#but i'm more than happy to give you the spark notes version of him

[narrativeobsession]

@pxrolee saw someone out of place

The man with the biggest, saddest brown eyes anyone's ever seen before walks into the bar. He has to duck to get through the door he's so ridiculously tall and rail thin like he hasn't had a proper meal his whole life. He's got the look of a man who hasn't slept well either, dark circles under those big, hopelessly sad brown eyes.

Maybe that sadness would let him blend in at the bar any other time, but the way that he just stands in the doorway with that same sad look whispers that he's out of place. He's alone and he's out of place.

But after a few moments of silent deliberation, mostly on whether or not to back out of the door he came through and pretend he was never here, Canary forces himself forward. And when he settles in the seat next to Fabian, he gives the other a tiny smile. A soft little thing, but it's sweet and shy and then his big brown eyes flit away, down to his own hands which have settled, tightly held together in his own lap.

[cosette141]

You, Me, and Who You Used to Be | CS Fic (CSSS 2024 Gift for BelovedCreation)

Merry Christmas!!

I'm your Santa this year!! :) 🎄🎄

Using your prompts of pining, Enchanted Forest, and angst with a happy ending, I give you:

Summary: (CS movie divergence) After getting her parents back on track, Emma’s magic returns. But before she can conjure a portal home, Killian is abducted. Alone in a world she knows nothing about and with no idea how to find Killian, Emma enlists the only person—or rather, pirate—who would be as motivated to save Killian as she is. However… Killian’s past may just be what destroys the future. CS

AO3

Words (so far): 5k+

NOTE: This is currently only the first chapter of this fic - long story short, the fic I spent weeks on just was not coming together, so I last minute changed to this one. It was an idea I had written the beginning of years ago that I remembered when I was trying to find something to align with the prompts you gave me :D so I knew it would be perfect to write for your gift!! I spent the past week working super hard on this trying to get it finished for you in time, but it was getting so rushed and you do not deserve a rushed gift!! So I decided to give you the first 5k words now, and I'll be updating it with the rest over the coming weeks! :)

Chapter One (under the cut!)

A/N: Story context: This is a canon divergence of the CS movie, which begins right after Emma gets the wand from Rumplestiltskin. (He does not send him to his vault of do-not-touch things in this version tho. We’ll pretend Elsa gets to Storybrooke some other way lol. I’ll also be ignoring Marian, which, the show pretty much did when it just ended up being Zelena anyway lol. 

Emma smiled at the faintly glowing wand in her fingers, feeling the warmth of the return of her magic, lighting a glow in the vast dining room of Rumplestiltskin’s castle. 

Everything was back on track.

Including herself.

Perhaps she had been trying to take the easy way out, blocking her magic from returning so she could go back to New York with no ties left behind. 

But more than anything, it was Killian’s smile now that made the warmth inside her grow even more, and if it wasn’t her imagination, made the wand spark a little brighter.

“It works,” whispered Emma, staring at the wand in awe, eyes snapping to Killian. “My magic is back!”

“I knew you could do it, love.” said Killian softly, a relief in his eyes, like it was for both the possibility of getting back home, and for the fact that he still blamed himself for her powers being taken in the first place. 

“Ah, the Savior, of course,” murmured Rumplestiltskin from his perch on the edge of his dining table. “I should have known you would have magic of your own.”

Emma suddenly realized just how much Rumplestiltskin knew. “Is it a problem that you know…?”

“It would be,” he agreed, but lifted his hand, where a potion bottle materialized. “However, I have spent the past few hours mixing myself a Forgetting Potion.”

Emma smiled. “Good. Well, let’s do this, then.” She then lifted the wand, about to attempt to bring forth the time portal.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Rumplestiltskin, jumping down and pushing her hand with the wand down. “Not in here. You might bring any number of my possessions with you.”

Emma winced, eyes finding the myriad of scary-looking things in the castle, wondering just how catastrophic that could be. 

She looked from Killian’s raised eyebrow to Rumplestiltskin. “So where do we—“

But not a second later, Rumplestiltskin’s castle was gone, and suddenly they were outside. Trees, greenery and blue sky replaced the walls of the Dark One’s abode. They weren’t too far from the town below, and not far off was the sea. But they were in an empty enough area of the forest that no one should see anything, and nothing should come with them.

 “Well,” said Killian, giving her another smile, “ready, there, Swan?”

Emma nodded. She lifted the wand again, concentrating on her magic, on the emotion in her chest, bright and raw. The tiny flicker of a portal, like a zipper drawn in the very fabric of the air, appeared before them. 

Killian grinned. “That’s it, lo—” 

He was cut off with a grunt, and Emma’s eyes snapped to him, her concentration broken and the tiny beginnings of the portal fizzled back out of existence. 

Emma’s heart stopped. 

They were no longer alone. 

A burly, muscled man had his arm around Killian’s neck in a chokehold, his other arm pinning Killian’s left arm to his side. Killian let out an angry, surprised snarl, jerking hard against the grip. 

“Hook!” cried Emma, jamming the wand in her back pocket to hide it and running toward him, only skidding to a stop when three other thugs suddenly flanked the first.

“Sw—“ began Killian, his right hand scrabbling at the hold around his neck, but his airway was quickly cut off. Red rushed to his face, and Emma’s heart froze.

“Sorry, darlin’,” said the man’s raspy voice. “We got direct orders to bring Captain Hook in. He stole from us last night, and now he gon’ pay. Pretty stupid to show yer face in the open like this, without yer crew, no less.” A dark chuckle. “Shoulda sailed away when he had the chance.” To someone behind him, he shouted, “Lucky catch, men!”

Killian struggled against them, something angry and feral, landing a blow to the man's gut. The man growled and stumbled, and Killian reared back to hit him again until the man snapped, “Stop fightin’ or the wench dies!” That made Killian freeze, staring at her with icy horror. 

For a moment, Emma and Killian stared at each other, and it felt like time stood still.

Panic rushed through Emma's chest.

Magic.

Magic.

But she had no idea how to use her magic.

And if she took even a step forward, she'd get a sword through her in seconds.

Killian grunted as a second thug grabbed him on his other side, ripping Killian's sword from his sheath.

Panic rose even sharper in Emma's chest.

Killian swallowed, eyes locked onto her. “Go—home,” Killian managed, his eyes pleading and broken, with something in them that looked like goodbye, only making Emma’s eyes burn. 

“Hook—!” breathed Emma, running for him, but froze when three swords pointed in her direction, so close to her it made her stumble back, falling to the ground.

And by the time she made it back to her feet, they were gone.

-.-.-.

Dark had fallen.

The air had chilled. 

But none of it gave her the cold dread inside her chest. 

She’d searched for hours.

But those men obviously knew this forest better than she did, and it was easy to get lost in it. 

Too easy.

She let them take him.

Emma kicked herself.

She should have done something.

She should have done something.

She should have been spending all the time back in Storybrooke learning magic instead of shoving it away.

Because now Killian was gone, and it was all her fault.

She got them stuck in the past.

She was the reason Killian stopped trying to free himself from those bastards.

She was the reason that they may never see each other again.

Emma couldn’t stop seeing his eyes. 

The resignation.

The defeat. 

The horrible, utter sadness.

She was now alone, and she’d never felt this alone in her entire life. 

It was one thing to grow up being alone. 

And it was another thing entirely to find people, to fall for people, and to have them ripped from you.

It was an entirely different thing to know what it felt like to not be alone.

And ever since meeting Killian, more or less after he decided to become a part of something , he’d been practically glued to her side. He’d voluntarily gone back to the land he hated more than anywhere, he’d given up his revenge, he’d found her in freaking New York City —an endeavor Emma still didn’t know how he managed to do—and how he managed to find her in a world he knew hardly anything about?

Emma stopped on the path, feeling the chill of the air. 

Even the air felt different in the Enchanted Forest. It felt… unearthly, which, wasn’t exactly off point. The magic in the land seemed to crackle like a charged atmosphere. The animal sounds, the nightly coos and caws were different, and all this different was unsettling and…

She really, really didn’t want to admit she was scared. 

But Emma didn’t have Mary Margaret with her this time. She didn’t have a princess squad to help her through. And, she didn’t have Hook.

Killian, who was god knew where. 

He might even already be—

No , said a firm voice in her head, trying to quell the hair that raised on the back of her neck at the thought. They wouldn’t have kidnapped him if they were going to be quick about it. 

The idea of him suffering at all…

Emma swallowed, hard, trying to shove down the rush of panic that shook her fingers.

How the hell was she supposed to find him?

She was a complete outsider. 

She not only wasn’t from this town, she wasn’t from this world , and she wasn’t from this time, not by a long shot. 

She was trapped thirty years in the past, and Killian could be anywhere. 

“Go home.”

Emma shut her eyes at Killian’s echo.

Go home.

He wanted her to go home.

He wanted her to leave him here, conjure the portal, and go home.

The very fact that he thought she would made her chest hurt, because how could he think she’d leave him here?

But…

“You really thought I’d let you drown?”

“Given our history, can you blame me for being uncertain? ”

Here she was thinking how he could possibly think she didn’t care about him, when…

“Do you even care about them? Or anyone in this town?”

He said anyone.

He meant me.

And replaying it all, how could she think he’d know she did?

All she’s done since he saved her in New York, was walk away from him.

But she did care.

She more than cared.

And now, she may never —

No.

Emma opened her eyes, ignoring the burn in them.

Determination set into her face, Emma made up her mind without hesitation. 

There was no way she was leaving here without Killian.

The thought of returning to life without him, living without him…

It felt wrong. 

Something about him in her life just made sense. Even now, she felt like something was missing, and suddenly she was wondering how she ever considered leaving her family, leaving him, to go back to New York. 

“Go home.”

She couldn’t go home when he already became her home.

But… 

How on earth—or, how in the Enchanted Forest—was she supposed to find him?

And before they did something terrible and irreversible to him?

“He stole from us last night. Now he’s gon' pay.”

Emma blinked. 

Killian didn’t steal anything from anyone; she knew he hadn’t. He’d been too concerned with messing up the time continuum.

He hadn’t stolen.

But Emma had a pretty good feeling who had.

And Killian was currently paying for his crime. 

Emma smiled grimly, a plan unfolding in her head. 

She started walking, faster this time.

She just hoped the Jolly Roger was still in port. 

-.-.-.

Emma clung to the shadows when she entered the town. 

Thanks to Rumplestiltskin returning her clothes, she was no longer wearing the ragged dress and cloak that they had stolen, and was back in her jeans and leather jacket. Something that, Killian’s voice reminded her, hasn’t come into vogue, ever. So… she had to be careful. They just fixed the timeline; they cannot ruin it all over again.

But Killian was worth that risk.

As she clung to the dark areas of town, Emma was reminded of a younger her, living on the streets, dodging shadowy corners to pitch black alleyways. It was evening, the sky blackening with an array of stars, but the town still bustled with life, mostly around the taverns. 

Emma passed the tavern she and Killian had found his past-self in, and Emma risked a look inside, but he wasn’t there. 

Her heart quickening, Emma suddenly worried he wasn’t even in town.

She picked up her pace, following the path past-Hook had led her down when he’d been her inebriated guide. 

Emma emerged from the cover of an alley, looking up to see the sea, and ships of all sizes moored at the docks. And among them—

Emma felt relief flood her. 

The Jolly Roger. 

She smiled despite herself, picking up her pace. As she got closer, she could see the crew retracting the anchor—

They were leaving. 

Her heart pounding, Emma began to sprint. 

With grunts of heaving, two members of the Jolly’s crew were lifting the gangplank.

It was halfway up when Emma got to it, flinging herself off the dock and onto it, barely making the jump. She slid down the wood, landing in a heap on the deck. 

“What in the blazes—?!”

The two men nearly dropped the gangplank, but managed to finish shutting it, faster, as if worrying that someone else was going to attempt Emma’s jump. 

Her entire body throbbing from the mistreatment, Emma slowly picked herself up from the deck. She quickly noticed at least a dozen pirates were staring at her in shock. 

But a voice broke through the din, and Emma would recognize it anywhere. 

“Well, you don’t bloody see something like that every day.”

-.-.-.

Despite her protests, Emma had been manhandled by two of the crew members and dragged into the Captain’s Quarters a moment after she’d seen him. He’d witnessed her reckless jump onto his ship, but hadn’t said a word to her yet. 

She was currently in the chair opposite his desk, two burly hands on her shoulders keeping her pinned down, and Hook was in his chair behind the desk, staring at her in silence. 

“What are you doing aboard my ship?” he said finally. 

Emma flicked her eyes to the pirate holding her down, then back to Hook. “I’ll tell you, but only you.”

Hook sighed, then flicked his eyes to the man behind her, giving a minute nod and a slight roll of his eyes. Then, when the door clicked shut, he gave her a pointed look.

Emma let out a breath, her heart beating in a frenzy. This Hook was not half as drunk as he was when they last met. His gaze on her was cold and measured and there was no trace of the softness Killian had now. It unnerved her, this air of danger he held, sitting before her. Waiting. 

But Emma swallowed, trying to remember, this is still Killian. Just… buried under two hundred years of pain and resentment. 

It didn’t make her feel better. 

“I need your help.” said Emma at last, holding his gaze. 

His brow lifted, like that was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “My help?” he echoed, lips twisting a little in amusement. “I’m a pirate captain, lass. You’ve mistaken me for someone who gives. Pirates take.”

Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the irony that all he’s done the past two years was give. 

Worry fluttered in her stomach, suddenly wondering if her Killian was all right.

And when did he start being ‘her’ Killian?

Emma let out another breath. “Yeah, that’s actually what brings me here. All I need to know,” said Emma slowly, “is who you stole from last night.” 

She’d thought it through; if she could just get the name or the place of the person who he’d stolen from, she could go find Killian without Hook ever needing to know she was from the future. 

Hook paused. 

Suspicion suddenly gleamed in his eyes. 

He stood, and rounded his desk until he was standing before her. 

The suspicion only deepened in his eyes.

Emma could feel the danger radiate off him like a cologne. 

She was trying not to shrink under his intense gaze when he leaned even closer, his face inches from hers. He searched her eyes.

“You,” he whispered. “I remember you.”

Emma’s heart skipped. “You do?” she breathed. 

She should have known it was irrational to think he meant he remembered knowing her. 

Because his eyes narrowed, coldness in the blue. “You owe me a nightcap, love.”

Emma froze. “Oh,” she said, biting her lip. “Didn’t blame the rum, huh?”

He leaned back slightly, but looked no less predatory. “I’m guessing this is from you as well,” he said, brushing the metal of his hook to his cheek where Killian had hit him. 

