiumhogwartsosa @avanesco @toxicmodernity @accioweaslcy @2fabul0us4 @fallenxalien444

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Note

57 sternclay nsfw? i can see stern complaining to a stranger that his ex complained about how weird his kinks were while dumping him

Here you go! 57: “we’re fighting over the last box of half-off valentine’s day chocolate and end up in a “who has it worse” battle.

For being in a mountain town in the slow season, the seasonal candy shelves of the Kepler Walgreens are bare. Were it 10 am on Valentines Day, Joseph would be in a panic. At 10 p.m, it feels like yet more proof this trip is utterly doomed.

But he didn’t become one of the top agents in the Department of Unexplained Phenomena by being unobservant. On the top shelf, pushed towards the back, is a bag of Reese's hearts and a bag of M&Ms. Thank you, years of training.

Being six feet tall helps too.

He’s so locked onto his target that he doesn’t notice the other person in the store until their hands smack into each other en route to the bags.

“Sorry, uh, lemme just get these and I’ll get out of your way.” A voice as deep and sweet as summer honey reaches his ears.

“I’m sorry, but I was going to buy these.” He starts pulling the bags towards him, only for the other guy to grab them. Joseph glares; the man trying to relieve him of his last solace looks like the kind of lumberjack you see in recordings titled things, “Log Pounders IV” or “Bear Hunting.”

“Look, buddy, I really need these so can you, like, find some other bags?”

“These are the last two. And I guarantee I need them more.” As long as he keeps a pleasant voice and gives no ground, this should go smoothly.

“Unless you got dumped this month, I don’t think you do.”

“I got dumped seven hours ago.” He says through an increasingly tight-lipped smile.

“At least your ex isn’t tagging you in a bunch of photos bragging about his new boyfriend.”

“He can’t, because he probably only just got back to his apartment in the rental car. The one I’m now stranded here without.”

“Pfft, just call an Uber or something.”

“It’ll cost several hundred dollars to get home!”

“You look like you can afford it.” Brown eyes flick from his hair down to his shoes, “some of us have to use half-price candy to soothe our wounds. You’re probably staying at the kind of fancy B&B where they have complimentary booze.”

“I would be, except their was a fuck-up with the reservation. Which my ex took as proof this was time to end things, and is the reason I’m dragging this all over town.” He kicks his ergonomically designed, rolling suitcase hard enough that it bumps into his adversary.

“Better he gave you some bullshit reason than the truth, which mine was all too happy to tell me. You can have these when someone you tried to make happy tells you he thinks you’re ‘too soft’ and that if only you’d manned up he woulda stayed, whatever the fuck that even means.”

Goddamnit, Joseph is not about to lose this argument--and his candy--on top of everything else.

“I’ll trade you that for being told you’re: too exacting, far more uncool than your job implies, too anxious, too invested in your work, that your whole personality is flawed and, just for extra fun, that your kinks are too weird and no one in their right mind would ever want to sleep with you if they knew them ahead of time.”

The other man’s hold on the bags loosens. Then it returns, stronger than before, as he grumbles, “Please, no one’s kinks are that weird.”

“You have no idea what mine are.”

“Then how about you give me a demonstration, huh?” Lumberjack snaps.

Joseph's common sense finally catches up with his thirst for comfort and, apparently, conflict.

“I, I’m sorry, did you just offer to fuck me in the middle of a fight over discount candy?”

“I....” the man lets go of the bags, chuckles, “yeah, I did. Fuck, I’m sorry, it’s been such a shitty day that my mouth decided it was gonna do whatever it took to stay in that fight.”

Joseph laughs a little, slumping against the shelf, “I guess it’s nice to know I’m not the only person in town whose Valentine’s Day didn’t go to plan.”

“No kidding. Though, uh, I didn’t get dumped this month. It was three months ago. He did tag me in all those photos today though.”

“That’s so rude.”

“Not as rude as leaving your boyfriend stranded in the mountains.”

B-grade pop hits fill the awkward silence between them.

“I, uh, this might be way outta line, but I got an idea; if you buy the candy, I can take us back to my place and bake something with it. That way we can both enjoy it, and you won’t be stuck wandering around in the cold.”

He runs a quick is-this-a-serial-killer scan of the man in front of him.

“Sure. But just so you know, I’m opening the Reeses in the car.”

-----------------------------------------------------

“Feeling better?” Barclay, his host, wipes stray cupcake crumbs from his lips.

“Much.” He polishes off his second coffee-cocoa cupcake with M&Ms in the batter, lifts his coffee cup, “this place is lucky to have you.”

Barclay blushes the same way he has every time Joseph compliments his cooking, home, or taste in books. They’ve spent the last ninety minutes in the kitchen of Barclay’s small, A-Frame cabin, one of eight laid out in a half circle behind Amnesty Lodge. The cook explained that the cabins were for staff or long term residents, and that while the Lodge sometimes had vacancies, this week had seen them swamped.

The rain alternates between pleasant pitter-pats and drops that could kill a small bird, so Joseph is incredibly grateful to Barclay for giving him a place to shelter. When he thanks him, the cook shrugs with a little smile, “you shouldn’t leave nice things out in the rain.”

As they’re cleaning up the dishes, Barclay passes him a plate and says, “You can stay here tonight. If, uh, if you want. The couch isn’t much, but it’s dry and I’ve got a bunch of spare blankets.”

“That’d be great, thank you. And, um, thank you for being so nice to me, given how we met.”

“Eh, no one who’s in a Walgreens after ten is in a good mood. And, uh, it’s nice to have someone to talk with. I’m kinda the quiet one of my friends, and work is mostly calling orders and stuff.” He pulls the coffee pot from the heat, “can I top you off?”

“Yes, please.” His caffeine tolerance is so high a few cups late at night doesn’t mess with his sleep. Barclay is sticking with tea, something scented like cardamon and comfort.

They move to the couch that’s clearly been re-covered a dozen times, Barclay only getting up to turn on some music; delta blues, if Joseph’s ear is right. It’s not until the clock strikes one thirty that Joseph notices they’re sitting so close that their knees bump whenever one of them turns to talk.

“Okay, I gotta ask” Barclay’s brown eyes shine sweet and playful, “what exactly was so weird about your kinks that your dickhead ex went out of his way to mention them?”

He thinks a moment, scanning his body and noticing he’s more relaxed than he’s been in weeks, including all the times he spent with his ex. Something about the faint scent of dish-soap on Barclays hands, the gentle smile that makes Joseph certain that--for all his bulk--if Joseph told him to roll over and show his belly, he’d do it in an instant, the way he doesn’t rolls his eyes or shy away when Joseph talks, all of that makes him calm. Which makes him bold.

“Wait right here.” He hops up, grabs his bag from the door and pulls it over to the rug by the couch. All he has to do to reveal his secret is lift his pajamas.

“Holy fuck.” Barclay leans forward, “you really came prepared.”

“It was supposed to be a romantic getaway. I...we’d never used any of this together, but I hoped we might this time. It’s, it’s not his fault, I know my tastes aren’t for everyone, and we had plenty in common in bed. But he went through this whole thing where he said we should share our deepest fantasies. Apparently wanting to be choked is fine, but wanting to fuck Mothman is not.”

“That’s what this one is.” Barclay picks up one of the two dildos, black with lots of swirling ridges.

“That’s actually my dragon one. Um.” he holds up the ovipositor toy, “this one is supposed to be mothman.”

Barclay squishes one of the silicone eggs, “that feels kinda nice. What else did you bring?”

His genuine interest is not helping Joseph keep his hopes under control.

“The other toy is the ‘bigfoot’ model. And this is, um, this is my newest one, I was so excited I pre-ordered it. It acts like a cock-sleeve, but this part here is supposed to mimic a, um, a knot.”

