#also blurrily featuring

[milkycalico]

this was absolutely necessary what to do you mean

[suzukiblu]

Tim?

Tim did not actually mean to kidnap an alternate reality's version of Kon.

In his defense, he'd had very limited time in that reality and everything in it had been going to shit and . . . well, everything in it had been going to shit.

Also, Lex Luthor had been a lot more heavily involved in that particular reality's Cadmus, and fuck it if Tim was ever going to leave any version of Kon with that bastard.

With any bastard who could ever look at Kon and call him "it".

"Ow," Tim grunts into the dirty pavement of what he hopes is his own Gotham as blood drips out of his mouth, and feels Kon's fingertips brush very, very tentatively against his back. He's a little too dizzy to lift his head, but he figures it doesn't matter. Like it's just . . . it's fine. They're not in Cadmus and Kon is safe and Tim is . . . conscious, at least, which means he can work with the situation.

Whatever the situation actually is, anyway.

Kon's hands flatten against his back, which is a very familiar tell, and Tim immediately feels the even more familiar embrace of TTK wrapping him up.

Less familiar is the impulse to find said embrace adorable, but in Tim's defense, this Kon is physiologically about ten years old and so far every single thing he's done has been either adorable or heartbreaking or some terrible combination of the two.

"Robin?" Kon asks anxiously. "You're okay, right?"

"M'okay," Tim mumbles blurrily, because it's more or less true. More blood drips out of his mouth and splatters on the pavement. "All okay. S'fine. You hurt?"

"No," Kon says, still sounding nervous. "Dunno where we are, though."

"Should be Gotham," Tim says, forcing himself to lift his head enough to check and nearly laughing as he recognizes their surroundings as the exact part of Crime Alley that he got interdimensionally yanked out of seventy-six hours ago. "Yeah. Gotham."

He pushes himself up enough to look over at Kon. Kon looks very small crouched down next to him with buzzed-down hair, barefoot in pristine white lab scrubs with a shiny metal cuff stamped with an identification number locked around his wrist. "13" features prominently on it.

Tim wants to melt it into slag.

"Is it your Gotham?" Kon asks.

"No clue, but I'm hoping," Tim says. He thinks about getting to his feet but he's pretty sure he'd throw up if he tried. Or fall over. Or both?

Probably both, at this point.

Oh well, he figures, and pushes himself up. He doesn't vomit, surprisingly, although he is very definitely sure that Kon's TTK is the only thing keeping him from falling over.

No reason to look that particular gift horse in the mouth, Tim decides.

"I need coffee," he says as he gives Kon's shoulder an appreciative pat, because the caffeine withdrawal is real. Also he needs medical attention, probably, but also-also he needs to come up with either a cover story for the ER or an explanation for Bruce and therefore caffeine can't hurt.

"Uh, okay," Kon says skeptically. "I don't think Starbucks or anything is gonna be open right now, though, it's pretty late."

"God, what did Cadmus teach you, kid," Tim says despairingly, making a face at the thought. "Starbucks is a punishment from God. We're going to the nearest twenty-four diner and I'm ordering roofing tar. And we're getting you a hot chocolate. Do you want a hot chocolate?"

". . . yeah," Kon says, biting his lip. "Um. I mean, I dunno if I'd like it, though."

"If you don't like it, we'll get you something else," Tim says. "But I haven't slept or eaten properly since I left my reality and I need coffee before it becomes a legitimate medical emergency."

"Shouldn't you get, like, real food, then?" Kon asks skeptically. "Not just coffee?"

"Coffee is food," Tim lies reflexively.

". . . I don't think it is," Kon says, squinting up at him suspiciously. "Are you taking advantage of me being too stupid to know if coffee's food or not?"

". . . we can get something to go," Tim says, wishing he'd blown up a bit more of Cadmus on his way out of that fucking cesspool of a reality. "You're not stupid. Luthor can choke on a fucking cactus for all the shit he kept saying to you."

"I mean, I didn't come out right," Kon says uncomfortably. "I'm not as smart as Dadd–as Lex is. Or as Superman was."

Tim pretends that Kon wasn't about to say "Daddy" for both their sakes. Just . . . yeah. At least for the moment, anyway.

Luthor was a lot more heavily involved in that Cadmus.

And horrifyingly.

Tim tries not to think about the way that Luthor had kept touching Kon. All the little too-deliberate points of contact he'd made time and again and too often.

Much too often.

Tim hadn't seen anyone else even so much as enter Kon's personal space the entire time he'd been in that godforsaken lab, and every single time that Luthor had made a gesture like he might touch him, Kon had tensed in something that couldn't decide between being fear or anticipation.

It'd made Tim want to burn the whole fucking lab and every single LexCorp-owned building he could find to the ground.

He'd settled for interdimensionally kidnapping Kon and destroying all of Cadmus's systems and DNA samples as thoroughly as possible. C-4 had been involved.

A lot of C-4 had been involved.

Possibly that had been a slight overreaction, but fuck if Tim cares. Just–Clark had still been dead, and Cassie hadn't had powers and Bart hadn't been in the time period and Tim himself hadn't even existed, for whatever reason, and apparently neither had Cissie or Greta or Anita or Slobo, and Bruce had already had his hands full with Damian and Dick had been off-planet and Jason had also still been dead and just–

Options had been limited, alright?

Options had been limited, and by that point Tim hadn't had time to go check and see what the Kents were up to or track down Lois Lane or Jimmy Olsen or even just tip off the Justice League or the Titans, because by that point he'd been in an examination room with a Lex Luthor who was stroking a frightened Kon's face with one hand while holding a syringe that was glowing kryptonite-green with the other and Tim had just . . . he'd just made some choices at that point, okay?

He'd made some very decisive choices.

And some very decisive commitments.

Or at least one very decisive commitment, anyway.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

happy birthday, @irrlicht-ghostfront ❤️ i love you, and i'm judging you for this being your prompt, but i love you some more, so here <33 (warnings: car accident) [NO MCD]

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Blink and a miss — accident — wrecked car, and fleeting on the painful side of barely conscious in a pool of his own blood. There was too much of it anyway. Castiel felt dizzy more than he felt the pain as time, almost tangibly, passed on.

There's no way he was going to live.

(It was supposed to end old — fingers crossed for painless. Featuring inevitably beeping monitors, and time to come up with last words. A goodbye to his family.

Not that he had much of one right now — he isn't sure if he can call Dean's family his, yet; Dean seems to insist on it but then he's always been a pioneer in giving Castiel more than he could ever deserve, starting with his own heart, so Castiel can't tell — but he'd finally started to have intentions to, in the future.

A dog, for Dean.

Children.

Intentions to beg his brother to come back, and not give up until he'd gotten his forgiveness and his only remaining family back. But that — well, it was a different alley than Castiel's thoughts swarmed to right now. And swarm they did, his head throbbing, and life thudding at its gates.

Castiel had also intended to marry Dean, misty-eyed and denying it. Intended to figure out flower arrangements, and guest seating. Intended to kiss him at the end of the aisle, with his hands cupping Dean's face, and Dean's around his waist.

Then, move out from their shared apartment into a house.

Yellow wallpapered bedroom.

Treasure, and keep Dean happy forever.

Fuck.)

His breathing is still ragged, and his head feels too empty, but the heaving has lessened. Probably the blood loss. Less pain, more haze. And the resultant thoughtlessness is perhaps the only thing that sparks the courage in him to do what he does next.

Castiel picks up his phone.

(A struggle, but he's determined.)

If he's dying, and he'll never get to live the life he'd finally started to dream of — never have a life to share with Dean, never get to see Dean again, then he'll take what he can get.

He's allowed this, he tells himself. Allowed to be selfish, one last time.

He's on his deathbed after all.

It's outstandingly painful to bend his neck enough to see he's picked the right number — but the mere idea of accidentally calling an acquaintance at a time like this brings a tensed sliver of life into his muscles, and straining, he looks. Right enough, he's got 'Dean :)' on the screen.

Pressing dial, he lets his head fall back on the seat, wincing again. Maybe that'll relent the floatiness, if his body circulates some goddamn blood into his brain — because he needs this.

He's dying, but he needs this. One last time, he needs Dean.

A thumb swipes the familiarly placed 'on speaker' button — he can't bring the phone to his ear right now. He's going to have to risk Dean hearing the still crackling ruins of the poor engine, strewn across the wreck in smoldering pieces.

He must make quite a sight, he thinks, waiting for the call to go through. Man found in car wreckage, trapped by the door, dead within —

"Cas?"

Dean's voice cuts through Castiel's morbid mental news report, and almost reflexively, he closes his eyes. There's a tangible relief in his head when he does it, and god, Castiel must've been doing worse than he's convinced himself he is.

Dean sounds beautiful as always, and so familiar its like home.

It's the last time he ever gets to have this.

"Hello, Dean." Maybe he manages to not sound weird, or Dean's just not listening for clues. The loud racket behind him, at Bobby (and Dean's) automobile shop, helps as well.

"Hey." There's a smile in his voice now. Fuck. He's smiling. He's smiling, and he's smiling at Cas, and it's the last time Castiel ever gets to hear it.

He loses himself trying to remember the last time he saw Dean smile — earlier this morning, kissing him goodbye before he left — no, down from their balcony, accompanied by a gleeful wave because Dean's shift started a couple hours after Cas's day in the office did — no, when Castiel checked the time, and the Dean on his lockscreen grinned up at him — and he doesn't realize he's fallen silent until Dean's speaking again.

"Babe, you okay?"

There's a tinge of worry. Only a smidge, and it still hurts. The last time Castiel hears Dean can't be laced with anything bad. And it can't be Castiel's fault.

There's a pause. "Cas, what's up?"

Castiel doesn't know what to say so he tries to hold on to the phone tighter, his throat fluttering as a tear rolls down his face.

"Wait," The worry dissipates, apology slipping in. "Am I forgetting something? Did we make plans for lunch, 'cause Bobby and —"

"N-no." Cas struggles, and it's getting harder to not pant. He sounds too breathy anyway. "We don't. Didn't."

He forces a smile into his voice while saying it. As if it doesn't break him that he'll never get to see Dean again. But he needs to smile, doesn't he? One last time. Just for Dean.

"Well, do you want to?" Dean sounds cheerful. Normal.

Perfect.

Castiel doesn't want to die.

"Not, today." He half-heaves, and another tear rolls down his face.

Not today.

(If he'd known, he'd have stared to his heart's fill this morning. Kissed him an hour longer. Held him in his sleep. Oh, if he had had any foresight at all.)

"Dickface-atron keeping ya busy?"

Castiel lets the air stuck in his chest out, and it probably makes up for a small chuckle. He doesn't want to lie, he just won't agree.

"Figures."

"Sorry." Castiel tells him, meaning it entirely.

"Nah, s'good. I love you." Dean adds, clearly smiling wider, because they've only recently added that to their vernacular instead of the pedestal it'd been on for the first eight months of their friendship turning into a relationship. Somehow, it feels grander though — or, that might also be because it's the last time Castiel ever gets to hear Dean say it to him.

Oh, he loves him so much.

(He doesn't want to die.)

"And I have my packed lunch anyway." Dean continues, filling the gap thankfully. Machines blare in his background and he braves on like a man used to not being able to hear his own words due to the racket. Castiel is grateful for it. He hangs onto every word, drinks it in. Makes himself hold on. "Pretty sure you'd kick me to the curb if I let a PBJ go to waste."

"Jelly?" Cas smiles, when he wants to sob. He's certain he sounds fainter too, he feels fainter, and it's a miracle it doesn't show.

The tears well up in his chest, for possibly the rest of time. Dead men don't cry, and Castiel can't.

(Can't be long now, can it?)

"Jelly." Dean confirms. "It's the curse of paying attention when you rant about jam, you know." He snickers. "I used to be normal."

"Yes, I'm very lucky."

Dean chuckles, and Castiel sighs.

He's yearned for Dean to be happy, tried to make him smile, longed to see him laugh, for so, so long it feels like a part of him now. And now, it goes back to Dean, without him.

Somebody else'll make him smile, somebody else will wake him up with a kiss on his temple, and somebody else will love Dean for exactly who he is because it's Dean, and there was never someone who deserved it more — so of course somebody will.

But it will never be him again.)

An untethered broken sound escapes his throat, and Cas winces, faking a cough with it.

That makes the blood gush.

"Oh, also — wait. Just a second." He interrupts himself, and probably covers the speaker with his palm before yelling blurrily to someone near him.

(Or perhaps it's not supposed to be blurry. Castiel wouldn't know. He can hardly make out his own breathing. It's a feat that he can make out the conversation, even if most of it is instinct memory, and all he's doing is holding onto Dean for as long as he can.

Somehow, it feels like he's been doing so forever. But the time left, had never been so little.)

When Dean returns, he sounds apologetically busy.

"Dude, that dick who yelled at Ash, remember? He's back. Garth went this time, 'cause douchebag brought a Sedan."

Castiel swallows again, and vaguely registers that it tastes like metal. Almost like there's blood mixed with saliva.

There's another morbid thought. What, in this wreck, is finally going to kill him?

"I should probably check on him. Garth sorta wears on you."

"Of course." He croaks, and slips — fuck, he slips — but for once, thank god for oversensitive customers and boyfriends with likeable personalities, because Dean's conversing off the phone again, his hand on the speaker.

"I'll call you back, babe." Dean comes back to add in a rush, and Cas sucks in a painful breath, slowly beginning to feel like the only thing keeping him conscious any more is the sensation of air in his lungs, in his mouth, in the back of his throat. "Still have to ask what you even called about, you know. Or maybe if you just missed me." He beams, he obviously beams, and Cas stifles a groan.

"I do." He wheezes. "I —"

"Me too." Dean returns, flirty, and Cas goes to add to it — because he has to, because he's not going to make it, he's not going to be able to hold on until Dean returns, and he has to — but there's a click.

Castiel stares at the screen, devastated.

(Or tries to, anyway.)

"I love you," He cries out, aware that the line's cut, but needing to hear himself say it anyway. Plus, his head feels too numb to keep words inside anymore. It's less a prison of thoughts, and more a canyon of loss.

More tears fall.

His heart is beating faster than it ever has.

"I love —" His voice trembles, tries again, and fails. His throat refuses to comply with the thousands of things there remain to be said, and the words slowly fade, neglected.

In more ways than one, it's like being administered anaesthesia before a surgery — Castiel was operated on for tonsils at age eleven, and he remembers it still — and it finally sinking in, and knocking you out, as the doctor says to count to ten, and you hardly graze six.

His hands clutch the phone tighter, neck rendering him incapable of looking anymore, so he has no idea what his thumbs are trying to type — but it doesn't matter, not really, because this is it. Completely alone, young, and desperately in love with Dean Winchester, Castiel closes his eyes for the very last time.

And everything fades to black.

*

When they find him, it's been at least four hours.

It's night.

The uniformed official stuck with the responsibility of calling the next of kin, Victor Henriksen, fishes out the wallet as the paramedics carry him into the ambulance and attach him to IV immediately, and steps away to dial his emergency contact with a crinkled brow of sympathy.

And as he waits for the guy, a Dean Winchester, to pick up, he can't help but notice that his number is exactly the same as the one the last text almost sent from the victim's phone had been typed to — clutched in his hand, an unnerving, 'I love'.

And well, he isn't particularly into romcoms, but he hopes the poor guy gets a chance to finish his sentence.

He was in pretty bad condition, Henriksen recalls, and the bloodloss had knocked him out for several hours, but he looked twenty five at most, more importantly healthy, and — he looks at the wallet again, and the picture of two men (one of them, the victim) smiling at the camera with their hands around each other — most importantly, seemed to have reasons to fight for.

(Plus, he'd been the one to call the accident in himself — albeit four hours after it happened, but Henriksen figured he'd been passed out for that long — so he had to want to live, right?)

"Hello. Dean Winchester, who's this?"

"Hello, sir, I'm Officer Henriksen, and I have you listed as Mr Castiel Novak's emergency..."

*

"You dick."

Castiel coughs, and gives up on squinting against the bright light. It's a LED. Like in hospitals.

"Jesus, Cas. You complete asshole, you —"

Castiel opens his eyes a sliver again. The walls do resemble a hospital. Plain, white tiled. Way too many AC vents. Is that something on his hand?

"So you'll open your goddamn eyes, and not even fucking look at me."

There's IV's on both his hands. And something stiff around his neck. Almost like a collar, but thicker. And when he breathes, his ribs start like they might hurt — but the pain is numbed as it registers. He must be running really high on painkillers; they never really worked for him.

"Fine. You don't gotta look at me." A pause. Then, more shaky. "I was so scared, Cas. So fucking terrified. They said they weren't sure, said it may be too late, and you were dying. And then they tell me the crash happened at three, and I feel like I'm going to have a fucking stroke."

His vision slowly unblurs, feeling returning to his fingers. He tries to fold them, and winces at the strain.

Immediately, there's a hand on his arm.

"Stop moving, dumbass. I'm going to kill you for this, you know. I am, but I need you to be okay first."

The words don't register, but the voice does.

(He sounds beautiful as always, and so familiar it's like home.)