Emma winced. “Not exactly—“

He was suddenly in her face again, eyes narrowed, colder than ice. “You were trying to get me drunk. To get on my ship,” he muttered. “Why?”

Oops.

Emma tried to think fast. 

She did not like a version of Killian that scared her, and this one did exactly that. 

As if to prove the point, he raised his hook, tracing her jaw until the tip was underneath her chin, forcing her head up. Emma gasped reflexively, suddenly realizing how bad of an idea this had been. “Tell me,” he hissed, “or this will be rather unpleasant.”

Emma swallowed, trying to stem the rush of fear. To hell with the timeline. “I’m from the future.”

His brow rose sharply, surprise and a little confusion slipping into that cold expression. Clearly time travel was not one of the things he’d expected her to say. 

It was the second time she’d surprised him, and Emma knew he wasn’t an easily surprised man.

Before he could interrupt, she went on, wincing as the sharp tip of his hook stung. “I’m telling you the truth,” she said quickly, fear sending a shiver down her spine. “I’m from… about thirty years in the future. I think. It’s really hard to keep track with all the curses," she finished, which even to her ears sounded like she was crazy.

“Time travel is unheard of.” said Hook, dismissing her whole story.

"You spend two hundred years on an island where time doesn't even exist��and this is too crazy for you to imagine?" snapped Emma exasperatedly.

He ignored her. “Now, what are you really doing on my ship? Clearly if you’d gotten what you wanted, you wouldn’t have been daft enough to return.” His eyes looked her up and down, his brow lifting when his eyes reached hers, and Emma glared at him. “And if I had gotten what I wanted, that night would not have ended with you injuring me.” A cold smile. “Well, not in the traditional way, anyway.”

Emma huffed out a breath, almost forgetting just how innuendo-clad he once was. “Look, I’m telling the truth . I need your help to—“ She gasped, the tip of his hook digging slightly deeper. 

“You will tell me what I want to know,” said Hook quietly. He removed his namesake, and Emma winced. “I’ll give you the night to think it over. Lie to me again," his voice lowering, dipping into the personification of danger as his gaze bored into hers, and she tried not to shrink under it, "you’ll be walking the plank in the morning.” He moved away from her, and Emma realized she'd forgotten how to breathe.

“Hook—“ began Emma, but Hook simply barked, “Jenkins!”

The door opened, and one of the men who had dragged her down here walked inside. 

“Take her to the brig.”

Emma’s heart pounded. “No— Hook,” she said quickly as he sat nonchalantly back at his desk. “I need—“

Emma was grabbed from behind and forced out. 

He didn’t look up as they took her. 

But when he thought she was out of sight, she saw him briefly touch his fingers to his lips, something unreadable stirring in his eyes.

-.-.-.-.

Emma waited until she was left alone, and the ship had quieted down enough to suggest the crew was asleep.

They’d bound her hands in front of her, which was their first mistake. 

Feeling a sense of deja vu, Emma felt along the ground until she found something useful. Finding something sharp and thin enough to work, she quickly got to work on the lock to the cage. 

The trouble was opening the door without it creaking, which took her plenty of precious minutes. 

Once free, she left the brig, and quietly made her way to the armory.

It was good that she was familiar with the ship after Neverland. Plenty of hours on the water had her nervous energy getting the better of herself and she’d done some extensive exploring. She’d paced the ship enough to know where its creaky boards were, so she was inside the armory in silence quickly. 

Emma grabbed the first blade she could find—a knife—and freed her hands, then took the gag from her mouth. 

Gripping the knife in her shaking hands, Emma left the armory, walking down the hallway to the door at the very end. 

The Captain’s Quarters. 

Feeling plenty of uncertainty, but needing to know where Killian was, Emma slowly reached for the door handle, glad the ridiculously loud chorus of snoring from the crew covered much of the noise she made. 

Slowly and without breathing, she opened his door. 

Emma shut it just as quietly, and the noise of the snoring was muted. 

Emma turned. 

The cabin was dark. 

And there, lying on his bed, was Hook. Asleep.

She could see him breathe beneath the blanket. 

Carefully, and avoiding every creak in the floor she knew of, Emma crept up to his bed. 

Then, she held the knife an inch from his throat, opening her mouth to wake him.

“Do I need to explain what a nightcap is to you?”

Emma jumped a mile in her skin.

Hook’s eyes were open, and he looked from the knife at his throat to Emma. A raised brow, he deadpanned, “You escaped.”

“You underestimated me.” she countered. He lifted his brow as Emma continued firmly, “I need you to help me.”

“Help me?” he echoed. His eyes flicked from the knife to her eyes. “You’re taking your life in your hands threatening me, lass.” he said dangerously.

“I’m trying to save your life!” snapped Emma.

His brow hitched higher, again flicking his eyes pointedly to the blade, then back at her. 

Emma sighed, removing the knife from his throat. 

He still didn’t move, eyeing her still suspiciously. “How is it you think you’re saving me?” he asked. 

Emma sighed shortly. “Look. I told you I was from the future. I am. I’m from your future. And I didn’t get sent to the past alone.” She took a breath, hoping telling him wouldn’t implode the timeline. But she was scared, she was alone, and without his information, she would never be able to find Killian. She could only hope that after she saved Killian, he’d still exist when they returned to their time. 

Emma sighed. “When I got sent here, you came with me.” she said finally.

Confusion kneaded his brows with honest puzzlement, and for the first time he looked almost like her Killian. “I… what?” he managed.

Emma sighed shortly. “You— future you,” clarified Emma. “You’re here, in the past, too.”

Hook looked lost in thought for a second. Then— “That was bloody real?”

“What was?” asked Emma.

He sat up, regarding her with both suspicion and shock. “The dream I thought I had of you, up until you foolishly returned.” Emma glared at him flatly as he went on, “I saw…”

“Yourself,” finished Emma impatiently. “Yeah. You punched yourself.” At his very perplexed expression, she went on, “I told him—you—it was a bad idea. So, blame yourself.” He blinked in utter confusion. But, at least, he seemed to believe her story. “Look,” said Emma, “we were on our way back to the future when some huge guys kidnapped him because they said he stole something and he needed to ‘pay for it’.” she finished in a bad facsimile of Killian’s abductor’s voice. Her eyes burning into Hook’s, she said, “What did you steal? Who are they and where did they take him?”

“You’re telling me,” said Hook slowly, “that there is a future version of me out here?”

“Yes,” said Emma through gritted teeth. “Now what did you—“

“Tell me, love,” said Hook casually enough, though the coldness in his words was back. “What is my future?”

“I can’t tell you that,” she said exasperatedly. “Already I need to get you a Forgetting Potion to make sure you get to that future.”

He stared at her for a long moment, a million things happening behind guarded eyes. But finally, his brow lifted a fraction. “And I’m just supposed to believe this?" 

Emma groaned. “What proof do you want?” she said impatiently. “Your father abandoned you and Liam; you used to be in the Royal Navy; you became a pirate after what happened to Liam in Neverland; you’re currently on a suicidal mission to kill Rumplestiltskin for taking your hand and Mila—“

“Stop!” 

Emma froze, having been angrily ticking off the trivia on her fingers, to see Hook’s eyes with more emotion than she’s seen from this version of him yet. 

“How do you know all that?” he breathed. For once, his voice lost Hook’s edge, and he sounded like Killian. The danger evaporated from him in seconds, replaced with something almost... lost. “It’s—it's been centuries since—"

“You told me.” said Emma simply. 

“I… told you,” repeated Hook flatly, words rolling off his tongue like something foreign. The edge in his voice swiftly returned as he demanded angrily, “And why the bloody hell would I do that?” 

“How should I know?” snapped Emma, her anxiety getting to her and sharpening her own tone.

He rose to his feet, and Emma did not like the feeling that he was attempting to use his height over hers to intimidate her. He leveled a look at her, with something different in his eyes, something dangerous in a new way. “Tell me one thing, lass," he began, voice casual-sounding, but underlined with something that sent a shiver down her spine, "and maybe I help you.”

“Why wouldn’t you help me?” exclaimed Emma, standing her ground. “You’d be helping you!”

“That remains to be seen.” He stepped toward her, and damn it he didn’t even need the hook to be imposing. “Tell me, lass.” Another step, and Emma felt her back hit the wall, not even realizing she’d been retreating. His gaze bored into hers. “Do I get my revenge?”

Emma swallowed, suddenly feeling a familiar sense of dread as to when the past version of Rumplestiltskin had asked about whether or not he found Neal.

When the silence spread a little too long, she whispered, “Hook—”

“Do I, or not?” he demanded, voice clipped. Cold.

Dangerous.

Emma felt paralyzed.

The Hook—the Killian —standing before her was completely hellbent on getting his revenge. He’s been at it for centuries, and the anger and pain in his eyes overpowered the blue in them, so much so it was hard to remember that Killian and Hook were the same person.

And here, Hook was his vengeance right now.

There was hardly a spark of him.

If she told him the truth, that he not only doesn’t kill his crocodile, but chooses to live peacefully in the same town as the monster? Gives up not only his quest for vengeance, but turns into a hero?

And worse yet, that he lets go of Milah?

For her?

From the amount of anger she’s eliciting from him right now, she doubted he’d be happy to know that information in particular.

So, she decided to tell him the truth.

Or…

Part of it.

“No,” she said finally, watching his brow shift dangerously. “Not yet.”

He searched her eyes, his face like stone. “Not yet?” he repeated, voice low, almost threatening.

Emma swallowed the fear slipping down her spine, hoping she was still as good of a liar as she once was. “Not yet,” she confirmed, which, still, wasn’t a complete lie. She took a breath, holding his gaze, preparing herself. 

And she lied.

“I’m helping you get your revenge in the future,” she said smoothly. “The Dark One is currently living in a realm without magic. He’s vulnerable. I’m helping you get there.” She swallowed, her entire body rigid. Hook was pin-silent as Emma finished, “We accidentally got sent to the past on our way there. That’s why I need you to help me. If you don’t, you will never get your revenge.”

Emma fell quiet, holding her head high, clinging onto confidence she didn’t feel in the slightest.

Killian could read her like an open book.

If this version of him was as perceptive as he comes to be…

If he found her lying to him…

Again …

Emma tried to ignore the fear prickling in her veins.

He held her gaze, pinning her to the spot with his eyes alone. Watching her eyes carefully, his narrowed. 

Finally, he said, “Why are you helping me?”

Emma tried not to flinch at the obvious distaste in his voice. She thought fast, and found something that held nothing but truth. “Because,” she said, “you did me a favor. I’m repaying a debt.”

His brow lifted. “Quite the debt.”

Emma felt something stir in her chest, thinking of all that Killian has done for her. “It was quite the favor,” she said quietly.

His brows kneaded with question, like he wasn’t sure why he would bother to do her a favor.

Emma was quickly becoming irritated with this version of Hook.

“How are you helping me?” he asked then, gaze boring into hers, almost as if he was trying to poke holes into her story to see if it would leak. “Why do I need you?”

It was spoken so carelessly.

And it hurt.

Emma was surprised at the sudden burn behind her eyes.

She’d brushed off Killian’s affections, his obvious devotion to her, more times than she could count. 

And here he was, looking at her like he couldn’t have cared about her less.

How could she have wasted all the time she had with him?

Getting him back now was the longest of long shots, for—and it made sharp fear race down her spine— he could already be dead.

Blinking away the emotion, Emma huffed out a breath, trying not to appear as hurt by his words as she was. “I’ve got Light Magic,” she snapped, making surprise lift his brow. “You’re trying to kill the Dark One. Do the math.”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed, danger rolling off him in waves.

Finally, he spoke.

“I help you, and, him,” he muttered, uneasily over what to call his future self, “get back to your time,” he said slowly, “and then I will get what I want most?”

Emma felt the ghost of a smile touch her lips, for she didn’t have to lie for this one. “Yes.” 

He most definitely will. 

-.-.-.-. TBC

@belovedcreation-kitr-headcanon @cssecretsanta2020 @belovedcreation

[kevinskorchinski]

sameee I'm so happy to see all my goofy little guys back on the ice 🥹

I've been interested about getting into f1 but at the same time I don't really have time to watch it or learn rn loll

F1 for en is difficult to watch because I am Australian so most of the races are at midnight and with f1 I found it easier to get into because there are more people talking about it/a bigger fan base

if you want to get into it i linked some info

A primer by @lina-corsasa breaking down the teams, tracks, calander etc. she also has one for team history

But there has been so much to happen this year that i will give you a very basic run down.

Red Bull: Something to note with Red Bull is that they have a junior team called "Visa CashApp RB" terrible name i know but it used to be known as AlphaTauri and Toro Rosso. And these two combine for lots of driver change drama. like this year Liam Lawson (the rb reserve driver) replaced Daniel Ricciardo (fan favourite driver) after the singapore drama. This sparked a lot of drama because no one knew for certain if it was daniels last race and it was only announced a week after the race finished that it was.

RED BULL AND VCARB DRIVERS:

Red Bull; MAX VERSTAPPEN (Dutch): he has 3 drivers championships (2021,22,23) he is the youngest ever f1 driver (joined the sports in 2016 when he was 17, that is why the fia added that you have to be 18 and over to get a super license), hes currently on top of the championship and his closest rival is Lando Norris. Also his dad is a piece of shit that made max sacrifice his whole childhood to be the driver he is today.

Red Bull; SERGIO PEREZ (Mexicain): he is in the second red bull seat which is seen as the cursed seat because so many people have been in that seat than replaced. And compared to max, checo is not performing well and this is what give him a lot of unnecessary hate. (well in MY opinion sergio is so hated and not for good reason most of the time its because he's in a good team but is driving like shit, but that isn't a good enough reason for him to be on of the most hated people).

VCARB; YUKI TSUNODA 角田 裕毅 (Japanese): he was very crash prone in his earlier years but he has cleaned up his act. and he is one of my personal favourites. He is a very intense driver and oftentimes not taken that seriously because if his earlier years which suck :(

VCARB; LIAM LAWSON (kiwi): his first f1 race actaully wasn't last weekend (Austin GP) but was the Dutch GP 2023 when daniel ricciardo (second race back) crashed and broke his hand so liam being the reserve driver he got a shot. And so far in is very short f1 career he is doing well. Also one of his biggest inspirations growing up was lightning mcqueen.