“Like the idea of getting knotted, babe?” The cook’s voice is a little deeper than when he last spoke, and rather than pulling away he’s inching into Joseph’s space.

“Yes. I, um, I’m getting the sense” he shifts so his hands are on Barclay’s knees, “that we might have something in common besides our taste in leftover candy.”

“I packed all this so carefully” he brushes their lips together, “it’d be a shame to let it sit unused.”

Barclay scoops him into a kiss, growling happily when Joseph instantly parts his lips. His beard is soft and tickly under Joseph’s palms, and his mind takes the thought of getting beard-burn on his thighs and runs so far with it that he almost misses what Barclay says next.

“In that case, you better decide if you want me to open your ass up so I can fuck you with a knot, or if you wanna do it yourself.”

“I prefer to do it myself.”

A second kiss, a bit gentler this time, “bedroom’s at the end of the hall. Get naked and wait for me there?”

“Roger that, big guy.”

When Barclay growls this time it’s rougher, jumping out of his chest and seeming to surprise him.

Joseph undresses as Barclay stops off in the bathroom, rifling through the medicine cabinet while Joseph folds his clothes. He’s down to his boxers when he remembers there is a conversation he needed to have before it hit this point.

“You trying to get me to rip those off with my teeth?” Barclay grins as he sets some condoms and lube on the bed and starts taking off his pants.

“I, um, there’s something you should be aware of. We don’t have the same, um, set-up.”

Barclay furrows his brow, gets his meaning, then nods, “no problem. If you’re okay with that part of you being involved I, uh, I just got a really, really good idea for what to do.”

“It’s not always the case, but tonight I definitely want it involved. I want you inside me as many ways as possible.”

“Fuck yeah.” Barclay tosses his shirt into the laundry, “get your ass open enough to take that knot.”

He slips the condom on, douses it with lube, and presses the first finger in, discovering that he's unable to stop complimenting Barclay for even five seconds while he finishes disrobing. The flush under his dark chest hair is unendingly charming, as is the little whine he makes at Joseph telling him he likes how big he is.

“I, I’m serious, ahhn, it’s rare to find someone taller than me and I really like it.”

“Feeds into the monster thing?” Barclay crawls beside him, laying down so he can kiss him as he works the second finger in.

“In a way.”

A deep, rumbly chuckle that has Joseph fucking himself hurriedly, “Don’t be coy, babe. You like the thought of something big and hairy getting a hold of you and not letting you go until you’re dripping cum.”

“Holy shit, yes” he gets the third finger in, sighing as Barclay nuzzles his neck.

“Well, I’m not bigfoot, but I’m betting I’ll do just fine.”

“More than fine.” Joseph kisses him, feels him smile in a way that melts his heart like cheap chocolate.

“Got some other theories about you, babe, but you gotta wait until you’re on my dick to hear ‘em.” Barclay sits up, stroking his cock in time with Joseph’s hand, “fucking-A, can’t believe your ex didn’t wanna stick around for this. You look like a fucking porn star; we oughta record you getting fucked in your suit and sell if for big bucks.”

He moans, pulling his fingers free, “Fuck me now. Please.”

“Fuck that’s hot.” Barclay works the sleeve down over his cock, sits up against the wall, “come sit in my lap, facing away.”

Joseph straddles him, gasps when the head of his cock presses in. He prepped well, but all the same he has to take his time wiggling his way down. Barclay caresses him, grunting and whimpering whenever he moves, breath prickling the hairs at the base of his neck. It’s heavenly.

When he hits the knot, Barclay rubs more lube on it, but it stays outside of him as he grinds on it. Between moans, the cook manages to say, “want me to start the next part?”

“Yes, please.”

Barclay loads the ovipositor with the three eggs, praises Joseph for being a good boy when he spreads his legs to accommodate the head of the toy.

“I, I thought you had more you were going to tell me?” He tilts his head awkwardly to kiss Barclay’s shoulder.

“Uh huh.” Barclay slowly works the toy in and out, doing his best to sync it to the rolls of his hips, “I think you’re the kind of guy who doesn’t just want one monster; you want ‘em all.”

“Variety is, ohgod, part of a healthy sex life.”

“I don’t mean one monster on one day and a different one on another. I think you want them all at once.”

“Oh yes, oh! Ohohoh” he kicks his legs as the first egg pushes in, “fuck, Barclay, please keep going.”

“Whatever you want, babe.” He nuzzles Joseph’s hair, “that’s how I came up with this plan; seeing all those different dicks made me think you’d, fuck, you’d like me to pretend there was more than just me fucking you.”

Joseph nods, clinging to Barclays arm and bearing down on the knot.

“Can just see it now; you got yourself lost in the woods out here, go looking for help only to find a whole bunch of monsters waiting for you. Spend the rest of the night pressed into the dirt and leaves while every cryptid from, fuck” he bucks his hips, “from here to Canada had their turn.”

“Shit, shit” the knot starts pushing in, “y-you’ve got my number, big guy.”

“Yeah?” Barclay squeezes the base of the toy as he talks, causing the remaining two eggs to push their way in, Joseph’s body clenching around them, “you want a night where all your good for is being fucked, where if you beg for a break you get a bigfoot fucking your throat and werewolves cumming on your chest instead of them all mobbing you at once?”

“Shit, yes, YESohfuck” the knot enters him as Barclay shoves his hips down, “ohmygod that’s good, fuck, I feel so full, you’re so smart, this was genius, fuck you know how to treat meAHannnfuck, shit.” He holds on to Barclays arm’s as the other man fucks him with abandon.

“Oh I know, babe. Know I was fucking right. You wanna be claimed, wanna be owned, wanna be bred by a whole fuckin pack-”

“Jesuschrist” it’s hard to breathe at the pace Barclay sets, his body aching to cum but not quite able to get there. He squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing frantically at his dick as Barclay loses himself in the fantasy.

“You’d be so cute, leaves in your hair and cum on your chin, taking it all and begging for more. Good thing you’re so needy, you could tear a pack apart with folks fighting over who gets to fuck you, fuck, Joseph, baby, you’re so fucking good, gonna be so fucking good to you, fuck, fuck” he shoves as deep as he can while he cums, and in the haze of pleasure Joseph swears claws prick the skin of his chest. Just the thought of that sends his own orgasm coursing through him, his body tensing and twisting on Barclay’s cock, making them both moan from sudden overstimulation.

“S-sorry” Barclay pants.

“Nothing to apologize for, just physiology, here, let me ow, ow, okay maybe I should have relaxed more first.” He’s free of both toys, but that was right on the edge of too painful. He waits for Barclay to take off the sleeve, then rolls the bigger man so his head is on his chest.

“Your ex didn’t know how good they had it.”

“Thanks, babe.”

He smiles, “I like that. No one ever calls me something that informal.”

“Call you it whenever you want. Babe.” Barclay kisses his arm, “you can, uh, stay in bed if you want. We don’t have a ton of time together so I’d, uh, well, I’d like to spend as much of it with you as I can.”

For the first time, Joseph wishes his vacation would last longer.

“Agreed, big guy.”

--------------------------------------------------

“You said you had my new assignment, sir?”

“Yes. Agent Stern, you will be going to the town of Kepler to investigate the events described in this file.” Agent Hayes passses him the folder.

“Understood, sir.”

Joseph manages to keep his smile to himself all the way to his desk.

#sternclay #agent stern/ barclay #taz amnesty #reader request #meet ugly

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beckydoesthings · 4 years ago

Text

various fics of hxl that i adore reading! this list is quite lengthy, but feel free to message me if you have any questions!

*will continue to be updated. also, if i mistagged you, i apologize, i do not know how to tumblr*

Love Is a Rebellious Bird

E | 134k | @100percentsassy and gloria_andrews

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

i think this tickled every bone of my musical self and also made me cry (are you seeing a theme here??) one of the first fics i fell in love with and one i keep coming back to.