"Hell, I just need you, Cas. Period. I need your ridiculous, stupid ass — and I need you to look at me when I'm begging you to be okay, and I need you to stay, with me, forever, and not call me first when you need a goddamn ambulance, you dumbass —"

"Hello, Dean." Castiel interrupts, a hoarse whisper, and he thinks he hears a sob from the general direction of the love of his life.

(He really can't move his neck — he's got to tell Dean that at some point if he's not understood already. It's the cast.)

"Oh, thank god." Dean cries, the words muffled by either him burying his face in his sleeve, or the lifesaving medications Castiel is alive on account of, but it's okay, right? Dean's here — and he's okay. It's fine.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm still going to kill you for this."

"Well, I'd deserve that." Castiel tries to joke, and almost pulls it off, except for the part where he can't see Dean's reaction until the latter lets out another broken sob, and grabs his hand. Castiel freezes, trying to squeeze back, tears welling up again. "I'm really sorry, Dean." Then, after a beat. "I'm going to make this up to you."

It feels like a strange thing to say, but it's exactly what he means.

"Yeah, you are. Although it can't stop my revenge being not texting you when I have a heart attack in aisle three when I'm eighty and you're buying eggs, but okay."

If Castiel could, he would've shaken his head at that.

(But at least, and this is what really matters — they made it. He's alive. He — he gets this.)

"I love you, you son of a bitch."

Castiel smiles slowly, a tear landing on his pillow. "I love you too."

[space-anon-writes]

Your “weekly” fic recs give me life, I’ve loved every rec so far

I appreciate the lack of sarcasm in those quotation marks, and the full confidence you have in my delivery of fic recs in a consistent and timely manner. You have won my eternal gratitude and also more fic recs

Ours Poetica by zeeskeit

Tommy's brothers left when he was young, and his father is barely present, but despite that he still managed to find his place. It turns out that place is poetry, and for a moment, Tommy has everything he ever wanted. Then his brothers return home, and things take a turn from there.

I will cry. Also the poetry is so fucking good. Dream and Tommy's slam poem performance? Holy shit holy fuck I got lost in the sauce

Chapter 10/? - 60k words

opus by darkwhitepebble

Mmmm pretty fic. It's kinda got surreal/psychological horror? With stringed instruments? Tommy has been through some shit, enough shit to turn a musical child prodigy into a nobody teen working three different jobs and living through sleepless nights. Luckily, he might still be able to piece himself back together.

Chapter 6/? - 30k words

My boy lost in time by sircantus

Featuring Tommy, who can time travel, and the rest of the SBI, who are immortal. It. It takes awhile for everyone to see what's happening. It's like that spiderman meme except its running into someone who should have died like a dozen centuries ago.

Chapter 1/2 - 6k words

Intergalactic Pest by skratchmarkz

Someone attempted to ship a whole-ass human in the mail across the galaxy. Just stuffed him in a package. It's okay though, the human both got free and is ready and fully willing to bite. It's also safe to say that the alien postmen are not enthused to have a bitey boy now scuttling around in their vents.

Chapter 15/? - 21k words

can you hear me? and as painless and colourful by droppingdroplets

Two exiled Tommy fics that give me brainrot. The first of which deals with his hallucinations, the second tries to give him a happy ending. I just. I just really like how this author wrote exile not gonna lie.

Chapter 1/1 - 6k words - complete (stats are the same for both fics)

people that you must remember by acatalepsy

Tommy really, really doesn't like Ranboo, but he also has to deal with him, since he's sort of living in Ranboo and Tubbo's mansion. However, after Ranboo loses his memory book and spirals, Tommy finds himself reevaluating that opinion. Allium duo my beloved.

Chapter 1/1 - 6k words - complete

Breathe by the_lanky_kat

Tommy can't stand to be touched after his death. However, he'll also do anything for his friends, even if that means helping Ranboo out of a panic attack with a hug. I continue to have allium duo brainrot.

Chapter 1/1 - 3k words - complete

from a cedar tree by sailingthenightsea

At the conclusion of the Manberg vs Pogtopia war, Tommy tries everything in his power to keep his loved ones alive, even at the cost of himself. Somehow, this lets him get a happy ending.

Chapter 1/1 - 4k words - complete

A Lifetime of Plans by Live

It turns out that Wilbur, Techno, and Phil are vampires. So, obviously Tommy does the logical next step: he locks himself in Tubbo's house and throws garlic at them from the windows. They may try to win back his affection, but Tommy knows its just lies. Sorta. Alright, maybe his affection can be bought with food, but it's good food!

Chapter 3/? - 10k words

Sharing is Caring by bitsinboots

Tommy is living with Phil, but he's still wary as fuck around Techno. Techno, it turns out, does not appreciate this.

Chapter 1/1 - 2.9k words - complete

heavy is the head by Odaigahara

An exiled Tommy makes the executive decision to raid Techno's house, but instead finds him hibernating. So, maybe it's not an awful idea to stick around for a bit? Featuring a half asleep Technoblade blurrily looking around his house, finding nothing out of place, and Tommy nearly having a panic attack.

Chapter 1/1 - 1.8k words - complete

Throw the Walls into the Fireplace by lockergirl

Tommy breaks into Techno's house post-exile, fully ready to get slaughtered. Except, well, what he finds instead is a hibernating Technoblade, and warm house to stay in until spring since obviously Tommy can't just leave Techno alone and undefended!

Chapter 1/1 - 4k words - complete

[euphoricsunflowers]

my one and only — yoo kihyun

a/n: here she finally is!! i hope you guys like it!! especially you fairy joo anon!!

word count: 2.9k (i know!! it’s the same length as the other two combined!!)

content: sub!siren!kihyun, dom!fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), pegging, hints of choking(?), yep just like in the first one you do almost die and yes the other siren is wonho, this is also one of those pieces that is only partly smutty, the whole piece is romantic and cheesy and i'm in love with it <3

summary: overwhelmed and dazed with thoughts of a certain siren, you learn that if you call out for the siren that’s fallen for you: he’ll answer.

part 1 | part 2

it’s been so long since you went back to the beach. you’d say that you had almost forgotten your proposed date with a certain siren, but that’d be a lie. he hasn’t left your mind since you first heard his voice, saw his delicate yet sharp features. you were completely enamoured with him, though unsure if you loved the siren or if you’d truly just fallen for a boy with a soft heart and a cheeky smile.

but you do know that that unforgettable little siren is the reason you’re at the beach once more. it’s cold and dark out, so you’re 100% sure this is a bad idea, but your heart is calling out for him, and there’s no not doing this. you take your first step into the water, flinching at the frigid temperatures, but continuing on, forcing yourself to keep going until you could completely start swimming, swimming out to the exact same spot.

your entire body feels frozen like an icicle, and it’s hard to pinpoint just how much time you have left until your body completely succumbs to hypothermia. maybe this was incredibly irrational, now that you think about it, because it absolutely was, and it feels like you’re going to die because this siren’s got control of your head.

that is, until you hear a faint humming, the sound soothing you, turning the cold surrounding you from painful, sure death to a comforting blanket wrapped around you, the hum is enough to completely relax you. it’s at this point you’d be worried about drowning, but the humming becomes soft singing, it just won’t stop and you just feel so relaxed, there’s no reason to worry about it.

but that voice doesn’t sound like him. it’s softer, it’s lighter, and it’s clearly not kihyun. kihyun’s voice is sharper, it’s powerful and overwhelming, the kind of voice you get addicted to instantly, willing to die if just to keep hearing it. this voice was almost hesitant, shy, the kind of voice to fall for, it’s pretty and it’s cute and it’s not kihyun.

kihyun, please, your mind begs as you start to feel lightheaded, come to me.

arms wrap around you, keeping you from thrashing around more and trying to swim to the surface, to save yourself like you did once more. the voice keeps singing, still soft and hushed, like a whisper in your ear, it’s dizzying and makes your head spin.

you suddenly feel the arms release you, and you take the opportunity to snap out of it and swim to the surface, you barely make it, but you do. the burning in your lungs hits you all at once, but slowly dies down as you breathe more and cough up all the water.

“my love,” you hear, and you almost cry out of relief. that’s his voice, that’s him.

“kihyun,” you mumble in response, so close to passing out, it's amazing you’ve stayed conscious this long, “kihyun, kihyun…”

“it’s me, it’s me, just relax. i’ll bring us to shore,” he whispers, and it’s easy to just reach out for his hand that he’s extending for you, and that’s when you lose consciousness.

—

you awaken with a dangerous fit of coughing, looking around in the dark blurrily. you’re not awake enough to process what he’s saying, but kihyun, suddenly in a more human-looking form, doesn’t seem super thrilled with you, “i can’t believe you came for me at this time, when it’s this cold, wearing this, i know me being a siren can make people irrational, but god you’re dumb.”

“hehe, and you’re really cute when you’re mad,” you mumble, touching your fingertip to his nose, making a ‘boop’ sound when you feel his skin. his cheeks are always flushed-looking, but you’re sure it flusters him, you can see it in the way he coughs at the awkward moment and can’t meet your eyes.

“oh god, i don’t know what to do, you’re clearly going to die from the cold water if i don’t get you a jacket, maybe even if i do. and i don’t even know where i’d get you something to wear,” he mutters frantically, but you weakly reach your hand up to cup his cheek (obviously temperature doesn’t bother him) and he cups his hand over yours, kissing the inside of your palm, “stay with me, my crazy and irrational love.”

“crazy over you,” you flirt with a wink, which doesn’t exactly help the situation, and he’s not amused by your antics, too worried for you, “there’s a lost and found by the pier, maybe you’ll find a jacket there.”

he nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead before running off, trying to be quick. you lay there, on the sand, shivering and half close to death, until he returns with a long jacket and some boots for you. he’s also fully clothed now, and you realize he was probably naked the whole time you were dying, “is there somewhere we can go to get you warmed up? where do you live?”

“i walked here, help me up and i’ll guide us there,” you say, and he does just that, helping you, but before you can start walking, he cups your hands, trying to blow hot breath on them to warm them.

“i just wanted to say,” he starts, genuinely looking so small and vulnerable and in love like this, “despite how dumb and irrational it was, thank you for coming back for me.”

ha, that’s what i should be thanking you for, you think, but you smile, holding his hand as you lead the way.

—

you sit with him in front of the fireplace, drinking hot chocolate as he hums in your ear, lulling you into a more calm state, all the anxiety and fear over the fact that you nearly just died leave you body.

“i'm sure this wasn’t what you had in mind for our date,” he mumbles, chuckling with a hint of sass in his words.

“nonsense,” you respond, reaching out to grab his hand, holding it in yours as you speak, seeing the way he eyes your hands, “we can still have an amazing date! do you want some hot chocolate too?”

“i’ve never tried it…?”

you facepalm dramatically and he chuckles at your antics, “oh! right! you’re a siren! you’ve probably never tried a lot of things...uhm okay...i bet you’ll love it though!”

“then yes, i’d like some,” he smiles charmingly, and you make a cup of hot chocolate for him too, making sure to put a lot of marshmallows just for him. he won’t know how much of a declaration of true love that is, the fact that you gave him more marshmallows than you’d even give yourself. he doesn’t need to know that yet.

you give him the hot chocolate, and he seems to really like it, drinking it quickly like the temperature doesn’t even bother him, “this is really good! please make me more,” he smiles with some chocolate dripping down his chin.

“don’t move,” you murmur as you lean in, licking the chocolate off his chin and leaving a peck on his lips, smirking. you don’t leave his space, staying so close that you can feel his nervous breaths against your face, cupping his cheek while you adjust yourself so you’re on top of him, “kihyun,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss him again.

he groans, breaking the kiss slightly, as your hand fondles his chest, flicking at his nipple just to get a reaction out of him. your kisses move down from his lips to his jaw and settling on his neck. you nibble and suck gently as he tilts his head away from you, giving you as much access to his neck as you please.

“you ready to repay that favor?” you murmur in his ear, feeling the way he shivers underneath you.

“thought i did that when i saved your life,” he responds cheekily, smiling with those pretty eyes dimples that you want to kiss and kiss until your lips are blue. he’s always so unintentionally distracting.

“kihyun,” your tone is warning, and he caves instantly, immediately becoming much more docile and puppy eyed.

“what do you need me to do? i'm afraid i’m a bit.. inexperienced…” he mumbles the last part, almost seeming ashamed, but you press a kiss to his forehead, getting off of him and sitting back down on the couch.

“sit on the floor, between my legs, my kihyun,” you motion for him to move, and he does, slipping off the couch, onto his knees in front of you in an instant. his movements are so graceful and gentle, it’s like everything he does entrances anyone around him, “here, i’ll take off my pants and underwear,” you say as you do just that, “alright, now, lean in, kiss my inner thigh just a bit.”

he says he doesn’t know what he’s doing and yet he easily throws one of your legs over his shoulder and leans in, doing exactly as you instruct, leaving gentle, wet kisses as he gets closer and closer.

you guide him through every part of eating you out: teaching him to suck on your clit, how to use his tongue just right, but the thing affecting you the most is his groans and moans that you can feel deep inside, the sound and feeling of him being ten times as overwhelming like this.

you tug him around by his hair if only to make him more vocal, keep him whining and whimpering against you, “c’mon ki, be useful and make me cum,” he keeps doing just as you showed him, but honestly it’s more you grinding against his face as you got close that set you over the edge.

you breathe heavily, still reeling from the orgasm, as he falls back on his hands breathing also quite hard, “i haven’t cum that hard in so long,” you smile as you catch your breath, watching the way he seems nervous, adjusting himself to cover an obvious erection, “oh is kihyun needy too?”

“yes, he is,” he groans dryly. you motion for him to come closer with your finger, and he does exactly that.

“then you’re gonna like what comes next, baby,” you whisper before you lean in to kiss him once more, pulling him up so you’re both standing, and leading him to your bedroom.

you push him onto the end and he’s left dazed as you go through your drawer, pulling out a pretty pink strap-on and a few other things. you can see how he gulps, seemingly nervous as you come closer.

“are you okay with this, baby?” he nods without a bit of hesitance.

“absolutely, i just— is this going to hurt?”

“no, no no i promise it won’t. and if it does, we’ll stop immediately. this is all for you,” you reassure, and he takes a few deep breaths before letting you pull him onto your lap. the borrowed pants and boxers that don’t exactly fit his body come off so easily and he whines as your lubed-up fingers prod gently at his hole.

“m-my love,” he whimpers, gently holding onto your shirt, “it feels too good, you feel too good.”

“yeah? then i can’t wait for what you’ll feel like when it’s my strap-on in you, baby. don’t you want me to fill you up like that?”

“mmm, yeah, i know you want to ruin me, so do it, my love,” he groans as you start to finger him, keeping going until he’s completely comfortable and then adding another finger, stretching him even more, “i know i'm irresistible, i know i’ll make you feel better than anyone else, i know my voice ruins you, so ruin all of me, won’t you?”

you almost growl at his words, ferocious in the way you handle him, “you shouldn’t talk like that.”

“why?”

“because i truly won’t be able to control myself anymore,” and in an instant, he’s lowering himself onto your strap, his mouth hanging open as he adjusts to the size.

“y-you’re so big,” he mumbles, closing his eyes as he gets comfortable, wiggling his hips around experimentally, moaning cutely. one of his hands goes up to cover his mouth, but you pull it away, holding both of his arms in place so he has no choice but to moan freely for you.

“you say that but you’re already fucking yourself on my strap, baby,” you giggle, holding him close, his back to your chest, “keep riding me, ki, show me how desperate you can get.”

he does exactly that, pleasing himself as you sit there, listening to his angelic moans, like they’re almost hypnotic. instead of using them to silence himself, he reaches his hands back to hold onto you, and you let your hands wander, one touching his aching length and the other wrapping gently around his neck. his breathing halts, even without any pressure from your hand.

it’s almost ironic, how it’s him that can’t breathe this time. your kisses on the side on his neck leave him weak and he loses rhythm on top of you. you help him by gripping his waist and forcing his body to keep pace, “baby,” you murmur in between pecks.

“y-yeah?” his stuttering, breathless voice and the ache for more in his words makes you groan, gripping his neck tighter, and he throws his head back onto your shoulder.

“tell me how good my cock makes you feel, baby,” you lazily stroke his length, using the leftover lube from when you fingered him to easily get going.

he whines, which is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard in your life, “you— you stretch me out so good, my love. please, please, it feels so good, i’m already so—” his pleas echo in your head. they’re disorienting and entrancing and you can’t get enough of them.

“i’ll make you feel even better than now, watch this,” you forcefully pull him off of the strap, keeping your grip on his waist and you flip him over, pressed against the bed as you enter him again in an instant. he moans even louder in this position, even with his voice slightly muffled as he turns his head to the side. it’s like music to your ears, “feel free to get all your cum all over yourself and on my bed, i’d take it as a compliment.”

he cries out as you thrust into him, keeping a pace you know overwhelms him with the intention of pushing him over the edge, filling him with bliss, “o-oh! fuck! oh my god, you—”

“you shouldn’t curse, pretty angel, you’re too perfect and innocent for that,” you can see and hear just how close he’s getting, all the rocking back and forth giving more stimulation to his cock, “although, i do somewhat doubt your innocence, seeing as i’ve got you moaning like a whore,” he groans at your words, but he can’t think of a sassy response, the words not forming in his head, “i can’t get enough of you, my sweet kihyun. cum for me, let me hear how angelic you sound, will you?”

he does, cumming and almost screaming loudly, hypnotizing you with his gorgeous voice, trembling and shuddering with absolute bliss as the high fully racks his body. he breathes so heavily, unable to catch his breath until you slow down and eventually pull out, letting him recover from it all.