MCLAREN DRIVERS:

LANDO NORRIS (British): jack hughes but f1 driver version (but less injured and more egotistical (sorry ln4 fans))

OSCAR PIASTRI (Australian): Oscar is my goat and the reason i got into motorsports. He is consisdered a generational driver. And because of that fact he caused a whole legal meltdown between mclaren and alpine. He was in the Alpine junior driver program and was their reserve driver, then when fernando alonso announced that he was leaving alpine announced oscar but he had already signed a contract with mclaren. so of course alpine wasn't happy took oscar and mcalren to court but oscar and mclaren ended up winning. also oscar is very funny and i love him.

ALPINE:

Esteban Ocon (french): he is leaving the team at the end of te year to go to haas. people don't like ocon because he is a teammate... annoyeer? idk none of his teammates like him. But that doesn't mean his story of barley having any money but making it to f1 is any less inspiring.

PIERRE GASLY (french): pierre... idk how to describe pierre. he's like a very competitive tiktok fuckboy that just so happens to be an f1 driver.

ASTON MARTIN:

FERNANDO ALONSO (Spanish): has two world championships (2005,06). he has been in the sports since 2001 and is one of the GOATS because he can extract everything out of the car. also his tiktok is hilarious check that out

LANCE STROLL (Canadian): not many people like him because he is a pay driver to the highest degree as well. His dad literally bought racing point (now aston martin) so lance is never leaving the sports until he gets tired of it.

FERRARI: i'm not a ferrari fan but you cannot deny there would not be f1 without ferrari

CHARLES LECLERC (monegasque): a fan favourite driver and he can genuinely fight for a championship but he has the worst luck

CARLOS SAINZ JR (Spanish): his dad carlos sainz sr is a world champion rally cross driver. Carlos isn't driving for ferrari next year after it was announced lewis hamilton is driving for the team next year (that caused an absolute meltdown btw). Next year he is driving for williams.

WILLIAMS:

ALEX ALBON (Thai): he is a dual citizanship driver he was bron and raced in britain to a thai mother but he doesn't like being called a british driver and called people out on this. They mention his dual citizenship when he does well. also he has a lot of pets and his gf lily is very cool as well.

FRANCO COLAPINTO (Argentine): his first race was Monza (italian gp) this year after he replaced logan sargeant. Franco immediatly became a fan fav because he is funny a charismatic and people really want him to get a seat next year but the only place avalible is the sauber but no one likes sauber.

STAKE F1 KICK SAUBER TEAM (i actually don't know their name most people just call them stake or sauber):

VALTTERI BOTTAS (finnish): one of the most famous second drivers because at his time at mercedes he was always behind lewis hamilton. he's just idk there ig he likes to show his ass.

ZHOU GUAYNU 周冠宇 (Chinese): the first ever chinese driver. and i have a soft spot for him even though he cannot qualify well but it's not helped when the sauber is an actual tractor.

HAAS:

NICO HULKENBERG (german): he is amazing at qualifying but since that haas is a trashbox (to note: less so this year) he can barely fight in the race. also something that is mentioned when hulk is mentioned is he has the most race starts without a podium. also he is racing for sauber next year because sauber is being taken over by audi in 2026.

KEVIN MAGNUSSEN (danish): he doesn't have a seat for next year, sadly. because this year he has been an ontrack terrorist to make sure nico gets points. Kevin Magnussen you will be missed next year.

MERCEDES:

LEWIS HAMILTON (British): 🐐 (he also has a dog called roscoe)

GEORGE RUSSELL (British): idk who to describe george i genuinely don't. hes a good-solid driver and his humour is underrated (imo).

DRIVER TRANSFERS FOR THIS YEAR AND NEXT YEARS:

VCARB: 2024

Danial Riccardo -> Liam Lawson

WILLIAMS: 2024-25

Logan Sargeant -> Franco Colapinto -> Carlos Sainz

FERRARI: 2025

Carlos Sainz -> Lewis Hamilton

ALPINE: 2025

Esteban Ocon -> Jack Doohan

HAAS: 2025

Nico Hulkenberg -> Esteban Ocon

Kevin Magnussen -> Ollie Bearman

MERCEDES: 2025

Lewis Hamilton -> Kimi Antonelli

NEXT YEAR DRIVERS:

JACK DOOHAN (Australian): he was the alpine reserve driver and is replacing esteban ocon next year. he also was a twitch streamer and did some pre and post race commentary for sky sports.

OLLIE BEARMAN (British): Ferrari junior driver. Already a fan favourite and is racing for has next year.

KIMI ANTONELLI (italian): he is also generational and that is why team owner and principal of mercedes wants kimi in a seat so bad. and so when lewis dropped the ferrari bombshell people were already speculating that kimi would be announced. But there was a slight issue he was 17 so he wouldn't be eligible for a super license. but he turned 18 so he's now eligible (idk if he got it i think he does)

[hypexion]

Well it looks like even Miraculous is getting into multiverse madness with Tales of Shadybug and Claw Noir, featuring the evil versions of Team Miraculous. But instead of an increasingly convoluted and hard to follow mess it's instead forty-five minutes of superhero fun. Let's get at it.

Shadybug: With a few tweaks, Marinette's hero origin story becomes her villain origin story. So go the fickle threads of fate. Shadybug is a very believable dark mirror of Ladybug, who's compassion has understandably run dry. She sees the Miraculous as something that stops her from being hurt, even as it kills her. But ultimately, Shadybug desperately wants the life Ladybug has, and is willing to rewrite reality to do so. It's also the key to her turn to good - the possibility that better things are possible. Indeed, the power of hope is enough to heal the damage the Miraculous have done to her and Claw Noir. Speaking of...

Claw Noir: But what if Adrien was somehow more self-destructive? Like with Shadybug, a little loneliness goes a cruel way, and Claw Noir is happy to destroy anything if it gets him closer to his goal - himself included. I'm getting actual, full-on vibes that Claw Noir thinks he has nothing to live for, which is why he's immediately drawn to the wish. Chat Noir telling him that he can have someone else in his life is the spark of hope that changes his fate, hopefully for the better.

Betterfly: The good Gabriel Agreste, who turns hope into superpowers and opposes the rule of the mysterious supreme. Unfortunately, his parenting skills seem to match Monarch's, as Claw Noir is a self-destructive supervillain who is slowly dying of Miraculous poisoning, and Betterfly has apparently not noticed this. While Betterfly does come off as better than Monarch, there may be a less than altruistic reason for him starting his crusade, depending on just how his version of Emilie died. Hopefully with Claw Noir turning good, there is hope for a better ending between father and son.

The Supreme: The mysterious villain who torments the world of Shadybug and Claw Noir. He is an awful person, exploiting two deeply unhappy children for his own ends, essentially sentencing them both to a slow death. This means he is of course Evil Fu, as he displays all of Fu's negative traits even as a villain. This can be verified through just how bad his plan to retrieve the Butterfly Miraculous actually is.

He recruits Sad Marinette and Sad Adrien as wielders, without mentioning that using the Miraculous for evil will kill them. Which gives them a reason to resent him. Then at some point he established that he will "spare" the one of the two who brings him the Butterfly. Not only does this destroy any chance of the two working together, but it puts them into active conflict, as neither wants the other to deliver the Butterfly to the Supreme. This means that there's a non-zero chance that on acquiring the Butterfly Miraculous, the villain that does will akumatize the other, then proceed to murder the Supreme in an act of entirely justified vengence. A terrible plan all around, especially when he could just say "do this and you get to be part of the Inner Circle, with all the benefits that brings". Shadybug and Claw Noir are clearly very good at what they do, so that's not even giving much up.

Monarch: Okay, was the stained glass costume always this good? Maybe it's the higher-quality animation, but compared to the later costume, this one is actually kicking. Plus the detail where the different segments light up based on which Miraculous he's using? That's super cool. Ten out of ten, no notes.

Oh No The Plot Hole: Okay so Ubiquity Ladbug stops Monarch from stealing alternate universe Miraculous to complete his plans. Except she can only do this as long as she possess the power of Ubiquity, which she got from Betterfly. Surely Monarch can just wait until tomorrow and try again?

Anyway overall it was pretty neat. Nice bit of extra content that is only slightly dubious into how it slots into the timeline of Season Five.

[strangertheories]

Stancy in Season 5?

I hope not, but it's possible. I'll explain the proof for Stncy, the reasons why they'd write that, why Nancy would be best off with literally anyone else than Steve/single and then some hope for unrequited Stncy under the cut. Warning: I didn't mean for the post to be this long! I'll put a TL;DR at the end if you want the spark notes version.

S3 Steve's whole thing was about moving on from Nancy via developing feelings for Robin I said before S4 that I hoped they'd make Steve realise he gets all his validation from dating and have him realise that he doesn't need girls to like him to have worth. Think of Ken's arc in the Barbie movie minus creating the patriarchy and horses. And then S4 was...not that.

Regardless of my personal hopes, I have no idea why else they'd bring Stncy back up again considering they had the opportunity to have Steve find a new love interest or, god forbid, not date anyone because there's more to life than dating maybe! They're also repeatedly showing strain in Jancy's relationship, and there is the ticking time bomb of Jonathan's college not being Emerson (although it looks like Hawkins will be quarantined so I don't know if they'll even be at college).

The reasons why they could bring back Stncy would be either to reward Steve for not being an asshole by giving him Nancy or, and this is my theory, they're planning on killing Steve off so want to make his death sadder by making him love Nancy. Maybe he'll get a death bed confession from Nancy where she finally tells him that she loved him. I'm sorta thinking of Spike's death in Buffy for that (ifykyk). Alternatively, he could tell her that he loves her, dies, and then she can be all wistful at his funeral.

If Steve dies, then I think it would still work for Nancy to not end up loving him. His unrequited love could also be used to drive these emotions forwards in the same way and work with all the proof given...except the official script, in which it is said that Nancy's heart skips a beat after Steve does his whole six nugget spiel.

The reason why I'm so opposed to Stncy ending up together is because Steve is the polar opposite to Nancy. Steve wants a traditional suburban life with six children and road trips in an RV. Nancy's greatest fear is becoming a typical housewife; she wants a good career and to not end up stuck in her mother's position.

Not to mention, her dating Steve was at first a way of rebelling, but later became a trauma response in order to deal with her grief over losing Barb (see this post for context). Their response to Barb's death further highlights their incompatibility too: Steve was unwilling to help Nancy expose the truth, but Jonathan was. This doesn't make Steve a bad person, but shows that they have different goals in life and respond to things differently. Steve prefers staying safe, whereas Nancy is willing to take risks (sometimes to an extreme extent). Neither response is wrong, but it shows they cannot work together as a couple.

Nancy enjoying being told Steve's fantasy, the opposite of all her goals and dreams in life, and being happy? It is quite frankly, to quote Nancy, bullshit. It shows how surface level the Duffers see her as. They want this badass feminist cool girl with her guns but then are willing to sacrifice her whole character because they like how they redeemed the boy who slut shamed her in S1 and want to reward him for being a fan favourite. Maybe this is a reach, but it just feels kind of sexist how willing they'd be to throw away this female character's hopes and dreams for a guy she never loved and left 5 years ago. It's also bad for Steve which I explained a while ago in this post.

However, the incompatibility between their dreams gives me hope somewhat. Maybe the writers know this and are purposefully highlighting Stncy for Steve's death, not because Nancy will love him back but because he'll die knowing that he never won her over and that she always truly loved Jonathan and we'll get Jancy endgame. I'm more of a Ronance shipper, but I do not think that would ever happen and I think Jancy are cute too.

Or maybe they'll both end up single, with Nancy acknowledging that whilst she likes Steve and loves Jonathan, she has to move on and grow and live her life and with Steve realising that he needs to establish himself outside of dating and appreciate his friendships with Robin and Dustin instead.

TL;DR: the writers seem to be hinting at a Stncy return, either to reward Steve or to make his death sadder. Steve and Nancy are fundamentally incompatible and it would ruin Nancy's character if she gave up on her dreams for him. However, maybe this incompatibility is intentional and Stncy will remain one side or (hopefully) both Nancy and Steve are able to move on.

[ebitenpura]

Wip Wednesday

Awawa, it's upon us again! Wow, it's been awhile. I'm sure I've missed too many of these I've lost count, but if I've ever been tagged I love and appreciate you and am sorry my writer's gauge ran empty at that time. Now, onto the wip.

It's Nathema Conspiracy hours in my brain, specifically thinking about that botched Watcher 2 reunion and then the whole deal with Eight's version of the Traitor arc where he goes with Theron and...lots to think about. lots to unpack.

“You!” Vinn Atrius bristled at the sight of Theron, who quickly drew his blaster and answered in kind. The Zakuulan knight shrieked as the bolt impacted against the exposed portion of his armor, sparking and smoking. He spun and tumbled to the ground, motionless. 

“Been wanting to do that for ages,” Theron grit out, his expression flinty and hard. Betrayal was a two-headed snake, but he was more than happy to bite the hand that fed him. What was it Vinn said to him? ‘Know your place?’ 

He knew his place. Exactly where it was. 

Theron glanced back at Eight and Lana just a breadth’s width behind him. 

Eight’s stare was steady, razor focused as ever. Yet behind those dark, murky eyes was a man who devoted himself to causes beyond the pale, to people he loved, and Theron’s gaze softened.

Even when the world was against him, Eight had chosen to follow because he hadn’t wanted Theron to be alone. Words didn’t even begin to explain what Theron felt for the other operative, who had broken through the walls he'd built around himself as a spy just to make sure Theron wouldn’t regret his choices.

Theron set his jaw. A soul like that deserved more than what the Alliance had burdened him with. 

Lana locked eyes with him next, pulling him away from Eight. 

For a moment Theron could sense the uneasy mistrust behind those intense eyes of gold. He’d left her hurting and confused ever since Umbara, and if Lana was anything, it was frighteningly driven when her anger was given form. He couldn’t say he deserved her friendship at this time, nor the trust of the Alliance. For all he knew, she’d come here specifically to choke the life out of him. Letting her was a stretch, but…

As if sensing the guilt gnawing at him from inside out like a worm that had buried itself in his guts, Lana’s tight-lipped demeanor gave way to a flicker of emotion– and she nodded.

To the end, whispered the memory of those heartracing moments when they promised to die fighting together seizing the throne. He tightened his pistol grip.

Right. To the end. 

Emboldened, he quickly turned his attention to the remaining offender, only for his advance to be stopped short by the hexagonal net of the rayshield activated by GEMINI 16. 

Theron banged on it with the butt of his pistol, frustration mounting in his blows- it didn’t give. 

“Theron,” Eight called to him, anxiety painting his usually collected voice in an odd note that Theron had never heard  before.