Collision

E | 226k | @tequiladimples

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

the world building in this one is insanity - so much good mythology mixed in and it made me screech with joy. i think i can firmly say that i did not expect where the plot went, but that made the story so much better.

Flour and Chocolate

M | 145k | @danosphere91

It was nice, for a bakery he supposed.

Then he approached the display cabinet.

And the foreboding slammed into him. Because every product had letters next to it. Letters. GF, DF, V, O, VGN.

What. The. Fuck?

Lifting his eyes to the chalkboard menu spread across the back wall Louis felt physically ill. ‘Gluten-free’, ‘organic’, ‘vegan’, ‘paleo’, ‘dair-…’ Wait, what the fuck was a paleo? He had entered some hipster-trash establishment and it was more than time to get out.

Louis is a single dad and Harry works at the newly opened bakery down the street.

the miscommunication in this fic is SO REAL and makes for a good read. the rest of the flour and chocolate series is also fantastic. i thoroughly enjoyed both the ziam and ed/niall arcs that bring the whole story together.

run away home

E | 106k | @hattalove

Louis stands, in the middle of a clearing with his hands in his pockets, and stares. This boy—God, this gorgeous, gorgeous boy. He seems so clumsy, confused at the best of times, but there’s a wisdom about him as he speaks, a maturity that belies his age.

Louis is hopelessly, wildly attracted to him.

or, louis is a successful jockey down on his luck, struggling to get his life back on track after an injury. harry has a horse, a house fit for a prince, and a broken heart.

it takes them a while to figure out that they need each other.

this makes my inner horse girl extraordinarily happy - even if i don’t know anything about horse racing. louis’ story in this is beautiful and makes the whole piece worth a read.

waiting for the tides to meet

E | 60k | @nauticalleeds

Louis lets out a deep breath, thinking about Harry’s soulmate. Thinking about how Harry’s soulmate is probably as beautiful as Harry, some person that Louis cannot compare to, and how the universe has chosen them to be Harry’s. Fuck the universe. “Fuck you,” he calls out to the universe. He’s aware of how crazy he sounds.

Maybe he is crazy, with how he’s falling for Harry. And fuck that, too.

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

Featuring a lovely cup of OT5, a road trip down the coast, and a scene where Harry eats a whole head of lettuce. Don't ask why.

gorgeous soulmate AU that gives me summer cruising vibes. worth the read for the lettuce scene alone (i kid, i kid)

Do Not Go Gentle

E | 70k | @afirethatcannotdie

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”

For a moment, they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood thrumming between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him, feels red-hot anger. And then all he feels, oppressively and desperately, is lust.

Suddenly Louis is surging up to him to press his lips against Harry’s. Harry walks the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.

“Lock — oh — lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

okay i’ve watched maybe 3 episodes of Gray’s Anatomy, but i feel like this encompasses the vibe of the show: medical stuff with a hefty dose of angst and sexual tension

Falling For Me Won’t Be A Mistake

M | 58k | @all-these-larrythings

Harry is married to his job and so overworked that he doesn't know how to stop. All it takes is a forced Hawaiian get-a-away, the warm tropical breeze of the island, and the most beautiful, elusive man he's ever seen to make him remember what living is like outside of work. Well, that, and the little souvenir he accidentally takes home with him.

one of my favorite mpreg fics so if that’s not your cup of tea, then don’t read it. i love surgeon harry with a vengeance, but honestly Gems and Niall are iconic in this one.

Watching the World Fall

E | 11k | @crazyupsetter why won’t it let me tag :(

This segment has been going on long enough that Louis knows what’s coming before James starts in on it, trying to sell him on something he knows that Louis wouldn’t normally be buying. But there’s four cameras surrounding him, and an audience watching him expectantly, so if Louis wants to continue convincing people that he’s doing just fine, he’s going to have to go along with it.

“We have a whole host of single men backstage waiting to meet you, Louis,” James tells him. “We want to help you find love tonight, on Late Late Live Tinder. Is this okay? Do you want to play?”

It actually kind of makes sense that his first date after the break-up is going to be just as public as said break-up. Something like coming full circle.

“Alright, James,” Louis agrees, hopping down off his stool.

“Okay, come down to the stage,” James says. Louis can’t even tell whether the excitement in his voice is genuine or not. “Right now, come on down!”

i have a soft spot the size of Antarctica for Late Late AU fics (we stan James Corden) and for exes to lovers so this checks all the boxes.

autumn leaves

E | 27k | @suspendrs

“Brave?” Harry frowns, caught off guard. “No, not particularly.”

“You seem brave,” Louis decides, pushing off the wall and stepping on the butt of his cigarette. “You are strong, and you are not mean. That’s good,” he assures, touching Harry’s arm gently.

“Thank you, but that’s not true,” Harry smiles ruefully. “I’m really not anything special.”

Or, Harry is an American soldier in France during World War II, and Louis is a French waiter that doesn't mean to fall in love with him.

love love french AUs and while this one isn’t sunshine and rainbows, it’s a beautiful yet heart wrenching piece. warning for period typical homophobia

caught up in your love affair

NR | 8k | @disgruntledkittenface

“And the corgis took to you straightaway,” Harry remarks.

“That’s true,” Louis chuckles.

“I’ve spent the last 29 years being barked at,” Harry deadpans, jerking his hand toward Louis, “this one walks in, absolutely nothing.”

Louis outright giggles at that, saying, “They were just lying on my feet during tea.”

“Wagging tails,” Harry says, shaking his head.

“It’s because they don’t understand flirting,” Louis tells him, “you can’t charm them the way you do everyone else.”

Royal AU. Prince Harry announces his engagement to Louis Tomlinson in an interview with longtime friend and BBC host Nick Grimshaw. Inspired by Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.

just. 8k of royal fluff. that’s literally it and i adore it so much.

Apples Always Fall (As I Do For You)

M | 54k | @rainbowsandgucci

”Due to unforeseen circumstances, help is needed here at the orchard for the impending apple season. Looking for someone able to start within the next week or two at the most, is willing to do whatever miscellaneous tasks are needed, such as picking & packing apples, running the cash register, and other handywork that may need to be done. Must be good with customers, and able to lift up to 50lbs. Help will be needed until at the least the end of October. Please contact the number found on this page, or come out to the orchard and ask for Harry. All the love xx” --- Louis is staying at his Aunt's farm in a small town in Minnesota for four months. To deal with the boredom that sets in a week into his stay, he starts working at the local apple orchard, owned by twenty six year old Harry Styles. Louis quickly finds himself falling in love with the orchard, and he finds a family in Harry's friends Niall, Liam, and Zayn. He also starts to fall in love with Harry. Falling in love with him turns out to be the easy part.

i never thought i would enjoy an apple orchard fic?? but it’s so good?? farmer harry makes me laugh to think about, but the heartbreak in this fic is so. real.

Mine Would Be You

E | 114k | @crinkle-eyed-boo

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

exes to lovers drama but make it extra sad. the fact that we see so many facets to this story just makes it all the more painful, yet beautiful. this fic also reminds me of how much i love one mister niall horan.

One for Luck

E | 96k | @leavingonatrain

The very first time Louis remembers hearing Harry Styles' deep, deep voice, he's just won gold at the World Equestrian Games and he's officially back on Great Britain's Olympic team. He's also three sheets to the wind, drunk on victory and champagne, and there's a gorgeous boy whispering in his ear. Life's grand.

(AU: Louis and Harry are professional riders on the British Olympic team.)

again, i know nothing about horses, but i like to pretend i do for the sake of this fic. it’s beautiful, it’s smutty what else could you ask for?

Nothing But You On My Mind

E | 83k | @absoloutenonsense

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

i absolutely. definitely. sobbed tears at this fic. it’s just so beautifully painful to read. don’t want to spoil anything, but this is a must.