“are you okay? was that okay?” you ask him, leaning forward to play with his hair. he flips himself over, lying on his back, as he breathes and keeps an intense eye contact with you.

“that was… incredible,” he whispers, loud enough for you to hear. “you’re incredible. you’re amazing, you’re so perfect.”

his words almost make you flush, the sudden compliments take you by surprise, so you ruffle his hair a bit and run your fingers through it in a calming way, “thank you, ki. you did really well, my perfect boy.”

he smiles, his eyes fluttering closed, “hey uhm, can you tell me something?” you hum affirmatively, “tell me your name.”

you laugh almost incredulously, “you’re still hung up on that?”

“i mean, you know mine, and i know it’s hard to trust a siren, i know it’s not super safe to give your name away, but please. i’ll do anything to prove myself worthy of it,” he begs, sweetly reaching out to grab your hand.

“okay,” you sigh, “i’ll tell you,” he smiles, listening intently, kissing your knuckles as a ‘thank you’, “it’s… y/n.”

his smile is so sincere and adoring that there’s no reason to not trust it, and he whispers in between kisses to your hand, “beautiful. every part of you, even your name, is beautiful.”

you smile back, pulling your held hands to your lips to kiss his knuckles in return, “remember when i asked you if you even knew what love was?” he nods, and in that moment, you realize you probably didn’t even know either, “is this it?”

“yeah, i think this is.”

—

taglist: @lovingonrepeat @neosincity @sub-hoshi-enthusiast @feelslikelove @maknaeronix @multidreams-and-desires @mellowriting @foenixs @sunflowerkeen @vanillaknj @yr-domxfantasies @treasure-hwa @fleurshopsub @rubyscloud9 @silencefavarchive @nct99 and always feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist <3

[lacheri]

hi bae <3 happy 200 ! this is for the event,,

your Meyers-Briggs personality type + zodiac sign(s): infp-t & scorpio

your chosen aot s/o: eren ! lmao do you see my obsession

your preferred pronouns : she/her

choose a theme/trope: modern au! fluff // home & cozy vibes <3

anything you’d else you’d like to mention: love language is physical touch + quality time ,, i'll let you have fun w the rest hehe

hi lia! tysm for submitting I had sm fun writing this, hope u like it babe <3 also bringing out the ole emo tunes for you, don't mind me

Ten of Cups: this card represents ultimate happiness and fulfillment. the couple watch as their children play, hands to the sky, almost in a thank you to the universe. these two share a harmonic, ever lasting love, a good sign for a long-term relationship when this card shows up for you in a reading. tens in the tarot represent a completion of a cycle. you've kissed your frogs and you've found your prince.

iloveyoumorethanyouwilleverknow - nevershoutnever. "Nothing feels like home like you, babe."

Sounds of unfamiliar voices stirred you awake, your eyes blurrily focussing on the tv on the wall in front of you. The lack of sunlight from your apartment windows startled you, how long had you been asleep? You shifted slightly, the tingles of sleep leaving your limbs, and you felt immense warmth against your right side, cold spots becoming intrusive as you moved away to an upright position on your couch.

“Hey sleepy,” Eren cooed, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

“What time is it?” you mumbled, rubbing the traces of sleep from your eyes.

“Almost nine, you pretty much died,” he chuckled, kissing your neck softly. “You hungry, baby? I can cook us dinner.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pass out on you,” you pouted, looking down at him now with half lidded eyes. “You didn’t eat?”

“You know when a puppy or kitten falls asleep on you, and you can’t move because you’re afraid to wake it up?” Eren teased, circling his arms around your middle.

“Awe, Eren, you could’ve woken me up,” you yawned, resting your head atop of his, feeling his hair brush against your cheek.

“Would you wake a puppy up? You looked so cute all snuggled up on me,” he breathed into the warmth of your skin, creating ticklish vibrations as he spoke. “Besides, that documentary you put on was pretty cool.”

You made a face, eyebrows crinkled, “I can’t believe I missed it, I was waiting all week to watch it with you.”

“‘S okay, we can watch it again later. Just as long as you don’t fall asleep on me again,” he moved his chin to your shoulder, gazing up at you with his soft jade eyes. “Are you hungry though? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, I could eat,” you hummed, placing a quick peck to his forehead, attempting to break his embrace and get on your feet, but Eren’s arms were locked in. “Eren, how are we supposed to get up and eat if you’re trapping me?”

“But I haven’t gotten enough of you yet,” Eren’s bottom lip protruded out, his eyes widened as he pulled his best puppy dog eyes.

“You’re such a brat,” you poked fun of his clingy state, bringing your fingers to trace his hairline.

“I love you!” he groaned, nuzzling his face into your shoulder to hide as if to hide from your words. “Five more minutes, just wanna’ hold you.”

“Didn’t just say you couldn’t move because I’m the puppy who fell asleep on you?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Seems to me to be very much the point,” you laughed, kissing his exposed temple as he brought his face back up, the same pout now accompanied with a furrowed brow. “Looks like the tables are turned, babe.”

His expression fell, his mouth hanging open in wonderment as his eyes sparkled in the tv’s flashing lights, “I’m the puppy now?”

“A mut, but I guess you’re pretty cute, so maybe I’ll keep you,” you hummed out playfully as Eren broke out into a toothy grin.

“I’ll take it,” Eren batted his long eyelashes at you, leaning up to meet your lips in a kiss. As his pout brushed against your ready mouth, the loud grumble of Eren’s stomach broke the tension, causing both of you to laugh.

“Okay, let’s get some food,” you pecked his mouth, and Eren finally surrendered his hold as you stood.

He followed right after you, trailing behind as you navigated to the kitchen. Pulling open drawers of your pantry, searching endlessly in your fridge and freezer, you sighed. You really needed to go grocery shopping, all you had in your home were ingredients and spices. You could feel Eren’s eyes follow along in your path, a frown on his face as he came to a similar realization.

“We can go to the grocery store tomorrow, babe. We can just order something, I’ll pay,” he whipped his phone out, already typing in your address into an unknown app. “What are we feeling?”

His back was facing you, and you broke the distance by circling your arms around his muscular torso, your forehead resting between his shoulder blades, “Hm, I don’t know. Why don’t you pick? I’ll pick a place next time.”

“You always say that, and I always end up picking,” he threw you a smirk over his shoulder, his heart thumping in his chest as he gazed at you. “You want me to read your mind or something?”

“Yeah that’d be pretty nice,” you murmured, tracing small circles with your fingers above his navel. “You always know what I want anyways.”

“True,” his attention was back to his phone. “Okay, it’s ordered, should be here in a half an hour.”

His right hand left his device, resting over yours, gently breaking your hold. You whined in protest, but he quieted you by turning around, bringing his free arm to push the center of your back to his chest. You stayed like this a few moments, enjoying the warmth exuding from your boyfriend, lingering comforts of your nap had you snuggling against his sternum. Your breathing fell into the rhythm of his heart, your ear pressed against his breast. His hand trailed up and down your clothed spine, almost daring you to fall asleep standing up.

“Eren,” you whined after a few minutes. “You’re gonna’ put me back to sleep.”

“Can’t help it, you’re so cute after you wake up, just wanna’ touch and cuddle you,” his lips moved to your exposed forehead, placing delicate kisses. “You want to try watching that documentary when the food gets here?”

“What if I fall asleep again?” the point of your chin rested against the center of his chest, your eyes locking as a soft smile graced his handsome features.

“I can try to keep you up,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing a giggle to slip through your teeth.

“We won’t be watching it all then!”

“Guess you should stop being so cute then,” Eren brushed his nose against yours. “C’mon, I’ll make us some coffee and grab some blankets. We’re having a movie night, baby.”

At least you had made it halfway through this time, you thought before you had drifted off. Paired with the steaming mugs and the fullness of your bellies, neither of you stood a chance. You sprawled out on the length of the couch, Eren spooning you, squished against the cushions as his arms kept you taut against his chest. The light snores and steady breathing filled the living room like a melody as the two of you slept, the tv’s hum of that documentary long forgotten.

LACHERI © 2021: all writing content belongs to LACHERI. I do not allow reposts or translations. this is my only account.

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2020 #26: When Pigs Fly

((Felina is a caster of the Night’s Blessed--and Dark Autumn’s doppelganger on the First--who helps out the Warriors of Darkness. I’ve written about her a couple times, including her threatening Urianger when they first met. This is sometime during the 5.1-5.3 patches. Suggestive themes with a hint of citrus.))

“Something has occurred to me,” Felina said as she closed a heavy tome and set it on the pile to her left with a sigh.

“And what, prithee, may that be?” Urianger asked idly, still engrossed in his own reading.

Outside the Bookman’s Shelves a steady rain fell over Il Mheg this evening, keeping people and pixies indoors. The pair of scholars had retreated to the smaller study between the kitchen and the bedchambers, to enjoy the warmth of the fire in the large hearth. It was likely this was once a dining room for the manor before the Flood, but its current occupant--when he remembered to eat, or had company who required food on a more regular schedule--usually took meals in the kitchen, or in whatever room research was happening in.

Felina stood and stretched. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the darkened windows; the white dress contrasted and complimented her brown skin, and the low cut left quite a bit of her shoulders and chest visible, the ends of her dark hair barely brushing her collarbone. It ought to be more than distracting.

“I was just remembering when we first met,” Felina said as she turned her gaze back to Urianger and began to walk around the table.

“Any particular moment in mind? I confess to not recalling aught that would pertain to our present study.”

Felina leaned on the edge of the table next to him. He was still pouring over the tome, bless him. The firelight danced along the strands of his silvery hair and glinted off the jewelry keeping that robe together. She was very nearly distracted by the way the light and shadows played across the muscles on his arm.

“Mostly, how we argued,” she said. “I didn’t trust you then, and felt certain you and Master Matoya may not have had the Night’s Blessed best interests in mind.”

He did pause his reading now, a guilty frown furrowing his brow. “Thou were perhaps correct in not extending me thy trust, given circumstances.”

Felina laughed. “You and your friends only gave us our greatest desire! Even if it were a roundabout road to get there. There’s naught for you to feel guilty over--not with me, in any case, as while you held much in reserve, you never lied to me.”

He finally looked up from the book, blinking as he looked her over, almost as if seeing her for the first time this evening. But then, she had not been so close to him before this. “If I could take back my deceptions and half-truths, to thee as well as my friends, I would,” he said.

She shook her head. For such a brilliant man, he could be adorably dense. “If anyone is owed an apology, Urianger, it is you; I was rather quick to judge and threaten then. Enough that Runar asked what it would take for us to get along.”

“Ah yes; I do recall thy response,” he said, smiling now. “I believe it was ‘when pigs fly’ in the most venomous manner. Had but a touch of thy considerable aether been expended, I would have been cut down then and there,” he teased gently.

Felina laughed. “It was a possibility! And I simply find it quite amusing now, because…” She gestured to the other end of the room, where among the books and old maps, one of Beq Lugg’s porxies snored, wrapped up in its own giant ears. “We were both of us, I think, unaware of their existence at the time.”

“Technically porxies, whilst similar in shape, and certain features do resemble the farm creature, they are not truly porcine in nature, being comprised—”

Felina leaned in and placed a finger against his lips. He paused, surprised. “Urianger, I know,” Felina said. She waited a moment, then before he could collect himself--and before she lost her nerve--she straddled his lap. “I just find it interesting, how very much has changed since.”

His eyes grew wider. Urianger cleared his throat as she removed her finger from his mouth, her arms instead draping over his shoulders. “It is uh, indeed a most unexpected development,” he said, clearing his throat again.

“Is it also unwelcome?” She asked cautiously.

He waited a beat. “I did not say that.” His hands hesitantly found their way to her waist. “I simply did not expect thee to be so...forward.” He smiled wryly. “Particularly after said disagreements as we so often had between us in the beginning.”

“You’ve won me over,” she said, then leaned in, until her forehead was nearly touching his. “If you like, I can continue to be forward.”

He drew in a breath, then broke the tentative almost-contact, frowning as he looked away. “We labor to find a means by which my comrades and I may return to our own home. My time here upon this world--with thee--is limited.”

“I know,” she said, keeping locked away how much she had recently realized that was going to hurt. “I just thought, I’d rather not regret any lost opportunities--assuming they exist at all.”

A strange expression flit across his features, his gaze far away. She was about to ask, perhaps even move off him and apologize, when Urianger suddenly cupped Felina’s face with one of his slim, strong hands, and pulled her into a fierce, hungry kiss.

She melted into his touch, vaguely noting he tasted of the tea and cinnamon biscuits they’d idly snacked on through the evening. Fewer words were needed as desire took over, hands exploring, the sound of the chair scraping, books and papers pushed aside as they found a better position that would allow them to get past clothing and answer to the finally acknowledged heat between them.

Across the room, the porxie snuffled awake at the sound of Felina’s pleased laugh. The familiar peered blurrily, then decided it ought to find a far quieter location, flapping its ears to fly out of the room, corkscrew tail snagging the handle to pull the door shut behind it.

[he-flies-me-to-the-moon-and-back]

I love you, Dean

“D’ya LIKE Cas, Dean?”

Dean’s face changes rapidly. He scrunches up his whole face at this sudden accusation. “What? Whaddya mean by that? Of course I like him. He’s ma buddy.”

“I mean do you like like Cas? More than just yer buddy?”

𝙷𝚎 𝙵𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙼𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚔 - 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟺

Dean couldn’t keep his promise with Leona, and Leona is far from happy with that turnout. Despite his promise, Dean still always checks the time on his watch and his phone while they are spending time together at her place. To make things worse, Dean doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to Leona after he spent an hour with her. He always appears to be all fidgety and nervous most of the time he is with her. Leona senses something fishy going on with her man.

“DEAN! Are ya even listenin’ to me right now?” says Leona loudly, causing a few heads in the restaurant to turn and gawk at them both.

Dean blurrily looks up from his phone to meet eyes with Leona - and that’s the last straw. Leona had it this time.

“If you’re too BUSY with your BUDDY -” she air-quotes the word “buddy” with an overflowing attitude, “- to pay attention to me, then I just wanna go home now.” She throws the napkin into her plate of untouched food and quickly walks off from their table, leaving Dean confused momentarily before he slowly begins to understand the whole situation.

He smiles sheepishly at the guests at the neighboring tables as he gets up from his seat. “Enjoy ya dinner, folks,” says Dean embarrassingly. He hurries to the cashier to pay up for their meals and walks out of the restaurant, trying to look for Leona. His eyes immediately spot Leona walking aggressively not too far from where he stands now.

“Dammit. Leona! Babe! Hold on!” he cries after her. Dean starts running towards her until he finally catches up with her. He grabs her by her arm and turns her around to face him. “Babe. Hold on a sec here. What’s the rush?”

Leona refuses to be obedient to Dean’s words this time around - she tries to get away from Dean as much as possible, yet his grip on her arm is secured enough to make her immobile right in front of him. Leona can’t find another way out of this but to face Dean properly.

“Let me go, Dean!”

She glares sharply at Dean, and Dean understands the hostility that is coming from her. He holds both her arms in his hands gently yet securely before he sighs deeply. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m really sorry for ma behavior tonight. I shouldn’t be playin’ with ma phone while we’re havin’ dinner together. Ma bad, and I admit it,” Dean apologizes earnestly to her.

Leona doesn’t buy that whole-heartedly. She starts to fish the answer she wants to hear out of Dean’s mouth. “Do ya LIKE Cas, Dean?”

Dean’s face changes rapidly. He scrunches up his whole face at this sudden accusation. “What? Whaddya mean by that? Of course I like him. He’s ma buddy.”

“I mean do you like like Cas? More than just yer buddy?”

Dean remains silent while his face continues to frown deeply as he stares at Leona straight in the eye. He feels attacked.

“Dean …” Her voice becomes gentler as she holds Dean’s hands firmly in hers. Her gaze has also become tamer than previously. “I’ve seen you, babe. I’ve seen ya ‘round him, and trust me when I say this… You glow whenever he’s ‘round.”

Dean’s lips quiver as he’s trying to say something, yet somehow it becomes inaudible due to his anxiety.

“You smile a lot. You laugh a lot. You seem very much happier with him than when you’re with me - and I don’t hate you for that. I only need to know now if you love him more than you love me. ‘Cause I don’t wanna be stuck in the middle of your confused feelings for him.”

Dean is rendered speechless as he tries to wrap his head around this new found discovery made by the woman he loves, and he doesn’t believe that Leona would lie to him when it comes to serious stuff like this.

Dean is puzzled. He feels a light dizziness in his head while his heart is pumping fast like a bullet train. Leona notices his body language. She kindly rubs Dean’s arm up and down to calm him down.

“Babe? Baby? I think you’re in love with Castiel. I know it can be confusing since ya ain’t gay, but… we can’t control our feelings when it comes to love,” she says.