“Organics fight so hard for their survival. But you’re too late–the thrones have been filled. Zildrog is summoned.” GEMINI 16’s monotonous voice grated against his ears. Theron banged harder against the forcefield, futile as it was.

“Theron!” Eight sounded desperate– frantic, even. Theron whipped around. 

Eight’s gaze was trained on one of the pods. It contained a woman in an Imperial uniform, her eyes closed as she sat unnaturally still in the seat of her cage. 

Theron recognized her from the holo as the one who had set the guardian droid on them. Shara, Eight had called her, with a wistful air that bordered on nostalgic. 

His voice contained none of that gentleness now, all previous softness cut away like the dull trim of a knife on a sharpening block as his attention turned to their enemy. “What have you done to these people?” Eight leveled at Gemini 16, the midnight of his eyes compressed into fine points of lethal focus.

The promise of death, the ring of metal removed from its sheath- a silent fury so intense it raised goosebumps on Theron’s forearms roiled beneath that smooth veneer like ink released into water, and the SIS spy felt nothing but pity for those who had ever earned Cipher Eight’s ire– an honor not even Emperor Arcann had been subjected to. 

Unphased by his intimidation display, GEMINI 16 continued. “They served a purpose they hadn’t anticipated– fuel for Zildrog’s awakening.

First, he will destroy the shackles that kept me enslaved to your kind. Then he will obliterate your pathetic Alliance as a reward to Atrius for playing his part.”

[loveisliquor]

"she sounds amazing-- like a rockstar in her own right." he loves his mother-- she makes a mental note of all the way he ticks boxes she didn't even know she'd cared about, but the way he speaks about his mother is so sweet, that it puts a smile on her face. he's alive with love for her and it's endearing. her own relationship with her parents is complicated-- better now, than it had been at the height of their chaos but she's always been, responsible for them in some way-- constantly putting together their lives, it made everything infinitely more complicated. it's nothing like the easy warmth that radiated off him, the easy love he seemed to feel.

she wonders if it'll ever fade, the way her body seemed to want him all the time or how she'd known before that second glass of wine that kissing him would devastate her. "trouble? me? no one would believe you--" her laughter follows him into the shower, until it fades-- much more preoccupied with taking him in fully. she shrugs her shoulders at his question, and kisses him softly as an answer. "nothing, baby-- you're just supposed to know." she smiles against his lips before stepping away. beautiful. he's beautiful and i'm fucked.

she relaxes against him, feels herself sink into indescribable warmth. "that's not that weird--with my dad at least. he's everything you think he is, and some. he'll probably love you, actually. he's very charming, funny-- ridiculous. my mom is similar too. and dramatic-- oh god-- so dramatic. but she wants me happy more than anything and she'd love you too." she hums softly, contemplating his question. "it's not that weird because i know the version of me they know and interact with and i... can hold space for that. plus i grew up in front of the world-- so everyone feels like they know so much but it's always an incomplete picture. most people mean well though." she sighs softly as he rubs the soapy water into her skin. she waited for the fear of commitment to kick in, but nothing-- just soft warmth at the thought of a life pressed against him like this. he kisses her, and it's bone deep-- the kind of kiss that stays on her lips, in her mind long after he pulls away. "god-- i'm a lucky girl." she presses a soft kiss to his lips again, and her heart hums at the soft contact. "not a dream--" she murmurs in cofirmation. she laughs when he mentions her rules. "don't bring a guy home after the first date, don't trust men, don't fall for-- well, you get the gist." too soon. too soon. too soon. she bites her bottom lip and swallows the rest of her statement down, but the thought lingers. you're falling for him. "you should make up your own rules, see if i break 'em." she gives him a charming smile.

kissing him sparks something in her gut everytime, keeps her in the haze of their bubble. "impossible, huh? what if i promise not to tire you out too much-- i'll be good." she nuzzles his neck and giggles against his skin. his question makes her pause for a second-- "oh, i mean-- not one i'd want to share? like i wouldn't mind one for just me and you-- i've never made one before. too scared of hackers--you know?" she bites her bottom lip. "it sounds silly but i just-- the idea of everyone watching me like that, and critiquing the fuck out of my body-- which they've always done but-- i don't love that. but the idea of us watching us together....appeals."

all of sudden, theo was very aware of his nudity when billie asked about his mom. there was scripture about this somewhere, speaking kindly on one's mother whilst in the buff. billie did it about him about her father, though, with her own glorious body on display. "uh, my mom's incredible. she's hates when i say it, but she's my best friend. she says it's unhealthy how much i tell her," he covered his mouth to keep from laughing. "she's funny...and she gives the best advice. she's also the kind of woman that'll tell the waiter if something's wrong with your food when you're too chicken shit to. oh-- and when my little sister came out as bi...she made me and daph come out as straight. i don't know...i just love her." theo ended with a sigh and genuine smile. he could go on forever about that lady.

"it's not stupid. you obviously liked it, billie. and if you like it, i love it," theo added after their kiss, still as potent as it was two hours ago. he loved the way they fit together, always aching for her body on his. when she elaborated on how she'd kill him with that suggestively placed mirror above the tub, theo tore away from her, "you're trouble, billie jean." with a wagging finger, he made his way to the shower. the temperature held his focus more than anything else. he didn't realize she was ogling him until he was a bit closer -- her palm sliding down his chest. "what am i supposed to say to that?" theo's gaze shifted from her descending hand to her eyes. he was blushing again, enjoying how easily she could make him feel just as desired, just as sexy.

theo was unreasonably excited when billie shifted, leaning her back into his chest. "thank you," he pressed the words in her cheek. he watched as she busied himself with his hands’ tattoos, they all had some literary or culinary reference, his two greatest loves. he recently got a XXX on his hip, alluding to his new profession. her kisses against them made him smile as he spoke. “yeah, we probably should meet each other’s parents first…i feel like i know your dad already, though. in that parasocial way we are with famous people. how weird is that? fans feeling like they know you personally?” theo rubbed the soapy water up and down her arm. he loved that she was even entertaining the idea. it wasn't that scary. "i had that same feeling...but you told me it wasn't a dream, remember. so, this," he tilted her head towards him a bit more, kissing her so deeply he felt it tug at his heartstrings, "is real." god, he didn't know he could be so sickeningly romantic. maybe he wasn't so hopeless after all. "really? like what? i don't have any rules, but maybe i should," theo teased, hugging her tight. "i like it too," he mumbled into her kisses. "you are going to make impossible to shoot this week -- how does billie jean feel about a sex tape?" theo laughed at the idea but fully expected an answer.

[annabellenaughtyprincessrose]

My Brothers, The Lovers ❤ (Repost: Classic fanfic)

My Brothers, The Lovers *Revised version*

By Annabelle Naughty Princess Rose

Summary:I wouldn't trade my Brothers for anything in the world. SAM/DEAN/OFC. Wincest!

Rated: MA (18+)

Author notes: Hey guys! Well, I have  another classic fic of mine to share. This was a little idea I had while I wrote this story, an OFC sister of Sam and Dean Winchester, and thier growing forbidden bond. So, this is a Wincest story.

This story was recently published on my Fanfiction.net, as well as on live journal, Wattpad, and WordPress page. There may be some little changes I made because the story had bad typos. (Don't judge me.)

Please note: That this story contains Wincest. If you are uncomfortable with this nature, please DO NOT read!

Lastly, I don't own any characters. The story plot was my idea. ;)

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

(Reader's POV:)

I love my brothers. They are caring. They are protective. When you're feeling down, they turn your frown upside down. If it was over a guy, they would stop at nothing to nail his ass to a wall. Any person, whether boy or girl is lucky to have them.

I wouldn't trade my brothers for anything in the world. They are a godsend. Sam and Dean: my knights in shinning amour.

We been through a lot together. Since our father died, it has been hell on earth...literally!

But no matter, we had stuck it through till the end and now we could live our lives...

A lot has happened since we saved the world from certain doom. We had one hard challenge: to learn how to live normal lives. I mean, I know it sounds stupid to do one simple thing, but come on, In our eyes, we are hunters. We were born as hunters. I don't think the three of us couldn't shake the fact that life was over. It was the only thing we knew.

But still, we somehow mange to cope with it. We settled in Kansas with the help of our father's will. We brought a house pretty much like the one you see on those commercials with the white picket fence.

It was close to the University Sam was planning to attend to resume his studies as a attorney and close to Lisa, Dean's one last stand and his possible legitimate lovechild Ben. I, myself was planning to go to a local Community College. At first, I didn't really wanted to go to school, but Sam insisted that it was serve me well later in life.

Yeah, life was perfect... at least for the half of that year. The urge of the life of freedom were still brewing inside us. We miss the life with no worries, of bills, school, kids...

So we sold the house hop into the impala and left.

About three months after, I noticed that our bond was changing. I noticed Dean would at times, would make quick glances out from the corner of my eye. I really didn't pay to much attention to it at first because I thought it was something that brothers normally do.

But now I found at night when I take turns laying next to him or Sam, at times I could have swore I felt his eyes staring down at me while I sleep.

Sam on the other hand had a very different approach. There would be times whenever me and him are alone, he wouldn't normally act like your typical big brother. He would act as though like a boyfriend. When me and him are alone, He would be a lot closer than usual. At times when I'm in the shower, I could have swore that I heard him breathing on the other side of the curtain not to mention to very tall figure I see just standing mere inches.

I guess I'm just imagination things. That's it's all in my head. Or maybe, I have a bad case of thinking dirty. Can I help it? I am not going to lie. My brothers are absolutely drop-dead gorgeous! They could get the princess of Cambridge a heat attack! I found that comment to be quite interesting! I begin to think the times when the three of us would be out, like geoceries shopping, bars,at the park. I have women rolling their eyes, whispering words about me, thinking that I was a whore for my brothers...

Nothing could prepare me for what happened two weeks later...

I remember that day as if it was yesterday. I was sitting on the sidewalk in front of a sleazy hotel. I was writing in my journal at the same time sneaking glances at Dean as he was wiping down the impala. The way he smiles as he glazes down at his baby makes me happy but a tad jealous...but he assure me that I was his main baby.

I could hear the faint sound of water coming from the bathroom. Sam,was inside, washing his god build form in the shower.

Turning my head, I couldn't help but grin as I saw a narrow view of his ass. Even after all these years, Sam still had a nasty habit about leaving the shower curtain open.

"Hey," Dean replies getting my attention. I turn my head towards him trying to look innocent."What are you smirking at?" He asks.

At his question, I raised my eyebrows giving him a side smile.

"Nothing. just a thought I was thinking." I looked up at him and I could tell he wasn't buying it. That's the thing I love about Dean, he has the sense to know whether something was troubling me or Sam...and he would stop at nothing to find out.

"About? I curious," He replies in a singing tone making me laugh.

"It's personal. My thoughts only," I winked. Finally he give up the debate and returns to his duty wiping down his impala.

Later that night, we decided to pay a visit at local bar. That day was the worst night of my life.

To be from what seemed, the only sibling with two very handsome attractive brothers was a bitch!

From the second we walk in, there were woman, whether their were in a relationship,married, or even betrayal their same-sex partner, had cornered us.

One was a blonde, who I can tell had the personality of stupid trying to seduce Dean with her luscious but totally fake breasts. While a brunette who was staring Sam down and was the bartender of the bar didn't give a damn if she had other people waiting to be served. It disgust me how women could be so depraved for a man.

I wanted to get out of there. The room felt as through it was trying to suffocate me. It hurt my heart to see I was the only one left out. To keep myself from bursting into tears, I did just that but my attempt to leave was cut short by a hand on by wrists.

Turning my head, I came face to face to a man who was pure hillbilly. He had messy hair,oily jumper and I remember that when I was at the bar, I would turn my head and he would smile at me.

"Where do you think you're going, darling?" The man asked. I can tell that he was drunk and had the slightest clue as what he was doing.

"Going home," I replied. "And I appreciated if you remove your hand from my wrist." I tried to Jerk him away but it was a useless attempt.

"I don't think so darling, You're looking very pretty there's no need for an angel face like you to scurry away..."He tried to pull me along, but I stood my ground. Then he does the unthinkable, He roughly pulls me against him loosing his balance completely falling on one of the now broken tables.

Everyone turned their heads Including Sam and Dean who immediately lest from their social gathering to my aid.

"Hey Asshole!"Dean replies as he and Sam walked over to the scene. "What are you doing with my sister?!" He began to throw insults at the poor man, while ignoring Sam's attempt to help me up, I stood up on my feet.

"I'm fine," I replied. "The fat ass broke my fall."

"Fat ass?" The man shouted. "Who are you calling a fat ass you bitch!"

"Hey!" Dean shouted. reaching down to jerk the man up by his collar. "Don't fucking talk to my sister like that!"

"What happened?" Sam asked, taking my hand and I jerked it away.

"Oh! Like you care! he was trying to rape me!" I shouted. "Forget it! I'm getting the fuck out of here!" The last thing I remember was Dean calling that fat bastard "a Son of a Bitch" before throwing punches and Sam trying to calm him down.

At the Hotel, I stood fully nude in the shoulder letting the warm water abuse my body. I was just so relieved that I got out of there.

So what I acted like a ass. So what if I act like a jealous girlfriend. I'm not going to be held responsive. I could hear the door to the hotel room opening following the distant voices between the two.

Dean was shouted some sentence that were inseparable and Sam was speaking in a mild tone. I covered my ears, to try to block out the conversation, along with the pounding of the door, but it a useless. Finally, I finished my shower, wrapped myself in a towel, and took a deep breath. I made my way out of the bathroom with my head down before glazing at the faces of my older brothers.

Sam, who now has a sad look on his face. His green eyes sparking with concern. Whilst Dean has a pissed off expression, trying his best to remain calm. There were no words that were unable to fall out of mouth. I just walked passed them and climb into to very large king side bed we shared with saying a unexpectedly surprising, I suddenly began to cry my ear out.

Almost immediately, Sam and Dean's expressions changed. If they were confused, I could say the same thing. The reason why I was crying, I couldn't understand. I was always the second tough one when it comes from intense situations, I guess with everything that we had been through together finally had took a toll on me. I see with my watery eyes Sam turned towards Dean and he nodded his head. without hesitation, they began to walk towards me.

Dean lay on my left, Sam lay on my right. They huddled up against me trying to console me. Sam was wiping away from my tears, while Dean began to rub small circles down my back.

This warm fuzzy feeling began to grow inside me. I gaze into Sam's eyes and I can see the easiness and calm in his face. Then I did the unthinkable. I reached my hand and caress his cheek and I leaned in a kiss him passionately on the lips.