Adore You

M | 67k | @isthatyoularry

“We invited our new acquaintances from uptown. You’ve simply got to meet their oldest son!” said his mother with a flourish, and suddenly it became abundantly clear as to why his parents had so adamantly demanded he join them in Deansville for the entirety of the summer.

Against his wishes, Harry spends the holidays at his family’s summer estate, and is reluctantly pulled into a courtship he didn’t ask for. Harry doesn’t want to get married, but Louis does. They don’t fit, but then again they really, really do.

Vaguely set in the 1920’s. Headpieces, jazz, fashionable canes, and flapper dresses, and that.

i strongly relate to harry in this one! one of my favorite historical AUs and honestly i love the thought of louis in well fitting suits.

leave it to the breeze

E | 81k | @hattalove

Louis couldn’t be prouder of his bake, but there’s something—there’s something. Something about Harry Styles and the earnest way he measures, pours, mixes, scrapes. Something about the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he knocks the air out of his batter.

or a great british bake off au in which louis cares about winning and winning only, harry is made of sunshine and rainbow sprinkles, and niall sticks his nose into other people's business. also featuring liam as louis's best friend-slash-concerned mother, and zayn as a macaron connoisseur.

i. love. the. great british baking show. baking + h&l is amazing. and another reminder as to why niall is the absolute best.

Paint The Sky With Stars

M | 62k | @icanhazzalou grrr let me tag

On 10 April 1912, Harry Styles boards the finest ship the world has ever seen. Still grieving the death of their mother, he and his sister are being sent to America to live with a callous uncle who cares more about his business connections than family. Harry prepares himself for a long, disappointing voyage alone in his stateroom.

Louis Tomlinson has borrowed and saved, and finally has enough to purchase a Third Class ticket to America. With all of his belongings in a single ruck sack, he boards the Titanic filled with hope for a brighter future. Never one to sit still, he can’t resist exploring the massive ship, and soon goes sneaking into First Class in a stolen steward’s uniform.

By a twist of fate, Louis finds himself in Harry’s stateroom, entranced by the most attractive man he’s ever laid eyes on. He keeps returning day after day, even if he doesn’t understand what it is about Harry that continues pulling him in. That’s all right; Louis has a week to figure it out, and Harry is plenty willing to help.

Except they don’t have a week. They have four days. Because on 15 April, their entire world will be turned upside down.

Or, the historically accurate Titanic AU with a happy ending.

gorgeous historical fic that’s so accurate and painstakingly written. i keep coming back to it!

When It’s Late At Night

M | 25k | @all-these-larrythings

Louis has zero interest in an ex-boybander turned solo artist when his appearance on the show gets announced, but that's exactly who he gets stuck with when Harry Styles shows up at the Late Late show to promote the release of his debut album. For an entire fucking week.

The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.

remember when i said i love Late Late AUs? yeah. i love that louis gives absolutely zero shits in this fic until he gives all the shits.

Chasing Empty Spaces

E | 79k | @domestic-harry

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

gorgeous historical AU that goes through Harry’s struggle with his sexuality wonderfully. this one also made me cry.

Resist Everything Except Temptation

E | 100k | @domestic-harry

The lethargic sound of heels clicking against wood resonated across the sea. Footsteps descended the staircase, every assured step creating a menacing aura as it grew closer. Perspiration gathered along Louis’ palms as the rhythmic sound halted in front of him.

“Captain,” Malik greeted.

Louis watched out of his peripheral as Malik’s boots shuffled back a few steps. Sweat matted the hair along the nape of Louis’ neck as he waited for something to happen. He felt as if a sharp blade was twisting his gut as the silence became tangible. There was a metallic slide of a sword being pulled out of its sheath, the sound startling Louis out of his cocoon of sterile shock. His shoulders jumped as the tip of a blade flattened underneath his jaw. Louis’ distorted reflection stared back at him in the polished metal. Engraved rose petals twisted his appearance as they crawled up the length of the sword. The sword lifted and took Louis’ chin with it.

Standing in front of Louis was Captain Styles.

The one where Louis is the commodore's son who is forced to become a part of Harry's crew when he is captured.

love this pirate AU that’s got one badass gemma styles. also, harry as a super cool pirate in gorgeous clothes makes me super happy!

i’ll make this feel like home

E | 49k

Harry to groans himself and then takes a deep breath. “Okay, well. Here’s the thing. I peed on a stick.”

Louis isn’t able to get more than a shocked “What!” out before Harry’s steamrolling on.

“I peed on a stick and it says it’s positive, but you always prattle on about how it’s best to go to the doctor’s before you get excited, you know to confirm it because sometimes hormones are off or you have like a tumor or some shit and get false positives and what if I’m dying and-”

“You’re pregnant?!” Louis shouts out, stomach dropping as the words leave his mouth.

“Um, yeah… maybe.”

[the one where Louis' hopelessly in love with his best mate... who just happens to be pregnant with another man's baby.]

baby momma harry with hot mess!Louis is a recipe for disaster, but this one has plenty of fluff to make up for it.

Hands Clasped Tight

E | 44k | @afirethatcannotdie

“What am I looking at here?” Harry asks.

“This, my friends, is a ‘proof’ Instagram account, run by your students,” Liam announces.

“It’s got all this stuff about how the two of you are together,” Niall adds.

“I heard about that,” says one of the math teachers. “Confiscated a kid’s phone today when they were looking at it. I have to say, the evidence that you’re dating is pretty damning.”

“Really,” Louis says dryly. “Do you think being married for three years might have something to do with it?”

Or the one where Harry and Louis are high school teachers and their students have been playing matchmaker for over a year. Little do they know, Harry and Louis are already married.

love love teacher harry and louis that’s mostly funny fluff with a little angst. just a teeny amount. reminds me of my own experiences with meddling students haha.

*updated 2/16/21*

#fic recs #hl #hlcreators #ao3 #in no particular order #message me for other fics!#yourlarrysource

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imagine-darksiders · 4 years ago

Text

Homesick - Chapter 2

Behind the door.

Warnings: implied child abuse, abusive parents, blood, nosebleeds, angst, themes of childhood trauma, ptsd

Tags: Darksiders, DeathxAzrael, hurt/comfort, angst, Reader, Found family, Reader needs a hug

Chapter 1

---

“What lays beyond that door?”

Azrael's innocent question causes you to stiffen and your steps falter on the landing, knowing precisely to which door he's referring, but unwilling to even spare it a backwards glance.

The momentary delay hardly lasts for more than a second and goes seemingly unnoticed by the angel, whose gaze appears too focused on the locked, mahogany door that stands quiet and guiltless at the furthest end of your landing. Hanging back near the top of the staircase however, with eyes sharp and turned just enough in your direction that they catch the hitching of your chest, Death does notice.

Then, he blinks, and you're suddenly twisting your head over a shoulder to look beyond Azrael at the door in question, a smile on your lips but not in your eyes.

“Oh, that's just a storage cupboard,” you say casually, waving a dismissive hand through the air and continuing your journey to the opposite side of the house, “I've been in and out of there all week stacking boxes of junk up to the ceiling. Now, come this way, all the best human-y stuff is stock-piled in my bedroom.”

You're too quick to disregard the door, too eager in turning to walk towards your room on stiff legs and Death wishes the angel would turn to look at you so he might also see what the Horseman sees, if only to confirm that he isn't imagining things.

Alas, letting out an intrigued little hum, Azrael clasps his hands loosely behind his back and sweeps after you, all the while pivoting his head this way and that to take in everything your humble home has to offer.

------------------

You had so nearly forgotten what the joy of discovery looks like in another person. To see the eyes of someone else grow wide and bright with unbridled wonder at a world you've long since lost a taste for.

Azrael's fascination at the most mundane of human objects manages to put a genuine smile on your face, though the ensuing pain still throbs like the beat of an insistent drum every time your cheeks press against your bruised eye.