She flashes a warm smile at him. “And love knows no boundaries, and it certainly doesn’t know gender, religion, et cetera.”

She squeezes Dean’s hands in hers tightly. “I think you need to acknowledge these feelings ya have for him before it’s too late.” She leans forward and tips her feet to allow her to plant a soft kiss on Dean’s cheek. Then, she smiles warmly.

“I love you, Dean Winchester. Goodbye,” Leona bids him one last time before she turns around and walks away.

________

Dean walks across the corridor towards his apartment with heavy foot. His brain is still wrecking over those words Leona has said to him about him and Castiel. He doesn’t know how to react to this. This is too much for him to handle in a night. This is too much for him to handle, period.

Dean slowly tries to unlock the door lock. His hand keeps on slipping from getting the key into the keyhole properly, causing a scratching noise to resonate throughout the empty corridor. Dean doesn’t realize that. He is completely blank in his head.

Then, the door makes a noise from the other side, and there he stands once the door is opened. “Dean?” he asks Dean worryingly. “You okay?”

Dean couldn’t respond anything but to keep on staring at Castiel. He scrutinizingly watches every feature on Castiel’s face to see if he can find the answer he’s been looking for for the past hour. He tries to put the puzzle pieces together while looking at Castiel, in hope that he can actually find closure to his heartache and headache right now.

“Dean …?” Dean snaps back to reality instantly, and finds himself and Castiel still standing at the door. He then slowly begins walking into the apartment and leaves Castiel to close the door behind them instead. Castiel slowly follows him from behind.

“You okay, Dean? You don’t look okay right now,” he comments.

Dean flops his whole body onto the leather couch. He sighs loudly with his eyes closed after he rested his head on the backrest. He’s feeling sluggish tonight for unknown reason.

Castiel worriedly sits next to Dean. He’s speechless on what to say to Dean that would be appropriate to Dean’s current condition. He can only silently gazes at Dean while his heart is troubled greatly.

Dean’s eyes flutter open and he blankly looks at the white ceiling of their apartment. He stays quiet for quite some time.

“Did ya ever loved a man, Cas?”

Castiel’s eyes shoot wide open. “Love a man? What do you mean?”

“I mean actually lovin’ a man - romantically.”

Castiel ponders for a second. “I don’t think I ever have. Why?”

Dean quiets down. His eyes are still locked onto the ceiling. “D’ya think ya can ever love a man, Cas?”

Castiel stares at Dean confusedly. “Do… I have to love a man right now?”

Dean glances over at Castiel. He quietly gazes at his angel buddy. “D’ya think ya can?”

Castiel’s head tilts slightly after hearing Dean’s sincere question. Naturally he puts his hand over Dean’s shoulders, scooting himself closer to Dean while their eyes are still locked in a soft gaze. Castiel smiles.

“I am still in love with one right now, if you ask me,” Castiel confesses.

Dean’s eyebrows furrow at Castiel’s words. “Ya what now?”

“I’ve always loved you, Dean. I’ve told you, right? Before The Empty sucked me in?”

Dean is silent. Only his eyes are asking a million questions at Castiel at the same time.

Castiel proceeds to explain, “My love for you is not like those humanly love and affection, Dean - you must’ve known that by now. I’ve saved you from Perdition, and we have been thru a lot together, and I do care for you tremendously. My love for you is the only reason why I still thrive to win in this lifetime of mine. I love you, and so I need to win for you.”

Dean listens carefully while his mind tries to learn every word that is spoken by Castiel. The room goes quiet again.

Castiel continues, “It is as simple and complicated as that. There’s no other way I can explain why I love you. I guess that’s why we share a more profound bond together.”

Dean slowly pulls himself forward in his seat, with his back hunched slightly next to Castiel. He brings his hand to Castiel’s back and pats that large back lightly. “Thanks, Cas. I appreciate that.”

Castiel nods and smiles warmly.

[cakelanguage]

Happy Holidays @vanner-och-frander ( GoodMorningMisterFear)! I'm your gifter for the @ignoctgiftexchange :D I hope this has enough fluff to make you feel like a marshmallow :)

You can also read this on AO3

--

It’s the soft glow of the sun shining through his curtains that had Noctis’ eyes blurrily blinking open. He laid there for a few moments, taking stock of everything and trying to wake up. A comforting weight pressed against his back and another wrapped around his waist to splay across his diaphragm.

Noctis turned his head and peered at Ignis’ slack features, face relaxed with lips parted. The warmth of Ignis’ breath ruffled through his hair and Noctis couldn’t help but bask in the lazy comfort. It wasn’t often that Ignis was still asleep when Noctis woke up, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take full advantage of it when he did.

Carefully, he managed to wiggle out of Ignis’ hold and clumsily got out of bed. He instantly broke out into goosebumps and whined at the feeling of the biting cold of the wooden floors against his bare feet. It was days like this that Noctis regretted not making himself put on his lounge clothes after he and Ignis had a “night of passion,” as Ignis wanted to call it. But the delicious solace they both sucked up from the skin-to-skin contact kept him from ever following through with the thought.

He stumbled around their bedroom looking for his clothes from the night before but saw hide nor hair of them. Noctis finally spotted the sweater Ignis had been wearing and shrugged, tugging the wool over his mussed hair. The sweater hung down to the middle of his thighs and the delicate stitching felt luxurious against his skin.

He really needed to invest in getting a sweater like this or pilfer one of Ignis’ off his boyfriend permanently.

A small grumble startled Noctis out of his sweater haze and back to his sleeping boyfriend. He giggled quietly as he watched Ignis paw uselessly at the space Noctis used to occupy. Walking back over to Ignis, he pressed a kiss to the man’s temple and moved one of the pillows so that Ignis could hold onto that if he kept searching for Noctis in their bed.

Now to put his plan into action.

Noctis tip-toed to their kitchen and pulled out the book of recipes Ignis had bought for them last Christmas. Each page of the book had some note or another, whether it was an alteration to a recipe or a critique on the recipe itself.

Noctis loved it.

He loved it because Ignis went out of his way to accommodate Noctis’ picky eating. He’d take out ingredients that he knew that Noctis wouldn’t eat and substitute them for another. And if Ignis would warn him before he tried something if Ignis thought he might not like it, but something that he might enjoy if he tried it.

Not every meal was a knockout and some they had to toss because they’d turned out inedible with the adjustments they made to the recipe, but they’d laugh about it and order takeout. It was these moments in the kitchen – when classes and palace’s duties threatened to overwhelm them – with Ignis teaching him how to cook with all the patience of a saint that had butterflies fluttering in his chest and a sappy smile etching across his face.

He dutifully started their coffee machine and thanked the Astrals that Noctis had gotten them the ridiculously expensive one that barely made any noise at all as it began brewing. Ignis made a fuss over his gift but once he’d tasted a cup from the machine he’d come to treasure it. Ebony was still Ignis’ favorite but their coffee machine made a close second.

As the machine chugged away, Noctis turned back to the book and selected a well-loved page: Ulwaat berry muffins with a brown sugar streusel. It sounded fancy, but Ignis had walked him through the recipe multiple times and Noctis knew he could do it by himself.

He wasn’t anything close to an amazing chef, but he’d picked up a thing or two while helping Ignis with meals.

He shuffled around the kitchen, grabbing ingredients and setting them on the counter in no particular order, and heaved the mixer out of its corner. Nabbing an extra bowl, he started the streusel.

He measured out the oats, Cleigne wheat, cinnamon, and salt and double-checked the amount of brown sugar the recipe called for. Three-fourths of a cup was what the recipe called for, but a bit extra wouldn’t hurt. He popped some butter in the microwave and stepped away to grab a spoon.

Noisy pops from the microwave had him scrambling back over to the microwave, whispered curses leaving his mouth. He opened the microwave door and winced at the sight of melted butter splattering the inside. He glanced at the hallway that led to their bedroom and waited to see if he’d woken up Ignis already.

When a half-awake Ignis didn’t come stumbling down the hallway, he turned back to the butter and took it out of the microwave. He’ll clean it later, Noctis told himself as he shut the door and walked back over to his streusel.

From there it went fairly smoothly with only a few snafus when he’d somehow got some of the ingredients on the counter or spilled more vanilla into the batter than he’d meant to. But the batter tasted fine to him so he didn’t think he’d made the muffins inedible. He poured the batter as evenly as he could into their muffin pan and popped them in the oven.

With breakfast baking, he turned back to look at the kitchen. Flour sprinkled on the counter, batter dripping from the spout of the bowl, eggshells tossed carelessly in the general direction of the trashcan. Honestly, Noctis was proud of himself that he’d at least managed not to get anything on the floor.

Now he faced a dilemma.

He could clean his mess but then he’d wake up Ignis for sure. He debated if it was worth it or not before shrugging and grabbing his phone from the charger.

A little King’s Knight was the perfect choice to pass the time. He and Ignis could clean together later. And Ignis wouldn’t be upset about the mess if Noctis brought him coffee and breakfast in bed.

Probably.

 By the time the muffins were done, he’d leveled up twice putting him passed Prompto by a few levels which he could tease his best friend about later.

Pulling the muffins from the oven, he made a face. They looked okay, a bit oblong and there were some baking inconsistencies. Some were a little dark while others looked like they still needed to bake for a few more minutes. He pried the best looking ones from the pan with a fork, wincing as pieces stuck to the pan.

Whatever, it was the thought that counted.

Pouring a cup of coffee for both of them, he made sure to add a pinch of sugar in Ignis’ while putting vanilla creamer and sugar in his own. How Ignis could ingest the stuff plain he’d never know but he made sure to get his coffee right.

With a plate of muffins and two full cups of coffee balanced on a tray, Noctis began his trip back to their bedroom. It was a snail’s pace in comparison to how he’d usually walk the distance but he couldn’t drop any of his precious cargo.

He toed open the door and admired his sleeping boyfriend. Noctis was going to have to start waking up before Ignis if it meant getting to see him truly relaxed.

Quietly, he set the tray on Ignis’ side-table and he climbed back in bed, cuddling up to Ignis. He pressed his cold feet against Ignis’ calves and grinned at the furrowed brow he got in response. Two arms wrapped around him and tucked Noctis close against Ignis’ chest.

Ignis let out a pleased hum and burrowed his face in the nest that was Noctis’ hair. Noctis laughed and admired the kiss of a few scattered moles on his boyfriend's chest. He pressed his lips against one of the beauty marks on Ignis’ chest, granting each one with the affection they deserved. With no reaction from Ignis, he started to kiss his way up his boyfriend’s chest to his neck where he worried a small patch of skin at the juncture where Ignis’ shoulder and neck met.

“Noct,” Ignis mumbled.

Noctis blew on the reddening mark. “Iggy,” Noctis purred. He continued kissing his way up to Ignis’ chin when a pair of warm, dry lips met his. He smiled into the kiss and enjoyed the lazy, tender motions of their lips against each other.

They parted and leaned their foreheads together. “Good morning, Noct,” Ignis murmured, eyes sleep heavy and smile warm.

“Morning Iggy.”

Ignis took a few moments to sort himself. “You’re up early.”

“Or maybe you just slept in,” Noctis teased, poking at Ignis’ side.  

Ignis chuckled. “Oh is that it?”

“Must’ve worn you out.”

“Well, someone was being insatiable last night and I was doing most of the work.”

“I definitely did some of the work.” Noctis stuck his tongue out at Ignis. “And here I made you breakfast.”

Ignis’ eyes widened for a moment before they settled into twinkling mirth. “You made me breakfast?”

“I made us breakfast,” Noctis corrected, “and coffee.”

At the announcement that coffee was in the vicinity, Ignis maneuvered them so that they were leaning against the headboard. Ignis picked up the tray with an ease that didn’t belay his tiredness and moved it to his lap.

Noctis grabbed his cup and took a small sip and watched as Ignis took the first sip from his, snickering at the blissful face Ignis made when the coffee hit his tongue.  

“You always know exactly how I want my coffee,” Ignis praised, pressing a kiss to the crown of Noctis’ head.

Noctis snuggled down to lay his head against Ignis’ shoulder. “It’s not hard to remember besides,” he looked up at Ignis through his lashes, “I know you.”

Ignis made a noncommittal noise as he took another sip. "And I you, Noct."

His face felt warm, whether it was from Ignis' statement or the coffee soothing the cold that had been slowly seeping into him, he didn't know. Noctis sat up and pinched off a piece of one of the muffins, holding it close to Ignis' mouth. "Open up."

Ignis snorted and raised a brow at him. "You wish to feed me?"

"You have to be my taste tester."

"Absolutely, we wouldn't want the chef to have to taste their own food first."

Noctis shrugged. "They tasted good before I baked them," Noctis said.

Ignis gave him a dry look. "We've talked about the dangers of eating the uncooked batter," Ignis drawled as if he'd explained this numerous times before. 

He'd only told him three times, Noctis was keeping track.

"Until I get food poisoning from raw cookie dough, I'll keep risking it. Besides it was only a finger full -- just a taste."

The exasperation in Ignis was palpable but he opened his mouth dutifully and ate what Noctis fed him. Ignis chewed methodically, tilting his head as he considered the flavor.

“Well?” Noctis asked impatiently.

“It’s good,” Ignis reassured, taking Noctis’ still outreached hand and kissing his fingers. “Thank you for making me breakfast.”

Noctis grinned. “You make breakfast for me all the time, I want to do that for you when I can.”

“You did quite well, they look much better than your last attempt.”

He nudged Ignis with his elbow with a playful scowl. “I did learn from the best.”

“I didn’t know you were taking lessons,” Ignis jibed.

“I have a private teacher.”

Ignis wrapped an arm around Noctis’ waist and tucked him closer to his side. “Should I be jealous?”

Noctis tilted his head back and laughed. “Nah, I think you’d come to an understanding”

Ignis stared at Noctis’ lips. “We should get up.”

Noctis grabbed their cups and set them on his side table. “I think we’ve earned a day off.”

Humming softly, Ignis set the tray to the side. “Have we now?”

Noctis pressed a chaste kiss against Ignis’ lips and leaned his forehead against Ignis’, looking at the man from beneath his lashes. “Please?”

“I suppose an hour or two more in bed wouldn’t hurt,” Ignis conceded, pulling Noctis down to lay against his chest. “I can’t guarantee more than that.”

“I can be very convincing.”

“Of that, I have no doubt. We’ll eat the rest of breakfast in a little while.”

“Good, I worked hard on it.”

Ignis pet his hair. “And I’m sure the kitchen looks fantastic, right?”

Noctis groaned. “We can clean it later.”

His boyfriend’s chuckles vibrated through his chest. “We’ll clean later then.” 

For now, the two could bask in the calm peace that settled over them, exchanging lazy kisses with lidded eyes and whispered endearments against sleep-warmed skin. 

[wantonlywindswept]

SS/JC bridenapping thingy

Short little ficbit for a kinkmeme prompt involving bride kidnapping, which I’m not posting yet because I mean to add more to it but I also crave that sweet sweet validation, you know?

aka su she is a creepy shit and jiang cheng is forever on his own

---

They take him when he's most vulnerable: drunk and alone, emotionally exhausted, and with ashy gravedirt still on the hems of his robes.

"You would really do this now?" Jiang Cheng rasps, ignoring the ring of swords pointed at his throat, ignoring the sedation crawling through his veins. The entire inn must have been drugged: all of the patrons are passed out at their tables, even the wandering cultivator he'd spotted in the corner.

The waitstaff peek out from the kitchen doors, their faces guilty and frightened. But this is Moling-Su territory, and its leader stands before them; Jiang Cheng does not blame them for what they've done.

"It's so difficult to gain an audience with you otherwise," Su She replies, a touch of reproach in his mild tone. "How else would I assure we could talk uninterrupted?"

"Talk," Jiang Cheng scoffs. It is only by pure force of will that he does not give into the nausea clouding his head, leaning heavily on Sandu like a cane as the room spins around him. "As if you didn't arrange this to be as public as possible. I know what you're here for, Su She."

There are deity-binding ropes in Su She's hands.

They are red.

Su She's features tighten at the informal mode of address, hands clenching around the rope, but he manages a brittle smile.

"I want there to be no doubt of my right to my bride," he agrees.

Jiang Cheng bares his teeth in a snarl, swaying unsteadily. The swords threatening him have lowered; he's been deemed not a threat, and he hates that it's true.

"You really think you'll be able to keep me from killing you for an entire fortnight?" he spits.

Su She's smile slants cruel, then.

"All I have to do is convince you to stay, Sect Leader Jiang," he says, as if this will be a cordial exchange, as if he doesn't plan on binding Jiang Cheng with qi-suppressing ropes and keeping him caged long enough to legitimize his claim. "After all, you have no family left to steal you back."

The words fall like blows, and Jiang Cheng's knees buckle under their weight. His palms hit the floor, Sandu clattering to the ground next to him as black spots dance in front of his eyes. The joss papers in his left sleeve feel like they're made of stones; the flute in his right seems heavier still.

It's been nearly three years since the entire cultivation world rejoiced in his brother's death. He thought no one noticed that he never did the same--that his mourning and annual pilgrimages to the Burial Mounds had gone unmarked.