There was no feeling I can't describe other than, I felt as through I explode into a million pieces. What was more shocking is that Sam didn't pull away. He gave in and began to response with my advances. Dean was anxious to show his passion. I could feel his lips on my neck, his hands trailed down to my breast giving them a firm squeeze.

I moaned in response breaking my lips with Sam replacing them with his. I tried to show my love for the both of them. Wanting to give them all of me...

Everything happen in a flash. the removing of clothes. The hot soft lips on my heated skin. The feeling of being completely filled. Like flipping a page in a book. Like riding the biggest wave and suddenly ,you're caught in the tide.I felt so much pleasure.

It felt like Heaven. It was heaven...

That was last night...

And here we are...

Today is a new day. I stare at the ceiling with a smile on my face as I felt warm naked bodies sleeping silently against me...

Nude Dean on my left...

Nude Sam on my right.

Right now, I can't say that God is pleased. Not with the events that had happened. Now, When I said I love my brothers...I love them more than just a sibling nature. I love them, I'm madly in love with them! When I think of their eyes and their smiling faces, it makes my body want to explode in fireworks.I don't care what people would say. I don't care if our father would turn over in his grave, I feel like I'm the luckiest girl in the world! it always will be the three of us forever...

Sam and Dean,

My brothers, the lovers.

The End.

[sailordiamondkitty]

So... I've been on "PAW Patrol Movie" in cinema recently. And as much as I don't like the animated series (too childish for my tastes), I simply ADORED this movie. The soundtrack, the animation, the story... All PERFECT 🥰 Well, except of the fact that some scenes were less than perfect and needed some redo... So I grabbed the pen (keyboard) and wrote my version 🙃 It's a bit more angsty than original and I definitely wouldn't put it in kid's show. But it was fun to write nevertheless 🙂

The scene I'm talking about is 'Chase rescues Ryder' scene. So I started with that and went my way a few minutes after 😉 Enjoy

Oh and for the ones not familiar with the movie, here's the original scene:

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

Ryder waited impatiently for the elevator to reach the top of the ridiculously high tower. He huffed irritated, as the idea of building something such high was as crazy, as it was dangerous. The soft ping indicated that he finally arrived at the destination and the door slid open.

‘Mayor Humdinger?’ He called out, stumbling out of the elevator, the storm outside easily swaying the already unstable tower, his eyes searching the office.

‘Yes, how can I help you?’ The man suddenly appeared behind the desk at the far end of the room, laying his hand casually on the flat surface of the table. The demeanour changed drastically when he noticed a person by the door. ‘Ryder? What are you doing here?’ He snarled furiously, his pack of cats hissing, sharing the despise for the boy with their owner.

‘This tower isn’t safe!’ Ryder called, trying to stabilize his movements. ‘We’ve got to get you out of here.’

The moment he finished speaking, the lights blinked and went down, darkness enveloping the room in an instant.

‘Oh no, the power’s out. That means the elevator’s dead. We have to go now!’ The boy tried convincing the man again, turning on the flashlight on his suit, the small light giving him at least a bit of comfort.

‘Nice try!’ Humdinger answered, crossing his arms. ‘I’m not going anywhere with you!’

Suddenly the room swayed again, this time harder and the sound of metal breaking sounded from outside. They were running out of time. Humdinger seemed to finally understand that, quickly lifting himself from the chair.

‘Okay, fine! I’ll go with you’ he decided, trying not to sound scared. He made his way toward the elevator, his cats attaching themselves to his legs, restricting man’s movements. ‘But I want to make it very clear, this is not a rescue! It’s… uh... an assisted exit!’ Humdinger exclaimed imperiously.

‘You can call in whatever you want, as long as you get in the elevator now’ Ryder replied, resisting the urge to roll his eye at the man’s antics. ‘I’ll release the cables manually from above’ he explained, using Mayor Humdinger’s body to lift himself up to the elevator’s hatch. ‘Once I’ve lowered you down safely, I’ll repel down the elevator shaft.’

‘Hmph, show-off’ Mayor murmured to himself, correcting the cylinder on his head.

Ryder bit down the reply as he looked down on the man in the elevator.

‘Even though we’ve had our personal differences over the years, I take no pleasure in doing this’ he said instead, his hand on a lever.

’Doing what?’ Humdinger asked warily. Ryder didn’t answer, instead pulling the lever, releasing the elevator as it started falling down at a rapid speed, Humdinger’s screams feeling the air.

‘Heh, actually that’s pretty satisfying’ he laughed to himself, eying the disappearing shape of an elevator and counting. ‘Three one thousand, four one thousand, five one thousand’ when counted to five, Ryder quickly pushed the lever back, stopping the elevator before it could crash at the bottom of the shaft.

While attaching grabbling hook to the metal bar, Ryder opened the communication channel.

‘Hey pups’ he called out ‘Humdinger’s out, I’m coming down.’

‘Nice job Ryder, see you on the ground’ came a reply, as he started descending.

Suddenly a gush of wind broke a part of the shaft, metal panel smashing on the other side.

‘Whoa, that’s not good’ boy commented, worry on his face. The next two panels above broke, nearly hitting him, as they fell. ‘Oh, that’s very not good!’

He continued descending, this time at a much faster pace, trying to leave the attached tower before it would, inevitably and definitely sooner than later, break completely. Wind howling through the shaft shook the rope, throwing Ryder over the shaft walls as he descended. He stopped the movement, trying to stabilize himself and that’s when another panel was torn out, this time right next to him. He stared at it for a few seconds, scared, trying to quickly decide how to best omit it. Suddenly the tower screeched, the metal holders finally loosing the battle with hazardous weather. Ryder’s terrified scream broke through the howling wind, as the tower fell, burying itself into the next building.

Ryder coughed, looking over the surrounding. Falling with the tower was not a pleasant experience and he made a mental note to try and avoid it for the future. He absentmindedly pushed the emergency beacon on his suit, red light flashing steadily. He eyed the debris that blocked his leg, stopping him from moving away from the site. He tried pushing it away, although with no avail. Ryder huffed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

‘Looks like I’ll have to wait for the rescue’ he told himself, the pain in his crushed leg indicating it was most probably broken.

At least the storm wasn’t bothering him here, the remains of fallen tower successfully blocking the wind. Some small parts of debris and dust fell from the ceiling and he coughed again.

‘Ryder?’ he heard a concerned voice from the side, a familiar one. He looked that way to see Chase descending the debris, running towards him.

‘Chase!’ he called, happiness in his voice. ‘I can’t believe you’ve found me.’

‘You can always count on me, Ryder’ German Shepherd puppy exclaimed with confidence as Ryder turned off his emergency beacon, switching it back to flashlight.

The broken wires shot a spark of electricity and Chase looked at them, worried.

‘Come on’ puppy said, turning his gaze back to Ryder. ‘We gotta get out of here’

‘I can’t , I’m stuck’ the boy replied, trying to push the large debris off his leg.

‘On three, pull as hard as you can’ Chase decided quickly, jumping over the broken rubble and positioning himself behind Ryder. ‘One.. Two.. Three!’

Ryder pulled the leg as Chase grabbed his shirt in his teeth, trying to help. After few seconds puppy fell backwards, as his teeth slid off the cloth.

‘It won’t budge’ the boy exclaimed, looking back at his friend, feeling hopeless. So even their strength combined weren’t enough.

‘One more try!’ Chase decided and Ryder obeyed, pushing the rubble again. At the same time, German Shepherd pup circled around, sliding under the fallen part, pushing it from underneath. They struggled for a while but finally managed to free boy’s leg. As he stumbled backwards, Chase quickly run from under the debris, managing not to get crushed by it. They breathed heavily, catching breath after the struggle.

‘We made it! Ryder, we made it!’ Chase jumped in the air happily, running over to his friend. He stopped abruptly though, seeing the pained expression on boy’s face. ‘Ryder..?’

‘I think it’s broken’ his friend answered, pointing at his leg. ‘It won’t be easy for me to get out of here in this state’ he added.

Chase immediately positioned himself at Ryder’s hurt side.

‘Lean on me, I’ll help you downstairs’ he exclaimed. Ryder didn’t hesitate, as he put his hand on puppy’s back, stabilizing himself.

‘You’re a good friend, Chase’ he smiled, as they took a few small steps toward the exit.

‘You are always there for me. It’s my turn to help you this time’ German Shepherd replied with honesty.

They were halfway through, when the nearby lighting shook the building. Some dust have fallen from the ceiling and Ryder looked up. He noticed the cracks all over the ceiling, small debris falling already.

Another shake and it was too late.

‘Watch out!’ Ryder shouted, pushing Chase away mere seconds before the rubble collapsed on the boy.

The weather finally stabilized when Skye crushed her helicopter into the machine, successfully ending the abnormal storm. She used her jetpack to fly down to the street, joining the cheering, as other PAW Patrol members surrounded her.

‘Do you see Chase or Ryder anywhere?’ Zuma asked, looking around to find the missing friends.

‘No, maybe they’re somewhere else’ Liberty wondered.

Suddenly there was a buzz on the comms and Chase’s worried voice came through.

‘Puppies, we need help!’ he almost shouted ‘We’re on the other building. Ryder’s crushed under the debris! I… I can’t get him out! And he’s not answering me either!’

‘We’ll be right there!’ Marshall replied. ‘Liberty, get some men to help us out, I’m not sure our strength would be enough to free Ryder. And call an ambulance too, it might be needed. Rest of you, follow me!’

The puppies rushed to the entrance of a building, as Liberty carried on her part of a mission. They didn’t have much time, as Ryder needed medical attention. Luckily the power in the city was back on as soon, as the storm ended, so they hastily made their way toward the elevator.

‘Chase, which floor are you on?’ Zuma asked, as the door opened.

‘15th, please hurry’ came a quick answer.

‘Don’t worry, we’re on our way’ Skye reassured him, as the door slid close and the elevator moved upwards.

‘Liberty, when you’re finished, join us on 15th floor’ Rocky called the Adventure City’s pup who became the newest member of PAW Patrol just recently.

‘I’m on it, see you at the top!’ she answered, the sound in the background indicating she’s already on her way with a backup. ‘The ambulance will be here shortly too, just finished the call.’

‘Good, we’ve arrived already, looking for Chase and Ryder’ Marshall said as the elevator stopped and opened.

‘Chase, where are you?’ Rubble called. The place was filled with fallen debris and parts of what used to be Mayor Humdinger’s tower.

‘Over here’ German Shepherd emerged from behind one of the biggest piles of rubble. ‘Quick, help me get him out!’

Another ping indicated that Liberty just arrived at the scene. They joined other puppies and together hastily made their way toward Chase.

The debris was huge and all they could see of Ryder, was his head and one arm, the rest buried underneath fallen parts of walls and ceiling. He was unconscious and bruised all over, from what was visible.

‘I tried to pull him out but I’m not strong enough’ German Shepherd pup explained.

‘And it’s a good thing you didn’t’ replied a tall, brown-haired man, one of the few accompanying Liberty. He crouched next to the puppy, eyeing the debris. ‘We need to carefully remove all of the rubble’ he instructed his companions. ‘Make sure not to move the boy, we don’t know how bad are the injuries.’

The work went swiftly, although not as fast, as the puppies would have wanted. About halfway through the work, the paramedics came and helped remove rest of the debris. Ryder was then moved carefully on the stretcher, the medics quickly looking for any visible injuries.

‘Well, his left leg is definitely broken, no doubt about it’ paramedic exclaimed, motioning the men to pick up the stretcher. ‘And probably right arm too. I don’t like the bruise on his forehead but it doesn’t seem to be very serious, hopefully. He’ll be fine, no grave injuries” he added, seeing the worried looks on puppies’ snouts, especially Chase’s. He leaned to pet pup’s head.

‘You did great, we’ll take it from here’ said the other medic, as they made their way towards the elevator.

The party exited the building, an ambulance parked not far from the entrance. People crowded the street, watching Ryder being put inside.

‘Poor boy…’ some lady gasped, while other nodded, agreeing with her.

‘He’s still just a child’ another added. ‘It should not have happen.’

‘It’s Mayor Humdinger’s fault!’ a man from within the crowd shouted, and people suddenly parted, showing the purple-dressed men in a middle of escaping.

‘What? How is this my fault?’ he argued angrily, the cats hissing by his side. ‘I didn’t ask to be rescued in the first place! Why should I be responsible?’

But nobody listened. Angry shouting escalated, people closing in on Humdinger. He screamed, scared, as he was enveloped by the crowd.

Chase didn’t look at the commotion, his attention solely on a unmoving frame of Ryder in an ambulance. As the paramedics began closing the door, he rushed forward and jumped inside.

‘I’m going with Ryder’ he exclaimed, laying next to the boy.

If the medic was surprised by a sudden movement, he didn’t show it. He closed the door and made his way toward the front of the car, as the other started the engine.

‘Come on, let’s follow them in our vehicles’ Liberty decided. ‘Skye, you take Chase’s police car, since your helicopter is broken.’

‘Yeah, will have to ask Ryder for a new one’ Skye answered sheepishly. ‘I really hope he got an insurance for it.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll figure something out’ Rocky cheered her up, putting his paw on her. ‘For now let’s focus on getting to the hospital.’

Other puppies barked with an agreement and split to get into their vehicles. Then they followed an ambulance, not noticing the frantic escape of Mayor Humdinger, as he managed to get free from the crowd. Not that it mattered. All it mattered now was Ryder.

First thing that Ryder felt was pain in his left leg. Broken, he remembered. He tried opening his eyes, but a bright light from a lamp caused him to close them again. He grunted, as he prepared himself for another try. This time slower, he let his eyes accustom to the lighting. He was in a room, hospital, judging by the look of it. There was something on his right, warm and fluffy, pressed to his side. Ryder moved his head carefully and saw Chase sleeping next to him on a bed. Boy’s moving must have woken him up, as he shifted and yawned, stretching his paws. Eyes locked with Ryder and puppy jumped up.

‘Ryder!’ He shouted happily. ‘You’re okay!’

‘I guess I am’ the boy answered, laughing softly. ’What happened?’

‘I freed you from the debris, we were trying to leave the building’ Chase answered. ‘You… there was a lighting nearby. It caused the ceiling to collapse. You pushed me aside but…’ German Shephard’s eyes filled with sadness and regret. ‘Liberty got some citizens to help us remove the rubble, then they moved you to an ambulance.’

‘Oh, Chase…’ Ryder moved slowly, embracing the pup. ‘It’s alright, we’re alright.’ He reassured him.