Luckily, the angel appears to have missed your subtle wince.

After first having dragged him away from your television, you've managed to introduce him to many of humanity's other wonders that lay dotted around your bedroom.

Before long, Death had even slunk inside to join you both, taking up the mantle of an uninterested observer and absently perusing your book collection in the corner whilst keeping a surreptitious eye on the goings on of his companions.

You've perched yourself comfortably in a bean bag, content to simply sit back and observe whilst Azrael explores your room, his wide, white wings folded neatly against his back in order to spare some of your ornaments from being knocked off their shelves.

“This... ursine mammal,” he says, pausing beside your bed and poking a finger into the fur of an old, stuffed bear sitting atop your pillow, “Does it serve some purpose?”

You're too preoccupied with fighting back a laugh to answer him right away, and by the time you realise he's watching you expectantly, Death pipes up in your stead, cutting off any explanation you might have offered.

“I imagine it's only there for decoration,” he muses, casting a critical eye over your bookcase and the dozens of unread stories scattered about on the shelves, “But then, I have to wonder if half the things in this room aren't just ornamentation.”

Knowing what he's implying, you spare the back of his head a scowl. It isn't as though you've had a lot of time to read those books he gave you, not between rebuilding your own home and helping humanity come to terms with life post-apocalypse.

“Ah!” Azrael's head shoots up and he tears his eyes from the bear, glancing towards you instead. “It is symbolic, no? In resembling a most ferocious predator, this bear represents the perfect guard for your home.”

He looks so damn pleased with himself, you almost don't bother to correct him, instead wrestling your grin into a pensive frown and nodding slowly.

“Uh, sure! That is a pretty... exciting way to look at teddy bears.” Hopping to your feet, you make your way over to the bed and sweep a few of Azrael's primary feathers aside, picking up the toy bear and squeezing it to your chest. “But mostly humans use these for comfort at night, when we sleep. We usually get given them as children. And, as we grow older, I... guess we just get too attached to get rid of them. Most humans keep their childhood toys long into adulthood.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Death huffs, shaking his head with a smile hidden beneath the bone-mask, “You humans will get attached to anything that sits still for long enough.”

Azrael, on the other hand, looks as though you've just revealed to him one of humanity's greatest secrets. Rubbing his chin in thought, he says, “Remarkable! I've heard that humans are rather famous for the bonds they forge with other species, yet I never imagined that could extend to inanimate objects as well.”

“Yeah, you'd better believe it,” you smirk, placing the bear down on your pillow once more, “Someday I'll have to tell you about the woman who married the Eiffel Tower.”

At once, the Archangel blinks hard, eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hair line. “A tower? Surely that’s a jape?”

So perplexed is his expression, you throw back your head and let out a bark of delighted laughter. “What are you, Shakespeare? Nobody says ‘jape’ anymore, Azrael!”

Off on his own side of your little bedroom, Death's neck twists around slightly to regard both you and the angel as you engage in a light-hearted back and forth about the use of archaic vocabulary. He doesn't even realise that one corner of his mouth has begun lifting at the sight.

There is a truth about the Horseman that even he is reluctant to acknowledge, and that is that the constant slew of bad things happening in the Universe is... wearing. It’s wearing. To be on a constant path that always seems to lead towards battle or tragedy? Sometimes it feels as though his entire existence has merely consisted of one battle after another.

He saves one world, only for another to be torn apart, he destroys a species, and another asks him to fight their war for them, he helps the makers but in doing so, inadvertently kills their elder. Century after century - a millennia of bloody battles and terrible sacrifices and trying to keep his siblings safe - If he ever stopped to think about it...

Death’s eyes slip slowly shut.

He has worked... so hard, hasn’t he? Is it really so wrong if he enjoys these moments of fleeting repose?

All of a sudden, a strangled sound leaves Azrael's throat and Death is yanked from his peaceful reverie. “Y/n!?” the angel exclaims, his expression shifting to horrified in less than a second, “You're bleeding!”

Apparently, mentioning your name and blood in the same sentence is enough to get Death's voice to crack as he whips around properly and barks, “What!?”

Baffled, you raise a hand to your nose, dabbing at a sticky wetness gathered there whilst the taste of salty liquid drips onto your upper lip. “Oh, so I am,” you observe casually, only to have a pair of chilly hands curl unexpectedly around your forearms.

Without warning, the terrifying visage of the Horseman is looming mere inches from your face and in another instant, one of his hands presses itself to your forehead and firmly – albeit gently – tips it backwards.

“Um... Death, we've talked about this. Personal space, remember?”

The Horseman remains eerily silent as he stares transfixed at the blood oozing from your nose and you squirm uncomfortably when the grip he has on your arm begins to grow even tighter. Meanwhile, his wordlessness allows Azrael to fret aloud in the background.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” the angel mutters, pacing back and forth behind Death, never tearing his eyes from the red straining your face, “You shouldn't be having all this excitement. You should be resting.”

It's difficult to hold back your groan of exasperation as you lift your arms and knock Death's hands aside, stepping out of his reach.

“Oh for - It's just a nosebleed! Honestly, what has gotten into you two?” With a hefty sigh, you skirt around the rigid Nephilim, dodge one of Azrael's wings as it tries to curl instinctively around you and march into your ensuite bathroom.

Almost immediately, the angel tries to follow, but he swiftly has the door pushed shut in his face before he can enter and soon, they hear your voice filtering out to them from the other side. “I'm not a baby, guys! Nosebleeds are no big deal, it's just happening because of... well, you know.”

Azrael's stomach twists itself into knots at the sight of yet another locked door standing between himself and his human friend. He's about to call out for you to let him see the damage when an icy chill sweeps across the room and he turns, his mouth falling open slightly at the sight of Death staring at him through unseeing eyes.

The old Nephilim's body has gone completely still and there's a haunted look about him, as though he's lost, or perhaps trapped in another time, another place.

“Horseman?” Azrael murmurs uncertainly, feeling the cold prickle at the hairs on the base of his neck. Seconds pass and he receives no answer. Hesitant now, the archangel reaches towards Death's shoulder and, when he isn't immediately shoved away, places a hand on the frigid, solid muscle that bunches under his gentle touch. “Death,” he tries again, and this time the Horseman's head snaps up to stare at him, as if only just realising he's there.

The angel ducks his head to better catch Death's eye, his voice soft enough that only the two of them can hear it. “Are you alright, old friend?”

A long silence stretches between them with only the faint sound of running water from your bathroom tap to fill it.

Then, giving a start, Death roughly shrugs the comforting hand off his shoulder and stalks past the angel towards your window, leaning his elbows heavily against the sill and stubbornly refusing to acknowledge Azrael's concern. He doesn't think the archangel has ever been that close to him before, close enough that the subtle scent of old books and clean linen invaded his nose and chased away the awful stench of your blood, effectively leaving his mind clear once again.

'Idiot,' he chastises himself, eyes still wide behind the bone mask. How could he have frozen like that? In front of Azrael no less. Creator, he'd never live that one down. He had – for lack of a better word – panicked, and it's as embarrassing to admit to himself as it is to have been caught panicking. But...

The sight of your blood... The smell of it, sweet and strong enough that it even settled on his tastebuds...

It's pathetic, really. He is Death. He's seen and caused far more bloodshed than arguably any being in any realm. So why then does your spilled blood hold his dead heart in such a cruel and unforgivably tight chokehold?

The redundancy of taking a calming breath isn't lost on him, yet he does it anyway, tipping his head up to peer out of your window, chest rising and falling with motions he could only have picked up after spending so much time around you.

It's begun to rain, he notes idly. Tiny droplets of water patter down onto the dusty window panes and Death follows the path of one until it merges with several others and is lost in the fray.