Foolish, to think that he would ever be allowed to grieve in peace.

Fingers rest under his chin, tilting his head up, and Jiang Cheng would pull away if his head didn't feel so heavy. He blinks blurrily at the white-clad figure in front of him, tongue thick in his mouth, darkness encroaching his vision.

"My beautiful wife," Su She murmurs, stroking a thumb across his cheek. "Don't worry, dear. I'll take such very good care of you."

Jiang Cheng wants to shove him away. He wants to spit, to bite, to fight. He has spent his entire life fighting; why should this be any different?

His eyes slide shut, instead.

Oblivion pulls him under.

[samuelryanlilly]

The ìpega Controller for N-Switch

Have you ever wanted your Switch to be more like a Wii U gamepad? Probably not, but the idea of having a similar FEEL might be appealing. After my initial, new, used-for-less-than-a-month joycons developed drift after hardly even touching them, I was definitely on the lookout for an alternate solution. I got an official Nintendo Switch Pro Controller already, but what if I wanted more controllers? Well, I tried out the Hori D-Pad Left Joycon but the stick did not seem significantly different... which is good for matching them with standard joycons but bad for my peace of mind. I got a FaceOff wired pro controller by PDP (I may go into more depth on that in another post if you'd like) that functioned surprisingly well for a cheap, simple, slightly gimmicky controller. And then there was this.

Behold! A peculiar piece of plastic with their own control sticks! There's also a d-pad, no batteries required, no crazy settings needed, just plug it in and go, baby! It was relatively inexpensive (if not a tad more than I normally would risk) and though I had never heard of the brand ìpega before, I couldn't resist the temptation to try it and a least, if nothing else, have something to say about this strange product.

Of course, the pictures and wording definitely made me even more curious as they tickled me. The blurred imaged of Fortnite and Splatoon 2 along with calling it a controller for N-Switch definitely made me feel like they didn't want to get into legal trouble while advertising this.

Now this controller does have some nice features to it, don't get me wrong. The Switch fits into it nicely with rubber on the insides to grip it so firmly that you can shake it (lightly to moderately) when it's upside down and it won't fall out! I'm impressed. The design also uses that bottom bar and supporting back extensions of the plastic to help support the system weight more evenly without putting stresses on the side connections. The sticks feel nice with concave tops to keep your thumbs from slipping out. You get a D-pad. The handles are shaped to give you something substantial to grip onto unlike the flat joycons. And it uses no batteries of its own. It just runs on the system's battery at a very small drain since it has no fancy features to power.

Then again, not having fancy features isn't exactly the highest praise. To get this working you need to turn on wired pro controller communication. You have to hit buttons on the console to wake and unlock it before connecting it to the controller or else it won't do anything. There's no gyro, rumble, NFC reading... nothing. To make matters worse, it doesn't have the best feel. The curved mold of the plastic makes the D-pad directions and buttons closer to the inside shallower than those closer to the outside. The +, -, home, and screenshot buttons are far at the bottom and tiny. The sticks are a bit tall to be this high up on the controller. And of course, as is pictured above (very blurrily... sorry) they didn't even get the right labels on the triggers! Was it to avoid legal action? Did they jut have these parts laying around from cheap Sony controller projects? Or did the actually not know Nintendo uses ZL and ZR? Whatever the case, if you don't push those triggers inward squarely then they while stick and often not even register.

Ultimately, this controller replacement falls on its face for a few key reasons. It's not its lack of fancy features or crappy button feel. It's more than that. One major reason is because, well, let's face it, this DOES make it feel like you're playing a Wii U in off-TV play mode. But unlike the Wii U gamepad, there's no way to charge this while playing. There's no passthrough on the bottom so you have to take it out and stop using it if the battery is low. The second major flaw is that it's not at all potable despite only being usable in handheld mode. It's bulky, unprotected, and doesn't fold up in any way to save space in a bag, much less an optimistic pocket. And lastly, ironically, the left stick on this broke on me. For some reason it will now only move diagonally up and to the left or diagonally down and to the right. I guess I could just play D-pad only games but I might as well use something more convenient or with a better D-pad for that. In the end, this cheap piece of crap turned out to be... as expected... a cheap piece of crap.

[fan-wicktion]

Lifeguard

warnings: smut smut smut, bad language, the ocean? I think that’s it

a/n: I promised I’d write a Johnny Utah one-shot when I hit 100 followers, so here you go my horny little cuties. ❤️

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

You sat in your perch, scanning the beach and water for signs of trouble. The morning sun beat down with relentless heat, and you could feel the sweat trickling down your back. You itched to jump into the salty water to cool down, but you knew you couldn’t leave your station. It was going to be a hot one.

Seeing movement out of the corner of your eye, you glance over to see the single hottest man you have ever laid eyes on is jogging towards the beach with a surfboard under his arm. Johnny Utah. Of course you learned his name a while back, the first day you saw him out hitting the waves. Occasionally he would come talk to you, and then you had to focus all you energy on not  raking your eyes up and down his wetsuit covered body. Not that looking into his eyes was any better—it felt like he was staring straight through your soul. Not to mention the way his gaze often flicked down to your mouth as you spoke, making you quiver in place. He was F I N E.

You prayed that he’d come say hi to you and grant you a brief reprieve from your watch. Maybe today I’ll ask why Tyler hasn’t been with him lately…but you let the thought go. He was just talking to you to be nice. He definitely wasn’t interested.

Your shift drags on without incident, and you catch yourself zoning out a couple times. God, I need to focus. You notice an excessive amount of splashing in the distance and you perk up, bringing the whistle to your lips. You whip out your binoculars, and sure enough there’s someone showing every sign of drowning in the stretch of water in front of you. Blowing the whistle wildly, you leap down from your seat and sprint down the sand, buoy in tow. Oh God oh  God oh God, you think, heels burning as you pick up the pace. You run in up to you knees, then dive into a freestyle stroke, slicing through the water. You reach a vacant surfboard and dive, grasping for the victim. You blurrily make out a hand, and hook the arm over your shoulder, kicking hard to resurface. You ready yourself to throw this guy back onto his board and tow him back, but when you finally come up for air he starts laughing. Johnny Utah.

“Hey, what the FUCK?!” You push him off you, glaring.

“Sorry sweetheart, you just looked so goddamn sweaty sitting on your little tower…” he catches his lower lip between his lip and skims your outraged face. “Figured I’d cool you off a bit.”

Your mouth drops open. How DARE he… you splash him with water and smirk. “Cute strategy, but if you wanted to get me wet, all you had to do is ask.”

His eyes darken dangerously. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh—oh my god. I didn’t mean it like that! I meant…shit.” Inside, you’re screaming. Everything is on fire. Social interaction? Flirting? Out the window. I just told Johnny motherfucking Utah he could get me wet… You sink into the water in shame, but Johnny pulls you towards him and speaks lowly into your ear.

“Why don’t you and I have a go at that later? I’ll pick you up at 7.”

You gasp and hardly have time to form a coherent thought before he’s back on his board. “See you then!” he calls, winking as he paddles away. Soggy and confused, you paddle back to shore and drag yourself back to your post. Is this a date? A booty call? …Do I care which?

————————————————————

How do you dress for a date when A.)You haven’t been on a date in forever and B.)You don’t even know what the date is??

You stare in the mirror at yourself, wanting to look your best but not wanting to look like you’re trying too hard. Your salty, windblown hair flows about your face in a way you hope is sexy and not a rat’s nest, and you’ve decided to forego makeup. You throw on a black v-neck tshirt that hugs your frame nicely and a pair of washed out denim shorts. That could work for nearly anything, right?

The doorbell rings and your heart leaps into your throat. It’s him. You snatch up your purse and rush to the door, opening it with shaking fingers. Johnny leans in the doorframe, towering over you with relaxed confidence. Hot damn. Somehow—even though you’ve seen pretty much his entire physique through his tight wetsuit—he looks even more alluring fully dressed. He had on jeans, a white t-shirt that stretched temptingly across his broad chest, and a light jacket. It seemed like he was having similar thoughts as you watched his eyes slowly make their way down your body, and you felt yourself getting damp between your legs. You blushed nervously and broke the silence.

“So… where to?”

He grinned in response. “You’ll see.” He led you to his car and opened the passenger door for you. A gentleman. As you slid past him and into the seat you felt an electric heat radiating off him, and as you caught a whiff of his woody cologne you had to resist grabbing him and taking him right there. You could sense the danger lurking beneath the surface of his manners, and boy did it turn you on. He had you shaking and he hadn’t done a single thing.

You couldn’t help but notice how sexy he looked driving; his face relaxed but seemingly chiseled from stone, long legs bent slightly as they worked the gas and the clutch with ease. His left hand draped over the wheel and his right gripped the shifter with confidence. You wonder what it would look like gripping something else. His hands are so huge…You imagine one reaching over and hooking into your thigh, and you sigh lightly at the image. To your surprise, Johnny does just that. He had been stealing glances at you the whole ride, noticing how delicious your lips looked, how soft your skin must be. He couldn’t stand to not be touching you, so he slides his right hand off the stick and lightly grazes your thigh with his fingertips, as if asking for permission. You lock eyes, and try to telecommunicate your thoughts into his brain. YES, please god do it Johnny.

He must get the message. His long fingers wrap around your inner thigh and squeeze it slightly, thumb tracing small circles into your skin. He turns his eyes back to the road, but you see a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. Every so often he has to remove his hand to shift to a different gear, and in the absence of his warmth you get goosebumps. Each time his hand returns, it has moved slightly higher up your leg. Your heart is pumping so loud in your chest you swear he could probably hear it, but you don’t care. Suddenly you realize you’d let him do anything to you, and you’re a little scared of your own libido. As if he’s had the same realization, you feel Johnny’s fingers sliding partially into the leg of your shorts, slowly caressing the smooth skin only a few inches below your panty line. You inhale sharply and stare at him with raw need in your eyes. You no longer care if he thinks you’re desperate—you are.

He glances over at the sound you make, and you see him take you all in: legs splayed open, hands gripping the armrests, eyes wild and lips parted, breathing his name. He feels his blood rush somewhere south, and the zipper of his pants digs into him as he throbs with desire. “Shit,” he mumbles, and moves his hand to cup your heat through your shorts possessively.

You grind against him for a minute before taking his hand in yours. You massage his palm with your thumbs, then place a warm kiss in the center. He glances between you and the road frantically, torn between safety and watching your every move. You kiss each of his fingertips lightly, loving the feeling of your mouth on his slightly salty skin. Your last shred of dignity thrown out the window, you flatten your tongue and run it up his index and middle fingers—base to tip. He lets out a low moan and you notice his growing erection. Good. You eye his zipper and begin to contemplate if you could suck his dick without hitting your head on the steering wheel, when he whips the car to halt.

“Wait here,” he commands, though he looks like he really doesn’t want to leave you. He strides to the back of the car and pulls something out of the trunk. You can’t make out what it is before he disappears over the crest of a grassy hill. You wait patiently, and he returns empty handed. He approaches your door and opens it, holding out a hand to help you up. You take it, clinging to him for dear life as you follow him on shaky legs. He leads you over the hill and you gasp.

“Oh, Johnny…”

The sun was setting on one of the most beautiful views you had ever seen. You stood next to him on what looked like the edge of the world. The ocean stretched out before you, glinting pink and gold flecks in the dying light. He had laid out a large blanket on the hill facing the sun, and had even brought a box of donuts. You look up at him, not knowing what to say.

“I uh, thought you might like to watch the sunset,” he said, shuffling his feet a little. He looks so sweet, but he had also teased you the whole way there, and you were dying to kiss him. So you do.

You step up to him, placing both your hands on his chest and feeling his heartbeat thudding as fast as yours. You lean up to his face, parting your lips, and he meets you halfway there. His large hands cup the sides of your face, and you melt into each other. He playfully nips at your bottom lip and you moan into his mouth at the sensation, allowing his tongue to enter. If you had been kissed before, you couldn’t remember. When Johnny Utah kissed you, everything else slid away and all that was left was your mouths and your bodies, wrapped in ecstatic embrace.

Without breaking contact, Johnny swept you up in his arms and laid you out on the blanket beneath him. He shed his jacket and propped himself up on his forearms, hovering over your face. He looked at you like he wanted to devour you, chocolate eyes lapping up every feature on your face.

“Want a donut?”

You’re confused at the change of pace, but quickly comply when it becomes obvious he means to feed it to you. He brings a powdery pastry to your lips, and he watches intently as you take a bite. Powdered sugar falls over your chin and chest, but he licks it up, peppering your skin with kisses along the way. Your entire body lights up at his every touch, and your arousal is beginning to soak through your underwear. You loved the gentle attention he was showering you with, but dammit you needed him NOW.

You tug at his shirt, pulling it up over his head and trailing your fingers up and down his bare back. He grins at you, grabbing yours. He pulls your shirt up but traps your wrists within the cloth, pinning your arms above your head as he trails his tongue down the line of your bra. You squirm beneath him, crying out in frustration and pleasure as he teases. You nip at his neck and he moans your name into your ear and its the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Please—” you whimper, biting at his ear, “Please fuck me Johnny. I’ve never wanted something so bad…”

In one swift movement he lifts you out from under him and places you in his lap. You rut against him, desperately straddling his waist as he unclasps your bra. He nuzzles into your breasts, sucking on your nipples while his hands get to work on unbuttoning your pants. You feel hot streaks of pleasure shooting to your core at the suction of his mouth, and you wind your fingers through his dark hair, unable to resist tugging at him slightly.

Johnny practically throws you back down on the blanket and roughly strips you of your shorts. He kisses his way back up the inside of your leg, then tugs at the edges of your underwear with his teeth. You want to kill him. If he keeps teasing you like this, you think you might actually explode. You reach down and fumble at his belt, unhooking it and unbuttoning his pants. He helps you remove the rest of his clothing, and you gasp as his cock swings free. I’ve seen him in a wetsuit but I never knew it was THIS big…

He slides his length over your now soaking undergarments, creating friction on your clit that causes you to cry out. You gaze up at his muscular form, silhouetted in gold by the setting sun. His hair hangs partially over his eyes as he stares into your soul and pulls your panties to the side. You feel so exposed and sinful doing all this outside, the threat of being caught heightening all your senses.

“Tell me you want it,” he growls, on the edge of losing control. His dick throbs in his hand, almost painful with neglect.

“I want it! I want it Johnny…”

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.” He smirks, swirling his tip seductively around your dripping entrance.

“I WANT IT,” you practically shout. “Fuck me, PLEASE!”

Right as “please” leaves your lips, he thrusts inside you and a guttural moan leaves his lips as you scream in pleasure, curling your toes.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby girl.” You feel every inch of his cock slowly pulling out of you, slick with your own wetness. You whimper, wanting to be full again, nails raking down his back. He slams his hips back into you and works his way to a rhythm, bringing your legs up so your knees hook over his shoulders. He leans down and pushes in deeper than you though possible, muttering delicious obscenities in your ear before sticking his tongue in your mouth to muffle your moans. You snatch up one of his hands and suck on two of his fingers vehemently, needing some sort of outlet and knowing what it would do to him. His eyes roll back in his head.

“SHIT. Y/n, I need you to do something for me,” he leans in close, breath tickling your ear.

“YES. Anything! Anything Johnny!”

He bites your earlobe and begins swirling your clit with his thumb, motions of firm confidence.

“I want you…” he growls through gritted teeth, “to come for me.”

His words send you over the edge, and you tighten around him, screaming his name. He clutches you to his chest and fucks you hard, chasing his own orgasm and prolonging yours. Finally you feel him shudder with release, and you wrap your legs around him, holding him inside you. He collapses against your chest, panting.

“Thank you…” you mutter, running your hands through his hair and down his sweaty back. He groans in delight.

“You’re perfect, baby girl.”

————————————————————

You hold each other as the sun finally dips below the horizon, and Johnny wraps the blanket around you both. He kisses your forehead lightly, pushing your hair away from your face. He looks down at you with so much compassion you could almost cry.

“Well,” he laughs, “I think we got you sufficiently wet.”

You smack him playfully and cuddle into him, both drifting off into a post-orgasm slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[flammablehat]

If you're still doing hurt/comfort prompts, could you write Percival loopy, tripping, completely out of it, high as a kite on pain meds? Can be funny and goofy but also *slaps roof of percy* this bad boy can fit so much angst in him. With Vex and Keyleth trying to take care of him.

(Prompts are always welcome - I’ll do my best to answer them as I can or hold onto them if I can’t for some reason! I know it’s been a while but this one bit me ❤️)

“And then I said,” Percy insists, gesturing, “then I said -- life... needs things to live. Which is true!” Both arms go up, one almost catching Keyleth in the face, struggling as she is with the collar of Percy’s coat. Vex keeps her eyes on the task of untying his boots. If she and Keyleth so much as look at each other she’s done for, and funny as it is, she can’t countenance laughing at him with that sad, confused note in his voice. 

“You’re so right,” Keyleth tries, admirably, even if her delivery warbles a bit. Vex yanks at one boot to cover a hysterical little squeak. 

“But they all scoffed at me,” Percy says, staring down at his hands, which have fallen to his lap. 