‘But you were hurt! I couldn’t do anything to help you!’ Chase argued. ‘I failed you…’

‘No, Chase, you didn’t fail me!’ answered the boy with a shock on his face. ‘You are the bravest pup I’ve ever met. I mean do you know any other who would jump over to the next building to reach me? I sure don’t. If it wasn’t for you, I would be still stuck there.’

The door suddenly opened, and a doctor entered a room with rest of the PAW Patrol behind him. He looked up from his notebook, noticing Ryder and Chase. A warm smile appeared on his lips.

‘Ah, Ryder, I see you’re awake now’ he said, moving to stand near the bed.

‘RYDER!!’ cried the puppies in unison, jumping on a bed to cuddle with their friend, licking his face happily.

‘Alright, alright, if you want him to get healed properly, I advise to give him a room to breathe’ the doctor laughed. ‘How are you feeling, my boy?’

‘Well, my leg and arm hurt and I’m a bit sore’ Ryder answered after a while, when puppies finally decided to stop licking him. ‘Other than that, I’m good.’

‘You’ve had an amazing luck. Except broken leg and arm, as you noticed, you’re uninjured. I advise lot of relax and you should be back to normal in about few months.’

‘Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him, doc!’ Liberty barked happily, swinging her tail. ‘Hear that, Ryder? No missions for you!’

Ryder laughed at that, along with doctor. Everything was fine.

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

So there it is, hope you liked it 🙂 I noticed a few things I could change here and there, as I posted, but I decided to not rewrite the whole thing again 😅

[otp-holic]

The one place (where something happened) (A03)

“In your life there are a few places, or maybe only the one place, where something happened, and then there are all the other places.” Alice Munro. (or the one where they receive a letter from a familiar name and we go into 4Ks of fluff around a lost afternoon in France)

4K. Lamely explicit at one point. Fanfic + Pictures Inside. Trigger for FLUFF as the main plot. Part of the Never let us lose what we have gained series (AO3)

This was supposed to be a manip with 200 words of bantering and it's now 4Ks of fluff with a few pictures. I've decided to leave them inside the cut because I feel they work better with its context there. I'm sorry for the hassle, but I really hope you give this a chance... unless you have cavities, only like fics with amazing plots or are allergic to shameless fluff.

Please do not repost the pictures, I know this is futile, but… I try :)

DAGUERROTYPE, France 1944 Private Collection.

Steve is cooling down from his very early run, enjoying the feeling of the pink sunrise looming over the awakening Brooklyn streets as he walks the last couple of blocks on the way home, when his phone beeps.

“Check your actual mailbox, we dropped something for you there. I think you should appreciate us making it old-fashioned just for you, grandpas!”

Steve smiles at Sam’s text and as soon as he arrives at their building he snaps a picture of the very common and flat envelope with “Barnes&Rogers” scribbled on top of a Stark Logo, to send along his response.

“Nice try, but this is inaccurate. A letter would have never made its way to us without an address or stamp. We’ll send you a proper thank you card to show you how it’s done.”

He can’t help but chuckle at his own joke rereading the text while he opens the door, and when he looks up from his phone and into the kitchen, he is received by a sleepy Bucky looking at the coffee machine like he looks at Steve during their most soft and embarrassingly cheesy moments.

“You love that thing more than you love me, confess it.”

“In the mornings? Yes. I don’t even like you in the mornings most of the time,” he answers matter of factly. “Want some?”

Steve playfully wiggles an eyebrow.

“No way. Your sweaty self is tempting, but coffee smells better. I might join you in the shower later.” Bucky offers him one of the two cups he has poured and he notices the envelope Steve is holding. “What is that?”

“We’ve got mail!” He hands it to Bucky. “I have no idea what's on it, but Sam texted me to say they had something delivered to our mailbox and there it was. Open it.”

Bucky leaves the cup on the counter, face sparked with a curiosity that makes him look twenty-one (and Steve weak on the knees), and goes for it.

The content is a bit underwhelming at first glance: Another envelope, white, no Stark logo, but topped with a bright green post-it with a note on Pepper’s script.

“This got to me via PR. We analyzed it and checked with the source (no peeking, I swear) and it seems legit. With that return address, it’s likely to arouse your interest. Love, P.”

Bucky tears off the post-it and the letter is revealed to be addressed to Steve Rogers at the Stark Tower, but it is when they turn it around when everything goes still for a second.

The return address is some street in Marseille, but what has Steve’s mouth dry and Bucky’s hand trembling just a bit is the combination of the place and the name written on top: Emmanuelle Jaques Dernier.

“Boom?”, Bucky says, trying to cut through their heavy hearts and taking Steve’s hand. It’s a terrible terrible joke, but Dernier would have loved it and he grins.

“That’s a terrible terrible joke,” Steve verbalizes, “but I think at least we’ve reached the same conclusion.”

“Elementary, my dear Steve,” Bucky answers as he opens the second envelope, only to reveal a folded letter and yet another envelope. “It’s a fucking vault of paper!”

Steve takes the letter from him, unfolds it, and quickly scans it (normal office paper, printed, hand-signed) before he starts reading it out loud to Bucky’s undivided attention.

“Dear Mr. Rogers,

My name is Emmanuelle Dernier and I am the great-grandson of Jaques Dernier of the Howling Commandos.

First, let me tell you that we all in our family grew up with amazing stories and praise for you, Sergeant Barnes, and the rest of the team. I never got to meet my great-grandfather or any of them (you), but I’ve always felt like I did.

In fact, that’s the ultimate reason behind this letter: I ached to honor him and I’ve been putting in order all his remaining letters, pictures, and memories so they don’t get lost forever, and there are many things I’m discovering through this journey. So many pictures and tiny details… and amongst them, you and the rest of the Commandos appear at the most random and memorable moments. Nothing that’s going to make it into history books, more like the stories my grandpa used to share with us over and over again, those important tidbits that make him more human.

Anyway, I was going through the pictures he kept when I came across some war photos that didn’t seem to match the 40s timeframe. Typical daguerreotypes from the 20s in a very bad state, probably taken with a camera from the era in 1944 and developed on a later date by somebody who clearly didn’t master the technique.

They were in a very bad state and hidden inside an envelope that said “Terribly drunk soldiers in France making idiots of ourselves in unique and creative ways. Fun evening, horrible hangover. About 20 miles west of the Maginot Line. Autumn ‘44”. I’m attaching a photocopy of that, I hope you can understand my decision to keep the original.

After restoring the daguerreotypes with some experts, all I got were five very bad pictures with silhouettes of people apparently having fun…. but there was one that got a lot better in the cleaning process that feels important somehow. I’m sending the original, as well as the restored version I got.

I, of course, don’t have the whole context, but I hope it brings back a good memory. My great-grandpa might be in the picture, but I don’t think this one belongs to my family or to a museum.

Thank you for your service, I really hope this letter finds its way to you.

E.Dernier.”

“I can’t believe… Steve, most days I’m convinced that day and that place are a figment of my imagination,” Bucky smiles, remembering. “When I think of a moment of pure joy during the war, I think about that afternoon in France, and it always feels unreal. A bubble of air and laughter while we were so surrounded by death.”

Steve nods, reminiscing about that warm and humid September morning when they arrived at yet another abandoned and destroyed little village, this one about twenty miles west of the Maginot Line. They had orders to lie low and wait for twenty-four hours before they started the maneuver to wipe another Hydra base off the map, and that little town was perfect for that.

Among bomb debris and fallen walls, they found one small building miraculously standing next to the remains of the church, so they decided to set camp under a roof for a change since the weather was being a little flickery with the rain, and they had the rare luxury of time.

The inside of the tiny house was as unusual as the outside: nothing was destroyed beyond being dusty and worn by time, and everything they found (furniture, kitchenware, and even fabrics) belonged more to Steve and Bucky’s early childhoods than to 1944, a living museum frozen in time.

Only it was not a museum, but the parish house left untouched and non-raided: old-fashioned clothes, outdated church books, yellowing clergy collars, and, of course, the wine cellar. Oh, that wine cellar… the havoc it unleashed.

“I remember the absolute excitement when Falsworth found all those bottles of old unscathed mass wine from the parish,” Steve brings his memory to words, looking at Bucky, “I’m still a little convinced that we are going to hell for drinking them.”

“Not for that, probably, but it was a wonder nobody died on the spot of wine poisoning, it tasted like sweet vinegar, ugh.”

“But it did his part, right? Took our minds off things; got us drunk, bold and silly.” Steve answers.

“Apparently not all of us,” Bucky says very seriously, looking at Steve.

“Technicalities… I got drunk by proxy. Seeing you all so happy made me giddy and tipsy, too.”

“I came and went… I remember being a little surprised at the clarity of my thoughts at some moments there when some of the guys were basically drooling on the floor. Now I understand, of course.”

Steve squeezes his hand, not much to be said there.

They were already way too drunk by the early afternoon, drinking to the sound of a sudden rainstorm pouring outside. All of them scattered across the small dusty living room and its adjoining kitchen while they went through all the bottles of wine they had been able to find. Cheering for the foregone priest every time somebody raised a glass, and laughing as if there were no ruins or war on the other side; just silly men (boys, really) laughing their hearts out.

“Earth to Steve… I don’t know about you, but I’m dying to see what the hell that envelope is hiding. Especially now that we know about its time stamp.”

“I’m sorry, me too! Gabe drunkenly handling that old camera and those glass plaques the way he did? I’m honestly impressed that he was able to take any pictures at all,” he muses. “Shit, is it weird that I’m nervous?”

“I’m gonna save us the bantering because I’m nervous, too,” Bucky answers in all sincerity. “Truth is, Steve, I remember everything about that day.”

It’s a new admission, a newly opened door for them because for some reason, they have never talked about that peaceful surreal afternoon, and Steve nods in recognition as he silently goes for the envelope one-handed, not wanting to let go of Bucky’s hand because his surface is way cooler than his wrenching insides. Maybe the picture is an overexposed french wall but maybe…

The photo he extracts from the envelope is clearly the original and damaged one Emmanuelle specified in his letter. Anybody else looking at it would see nothing beyond Dernier’s blurry profile, but since Steve and Bucky were there when this was taken, they know exactly what moment Steve is holding in his hand.

“Buck,…” is all Steve can say, struck by the blurry keepsake.

Later in the afternoon when they had already consumed most of the wine and there was not a single coherent thought left in the room, one of the guys took the parish books and besottedly announced that there was a wedding set for today… thirty years ago. Alcohol fueled a goofy idea that escalated at the speed of light, with Morita saying they were going to a wedding because they deserved a celebration, Dernier confessing that he had once considered becoming a priest, and Dum-dum bringing out all the old fashioned clothes from the wardrobe and deciding they were getting nice and clean for the festivities.

“That’s clearly Dernier in the picture killing it in his priest role, right?” Bucky says, half smiling and interrupting Steve’s thoughts. “You know, I went all-in with that fake wedding party. I was laughing to tears when I saw you put on that ridiculously long and ill-fitting jacket from the 10s, feeling weightless and silly for the first time since sailing off, and God knows we all deserved that. And it was all safe and light-hearted until fucking Morita decided you had to be the groom, and...”

“Were you jealous because I won the dashing groom competition?”

Steve’s attempt at a joke is weak, but there’s truth behind it: Morita chose Steve as the groom (“Cap, you are the most dashing and the least drunk”) to a chorus of excited voices cheering for him. Somebody else, most likely Dum-Dum, chose the rest of the roles (Sarge, best man duty; Jones, camera; Morita, keep the wine flowing; the rest of you, misbehave!) and in the blink of an eye, they were all going outside laughing under a light rain, and about to celebrate Steve’s fictional wedding to nobody.

“How could I be jealous?” Bucky cuts in. “Do you remember all you said to me that afternoon? During World War II and in front of a battalion of men?”

“I was drunk.”

“Fuck you!” Bucky disentangles his hand from Steve’s to use both of them to hold Steve’s face and kiss him with violence. “Tell me. Do you remember what you said?”

As if he could ever forget. He can recall every step he took from the house to the makeshift wedding spot amidst the trees where his best man (looking dapper even in that ludicrous jacket) was laughing along Dernier. He can still smell the petrichor, can still sense the blush coloring his cheeks while hoping nobody noticed and can still hear the beating of his heart when Bucky handed him a battered umbrella (“You don’t deserve to get rained on your wedding day, punk”) and a fucking ring made out his shoelaces (“You’ll have to buy something a little more permanent.”). And then…

“Dernier started the ceremony and he wanted to know if I had somebody in mind and I said ‘of course’.” He replays, his voice barely a whisper. “I said I’d had my eyes on a brown-haired Brooklynite since before I could remember. I said that I was pretty sure those blue eyes were set on mine too and that hopefully those eyes would be set enough to want to marry me even if I had never dared to ask.”

He’s been holding Bucky’s gaze the whole time, and he’s far from over yet, but he needs to fucking breathe before he goes on. Neither of them has moved a muscle for the past minute.

“Then he asked me to repeat the wedding vows after him and…”

“And you said Buck, right?”, Bucky interrupts, voice winded. “You fucking whispered I take you, Buck, as my lawful wedded husband till the end of the line. I heard, Steve. Even if the rest of the world didn’t, I did. But you never said anything, so I always deemed it impossible, a product of the corniest nook of my mind trying to outweigh all those bad things, because not even you could be as bold, reckless, and mushy as to do that,…it’s my fucking fault, I should have known better!”

“Not completely reckless, pal. I was scared shitless as I said those words, but what else could I do? You were right by my side about to put a ring on my finger as my “best man”, everyone, including you, supposedly drunk past recollection, and everybody else too far away to hear my whispers. It was such an easy choice in the end because truth should always win over fear. And those vows were. The truth.”

“You have always been too honest for your own good, Rogers,” Bucky is breathless and exasperated and goes for his mouth again, bringing in all he (they) couldn’t in 1944. “You destroyed me, Steve. My knees were as weak as a teenager’s in front of his first crush. I wanted to kiss you so badly when I heard you say all that there in the open… and I couldn’t even acknowledge it.”

“I know. And for what it's worth, I really thought you didn’t remember.”

It is too much. Is it normal to feel this much? Steve would blame it on the serum enhancements, but he was already overwhelmed at 16, so that’s clearly not the answer.

He craves, no, he needs touching, grounding, closer. Bucky. There’s too much space between them even if they are back to kissing like they would have that day in 44, and at any other time if their own lives wouldn’t have stolen those moments from them.

“It happened.” Bucky whimpers, biting on Steve’s lip who abandons his own stool to straddle him, both of them gasping in sync at the feeling of their cocks, hard against each other’s through their soft pants.