Down in the streets below, many passers-by have dived for shelter, yet there are still two figures who remain. One is an angel, whose golden complexion shimmers when raindrops trickle steadily down his face. He's standing in the shadow of a water-logged bus stop and beside him, leaning just a little too close, is a serpentine demon, scales black and glittering like obsidian. The odd pair rest almost shoulder to shoulder underneath the bus stop's awning, each sharing a brief respite from the rain with what was once a well-loathed enemy.

Death blinks upon seeing that their hands are intertwined. Dainty, golden fingers curl loosely around clumsier claws and suddenly, the Horseman feels as though he's intruding on their secret moment, so he turns back to face your room.

Azrael has drifted closer once again and there's a knowing expression on his face that causes Death to frown. Sure enough, the archangel spares your bathroom door a hasty glance before he looks at the Horseman once more. “...Death,” he says slowly, “It's... all right, you know. If seeing Y/n’s blood upset you-”

Hackles are raised in half a second, a set of sharp teeth clack together and Death hisses, “You think I'm upset?”

Judging by the flat look he receives, that is precisely what the archangel thinks.

Despite the obvious vehemence behind Death's tone, he's careful to keep his voice down, ever mindful that you're only a room over. Perhaps getting defensive isn't the best idea.

“There is no shame in it, Horseman,” the angel coaxes softly, “Y/n is my friend as well. There has already been far too much human blood spilled this century.” He casts another, baleful glance towards your bathroom, quietly adding, “I didn't think I would be seeing it again, not this soon. And especially not from our human.”

...Our human.

Death is unnerved by how natural that sounds coming off Azrael's tongue.

Expertly, the Horseman wills his shoulders to slump and his muscles to relax, then, with an unmistakable air of indifference, he folds his arms across his broad chest and turns himself deliberately away from the archangel, glowering at your bedroom wall.

And Azrael, wise enough to read the standoffish behaviour for what it is, allows his mouth to fall shut because he knows that, as far as Death is concerned, the conversation is over.

He has a care not to release a weary sigh. But with you shutting him out physically and the Horseman shutting him out verbally, it's difficult for even the composed archangel to keep exasperation at bay.

Just then, your voice calls out to them from the other side of the door. “Ugh, sorry about this guys. It's slowing down, but it hasn't stopped yet. I'll just be a minute!”

“So long as you're all right,” Azrael replies.

When he receives no response from you and no further input from Death, he lets his head drop into a disappointed nod, pressing his lips together. Suddenly, his presence feels a little too big for the space he's occupying. He needs to think.

Azrael leaves your bedroom with a far heavier heart than he'd gone in with, raking his fingers through fine, white hair and expelling a soft breath from his lungs, as if that might alleviate the weight settling across his chest.

So far, this first visit to your home has not gone as he'd hoped it would. Through no fault of your own, mind. But trying to focus on taking in everything you show him whilst he knows you're in more pain than you're letting on is woefully distracting. That's without even mentioning the creeping sense of unease that has been hanging over him ever since he first stepped foot through your front door.

Briefly, Azrael wonders if Death had noticed the way your breath hitched slightly and your reply had an almost imperceptible, underlying tremor when he asked you what lay beyond the door at the end of your landing. He'd have to ask the Horseman about that later, when he's in a more talkative mood.

Already, the archangel can feel the beginnings of a frown forging crevasses down the centre of his forehead. He composes himself in another breath and finally lifts his eyes from the carpet, only to stop in his tracks.

That door – that unassuming door to your cupboard lays ahead of him, quiet and solid as all doors should be, just sitting there under a flickering light bulb, as though it had been patiently waiting for him to notice it.

And notice it, he does, because something about the door has changed since he saw it last, something so obvious, yet also entirely unsettling.

Where it had once been shut tight, now it stands ever so slightly ajar.

Despite everything in him screaming that he must respect the privacy of his host, Azrael's curiosity grows too bold and he finds himself treading silently down your landing, his shoes making no sound on the grubby, cream carpet. Drawing to a halt, the angel's keen gaze sweeps over the wooden door, taking in hairline cracks and mottled rot that a hundred years has left upon it like battle scars on a warrior's face. Slowly, he roves his eyes down to the dull, brass door handle and he immediately falters, doing a double-take.

Sitting atop the handle is a very noticeable, very thick layer of dust.

His brows knit together until they nearly touch and he reaches out to swipe a finger delicately along the brass. When he pulls away, he lifts his hand for an inspection and, sure enough, the pad of his forefinger is now sporting the same, grey substance.

'Why would a door you claimed to use recently have so much dust upon the handle?' The feeling of unease that had been stealthily keeping to the back of his mind now pokes its head out a little more, creeping forwards, daring him to acknowledge it.

'Something's wrong...' a quiet voice tells him.

Azrael's hand reaches out once more, except this time, it curls around the handle entirely and rests there for a moment as the angel's mind starts to race. 'Y/n.... Are you hiding something from us?'

As soon as the thought enters his head, he can't shake it loose.

Yes - he trusts you - he knows you'd have no reason to lie to him, and especially not to the Horseman. And yet... Clearly there is something beyond this door that you're trying to divert their attention from and whatever it is has you spooked.

Feeling more and more like a common criminal, Azrael keeps one ear on the room behind him and slowly begins to twist the door handle, wincing when its rusty springs catch and squeak in protest.

His wings shiver with anticipation as he pushes the door open.

What awaits him on the other side is decidedly not a storage cupboard...

“A... bedchamber?” he murmurs to himself.

Within an instant, he's hit by an oppressive wave of must and wood rot. The smell spills like liquid from the room and seeps into your hallway, causing the archangel's lips to curl, though he's quick to smooth his expression out again because there's something far worse lingering below the initial stench, something that – even after a hundred years – still clings to the peeling wallpaper and broken, dust-choked bed in the corner of the room.

It isn't quite magic, more like the residue of a dark and terrible memory. Azrael knows as well as any angel that memories can be immensely powerful things and capable of haunting a place long after the living are dead and gone. Hesitating, he takes a moment to steel himself before stepping over the threshold and entering that old, foreboding bedroom.

At once, he notices that, as with the door's handle, absolutely everything is covered in a thick layer of grime and dust, the television on the wall, the various, glass bottles that stand on a table at the room's centre, amidst which sits a single, yellowing glass.

Against the wishes of his own nose, Azrael takes a brief sniff at the air and grimaces.

Alcohol.

Even the most pious of angels would recognise it.

He dismissively turns his attention from the bottles and glides over towards a worn dresser that stands to the left of the bed, a bed that stinks of an odour he desperately tries to ignore. Upon the dresser are a vast array of what you;d once called 'photographs,' all of which sit inside basic, wooden frames. Inquisitive, Azrael bends down and peers at them, a soft smile worming across his face when he sees a familiar human grinning back up at him.

You couldn't be much older than four or five, but he'd recognise you at any age. It seems even as a child, you possessed that same, mischievous spark in your eyes.

You're standing alone, and in spite of a clear gap where a tooth has fallen out, you're beaming up at the camera so hard, he imagines your cheeks had to have hurt. In fact, the more Azrael inspects the photo, the more he thinks your expression most resembles a grimace, not a smile. He shrugs it off however, and moves on. After all, the facial structure of humans is such that they're capable of expressions far more complex than those of angels or demons. Perhaps he’s only misreading it.

The next picture sees you looking a few years older, sitting in the lap of a tall, angular man wearing a white shirt that looks to have been frequently stained by all manner of substances whilst his face is stretched into a grin that makes Azrael's skin crawl. Captured in stillness, it looks menacing and shark-like. Worse still is the large hand that seems to have secured itself like a vice around your thigh, squeezing noticeably into the little, blue leggings you'd worn that day.

You aren't smiling as widely in this photograph....

The archangel's face begins to fall as well.

Humming, he moves on to the next picture and in an instant, that creeping unease suddenly rings in his head like an alarm bell.