“That was very rude of them, darling, but maybe it was more to do with the ambitious volume of cold medicine you seem to have dosed yourself with?” Vex tries, tossing the second boot aside. 

Percy gives a defiant jerk of his head, which sends him back into the couch cushions in a dizzy slump. Keyleth blows a tendril of hair out of her face, holding most of his coat in her arms, the left sleeve still caught on his wrist. 

“Together, you think?” Vex says, standing up. Keyleth twists until the coat comes free, dropping it on the couch. 

“I’ll hang that up in a minute. Yeah, I think we can manage. On the count of three?” she says, bending to take one of Percy’s arms across her shoulders. Vex mirrors her on his other side, hooking his elbow around her neck. 

“One, two,” she says, bending her knees. 

“Three,” they grunt together, lifting Percy into a mostly standing position from the depth of his stupidly plush couch. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” he says, hesitant.

“Do not!” Vex says back, much more firmly. 

“Come on, come on--” Keyleth is panting, and Vex isn’t doing much better -- they’re hardly the strongest of their friend group, and while Percy’s no Grog, he’s also doing an admirable impression of a sack of bricks. 

They shuffle him to his bedroom in the most ungraceful display Vex has ever participated in while not fall-down drunk. Getting him in bed is less a gentle transfer than it is just strategically dropping him, and if he remembers any of this, well. At least his dignity didn’t suffer alone. 

“I’m gonna--” Keyleth points at the door, hand on her hip as she gets her breath back. 

“Yeah,” Vex agrees, wiping a little sweat from her temple. “I’ll tuck him in. Maybe bring something for later?” 

“Sure.” Keyleth waves over her shoulder, already half out the door. 

That leaves Vex to steal a quick peek around Percy’s personal space, and then a longer one, when it’s clear from his dazed mumbling he’d just as likely assume she’s a coat rack as his friend. 

He’s very tidy, which isn’t surprising. A little Gothic in his tastes, also not surprising. The photographs... Vex takes a closer look, ignoring the flicker of guilt that comes with prying. At first it almost looks like he’s simply collected frames and never taken out the pictures of model families they came with. And then, with a jolt of recognition, the face she’s looking at resolves into Percy -- only different. For one thing, he’s younger; for another, his hair is dark brown without even a suggestion of the white it is now. The most unfamiliar feature, however, is his smile. In the photo, a younger boy hangs impishly from Percy’s shoulder while a younger girl leans almost parallel to the floor tugging on his arm. They all share some features, but the children favor each other so strongly they must be twins. Unbidden, the names Oliver and Whitney spring to mind. 

Vex pores over the rest of the photos, heart clenching as she finds Percy in all of them, even if only in a painfully familiar pair of blue eyes or a particular tilt to a grin. 

“Ves?” he calls blurrily from the bed. She abandons the photos to sit beside him, checking his forehead out of reflex more than necessity. 

“What can I get you, dear?” she asks. 

“Send mother in, please... when she's free?” His face is half buried in a pillow, eyes closed, voice small. 

For a moment Vex can’t breathe, let alone reply. She nods, drawing a blanket up around his shoulders, tucking in the ends. 

“Of course,” she finally says, smoothing his hair off his forehead. “Of course I will.” 

+++

Vex finds Keyleth humming to herself in the kitchen, setting a small vase with a single flower on the tray she’s assembled: a glass of ginger ale, a few crackers, a little packet of cold medicine pre-portioned into a normal human dose. 

Vex’s hands are shaking. She places them on the counter and leans her weight into them, dropping her head forward as she breathes and counts backward from fifty. 

“Everything okay?” Keyleth asks, hesitating with her hands on the tray. 

“We need to have a serious conversation,” Vex says, very calm, “about destroying the Briarwoods.” 

[danetobelieve]

Don’t Be So Shelf-ish || Orion and Winston

The Scribe Headquarters had surprisingly become one of the few places that Orion could seem to get a full night’s sleep. Which was a miracle considering the mattresses were over 30 years old and the place had no heat. But his house held too many memories of being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night or even worse, the night terrors. Here, Orion’s main concern was how many blankets he would have to sleep under to avoid frostbite. He would take that any day. But Orion’s typically peaceful night’s rest was interrupted by the loud noise echoing throughout the empty, usually silent hallways of the Scribe building. Orion sat up immediately, crawling out of the bed and reaching blindly in the darkness for his duffel bag. It was sad that his first instinct upon hearing a strange noise was to pull a hoodie from his stash of clothes and pull it over his short sleeved shirt. Even if it was a murderer, apparently Orion had no interest in the murderer seeing his scars. If he was going to die, he didn’t want it to be from embarrassment. He grabbed onto his phone next, flipping the flashlight on and creeping out into the hallway. He heard another noise and began creeping towards it. This was eerily similar to the time he had come across Professor Drake sneaking into the Scribe Building. But at least that had been during the day. Not that it changed much admittedly, Orion was alone and defenseless and the Scribe building regardless of the time of day. Orion didn’t even bother grabbing a textbook to uselessly try to defend himself with. What was the point when he had no intentions of using it against someone? He crept around the corner and towards the kitchen area, stopping when he saw the figure fiddling with the cabinets. “Wha- What are you doing here?” Orion called out, his voice shaking almost as much as his hands were. The light from the phone scattering back and forth across the walls. “Seriously… you’re not supposed to be here.” Orion spoke again when nobody replied, slowly creeping forward to get a better look at his potential murderer. But the closer he got the more familiar the features of the person standing in front of him looked. “Uh… Winston?” Orion asked curiously, finally steady enough to train the light on them. But still, Winston ignored Orion, instead continuing to rummage around the kitchen area. Were they… sleep walking? “Winston!” Orion tried again, slightly louder this time and hoping that it would make the sleep walker up.

Honestly, Winston had to be completely honest. This sleepwalking thing was getting to be almost too much to deal with, they had done so much work in their life to secure themself in some level of luxury, security and comfort. They didn’t have that much, much less then many and yet in some ways much more then others. But what they did have was theirs. They had what they had and it belonged to them. So when they woke up, with a cold sweat beading on their brow and dripping down the back of their neck, they had to admit that they weren’t exactly expecting to wake up in a somewhat old, musty and decrepit kitchen. They were sure that they could hear their name. They jerked back to reality and found themselves starring blurrily at Orion. Reaching up, they found their glass pressed somewhat lopsidedly into their hair. Pulling them down, they slid them over their eyes and Orion came into sharp focus once more. “Oh shit,” Winston yawned and rubbed their eyes from underneath their glasses as their level of consciousness came back into play. “Woah,” they suddenly realised what had happened, AGAIN and honestly they were lessed then thrilled by the state of play that they found themselves in. “Hey Orion…” they looked around and tried to do what they could to stifle a yawn, “Uh… do you know where I am?”

Orion stood for a long moment silent and staring at Winston, assessing the situation. Winston looked just as lost and confused as Orion did. But how had they gotten inside of the Scribe headquarters? There was a magic barrier that was supposed to block entry. Of course, some had already made their way through that barrier, but the professor who came through the first time already had some experience with Scribes before. And then the other professor had simply chased Orion through the opening before the gate had closed again. Winston had simply wandered in by themselves, something that Orion didn’t know could happen. Was the barrier failing due to old age? Or was Winston more versed in the supernatural than Orion had originally assumed? “Hey there.” Orion still wasn’t sure what Winston felt about him. Or what Skylar had told Winston about Orion after their anime night. But he was going to remain hopeful, just like he hoped that Skylar would be able to forgive him someday. “I uh.. yeah I know where you are. It’s an old building uh out in the woods.” It would be hard to describe the Scribes if Winston knew nothing about the supernatural. “Do you know how you got here? Were you… sleepwalking?”

An old building out in the woods. Great. They were back to living in a horror movie. Winston couldn’t help but feel somewhat crestfallen about the places that their sleepwalking seemed to be taking them. Getting a high score in PacMan hadn’t put them in any danger. Not like sleepwalking apparently was. “Great,” Winston sighed somewhat bitterly. This was really beginning to get a little bit old. There was only so many times that weird things could happen before they stopped being weird and in someway just became a nuisance. The inconvenience aside, Winston was glad that they at least knew Orion. He’d not exactly been honest at the anime night, but then again none of them had and Skylar hadn’t said to worry about them so Winston assumed that they must be fine. Better then a complete stranger anyway. “I think …” they looked around them somewhat helpless, kind of cold and very confused, “I think I must’ve been sleepwalking because I have no other explanation for how or why I could or would be here.” They sighed and shrugged gently. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” Winston had to admit that they felt curious about what this place was. It was a weird place to find. Not entirely abandoned but having certainly seen better days.

Winston didn’t seem entirely opposed to Orion’s company, so Orion would take that as a good sign. So he could at least stop freaking out about Winston’s feelings towards Orion and instead worry about the fact that they had somehow managed to sleepwalk right by a magical barrier and inside of the only safe haven that Orion had. If Winston could get through so easily, did that mean that Orion’s family could too? The thought made Orion shiver and goosebumps shot across his arms. Or maybe that was just from the cold. He pulls his hands inside of the sleeves of his hoodie for a small amount of extra warmth and pulled the hood over his hair. “Oh no! No worries you’re not interrupting anything I-“ How did Orion explain what he was doing here? In an abandoned building in the middle of the night? “I can here sometimes to clear my head and…” Escape? Hide? Nothing seemed like a good answer. “Read? I guess. There is a… crazy library here.” He shifted his stance nervously, trying to get accustomed to the guest in what he had mostly come to accept as his scribe headquarters. “So you don’t remember how you got inside of the building then? That’s interesting. Have you always had a problem with sleep walking?”

Looking around them, Winston couldn’t help but realise that it was actually also pretty weird that Orion was here too. Winston had a semi valid explanation after all it was hardly in their control that they had begun to sleep walk spontaneously and no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t seem to stop themselves. “So, you’re in a strange old building in the middle of the woods, so that you can read and clear your head?” Winston frowned, they weren’t sure whether or not they were being honest or if there was something to hide, but either way they were curious about whether or not there was actually a library here. “Do you mind if I uh… see it?” they asked curiously, “What was this place if it just has a library here any how?” Winston smiled gently at the thought of how weird this was, and then they realised how weird this was and started panicking a little. Forcing themselves to breath, they shook their head gently, “No, this is the first time, well not technically, this is one of the first times that I have ever actually realised I was doing it and I’ve never known about it before. Which obviously isn’t … great.”

Orion laughed nervously and scratched at the back of his neck. “Uh yeah… sometimes I crash here I guess. Just when I need to be alone.” There was not other way to explain it. Even then, Orion wasn’t giving the full truth but it probably started to paint a pretty good picture. Sometimes Orion just needed to get away. “The library? Sure! It’s uh- sorry it’s a little dark here. No electricity and what not. But I have flashlights.” He flicked the light from his phone off and shoved it into his pocket then made his way over closer to Winston in the kitchen area. He opened up one of the cabinets and rummaged through the drawer into the pulled out two smaller flashlights. He held one out to Winston and motioned towards the hallway that lead away from the eating area. “This area leads into the dining room. The library isn’t far off.” As the two begin their journey into the large dining area and then into a hallway that would take them to the library, Orion decided against lying about the Scribes. “They used to be called the Scribes. They were… record keepers. Sort of like historians.” How versed was Winston on the supernatural, Orion had to wonder. If Orion mentioned it, would they think he was completely crazy? But Orion was still thinking about the sleepwalking. Sure, people walked in their sleep, but not many people made it into the woods and into abandoned buildings. Plus, for it to just start recently… that implied more than just average sleepwalking. Professor Beck had mentioned weird things happening around town. Orion didn’t have any type of proof but had to wonder if that had any connection. “That’s… strange. And also dangerous. Any idea why you randomly started doing this?”

Raising an eyebrow, Winston wondered what else they didn’t know about Orion. They only knew that they were friends with Skylar and that they liked anime. “Oh, right, yeah I get that.” Winston had never slept in a strange abandoned house in the middle of the forest because they wanted to be alone. When they wanted to be alone they went to their room. But maybe things were different for Orion. Winston looked around, and frowned. “No electricity?” they asked with a raised eyebrow, “This place isn’t that old is it?” Taking a flashlight off of Orion. They tapped it gently before flicking on the light and casting a thin beam of light in front of them as they set off through the abandoned building. They made their way through a large dining area and down a hallway and Winston listened as carefully as they could, still a little sleepy all things considered. “Scribes, sort of like historians, got it, was it like an amateur society or something?” they had to admit that if it was they’d obviously been passionate. This seemed like it might’ve been quite the set up once upon a time. “Yeah, I won’t lie I don’t love it either, I don’t really have any direct leads on what the cause is, I guess it could be anything.” Like the cursed coin Winston had in their room. 

“There used to be electricity. Back when people actually worked here.” Orion explained. He had explored the building as much as he could over his few months here. And while the dark hallways and doors that could not be opened were more than enough to make his skin crawl, he had been safe enough here so far. “I don’t know when the building was originally built but it would have been abandoned around the seventies or eighties.” Orion had to admit that he didn’t do a lot of exploring around the building in the middle of the night. He often stayed up too late reading texts in the library, but would quickly shut things down and rush into the sleeping room to lock the door. Now, walking around the place in the middle of the night he was starting to get a better idea of just how creepy the abandoned place could be. Their footsteps echoed down the hallways and the wind made the building creak. Orion needed to get his mind off of it or he was going to freak out. “Well… not so much.” Orion tried to find the right way to explain it, “There used to be chapters all over the world. A lot of big cities would have its own chapter.” White Crest was sort of an outlier in that respect, but with the heightened supernatural activity the place had always had it just seemed natural for the Scribes to start one here as well. “But they mostly faded out in the eighties.” Orion made it to the door into the library and paused before opening it, spinning to listen to Winston’s answer. Orion wished he had more information to help Winston. That was what a real scribe would be able to do. This was what they had been here for. And now all they had to show for it was a college student with a history obsession. “That’s creepy. Do you know if anyone else has had the same thing recently? Or just you?” Orion asked curiously. It could help determine something, Orion just wasn’t sure what yet. He realized his hand was still on the door knob and he perked up, “Oh! Sorry I wasn’t try to like build up tension or anything. The library is right through here.” He pushed the door open and led Winston through into the library. “It looks more impressive during the day, promise.”

“You should be able to fix that if you can find the fuse box and the circuit breaker, usually it is just that, you might have to replace some wiring but it isn’t that old.” Forty or fifty years was pretty old, but Winston was ever the optimist. Raising an eyebrow, Winston realised that this might have been something more White Crest then others would’ve liked to admit. Was it possible that there had been entire groups of people dedicated to something related to the Supernatural? Winston had no confirmations to their suspicions but it would make sense. After all why have a chapter house in somewhere that was no where near a big city. This place was a bit sleepy if you forgot about the fact it was a supernatural hotspot. “Uh, if there were so many chapters around the world then why exactly did this one get abandoned? Did something happen to make all of these people, these … uh the scribes right, why did they go?” They wondered if something had happened. Should they be worried? Orion seemed to know their way around here and it didn’t appear that anything had happened to them. “I don’t know,” they weren’t sure if it was just them or if they should include Drew in it too. Either way, they weren’t really ready to admit to the weirdness with the leprechauns just yet. That hadn’t been pleasant. Looking around, Winston could see that there was a vast archive of knowledge in this room. “Yeah, I can imagine, it’s a shame there aren’t lights.”

“It’d be nice to get some heaters in this place.” Orion mumbled, settling for about four to five blankets piled on top of him to keep warm during the night currently. Though a heater in a place this old was probably a fire hazard. “You seem to know more about that stuff than I do. I just assumed that electricity was a lost cause here.” Winston seemed knowledgeable enough on the subject to give Orion a sliver of hope that electricity was possible here, not that he was brave enough to ask them to look at it. Orion wouldn’t want to put that pressure on them. But still, the idea of having a functioning kitchen and lights around the building was desirable. For now, Winston was curious about the Scribes, which made sense considering this place had gone so long under the nose of people unfamiliar with the supernatural. “Not just this one actually. The entire organization sorta died out. Maybe a few headquarters around the world still have some people working, but there’s no more communication. There’s nothing left of this one. I found this place months ago and not a single soul-“ Minus a professor who was not a Scribe, “has come into the building. I don’t think there are any Scribes left around here.” Orion flashed his light around the place, trying to give a view of some of the shelves, even if it was limited. “There are a lot of tables around the place for reading. I usually set up on one with my laptop and some snacks… I probably have some chips or soda around here if you’re hungry.” Orion was trying to think of something else that he could show. But mostly he wondered how Winston was going to get home in the middle of the night. “I don’t want to sound like.. creepy or anything. But if you wanted to wait until it’s not nighttime anymore than you’re welcome to stay here until morning. Or whenever, really. There’s a sleeping room here. The mattresses aren’t great but there’s plenty of beds. And you could see the library in the morning. But uh- whatever you want to do, obviously. I just didn’t know if you’d want to try walking home in the middle of the night. I don’t know how far this place is from you.”