Bucky soon ups the stakes by carding his metal hand through Steve’s hair pulling his head backwards to help himself into that spot on his neck.

“Same two moles as when you were tiny, as when we were at that war... Your cute vampire bite. Favorite spot.” He licks on them with the tip of his tongue. Steve growls on cue and Bucky giggles. “Favorite chain reaction.”

“Buck, you cheater, you know what that does to me!” Steve cries out followed by Bucky’s evil chuckle.”Bed, couch, countertop,…I don’t care, but naked. Now. Stained pants due to heavy petting are too much of a trip down memory lane for me. Let me keep a bit of my dignity.”

Steve stands up liberating Bucky from his grip but aching at the loss of contact.

They are naked and making out in the middle of the kitchen in no time; Bucky steadily pushing him against the refrigerator while fiercely grinding against his crotch.

“Hey, ‘teve,” Bucky pants. “The way this is going, it’s my dignity now that's at risk. I don’t think I can make it further than the floor before I come.”

Steve groans into his mouth just at the thought and they start sliding to the floor the best they can until he’s a human blanket moving over Bucky. With no lube at hand, and no time, that’s their best option.

They kiss and kiss and kiss, his hands not leaving Bucky’s sweaty hair. Bucky’s hands on his ass, forcing their groins closer with one while he (almost absently) plays around his hole with the other, driving Steve crazy in the process. Dicks left to do their own thing through pressure and friction. Everything is working. And fast.

“Oh, fuck!” Bucky exclaims “Can you promise me all this stuff with the letter was real and not a long-con plan to assure your fragile masculinity that I love you more than I love that espresso machine?”

That. That silly unfunny excuse of a joke that screams Bucky all over is what pushes Steve all the way over the edge. He fucking laughs as he comes making absolutely embarrassing sounds, pressing their foreheads and noses together until it hurts, and shaking from head to toe without stoping his pressure on the stupid and smug man under him. His lover. His partner. His unofficial husband. His best friend.

His Buck.

“There’s still too much blood in your brain if you can play that dirty,” Steve states, placing one hand between them grabbing Bucky’s hard cock. “Let’s see if I can do anything about it.”

“Your hand, usually so helpful, but I was already following you after that sound you make when you come and laugh at the same time, shit, it always goes straight to my dick, I’m,…” he keeps talking with difficulty between breaths and moans until he leaves his speech unfinished coming all over Steve’s fist.

They kiss on the lips breathing into each other before Steve rolls over. They are sticky and panting in silence, spread on their kitchen’s floor, Steve’s shoulders crushed between Bucky’s and the dishwasher. Domestic bliss at its most literal.

One lavish fuck and two showers later they reemerge into the kitchen in search of something to eat: Bucky is in charge of the food today, while Steve cleans the mess they left a couple of hours ago.

He’s decluttering the counter when their damaged picture laying there puts a smile on his face but also reminds him of the restored version presumably still waiting inside the disregarded letter, so he grabs the envelope to retrieve its contents: one photocopy (from Dernier’s original writing), and the promised photo.

And it is restored. Everything is clear where it was blurry before: Dernier (so deep into his priest impersonation that he’s not even looking at them), the trees, the battered umbrella, the ridiculous jackets… and them.

“You had the nerve to call me reckless and mushy, Buck?” Steve laughs as he stares at the picture where a very young Bucky is about to put a ring on his finger with the least subtle lovestruck expression he’s ever seen (“and it’s for you”, his brain proudly reminds him) “Wow, you might as well be kissing me there, anything would be more subtle than this!”

“Don’t shame me, you punk, especially not when you were the one responsible for breaking my brain back then!” Bucky answers coming from behind and stealing the picture from his hands to scrutinize it. Goofy grin and raging blush quickly taking over his face. “But you’re one to talk, Cap. You are gazing at that shoelace’s ring as if I were handing you a diamond tiara!”

Steve laughs softly at that and moves his right hand to his pocket, feeling the weight of the little compass he had retrieved earlier from one of his drawers. He used to carry it with him everywhere for comfort, but he has a better option now.

“Didn't you know that shoelaces are forever?” He asks, taking the compass out of his pocket and holding it in both hands as he opens it, nudging Bucky with his elbow to get his attention.

Bucky is confused for an instant while he looks at his young face staring at them from inside the little box. Of course he knew that (he made fun of Steve for days and days) but Steve detects the change in his expression when he notices the other thing.

“Wow, you gigantic sap,” Bucky says, taking the compass out of his hands to double-check he is seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. “You saved my shoelace.”

He had. While they were all celebrating his wedding under the rain dancing to no music, he quietly slipped the little string off his finger and tied it to the most secure place he had back then.

“It’s not a shoelace, you jerk, it’s a symbol. A declaration.” He laughs, stealing the compass back to safely pocket it again.

“You are delusional,” Bucky snorts, kissing the top of his head. But he’s widely smiling and lost in thought as he goes back to their sandwiches.

Steve stays on the spot enjoying the peace in their silent companionship, his focus on the latest news showing up on his phone, the text he’s writing to Sam and the comforting sounds of Bucky moving around the kitchen.

“You might have married me, but I never actually married you.” Bucky blurts out of the blue a bit later, sitting by his side as he hands him a plate with a sandwich and some grilled greens on it. “Do you want mayo with that?”

“Uh?” Steve forgets all about the news and the text and looks at Bucky in confusion.

“Mayo, do you want some?” Bucky repeats nonchalantly.

“No mayo, thank you; but I was actually more interested in the other part, you know, that thing about marriage?”

Bucky looks him in the eye: earnest, blushing and with the same look of smug adoration he had on the picture.

“Oh, that part.” He jokes. “You apparently married me in 1944, but I never married you back. And I would like to.”

“Marry me?” Steve asks and Bucky visibly nods.

“I’m sorry for throwing the idea at you like this, books tell me I'm supposed to have candles, music, and a ring, but you showed me that restored picture and I couldn't stop thinking about it, about proof,” Bucky speaks uncharacteristically slow and very softly, voice trembling here and there while he claps his hand with Steve’s finger by finger for reassurance and as a distraction. “A single photo had the power to transform a moment that existed just as a made-up happy place inside my mind into something tangible and real. Something that would be tangible and real for anybody getting a hold on it and looking at our stupid faces.”

“So stealthy,” Steve says, and they both laugh together.

“Proof, Steve. I was slicing tomatoes and thinking how there’s so much evidence, thousands of files! out there proving that all the stuff that fuels my nightmares were real, but nothing solid about this. Us.” Bucky stops for a moment collecting his thoughts, still smiling even with the heavy subject he just dropped into the mix. “Sorry, I believe I put more time into these sandwiches than into thinking this all the way through so I’m…”

“Take your time, we’ve gone from mayo to marriage to nightmares in five minutes so don’t worry, you have me hooked here.”

Steve makes Bucky laugh again as he intended, and he feels their calloused laced fingers immediately squeezing closer.

“It’s stupid because it doesn’t change anything for us but,.. I don’t fucking know, Steve, I think that picture has messed up with my mind! I instantly found comfort in the idea of people finding facts beyond the nightmares now or in the future. An easy to understand, universal and oversimplified proof of how much I loved you and how much I was loved in return.” Bucky takes a breath and stares at him sporting a million-watt smile. “Marrying you,… I would really love that. And for real this time.”

“Ok, Buck.” Steve instantly replies, eagerness winning over thoughtful and heartfelt declarations. He tightens the grip on their joined hands to drive them to his lips and seals the easiest answer he’s ever had to give.

And it's done!Sorry for the cavities, for going on with the fic when it should have ended and for ending it where it might have had to keep going. It was painful and fun. I'm free!

[blackacre13]

this is an angsty prompt lol I would like to know what's your take on what happened during the rough patch? If Debbie got scared of falling too much for Lou and having abandoment issues because of her family or if it was Lou's issues with sobriety or if they cheated

Ahh the rough patch. So I don't want to do it to death because there's so many different versions out there, but I will give you the spark notes version of what I think happened and then link the stories/prompts where I explored it on ao3 and Tumblr if you'd like!

Long story short, I see it a couple of different ways, but the first story I've linked below is probably which variation I go back to time and again, which is: Lou and Deb are partners, in more ways than one. Debbie wants more. Lou is happy with what they have and sees a different kind of future. Things start to fizzle. Debbie walks. Claude fucks over Debbie. Lou is torn between I want you back/I told you so.

The other main variation I have (is a new work for ao3 I'm still working on) is that Debbie and Lou were in on the Claude Becker con together and Lou wanted out because she didn't trust him and Debbie wanted to stay in and Lou basically predicted their downfall as a couple and with the Becker job.

This is Just Like Last Time

Exactly what it sounds like, inspired by the infamous beach scene. Debbie has pulled this shit before on Lou back in the late 90s and Lou isn't having it again. Goes from 1997 in Vegas to 2018/canon.

This one jumps between Deb and Lou POV and you see why Debbie is getting frustrated with their arrangement, but also why Lou is and the reasons vary.

Chapter 11 is actually labeled 'Lou and I Were Going Through a Rough Patch' and well...here's your sampler

“You’re not looking for a wife. You’re looking for a partner. And you know this isn’t the life I want anymore. And you’ve made it quite fucking clear that this is the only life you want. Even if it’s without me.”

“But Lou.”

“But? You’re not even going to deny it? You just want to explain? Explain this, Debbie. Back in Vegas, why didn’t you just tell me that you’ve never loved me and you don’t want to be with me? Could’ve saved us both years.” Lou yelled, tears starting to fall down her cheeks.

“I do love you.” Debbie whispered. “I still want you.”

“No, you don’t, Debbie.” Lou exhaled. “You want the me you met a decade ago. Who challenged you. Who offered to share a job. You don’t want me now.”

Debbie sat up, throwing the sheets off her to look at Lou in shock.

“You left me first.” Debbie whispered.

“Don’t you dare throw that in my face,” Lou spat. “You told me to stop running jobs. Let me walk out that door. If you wanted me to stay, you should’ve opened your damn mouth. If you wanted me forever, you wouldn’t be sitting there barely saying anything. You’d fight for me. You’d give this bullshit up. But you’re not looking for a future with me. You’re just looking for the next con. And because I wanted to cut back until we quit, you needed to stake out your next mark.”

“Fuck you.” Debbie seethed.

“That’s what you have to say to me?” Lou laughed. “Jesus, Debbie. Fuck you. Fuck you for not letting me just love you and build a life for us.”

“I’m doing this for us.” Debbie spat.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Lou fumed, standing up. She fidgeted with the sheets that stuck to her and threw them down. “This is all going to blow up in your face, Debbie. There’s no way you know anyone else as well as me working like this.”

“Lou.” Debbie tried.

“What am I even doing?” Lou laughed, almost maniacally.

The Visitors

All Lou POV and all sorts of unreliable/messy narrator. But it goes from the time Debbie receives her sentencing to Debbie asking where the cemetery is and focuses on Lou during that time period looking back at what went down before Debbie went off with Claude

Prompt: You Look Amazing Tonight

Lou's sobriety struggle while Debbie is in prison.

Somewhere a Clock is Ticking

Lou and Debbie process Debbie's time in prison in their own separate environments.

Prompt 46. Angry Kisses

Lou admits how she felt "losing" Debbie

[nightwingvixen23]

Pairing : DamiJon fanfic in their later teens

Little Vixen Side Note : Wrote this piece a few nights ago when I couldn't sleep and came across the dark version of Cant Help Falling In Love; which is what I wrote it to

Cheeecckkk ittttt ouuutttt

A speeding bullet of black, yellow and green. He blew ahead of me in a chase throughout the thick of winter. Skeletal remains of my heart began to drop, all signs of epic violence tittering around us in pursuance of the two malefactors we had just minutes prior unmasked who's carnage stained hands were laying hell into the legs of a screaming woman, in attempts at victimizing her to a two-sided brutality. And though be as it may, with her browbeaten crying, this ambushed petite woman of golden curls had torn like a vicious feline to free herself from the drooling lock jaws of famished wolves refusing to die in this wasted city. Then she'd stopped. She'd turned her head towards us. And it was with that act of final defeat, the deadlock of her blue eyes onto Damians, that had been a tethering of empathetic steel.

In that moment, I'd witnessed the city burn within his eyes. A revival of Pompeii, humans choking on ash; and it was by his hand that carried out was this biblical apocalypse. I mean, you can only stand to see so many weeds in your garden before getting tired of yanking them out by hand and simply just mowing over it all to start fresh.

I'd numbly watched Robin free the woman who'd scurried down the dark street (purse and shoe forgotten like a broken Cinderella) and analyzed where the rules of these unbidden streets lingered any longer ? A wasted land left starved of God's Love long ago, and so us as his children are outcasts in regards to just how mortality works. This is The Devils playground now where we've adapted into calling out Love, not by the blossoming virtue of a budding rose, but by the cut of it's petalless thorns; where the only splash of red comes at the blooming of our own blood. 

What else to do with pain than to make it our art form, our very own self worth. To turn it into a purpose and to make that purpose something beautiful.

⏳...⌛

A park.

Swings creaking with a glacial slow breeze as ghost children play games on the teeter totter. White fluff born from clouds shroud lost personal belongings from humans long past through, and will overnight, do it's best, to shroud the two bodies lay dead 'mid this park's jogging trail.

He stands between them; The Sympathizer, a crimson splattered god in which no Olympian can put a name to crowned in injustices and liberalizing duties.

Crows form a murder beneath these dark skies, dancing and entangling above our heads. Something cruel. Something elegant. Something in harmony with what I behold here and now; because somewhere off in Gotham City this man, that I've fallen in a surprise trust fall for, remarkably kept a young woman home-free tonight. Not from duty. But from instinct.

"Robin.."

He turns to me.

He sheaths his sword; and he smiles.

He smiles at me through tears.

He smiles at me through red blood.

He smiles at me through falling snow.

He smiles at me through the antagonism; and that has to be the most beautiful thing I think I've ever seen.

Regardless; i still wonder what chamber door, dusted with years of abandonment, had finally been gifted a hand to open it's rusted impasse come with what we'd witnessed tonight. What poisonous blend leaks out this door to flood his veins and pour fever into his eyes; clouding his vision against a better form of judgment on justice that has two miserable assed men, twice his size, laying slaughtered like pigs with him standing noble between them both ?

Even though the winter wonderland park is dead quiet, I've never in all my existence heard so much noise. So much all at once while staring at Damian, just now realizing that he'd removed his mask long ago: now raven's stare with deadly ink eyes in jealous passion at the too black fullness of that jet hair filled up in a shaven bun. Cat's whine in envy at the feline-like features of this clandestine face. Jade gems rust in sad defeat before such green eyes. He's the pristine vision of Talia al Ghul (nothing about him is Bruce anymore aside from the cut of his jaw) housing 9 lives amidst 100 secrets.