Again, you're older here, perhaps early into your adolescence, and the smile you'd sported before is barely there at all. The same man is standing behind you this time, and his long, gangly fingers are clamped down over your too-small shoulders, fingernails digging so hard into the bare skin, the resulting indents are even picked up by the camera.

Your lopsided wince that could be mistaken for a smile at a glance shows off one side of your mouth and in it, Azrael can clearly see that you're missing a tooth.

He may not be the most well-versed on human biology, but he's definitely heard that children only lose the same tooth once. And that the process is a natural one.

Through the lense of the camera, your younger counterpart seems to peer up past the glass frame, past the fabric of time and space and straight into Azrael's misty, pale eyes, a silent yet clear plea in the tilt of your brows and the whites of your knuckles.

'Help me.'

All at once, the archangel feels sick. He staggers backwards, away from the dresser and doesn't even notice the golden halo on his back is thrumming with protective magics, pushing them outwards to envelope your entire house.

He doesn't need Jamaerah's second sight to know that you were afraid of that man who's eyes are stained the same colour as yours. Hazarding a guess as to why you were afraid causes Azrael's throat to tighten.

Swallowing hard, he tries to regain his composure. The archangel has always considered rationality to be one of the greatest weapons in his arsenal and if there was ever a time to use it, that time is now.

'Perhaps... I am mistaken,' he reassures himself, 'I don’t know human customs nearly as well as I-’

“Azrael?”

The angel gives a start and jerks his head around to face the door, only to find Death eclipsing it, his eyes blazing like twin fires.

Stepping forwards into the room, he hisses, “What are you doing in here?”

The Horseman is quite certain he's never seen Azrael look so guilty.

Instead of giving him an answer though, the angel slowly breathes, “Where is Y/n?” Soon, he droops in relief when Death throws a thumb over his shoulder and replies, “Still in the bathing room, tending to a bloody nose... You didn't answer my question.”

Beckoning the Horseman closer, Azrael keeps his voice to a hushed whisper and holds the last photograph up in front of him.

“What do you make of this?”

Azrael's behaviour strikes him as so uncharacteristically odd and secretive, Death actually hurries over to him and snatches the picture frame from his hands, making an effort not to appear curious about the room he's never been inside. The angel watches raptly as Death scans the photographs with his luminous, orange eyes. Then, all of a sudden, the Horseman's fingers tighten around the little, wooden frame, hard enough to make it splinter and Azrael knows his worst fears are being realised. He hadn't imagined it.

Death sees it too.

“You guys shouldn't be in here.”

A tiny voice, low and trembling calls from the doorway and the angel's gaze snaps up. Death, in the meantime, remains too fixated on the photograph to bother acknowledging your presence.

Azrael drifts towards you cautiously, as though you'll bolt at any second. He tries to decide whether it would be better to apologise for invading your privacy or ask you why you look so terrified.

“Y/n,” he starts, paying attention to the way your hands turn over one another incessantly, “We were only-”

“... How... How did you get in? The door was - it was locked! You can't be in here... Get out!” Your voice raises in pitch. There are tears leaking from your bruised eye, swiftly turning the skin underneath it slick and shiny and there’s still a trace of blood underneath your nose.

Death finally lowers his gaze from the photograph and holds you captive under a wide and menacing stare. “A storage room, was it?” he asks curtly, showing you the picture clutched between his ever-tightening fingers.

The moment you lay eyes on it, your back goes rigid and all the blood drains from your face. “Put that down!” you demand and lift your foot as if to take a step inside the room, but as soon as you cross over the threshold, you seem to remember something, and quickly jerk yourself backwards, stumbling into the hallway again and sucking down a ragged gasp, blurting, “Just – Just don't touch it!”

“Why not?” Death drawls and tilts his head to one side, calculating, “It can't be that important to you. You've had it locked in this storage cupboard for these past two years.”

He's pushing you, Azrael realises with a sinking feeling, he's trying to provoke you into an honest reaction, no doubt. The archangel doesn't like it, but he likes the look of that man in the photograph even less.

“That's none of your business!” you snap, heart pounding like a jackhammer against your ribs. Unfortunately, your response only seems to stir something in the Horseman, who draws his head back as though you'd struck him a physical blow and he growls, “I hate to disappoint you, but it is my business where your welfare is concerned.”

“My welfare stopped being your concern about two years ago!”

Death falls silent, jaw clenching.

He'd be remiss to say that your comment hadn't struck at a place he guards jealously. He's painfully aware of the angel's eyes burning a hole into the side of his head and he nearly squirms at the pitying look he's receiving.

It would seem that Azrael knows him a little too well.

“You never once stopped being my concern...” the Horseman mumbles, his gaze moving down to the image in his hand. A younger, smaller you peers back at him with woe caught like sleep-dust behind your eyelashes. Death's eyes shoot back up to you again, the softness gone from his voice when he growls, “Why did you lie to me?”

Tensions are high enough that Azrael doesn't think it prudent to mention you'd lied to him as well.

Apparently, a direct confrontation was not the best way to deal with this delicate situation, a fact that becomes clear when you cinch your jaw shut for a moment, gaze flickering to and fro between the angel and the Horseman.

Seeing two of your most trusted friends standing in his bedroom with a symbol of your shame and your trauma held quite literally in Death's grasp sends your heart rate skyrocketing, fear like poison dripping down into your stomach. You can hardly believe they'd invade your privacy like this. Death especially, who knows better than anyone the necessity for keeping some secrets buried.

He doesn't need to learn about that part of your history - neither of them do. You don't want to have them worrying. And God forbid they should pity you.

Squaring your shoulders, you spin about on a heel and begin to march purposefully down your landing to the stairs.

“Where do you think you're going?!” Death barks after you.

Chest heaving, you pause on the first step and cast a heavy frown over your shoulder at the Horseman, matching his ferocious gaze without a single blink. “If you won't leave that room,” you tell him, “then I'll leave this house. And I'll thank you both to be gone by the time I get back.”

And just like that, you continue to descend your staircase and disappear below the wooden balustrades. Seconds later and there's an almighty 'slam' that signals you've had an altercation with the front door before leaving through it.

For some time, the house is weighed down under a blanket of silence as the pair of unearthly beings are left to stand in the aftershocks of their actions.

“Oh dear..” Azrael's stare is vacant, worried, and he has several fingertips pressed to his lips. “I fear I've reopened an old wound..”

“No. This... isn't your fault,” the Horseman sighs, “I should have addressed this sooner. I've known for some time there was something Y/n didn't want me to know. And, I suppose, I'd always suspected that this room might lead to some answers.”

Taken aback, Azrael turns a mystified look onto the Nephilim. He'd expected Death to lay the blame upon his feathery shoulders, after all, he was the one who first ventured into this so called 'storage cupboard' and upset the proverbial applecart. Still, he finds it somewhat odd that the Horseman – a nosy creature if ever one walked the nine realms – hasn't ever tried to see for himself what lay beyond the door. Tilting his head, the angel asks, “You never thought to investigate?”

At the question, Death averts his gaze and shrugs one of his pale shoulders. “Admittedly, no, I did not.”

“Well... Why?” Azrael presses, though he already has an inkling.

After a moment of frowning pensively at the photo in his hands, the Horseman turns to look at him and he's once again thrown off by the level of emotion in those wild, striking eyes. Death really has grown since knowing you.

“I never brought it up because....”

“.... You didn't want to jeopardise your friendship,” Azrael finishes for him softly, and Death is only grateful that he didn't have to say it himself out loud.

At the same time, the two of them peer back at the photograph and the archangel is surprised at himself for the anger that boils in his lungs at the sight of that man’s hands on you. Death however, isn’t in the least bit surprised at the presence of his own rage.

“Horseman...,” Azrael says, his voice eerily calm, “You don’t supposed.... Y/n might be trying to hide something else, do you?”

"The bruise...”

Furious, orange eyes meet cool and misty white.