“Sure, I can see this place getting really cold. I guess that there are fireplaces in somewhere right this, maybe you could start bringing in some firewood until you’ve got the place set up how you want it?” Winston raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “This sort of thing is kind of my area of expertise, i’ve always been good with gadgets and stuff and if you understand how to make a circuit board work then you can usually work out the fundamentals of powering a building.” They were never going to be an electrician but they were sure that they could at least jerry rig something if they were given enough time. “If the whole organisation has collapsed then why? Was it like a crime or did they run out of money? These places just don’t fall down in on themselves without a good reason why…” They shuddered to think what could’ve caused something so complicated to collapse in on itself. “It is kind of a shame that there aren’t any of them left, would’ve been nice to ask them some questions.” They were amazed by the ingenuity and resourcefulness that Orion was able to display, but when it was their own turn to display some they found themselves coming up blank. “Are you sure?” Winston asked curiously, “I just, don’t have my phone or wallet or keys or anything and it is probably not a good idea to go walking through the woods aimlessly at night … so if it was cool for me to sleepover and you didn’t mind … that would be really nice dude, thanks.”

“Oh! Firewood! That’s a great idea!” Orion perked up at the suggestion. He had always been afraid that it would be a fire hazard in a building as old as this, but as long as it was kept in a secured area like the fire place, it should be manageable. Orion would just have to make sure he put it out before he crashed for the night. It wouldn’t exactly solve the problem of the night time cold, but it was a start. “That’s good to know! I really appreciate the expertise.” Orion smiled at Winston. They were taking this whole thing super well considering they slept walked and woke up in an abandoned building in the middle of the woods. “It’s a little hard to explain but… there were a lot of factors. The Scribes had a really strict code that they had to follow and I think that led to what tore them apart.” There were a lot of theories that Orion’s uncle had that eventually lead to the fall of the Scribes, but Orion wasn’t sure there was any one reason. It was a slow build up, pressure packing in over time until it eventually burst. “I think another factor was the Scribe’s sort of outdated ideas. They didn’t seem to like change very much. But I agree. I wish I could have a conversation with someone about the building and the history. It would be fascinating.” It felt weird, inviting somebody to stay with him at the Scribe headquarters. He had never had a sleepover or anything with a friend even in his own home. “Well I don’t technically own the place anyways, so I can’t really kick you out. But I am happy to offer. It can be dangerous walking out there by yourself. The room is this way.” The sleeping room wasn’t much, but it was a short path down the hall from the library and Orion kept it pretty clean. He had a few duffel bags on one of the beds that held some of the belongings he had slowly migrated over from his house. When they got to the room, Orion made his way over to flick on the light he had bought alone. The battery operated light gave dim visibility around the room. “It’s not much. But I have a ton of blankets.”

“You can also get these like heaters that are powered by other stuff then electricity, I dunno, I think you could do a bunch to set this place up. But if you’re careful with a fireplace and let it burn down to embers before you fall asleep it’ll help keep the place warmer. Plus no risk of burning the place down in your sleep.” Winston had spent a long time with Ricky setting up their place. They had carefully installed lights, hooked up a sound system and even put in some motion sensors. It hadn’t been much but they’d really enjoyed themselves and they wondered what they could actually get done here. Honestly Winston was kind of just thanking their lucky stars that they had found Orion here and not something that might’ve gone out of their way to kill them. “Is it written down anywhere?” Winston asked curiously, “Like I guess if there was anyone who was going to write their collapse down then it would be because of a group of people dedicated to keeping history.” Winston was pretty sure that they must have kept some sort of history about the supernatural. They’d spotted a couple of interesting book titles and they knew that if Orion would have them they would definitely be returning to this place. They wondered what secrets this place hid and they wondered what they would be able to do to change it if they just had the time and resources to properly work at it. “So what you’re saying is that they were a bunch of boomers who couldn’t be asked to change their outdated ideals and beliefs and it scuppered them. There must still be people around who knew about it though.” Winston followed Orion into the room and looked around, it looked like Orion spent a lot of time here and Winston was somewhat concerned about their standard of living. “Thanks for not expelling me anyway,” they replied with a laugh before continuing slowly and thoughtfully. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful,” Winston said considering  their words as they took a seat on a very musty mattress, “but this … this isn’t where you like live is it? Because as happy as I am to have this place for one night, I also worry that you’re spending every night here without any electricity or heat… so please tell me you’ve got somewhere safe and warm to go to.”

Orion was thankful that Winston was willing to share their ideas on this place. Orion had been so focused in on the idea of translating the texts and reviving the Scribes that he hadn’t even stopped to consider sprucing the place up again. Probably because he didn’t really know how, or where to begin. Orion could only buy so much stuff before his family got suspicious of it. And he couldn’t think of a way to explain the Scribe Headquarters to them. Either they would hate the idea and force him to stop or they would support the idea and demand to see the texts. The last thing that Orion wanted to do was be responsible for his family learning even more about the supernatural. “That’s a great idea! I will have to look into those options. I definitely need to get some more lights around this place, clearly.” Winston was right, they would have documented their own demise. Maybe a bit morbid, but someone had to keep track of the last few years that things begin to fall apart. “I bet you’re right. The Scribes usually kept personal journals that they would write down individual experiences they had with-“ the supernatural? Would Winston think Orion was crazy if he admitted that? He interrupted his words with a cough and tried to backtrack through the sentence. “y’know, history and stuff. I bet in some of those journals they talked about what it was like the last few years. Definitely worth looking into at least. Plus you’re right, they were totally boomers.” Winston had definitely proven to provide good company. They had good ideas and were generally friendly. Maybe a bit too friendly considering they decided to ask questions about Orion’s home life. The question got an actual laugh from Orion, though he wasn’t sure there was much humor in it. “My family lives here. On Harris Island.” He didn’t want to lie to Winston, so he wasn’t going to claim the place was safe. But he couldn’t exactly tell the truth either. “My family doesn’t know about this place. But I started coming here because of my uncle and I started reading and it would get so late I didn’t want to walk home. The first time I fell asleep on one of the tables in the library before I started exploring more and found this room. I just started doing it so often I figured I should bring some stuff here just in case. But I have a place to go to for showers and to wash clothes and whatever.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Orion grabbed a couple of blankets from his own bed and pulled them off,  handing them over to Winston before crawling up onto the mattress. Falling asleep in his hoodie wouldn’t be the most comfortable in the world, but it would be warmer and he couldn’t exactly strip off back into a short sleeve shirt. Not with Winston here. The scars would start a whole new line of questioning. “Do you think those blankets are enough?”

“There’s lots of options, maybe if you want to brainstorm something later on then we could see what solutions we can come up with for this place.” Winston had to admit that this place was fascinating and they really wished that they would be able to give the place a more thorough. “It isn’t exactly super important but I think it would be really interesting to know what went on and why everything fell apart across the globe. Even if they were boomers.” At the mention of Harris island, Winston’s ears perked up. “Oh are we only on Harris Island!” they didn’t intend to leave this place tonight because they didn’t feel like a long walk through the wilderness, “I actually live here so it is nice to know that it won’t take me too long to get down here.” They wondered why Orion hadn’t told their family about somewhere like this but decided that it probably wasn’t their place to ask such a personal question that they may not want to discuss.” Looking around them, Winston started to carefully wrap the blankets around them so that they formed a cocoon. “The blankets are great,” Winston pauses almost afraid to ask the next question, “how are things with your family, i know this is your getaway but like, are things okay? At home?”

Orion couldn’t believe that Winston was actually offering their time to come and help Orion with this place. Orion was honestly surprised that Winston had turned and ran for it as soon as they woke up and found themselves in an abandoned building with Rio. Orion couldn’t hide the excitement in his voice or the smile that was widening across his voice. “That would be really cool. Thank you, seriously. That’s really nice of you to offer.” It was nice to know that Winston was also on Harris Island, but was afraid that Orion had miscommunicated with him – “Oh no.. sorry I meant my family lives on Harris Island.” He scratched at his neck nervously as he tried to backtrack his statement and correct the misstep. “This is uh… on the opposite side of town. We’re out in the woods… back behind the public library.” If Winston was asleep on Harris Island that meant that they had slept walk all the way across town which was… impressive? Scary was the better word. Winston’s legs were probably going to hurt in the morning. “But uh.. if we walk to the library I can give you a ride home in the morning.” It didn’t surprise Orion that Winston wondered about his home life, not really. Turns out sleeping in an abandoned building with not heat in the middle of a Maine winter was sort of a red flag. Up to this point, Orion had been trying to remain as honest as possible, but how did he tell the truth without completely telling the truth. Orion didn’t even know if Winston knew about the supernatural. “My family is super religious.” He began, his arms instinctively wrapping around his freshest scars over top of his sleeve. Sure, he felt that twinge of guilt every time he lied, like a sudden shock shooting up his spine and across his arms, but it was what it was. “And I’m.. not. So that causes some tension. Plus, my sister’s in Med School and my parent’s practically worship her. They would never understand or approve what I’m trying to do here. I just… need to get away sometimes.” Orion clamped his eyes shut and sighed. He needed to deflect, “I know Skylar told me you were in college too. What are you majoring in?”

“Hey dude, this place looks pretty cool and I have some suspicions about what the subject matter on a lot of the books are and I would like to find out more about this place. Besides you look like you could use the company anyway…” Winston shrugged gently and smiled, “you’re welcome dude, thanks for letting me help out.” Raising an eyebrow gently, Winston listened carefully to their explanation. They weren’t exactly sure that they thought it was completely honest but they weren’t about to tell Orion that they were lying to them. Yet just because someone’s family were really religious, it seemed unlikely that they were going to choose to stay here as their getaway, especially in the middle of winter. “I get it, sometimes you just need to get away from the family and do something different and be somewhere different, completely normal. That was why I couldn’t wait to move out of home even though my parents were in the area, I could’ve stayed at home. But I needed my independence.”  They paused and scratched at their ear thoughtfully. “Cyber security and forensics, I want to work within like a Cyber crime unit, specifically in forensics, and I need a masters degree for that. At least.” 

Winston had some suspicions? Orion could only assume that meant they knew more about the supernatural than the two were disclosing to each other. It was a strange feeling, a pit in Orion’s stomach that seemed to always form once those theories developed in his head. If Orion knew and Winston knew and they both knew that the other knew then why couldn’t either of them say something? By the small off chance that the other was wrong? The last thing Orion needed was for Winston to know nothing about the supernatural and think that Orion was crazy. The fact that Winston had woken up in the middle of an abandoned building by Orion was probably creepy enough. “Yeah, I uh don’t get a ton of visitors around here. So please feel free to drop by whenever.” Winston already seemed convinced by Orion’s story about getting away from family. Sure, the core values of it were true. But Orion was purposefully omitting a fairly big portion of the story. Luckily, Winston was willing to move on in the conversation, a detour that Orion was more than happy to accommodate.” “So do you live on your own now or with roommates?” Orion was curious, wondering for himself when the day would come that he began the hunt for a place of his own. Obviously, he couldn’t stay with his family, but moving in here permanently didn’t seem feasible, not without electricity. But it was also pretty hard to move out without a job or any income. “That’s so cool!” Orion had a hint of wonder in his voice, because it was cool. “That’s really awesome. How many years do you have left?” Orion found himself barricading under the leftover blankets on the bed, surrounding himself in them until only his head poked out the top.

One of the things that Winston found the most difficult about this supernatural world that they had recently discovered was not outing the members of the community that they met. It was hard to keep straight who knew what, did Orion know about the supernatural? Probably. Did that mean that they could discuss it with them? Absolutely not. Winston wasn’t sure that they entirely trusted them yet, not to mention the fact that they had definitely been going through Skylar’s things. Though Winston hadn’t heard anything further about that, so they had simply assumed that they weren’t dangerous. Maybe that was a mistake. Yet despite that, Winston knew that they liked Orion. Orion seemed cool and Winston was intrigued by this place.Not to mention there was always the possibility that Orion might think Winston was insane if they started talking about the supernatural like it was real.  “Really? Dude that’s really cool of you, yeah I’d love to come by more, if you’re sure you’re cool with it.” Though they weren’t sure that they were totally convinced by Orion’s story. They also weren’t about to force them to talk about it. “I live with my friend, Ricky? He goes to the college too, I don’t know if you would’ve run into him.” Looking around them, Winston shrugged. “It is one step in a path to do what I really want, but in theory I should be done with it by the end of the summer or the beginning of september.” 

Orion liked Winston. They had similar interests and Winston seemed like a good person. Definitely a better person than Orion was. So he didn’t want to mess this up. He had already made a somewhat rocky first impression. “Of course! Drop by whenever you want. I’ll show you how to get in tomorrow morning. It’s uh- a bit complicated. Honestly, I’m surprised that you manage to sleep walk in.” He scratched at his head nervously. He still hadn’t figured out how Winston had managed to wander their way into the building. “Ricky?” Orion asked curiously, the name peaking his curiosity. Sure, Orion knew his own Ricky, but who knew how many Ricky’s there were living in White Crest? “It wouldn’t happen to be the Ricky with the workshop would it?” Orion remembered the place fondly, Ricky saving him from the torrential downpour despite how uncomfortable it made Ricky to have someone looking at his art. “That’s so exciting! You’re almost done!” He was genuinely excited for Winston, even if the idea of graduation was terrifying to Orion. But that was because Orion had no idea what he was going to do after college, at least Winston seemed to have a plan.

“I think I’ll message you before I just invade your getaway,” Winston replied with a warm smile. If this was really Orion’s space away from a bad situation then Winston didn’t want to take it over. They had plenty of safe space for themselves. “But I really appreciate the offer and I’m kind of surprised that I managed to sleep walk in too….” They shrugged gently and laughed. “Have you seen the workshop?” Winston asked curiously, “I have the corner of the workshop with a plethora of monitors, keyboards and wires.” Not to mention all of the books, texts and PDFs on magic that they had been able to get their hands on. The workshop was something they’d only just been given space in, but despite that it was a special place. They loved watching Ricky work and they’d spent a long time bonding together as they both worked on their own various projects. 

“Well it’s not like my place or anything. So you don’t have to, I mean unless you want to. But like you’re welcome whenever. Seriously.” Orion had to wonder… was this place his? Logically, he knew that the answer was no. But could it be? He was the only one that seemed to care about it. Maybe it would be worth the effort to do more than just read the books here. With Winston’s help maybe they could get the electricity and things back up and running? And maybe Orion could find someone to help with remodeling. He would start with the library of course. Move into the sleeping room. Just a little remodeling to help the place shine again. Of course, this was all just a fantasy. Orion wasn’t the kind of person that could actually throw this stuff together. Even if he had the money, he just didn’t have the connections or the drive. It was a nice fantasy though. “I have! Briefly I mean. Ricky offered me some shelter during a storm. He’s really talented.” Orion decided to omit the immense awkwardness of the night. How Ricky clearly hadn’t wanted company in the workshop and Orion was a bumbling fool around the man. “Oh! That’s cool!” Orion vaguely remembered the area. Orion had thought it was a weird addition to the place that was otherwise covered in artwork. It stood out in the area, but knowing that Winston had his own setup made the area make more sense. “I remember the area, but I tried not to creep too much.” Orion laughed nervously. He had definitely taken advantage of his time alone in the workshop to peak at some of Ricky’s artwork, but limited himself to the stuff out in the open. “I uh- I don’t think he’s super comfortable with random people seeing his work.” Orion related, he wasn’t nearly the artist Ricky was, but he kept a sketch book hidden in his bookbag. He’d rather die than let anybody else see it. “Sorry. I keep asking questions and keeping you up. You’re probably exhausted. From all the walking. Although if you were sleeping while walking… were you still getting rest? Not sure how that works.”

“Thanks Orion, I really appreciate the offer. One day you’ll have to come hangout with me and Skye and Ricky. If you’re going to let me into your place it seems only fair that I do the same.” Winston flashed their new friend a quick smile, after everything that had happened with all of this sleepwalking bullshit they were glad that there had been at least one good thing to come out of these cursed coins. They had found something new that they really thought they could sink their teeth into. Besides, who would’ve known that there was a potentially infinite amount of information just sat here. Of course it could be about nothing, but in the brief time that they had actually been able to spend within the library they were sure that they had seen a number of texts on things that were not to do with history or other mundane things. Raising an eyebrow, Winston shrugged. “He would never admit it, but yeah, he really knows what he is doing. I love watching him work, it is very relaxing.” Pausing for a second, Winston shrugged. “Next time you come over I’ll walk you through everything, Ricky’s stuff is cool, but my stuff is art in a different type of way.” They weren’t being entirely serious, though of course art was subjective to the perceiver. Winston pierced their lips and shrugged. “Some people are private about that sort of stuff I guess…” they didn’t really know what to say. “I don’t know how it works either,” Winston replied as their eyes grew heavy almost in tandem with Orion’s words, they wrapped the blankets more snuggly around them and smiled. “We should probably get some rest.”