"I love you," like the many times I've voiced it before, it gushes from me all soft and rushed.

"You love me? You love me?? Don`t," and there is coldness in his stare. Floating all the while amongst the arctic, I've struck the iceberg. Sinking under. Cracked in two. And I've got to say, the embrace is haunting.

"Why."

"It is true that the lion coddled the lamb beneath its purring chin, bustling with a protective big paw. Be as it may, unbeknownst to the onlookers, once turned away; the lion gorged on the lamb. Feasted upon its frail body only to lick at its bloodied carcass and keep it close by. Not in memory, but as a trophy; for the lion`s former coddling of the lamb was nothing more than animalistic curiosity.

"Do you not realize Jon that we are all animals, you and I ? Instinct drives us, some however are more lethal, some run in packs, some run alone, and others...just….run." green devours me. Green tears through my flesh. Green swallows me whole. Perhaps I am but being gorged upon by the starving lion.

His lips curl into a sadistic sneer despite the tear tracks on his face and I'm all but floored by the fabric skin of this demon that everyone's tried to give a halo, "I will rip you apart, little lamb."

"Then by all means," I grab his hand to wrap it around my throat, it's cold but his grip is tight and his lips on mine are hot, "take my neck to slaughter."

Five fingers tremble in innocence against my throat; a golden token of humanity, honesty and clemeity. Making my wonder

just who really here is the lion and who is the lamb? Then he bares his teeth, rabid and wild. I bare my teeth back, standing ground in the middle of our Eden turned Jungle. Then our lips meet again. Our teeth clash. We fight to force the other into submission though neither backs down.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe, he is but a lamb that learned to evolve amongst the lions. And could it be that I am but a lion having learned to secret himself amongst sheep? Maybe that's why him and I fight more than find common ground, for the foolish costumes we were taught to wear in order to cover up what rightful creatures God bore us as.

We are different and the same whether it be his purity or my hidden away corruption.

The volcanic eruption of his anger and soothing temperament of my ocean meet. 

They form an isle.

A match to an ignition causes an inevitable explosion. But, sometimes, that match plus ignition can give birth to fireworks rather than a bomb; we've just gotta be patient and count to 3. I count to 2 before seeing the spark. And right at 3 comes the crackle then pop, a raining shower of diabolical color transcending the stark black sky.

Who ever would of known that 4th of July in the middle of December would  look so much like Heaven waging war with Hell.

                                               ⌛...⏳

No one is home execpt for me to answer the chipper knock at the front door on the next sun smothered day, and the florist that greets me is happy to do so.

In my hands I'd received my gift of a crimson rose bouquet;

and while up in my room i'd read the card written on with an elegant gothic flourish:

                     My Little Lamb.

These three words made the wool wearing prey in me seek sanctuary, and yet, caused the dagger toothed predator in me to roar.

 *END

[kpopsucker101]

Not a Big Deal - BBH

Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 972

Warnings: Just a single swear word :)

Summary: Baekhyun wakes up with an unwelcomed friend on his face and relies on his pregnant wife to get rid of it

Author’s Note: Hi everybody. This is my first ever imagine, os I hope you enjoy it. Might be a little all over the place but if there is some feedbac you would like to give me please do not refrain from it. This is one of the ideas that came from the fact i REALLY wish this was me.So I really hope that you all like it a dplease support me:) Thank you and enjoy!!!

‘Y/N!!!!!!, Where are you?! Fuck, I’m in trouble.”  slightly muffled by the door to the bathroom the exasperated sound came out of your husband . The one person who just by the sound of your name being called can make you excited. 

“I’m in the bathroom, B!” You shouted back.  The humidity of the bathroom from your shower not stopping your heart from fluttering. As you saw your husband walking  into the huge bathroom clad in only his checkered pyjama pants through the reflection on the mirror fully exposing his toned abs. You stopped applying the refreshing mint toner onto your skin, a part of your excessive skincare routine that comes with the burden of being an idol. You turn around to greet him with a warm smile and a toner soaked cotton pad on your right hand.

“What’s up, Babe?” your calm voice washing over him and forcing a warm smile as he looked down at your 29 week pregnant belly. Not helping himself from being proud of the fact that he was the reason your belly was protruding from your somewhat small frame. 

“Babe, Baekhyun, helloooo? I'm in the middle of something here, babe. Are you ok?” you question slightly worried at the profanity shout out of his mouth earlier while waving your hand infront of his face.

Waking up from his small little happy place he remembered the cause of his panic and threw a tantrum right there and then. Flinging hands and stomping his feet and all. “I have a pimple”! He said with his lower lip jutting out pointing up to the almost miniscule bump on his temple.

“Sweetheart, it’s not a big deal. It’ll go away soon just don’t touch it. You’ll only add to it” you reason with him. You enjoyed this side of him, the child version, it was amusing.

He walks up to you and rest his strong arms against your bare waist and looked into your eyes. Your pregnant belly refraining the two of you from getting to close. His beautiful yet desperate brown eyes boring straight into your light hazel ones. His neck coming forward just so your faces were a bit more closer as he said “But, I need you to fix me.... Come on! You're a pro at this stuff” while gesturing to the products that cluttered your part of the his and her sinks.

“You don't need fixing baby, your perfect .Anyways, the little guy is so tiny and its probably just because you had too much fatty food yesterday. It'll go away soon.”

“Please, please, please. Baaaaaaabe.”His pleading puppy eyes causing you to give in.

“Fine, go wash your face with the blue bottled soap and then dab your face dry.” you breathed out.

He obeyed like a kid being told what to do by his mother. With an excited expression painted on his face he splashed the crystal clear water falling from the tap onto his flawless face (of course, he probably thought otherwise). All while you finished the routine you were halfway through with. “Done!” he jumped up while whipping his hair back and flicking his wet hair up to the ceiling. 

Eyes rolling at his childish antics, you asked him to sit up on to the cold marble counter top that held all the quality products that went into having flawless skin. And rested your belly in between your husbands thighs, his large yet dainty hands naturally were place to the top of your belly stroking it, as if it was what they were made to do. You pushed his damp hair (from rinsing his face) back with one of your baby pink, fluffy headband, as the elastic snapped softly around his head his eyes fluttered from his unborn baby to your eyes.

These eyes, he thought.

My biggest weakness.

They held all the love he would ever need and more, just as he was done thinking that thought, his cluttered mind flickered to just how beautiful you are. Probably the reason, why you had tens of thousands of fans both male and female all around the globe just as he did. Other than the fact that inside your goddess like body held the voice he could never had imagined to be real. You two would always argue over the fact that he thought you were a better singer than he was, of course you opposing the nonsense spewing out of his mouth. The argument always ended with a kiss and the agreement that the two of you were just as good as the other. A sweet smile graced his face sparking the curiosity in you.

"What are you thinking about, baby?" you tilt your head in a curious manner letting the light from the transluscent window resting next to the mirror to bless your face only making your eyes look lighter than they really were all while emphasising the pinkish hue coming from your skin.

"Just thinking how I hit the jackpot when I married you."

You scoffed "Yea, right."

He knew even though he annoyed you,  your love for him never decreasing sometimes ,well, most times only adding to the infinite amount of love your heart held for him.  

As you were spreading an unknown product on his face, his hands were gripping either sides of your waist, his eyes studying your focused face and the crease between your eyebrows that always came along with the focus emotion running through your head. "You know I love you, right?" He said with a serious yet sweet tone.

You replied "Of course I do." but not before pressing a kiss to his temple that was slathered with a mud mask that was now dry. The most beautiful smile spread across your face at the sound of your heart fluttering due to his sudden confession.

[valiantxlion-blog]

tea orange, currant, mallow, honey and sanguine (i'm sorry. ;; there were just so many good ones)

 colorful headcanons.

Tea Orange: What is something that your muse is fascinated with? 

Currant: What’s something that absolutely disgusts your muse (can be a person, place, thing, ect)? 

Mallow: What sorts of things might remind your muse of those close to them? any scents, objects, sounds? 

Honey: When your muse loves someone (whether it be romantic, platonic, or familial love), how do they show it? 

Sanguine: Does your muse typically have an optimistic, pessimistic, or some middle ground outlook on life? 

Tea Orange:

There are many things in existence that the Black Paladin can’t help but be captivated by. By nature, Shiro is a naturally curious person who puts a lot of thought into the phenomena surrounding him, even though this trait is rare for him to outwardly display. But, one of his main fascinations throughout his life, unsurprisingly, has been space as a whole.

The idea of a massive void full of nearly incomprehensible aspects of science, physics, and deadly objects of natural beauty had caught his eye in childhood and left enough of an impression to spark his pursuit of a career in space travel. While his endeavors in space have ended up changing his life permanently (whether it was for the best or for the worst can be debated), he still sometimes catches himself in just plain awe of all of the things the universe has to offer: whether good, bad, neutral or somewhere in between. In moments where danger isn’t evident and the Paladins have a couple of moments of peace, it’s not uncommon to catch Shiro standing on the main deck just marveling at the expanse of space that envelops the Castle of Lions and extends far beyond the simple lives they knew on Earth.

For a more minor and sentimental answer to this question, he also frequently finds himself amazed by every member of the Castle’s crew. He could go on for quite a while about every person’s unique skills, personality, and ways they deal with their shortcomings. Though, his feelings towards the team have a far more personal and familial association than that of just admiring the wonder that is the cosmos.

He has several memories he can look back on where he feels a sense of pride in everybody since they’ve all grown so much (both as individuals and as one, collected unit). Considering a majority of the Castle’s occupants are teenagers who were quite literally thrown into their positions, they’ve demonstrated incredible tact and skill that just blows Shiro away.

Currant:

You want to know the best, most effective way to make Shiro hate someone in a relatively short about of time? Just show yourself to be a selfish, cruel, and or incompetent leader.

As a person who has generally been in leadership positions all his life (granted, being the Black Paladin is by far the most important role he’s taken on…), Shiro can say with confidence that he’s a fairly successful guide for others in a group. While he will never claim himself as the ‘perfect’ leader – as no one could possibly be such a thing, and he has occasionally doubted his readiness for such a role – he knows that he puts 100% into any task he’s given. He cares deeply for comrades and will always seek out the best possible outcome for them, even though that doesn’t always translate to taking care of himself to the same extent.

Nothing can upset or disgust this man more than seeing selfish or unjust power figures that don’t put forth everything they can for their subordinates. Corruption or flat-out cruelty is inexcusable to Shiro and is not something he is likely to forgive unless that particular leader decides to make a change to better fill their position.

His reactions and opinions to Zarkon, King Lubos, and any others like them are the best examples of his disgust. While he doesn’t see Lubos on the same plane of despicable that Zarkon is, that doesn’t mean that he isn’t equally as revolted by the both of them.

But on a far less serious note: some of the alien food they’ve been encountering has been making Shiro feel a bit… squeamish. Any food that looks slimy, moves, has visible appendages, or has even a slightly unpleasant smell lessens the chances he’ll eat it. He tries not to be picky usually, especially with any meals Allura and Coran offer them, but there are some things he’ll just outright refuse.

Mallow:

Shiro has a tendency to associate everyone around him with colors and objects. He doesn’t have a particular reason for this, it’s just a thing he does subconsciously. Especially since everyone aboard seems to be color-coordinated to their lion and or position.

Depending on the crew member, different things will remind him of them. Like how steel and light remind him of Keith; lightning and gears remind him of Pidge; homemade Earthen food and mountains remind him of Hunk; vast bodies of water and targets remind him of Lance; constellations and mice remind him of Allura; and comets and disco music (strangely enough) remind him of Coran.

Though, sometimes he’ll see creatures that act like human animals (specifically dogs) or landscapes that remind him of home and life on Earth. Also, smells that are similar to jasmine or coffee will bring back memories of friends and family. And, God, those memories can rip him apart.

Honey:

For Shiro, everyone in the Castle of Lions, the Kerberos Mission’s team, and his incredibly close friends back on Earth are all extensions of his family. If someone manages to win over his trust enough, he will treat them as affectionately as he would treat the people related to him by blood. 

For him, that means doing whatever he can to make that person smile. In that person’s presence, Shiro will be willing to drop the seriousness in favor of a more casual, or even goofy, attitude while also being ready to help them work through problems and give an honest opinion on how they can deal with it (assuming they’re seeking that advice). He tends to place himself physically closer to those he feels this connection with and will regularly display platonic affection for them as long as his actions seem welcome. This also means that his friends can tease him more than an average person could before he becomes genuinely bothered. If he and another person are close enough, they could quite literally tackle him to the ground or jump on his shoulders and he’ll just accept it (after some questioning, of course).

Normally, Shiro isn’t very ‘cuddly’ and tends to avoid coming into contact with others unless the situation calls for it. He honestly will die for his friends and puts their wellbeing far above his own. The only thing he likely won’t do around companions is allow himself to show weakness. Sometimes, it simply can’t be avoided, but you can bet he’ll do his best to hide that part of himself. Crying and breaking down in front of others is something Shiro can’t stand. He doesn’t want to worry anybody.

As for Romantic partners, all of the above still applies. The only distinguishable traits between how he operates around friends compared to lovers is that with romantic partners he’s a bit more physically affectionate and he might divulge a bit more of his thought process to them. However, when it comes to PDA, Shiro can be surprisingly shy if others are around to witness it. He tends to feel that giving kisses or cuddling with a partner is a more private manner. If his lover wants to fluster him, making a move on him in front of other crew members may warrant a somewhat or very flustered Paladin. As long as the timing is appropriate and he isn’t in a soured mood, he’ll react positively after the initial surprise.

Sanguine:

It really depends on the “role” he’s playing in that moment. Most times, Shiro presents himself and preaches a fair amount of optimism. He won’t push to the extent of being blindly positive, but the Paladin will do all in his power to keep everyone’s spirits up, even in the direst of times.

However, he tends to personally have a more pessimistic view on life itself. While he is not keen on sharing this with anybody else, he does not see himself ever achieving a happy life again after his time imprisoned. He’s come to believe that the truly charismatic, happy, and well-liked version of himself died in those prisons. Unfortunately, Shiro has gained this opinion of himself being a monster who can only be a shell of what he once was and nothing more.

The idea of somehow going back to family and friends on Earth in his current state just seems unfathomable and he has mostly abandoned the notion. All he can hope for is that the other Paladins will eventually go back and live happily one day; whatever that means for them.