“It isn’t out of the question,” Azrael breathes, “A random attack from human zealots? Or-”

“- Or something a bit closer to home,” Death finishes as he tosses the photo onto the nearby bed and turns to face the door.

Outside, rain continues to hammer relentlessly on the house whilst a streak of lightening illuminates the bedroom and the two, imposing beings inside, one with dark magics crackling at his fingertips, and the other with a halo of solid gold on his back that thrums with violent energy as the glyphs on his wings begin to glow electric blue.

Without a word, the Angel of Death and the Grim Reaper slip from your house and stride out into the coming storm, their ancient minds focused solely on tracking down their human.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #darksiders 3 #Azrael #Death #Reader #abuse #child abuse #angst #Angel #Nephilim #Horseman of the Apocalypse #Hurt/comfort #found family #demon #guardian angels

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

NSFW Alphabet: Crosshair

A/N: Not officially a request, but I thought I’d better cover the whole Bad Batch while I’m at it. And as a reminder, remember to REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS!!! The tumblr tags are fickle at best and it’s the only real way to support creators on this hellsite.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s always stuck between wanting to keep your body against him, but at the same time not wanting to come across as needy. He’ll probably start kissing your shoulders and neck, before nipping at the skin and telling you to go take a shower. Once you do, he’ll try to play it cool like, “you can stick around if you want, not that I care either way”. But, he does. He does care.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes your waist. Odd, but true. It’s the natural place to put his hands when he pulls you close to him. He likes the way you shiver when he runs his fingers along your skin. Not to mention it’s the perfect place to grip you as his fucks you senseless.

For himself, he likes his legs. Yeah, they’re not as thick or muscular compared to regs, but they’re distinctly his. Plus even if he’s not any taller, it helps with the illusion that he is.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His favorite place to cum is all over your chest and stomach. Seeing you a sweating, blissed out mess with his cum sticking to your skin is the single hottest image his mind can come up with. Second only to you hazily swiping his cum onto you finger and sucking with a moan.

You better be prepared if you do that because you won’t be able to walk the next day.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has an impressive collection of dirty holos you’ve sent to him while away on missions. He’s kept every single one. It’s gotten to the point where he just picks a random holo and that’s the fantasy he indulges in to get himself off until he can see you again.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Like the rest of the batch, he’s had a pretty healthy string of one night stands since leaving Kamino. He actually has the most notches on his bed post which he is not ashamed to bring up whenever Wrecker is getting just a little too cocky. So, he’s pretty experienced all things considered.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Taking you from behind and against a wall. That’s the popular image of him in the fandom and I’m ain’t here to dispute it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not funny, but he’s definitely a smug asshole who can’t help but comment on every sound you make.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps it pretty well groomed down there, almost complete shaven. Also, dark hair down below, if you’re curious.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It’s very rare for Crosshair to be emotional in bed. He uses sex more as a way to get rid of tension or get a solid hit of dopamine. Actually being open with someone is not something he’s comfortable with.

The most intimate he gets is when he feels he might lose you, either in the field or to another man. Then, he uses it as a way to assure himself you’re with him and his. In that case, it can get pretty intense.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He jacks off often, before and after meeting you. He’s got a higher sex drive than his brothers and needs someway to work off the tension after a mission. He prefers doing it in the shower when he has the time, but he’ll honestly whip it out anyplace where he can get some privacy for fifteen minutes.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Let it be recorded that Crosshair is not only a Dom, but the only true Dom in entire Grand Army of the Republic. (With the exception of Commander Wolffe.)

Seriously, the man likes nothing more than pinning you down and using your body as his personally fuck toy. His ultimate fantasy is keeping you tied up in various positions, your body spread open and willing for him to use whenever the mood strikes him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere with a relatively flat surface. I cannot emphasize how much he does not care where he does it: bedroom, shower, locker room, bar bathroom, sparring room, between a couple of boulders out of view of the rest of the Bad Batch. He does not care.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

His ego...let me explain.

There are two ways to really get him going, but they both come down to how they effect his ego.

Number one, praise. If you compliment him on a shot, confirm that he did, in fact, beat Wrecker at something, or rasp a dirty promise in his ear that he’s the only man who has ever made you cum that hard; that’ll get him going more than anything.

Number two, jealously. If he sees another man actively flirting with you, he’ll all but sling you over his shoulder and carry you to the closest abandoned alley he can find to fuck you senseless. He doesn’t care if you were interested in the guy flirting with you or not, you’re his and he needs to remind himself and you of that.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Humiliation for him is a no go. There’s the more obvious stuff, like the idea of you putting him on a leash or something equally degrading just gets him frustrated, and not in a sexy way. But, more specifically verbal humiliation. He genuinely gets upset if you’re the one to say he’s not good enough for you in some capacity or compare him negatively to somebody else. That’ll kill the mood in seconds.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Much prefers receiving to giving. Seeing you on your knees with his cock in your mouth his heaven. And being able to cum all over your face and chest when he’s done? He’s in heaven.

That being said, he’s not bad at giving, he just ends up mostly using his fingers while he runs his mouth. He can’t help it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough, like all the time. He basically has no other mode. Now, whether it’s more intense with pent up emotions or a fun stress reliever depends on his mood. Either way, if you’re not a sweating, panting mess by the end of it he feels like he’s failed in some way.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes. He’s going to say yes to quickies. Where ever and whenever is good for him. But, don’t think it’s really over when it’s over. He only considers it a preview of what he’s going to do to you once you actually get some time and a little more privacy.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s certainly willing to try different positions and kinks, but he’s not big on getting more toys in the mix. He’s more than happy to tie you up and spank you, but he’s not so keen on adding a paddle or something like that, if that makes any kind of sense. It’s about his body and what he can do to you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Just as good as every other clone, with a fantastic recovery time. A solid average of three rounds per night lasting as long as either of you can stand it.

That all being said, he’s in constant competition with himself on how long he can last and for how many rounds.

Current record for time is two hours before he came once with you cumming a total of five times. Current round total is him cumming five times in one night while you lost count of yours.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Surprisingly not his thing. He’s got some cuffs he uses on occasion with you, but not much else. Like I said, he’s in competition with himself, not him and a toy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t tease often, but when he does, he’s an asshole. He’ll keep you pinned down, lazily rubbing the tip of his cock against your opening, never fully going in until you’re squirming and begging him to just fuck you already. Sometimes he will and sometimes, he’ll leave you hanging there. It all depends on his mood.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not especially. In the beginning he keeps it almost conversational, as he talks dirty into your ear. But, it all changes when he comes to the end. It’s like whatever control he had over his vocal cords gets shut off. He curses a lot combined with grunts and borederline feral growls as he rams his cock harder and deeper into you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Crosshair has a real jealously streak, especially when it comes to regs.

While he’s confident in his abilities, he’s aware more than Wrecker or even Tech that they’re basically a bunch of freaks the Republic likes to keep under wraps. A funny little lab experiment. While regs were made just as much as he was, they actually have a chance at being...well, normal after all is said and done. He’s not sure he’ll ever be normal. So, the fear of you realizing you’re dating an actual freak of nature weighs on him constantly.

He needs to remind himself that you’re with him, that you chose him and you’re not going to walk away. It drives him crazy that you make him feel that way, but it’s the truth.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Just as long as his clone brothers (a solid 8-inches), but not as thick. Not that he need that extra edge. His talent is precision after all.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I’d say he has the highest of the batch, actually getting agitated if he hasn’t had a good fuck in more than a few days. His hand can only do so much for him before he gets down right hostile.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I’d say it takes him a solid half-hour to finally fall asleep after sex. He’d never tell you, but he likes the feeling of you asleep in his arms. He’ll savor it for as long as he can.

#crosshair #crosshair x reader #clone force 99 #the bad batch #star wars #the clone wars #lemon

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