Orion smiled nervously. How did he explain to Winston that Skylar hate him without Winston hating him too? Winston seemed like a good person, someone that would definitely side with Skylar if they knew the full story. But maybe that was the point. Orion probably deserved someone like Athena rather than Winston or Skylar. But he wasn’t brave enough to admit that here, so he just nodded his head and muttered, “Yeah. That’d be a lot of fun. We should do that.” Orion threw the blankets off of him and crawled up to reach for the light that he had flicked on when they got into the room. It was battery operated and drained quickly, so he only liked running it when he needed to. “That’d be awesome. I’d love to check stuff out. Your area too! I’m not an expert or anything, but my second major is computer science so I know like.. a little bit about computers.” Orion yelled from his awkward position reaching off of his bed and at the lamp, he fumbled around the area until he finally caught the switch and flicked it off. The place almost immediately went pitch black. Orion backtracked to his original position on the bed and covered himself back up with the blankets. “ Uh let me know if you need anything. Sorry it’s so dark here. I guess I’ll uh- talk to you in the morning?”

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

It Takes a Luthor

(continued from this post-s4 black mercy ficlet)

There's only one person who might be able to get through to Lena where Kara failed. Not Alex, stained by association, or James or Brainy or Nia. Even if Lena still trusts any of them, they run the risk of slipping into the fabric of the fantasy.

Lena is fading, and they don’t have time for subtle. They need a goddamn tank.

So Kara tracks down the one person Lena would never expect to see: her mother.

"This is your fantasy?" 

The room quakes violently as Lena surges to her feet, listing drunkenly until Kara Danvers steadies her. 

"Mother?” The word slurs on Lena’s lips, as she blinks sluggishly and leans heavily against Kara Danvers.

 “What-- what are you doing here?"

"Saving your life," Lillian replies succinctly. She surveys the space around her with thinly veiled distaste, taking in the clutter and the clothes drying on the rack in the corner of the kitchen. "And your standards, hopefully."

"I don't want you here." 

Lillian's focus snaps to her daughter, narrowing to take in the dark circles beneath her eyes and the pale of her skin. Lena's knees shake, then give out entirely. 

“Lena!” 

Kara Danvers is already there, helping Lena sit. Her attention is gentle. Intimate. Lillian expects Lena to brush it off-- Lillian would. But her daughter’s eyes close and she leans into the fingers that push the hair from her face.

"I'm just... tired," she says. "All of a sudden."

"I told you not to work so late last night," Kara chides gently. Her hand cups the back of Lena’s head for the briefest of moments, and an unexpected surge of resentment flares in Lillian’s chest at the sight of it. 

"You should take a nap," the mirage says, and Lena nods.

"Lena!" Lillian snaps, slicing her voice through the tender quiet with sharp precision. She sweeps towards her daughter, only to come face to face with the alien imposter. "Get out of my way."

"She needs rest," the false Kara Danvers replies. Uncharacteristic danger glints in her eye. "And you need to leave--"

"I don't take orders from a construct," Lillian retorts. She shoves past the roadblock to crouch in front of her daughter. 

"Hey," Lena protests blurrily. "That's my construct."

"So she did tell you--"

"Figured it out. Be nice to her." Lena takes a slow blink, and struggles to open her eyes again. "’M so tired..."

“That’s because-- Lena, open your eyes… Lena!” She gives Lena’s cheek a smack, rousing her sharply. Green eyes fly open to focus blearily on Lillian.

“What you’re feeling isn’t exhaustion,” Lillian tells her. She studies Lena carefully, sees the way she has to work to breathe. “That pressure on your chest is a Black Mercy, siphoning your energy. It will keep you here until it leeches you dry. You aren’t tired, Lena. You’re dying.”

“Oh.” Whatever reaction Lillian expects, Lena's calm nod isn't it. "That's… that’s okay."

"Lena..."

"I'm happy here."

Lillian scoffs, withdrawing in irritation. "Here? You must be joking."

This time it’s Lena’s turn to scoff. She does so without mirth, her features twisting into a scowl even as she sucks in a thin breath. "Right,” she drawls. “Warmth and trust and affection... What could a Luthor possibly need with those?"

The room seems to freeze. Kara Danvers looks on without a word, confident in her silence, and Lillian sees Lena for the first time in years. Truly sees her. Sees Lena and the entirety of who she is. The brilliance is familiar already, but the vulnerability beneath stands in stark relief.

Her need for attachments always set Lena apart. Lex always took after his parents-- Lillian especially. It had made it easier to dismiss Lena’s weakness as just that. Weakness. 

But here Lena sits, the last and greatest of them all, on the cusp of the world she’d always dreamed-- of a life beyond the shadow of her brother.

And she’s giving up.

"I'm sorry, Lena."

Her daughter looks up at her with wide eyes, and for a split second Lillian sees the face of that four year old little girl who'd stepped into her house all those years ago.

"You've always needed more,” Lillian continues. “More attention, more... tenderness. And I've always refused it."

"Because Daddy didn't like it. I remember."

"Yes, but also-- because I didn't know how to give it."

Lena blinks, bewilderment etched into every crease of her face. It looks like the face of another.

"You had so much of your mother in you," Lillian says, "it felt as though there was no room for me. I never realized how alike we truly were. I do now."

Lillian reaches up, cupping Lena's cool cheeks in her palms. 

"You are better than this. You are better than some half-baked fantasy. You are Lena Luthor, and you have never once given up. You will not start now."

"I'm tired, Mother." Lena's voice grows thin, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm so tired."

It's more than the exhaustion of an alien plant slowly leeching her vitality. Lillian can see the weight of the world pressing on her shoulders, the blows that have ripped pieces of daughter away until she feels like nothing.

If there is one thing on this earth Lillian knows unequivocally, without a doubt, it's that Lena Luthor is not nothing.

Lena Luthor is more than Lillian was ever willing to consider. 

She has reset the course of history, and remade the Luthor name in her image.

Yet here she sits on the cusp of having the very thing she always wanted-- a life beyond her brother's shadow-- and she doesn't even seem to want it.

“I killed Lex.”

Lillian blinks. “What?”

Lena meets her gaze with dull eyes. Her voice grinds, strangled by a lack of breath and a throat constricted by tears. 

“I shot him… point blank in the chest. I watched him bleed out, and when he was dead I turned around and left him there in his bunker for the rats to feast on.”

Lena blinks, and her tears spill over onto pale cheeks. She watches Lillian, waiting for her reaction. Bracing for it.

“Am I still worth saving?” Lena asks, inhaling sharply. “Now that you know I killed your precious son-- your true child… are you sure this isn’t exactly what I deserve?”

Lillian stares at her. She’s shocked, but it’s not betrayal that tightens her grip on Lena’s hands. It’s not grief for her son, who she lost long before she thought Supergirl had done the deed. It’s surprise. 

She’d never thought Lena had it in her.

“I think… that you’ve succeeded where I failed.” Lillian offers something resembling a smile. “Again.”

“Mother…”

Lillian reaches up, and tucks her hair behind her ear, letting her palm cup Lena's cheek. "Every time you reached for me, I pulled away.”

Lena coughs, wheezing sharply. Her fingers clamp around Lillian’s wrist, gripping it tightly. Lillian doesn’t pull away. Not this time.

“I'm reaching now.”

The room shakes again, more violently than the first time. It pitched her into Lena’s knees, but instead of gaining strength as the integrity of the fantasy crumbled, Lena gasps and clutches at her chest. 

“Mom--”

“It’s time to come home, sweetheart."

Wheezing, Lena nods.

"You have to reject this, honey. Refuse it, and you'll wake up. Are you ready?"

At Lena's second nod, Lillian helps her to her feet. When Lena leans against her, Lillian can't help but hold her closer. Something in her grows tight at the contact, and then unravels when her daughter's head rests on her shoulder.

"Let's go home."

"No!" 

With a roar, the false Kara Danvers rips Lena from Lillan’s arms and clutches her tight to her chest. Bruising fingers dig into the flesh of Lena’s arms, pulling a cry of pain from her lips.

"You don't love her," Kara snarls. Her eyes glow with rage and building heat. Lillian’s stomach drops when she realizes that this isn’t the real Supergirl. That this, this thing has no code against killing. "She deserves better than you."

"Let me go," Lena murmurs, pulling weakly against the woman's grip. "Kara, stop!"

"She deserves better than you," Lillian counters. 

Maybe, just maybe, if she can distract it just long enough, Lena can break free. 

"There is no fantasy you could give her here that Lena can't surpass in reality. You're a cheap imitation of an alien blight on this planet, and while my daughter might find value in the real thing, you are nothing. You don't get to have her."

“I already do,” Kara snarls, eyes flaring. “But you know what? I don't mind a two for one."

Time seems to slow as the alien's heat vision fires. Lillian registers the discharge of energy, projects its path to connect with her chest-- but then there's Lena, stepping between them.

The cry that pierces the quiet is not her own.

"Lena!"

Lillian blinks and suddenly she's staring up at a sterile ceiling as her ears fill with sound of crisis.

As bodies press and rush around her, as the screaming heart monitor heralds Lena's final moments, Lillian closes her eyes and holds the image of her daughter in her mind, clinging to it as the last part of Lena she'll ever see

Then, the shrill shriek of the monitors pulses once.

Then again, for a second time.

A third. 

The room holds its breath, and when Lillian opens her eyes she sees a dark shape slithering from the gurney next to her, reaching for a perilous moment before it shriveled and died.

The bustle returns when Lena gasps her first breath. Medics and nurses call out stats, and for a moment, Lillian simply listens. When the bodies between them part, she turns towards her daughter. There's an oxygen mask over Lena’s mouth and nose, and the eyes that blink sluggishly at the ceiling are glassy with shock. 

Still, they turn, searching, and focus on Lillian through the haze.

Lillian's hand reaches across the divide. Her fingers only just brush the length of Lena's arm.

Her daughter's eyes close, but her chest continues to lift, her lungs keep breathing. She's alive.

If there is one thing Lillian does right-- just one thing to save the world… Let it be this.

Let it be Lena.

[3laxx]

Don’t get cold feet

THIS IS NOT AN ACCURATE REPRESENTATION OF HOW TO DEAL WITH HYPOTHERMIA PLEASE DO NOT PUT THE PERSON INTO WARM WATER I JUST DID IT FOR THE FICTIONAL PURPOSES IF A PERSON IS GETTING TOO COLD OR IS IN THE DANGER OF HAVING HYPOTHERMIA PLEASE WRAP THEM IN AS MANY BODY WARMTH, DRY CLOTHING OR BLANKETS TO GET THEM TO WARM UP SLOWLY IF YOU WARM THEM UP TOO QUICKLY THEIR BLOOD SYSTEM WILL HAVE A PROBLEM WHY DID I WRITE THIS IN CAPSLOCK YOU MAY ASK?! BECAUSE IT'S IMPORTANT, DUMBO Cool

The lengths Mari's friends go for her well being when she's being pushed into a frozen pond.

Ao3 / FF.net

She almost didn’t hear Alya’s scream as the boy shoved her.

He had threatened to push the girl’s head onto the ice surface of the lake in the park. He couldn’t have been much younger than herself, maybe one to two years younger, as was the girl. Marinette had grabbed the boy’s collar, yanking him up to a standing position when he had just kneeled over the girl, holding her head down.

Marinette hated mobbing. Ever since the first grade, Chloé would make fun of her as well as others. So, the bluenette was no stranger to bullying.

And even though the boy looked bigger than her, she had stepped in, despite her awkwardness when Adrien was around. Alya, Nino, Adrien and her had met up in the park for a little snowy walk before crashing at her home and drinking a bit hot cocoa and eating pastries until Marinette had seen the boy.

She had immediately forgotten everything around her and had gone to teach him a lesson. Little had she known that he had been a bit stronger and bigger than she had thought. And obviously, he was pissed that someone had dared to interrupt. So, he had shoved her back, without even thinking about what could happen.

Marinette fell backwards and Alya’s scream echoed in her ears just before the icy surface broke with the sound of glass. Her elbow felt the coldness first when ice beneath her cracked. The ice just had a thickness of about one to two centimeters so there was no way Marinette could’ve prevented falling into the piercing cold water.

Thank god, she had given Alya her purse just before walking up to the boy. So Tikki was safe.

The cold of the water enveloped her and every bit of air was squeezed out of her lungs. In the sudden darkness, she could only blurrily make out how big bubbles of important air left her paralyzed mouth. The cold water soaked her clothes and made her shiver incredibly violently as the warmth was robbed from her body.

After an eternity that must’ve been a second in reality she began trying to regain control over her body parts and try to break through the surface. Only that she couldn’t find the surface anymore.

It was already past sundown so it had been dark outside as well except for a few streetlights.

She panicked. The cold already began making her vision fade out and her brain to shut down. Oh, how she wanted to close her eyes and just relax because she really didn’t want to freeze to death. She just wanted to be in her bed right now…

No, she yelled so loudly in her head that she flinched, stay awake! You’re gonna get out of here and you’re gonna continue protecting Paris from Hawkmoth and his akumas and you’re gonna tell Adrien how you feel someday and you’re gonna graduate and go to a university and you’re gonna have a big house with three kids and a hamster!

You are not going down without a fight!

So, she started kicking again and really found the surface – but it was made out of ice. And she didn’t feel the ground beneath her feet so she couldn’t break it.

Tears left her eyes and became one with the cold water around her. She desperately kicked against the ice but knew she wouldn’t be able to break it.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed her winter boot and yanked her towards them. Gratefulness washed over her features as she worked to get to the hand, but the coldness had already paralyzed her enough so that she couldn’t even feel her entire arms anymore. She didn’t know in which direction she was paddling.

Just when the two hands reached her waist, she could feel her consciousness slip away.

No, stay awake!

Her eyes slowly closed and a bit of water got into her mouth, making her teeth hurt from the sudden coldness. Her entire skin stung where she could still feel it and her muscles tensed and relaxed erratically.

Stay awake!

Her head broke through the water surface and she drew in air with a big gasp. It stung in her throat and it was cold as if someone would slice it open with a cooled knife.

“Marinette! Oh god, Marinette, are you alright?! Marinette!”, she heard a male voice but her eyes were shut.

“She doesn’t respond! She’s not responding!!”, Alya now exclaimed. Marinette was glad she could still identify Alya’s voice.

“Marinette?! Marinette, come on!”, she was lifted out of the cold water and laid down on the grass next to it, with people kneeling down beside her.

“C’mon girl, don’t you dare and sleep now! Don’t you dare!”

She slightly opened her eyes to see the blurry forms of two darker heads with brown hair and a blonde blob hovering above her, as well as a few others that were more distant.

“Marinette, thank god! We’re gonna get you to the bakery, you’re gonna be fine, don’t worry!”, the blonde lifted her up and started running, followed by the other two.

She shivered and rolled up into a ball in the blonde’s warm arms, trying to regain some of her senses.

“S-… So c-c-cold-…”, she whispered, her teeth clattering.

“I know Marinette, just a few more meters. It’s gonna be alright, just a few more steps, okay?”

“Did she say something?”

“She said she was cold!”

The bluenette turned her head to see Alya and the other boy following them, assumingly Nino because he sounded like him. Then it was Adrien carrying her.

And it was then when her vision faded out in blackness, leaving her head rolling around in Adrien’s arms.

The next thing she knew was waking up in warm water. And it was raining down on her.

She scrunched together her eyebrows, not wanting anymore water near her. Her limps slowly and painfully started waking up again, with a slowly creeping feeling. She could move her fingers and toes again and that’s when she realized she was in the tub and hot water was raining down on her as well as around her.

She also noticed someone sitting with her, no, more than one, who she snuggled up to.

Hesitatingly, she opened her eyes, and saw a bare chest. A very masculine chest.

Did Alya somehow loose her-… Wait!

Her gaze traveled up and she saw blonde, very wet hair hanging into a worried face.

“A-Adrien?”, she hated how thin her voice sounded.

“Marinette, are you okay? We were so worried… Finally, you woke up!”

She was very confused when she saw Alya just coming into the bathroom with a few towels in her hands and Nino sitting on the edge of the tub with his legs dipped into the warm water.

The bluenette looked around only to meet her friend’s worried faces, but as soon as she looked down, she saw that both Adrien and her were in underwear.

“Wh-Why a-are we h-half naked?”, she stuttered which resulted in a blush from Adrien.

“Well, Alya said we needed to get the warmth into you. So, we had to take off your icy and soaked clothes and because sitting in a tub with winter gear is, uh, not that helping I figured I had to take mine off as well to give you the most of my body warmth. Uh-… Is that okay with you?”

She slowly nodded, still shivering because she was cold, and figured she might as well forget her crush on him for that night. She needed to warm up and he just saved her life along with her friends.

Suddenly, tears pooled in her eyes, tears that felt way too hot, and she directed her gaze to Adrien, then Alya and Nino.

“Y-You saved my life… All of you-… You saved me…”, she sobbed and felt Adrien tightening his grip around her.

“Actually…”, Alya finally raised her voice, thin and shaky, “It was Nino. He jumped into the pond right after you fell in and was able to grab your leg.”

Nino awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, shrugging.

“Uhm, well, but it was Adrien who carried you back here.”

“And Alya who had the idea with the shower. So, she’s right.”, Adrien looked up to Alya with a pointed gaze while mindlessly pulling Marinette closer. The girl thought she’d combust every coming second.

“… Thank you guys…”, she just so pressed out, before her mother came barging in with a mountain of pre warmed towels and saved her from the awkwardness of Adrien’s chest right next to her, immediately starting to gush over her as she saw that her daughter was awake.

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