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softstarlite · 1 year ago

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The Casualty of Love

CHAPTER 3

Summary: He's back home. You have almost forgotten how warm his eyes were and how big your crush for him was.

Warnings: Age gap (Javi is 40 and reader is 27), mentions of grief, mention of self pleasure (f receiving), alcohol consumption, angst, both reader and Javi are horny and their thoughts show it, mention of tattoo. (Let me know if I'm missing one)

Rating: +18 (not explicit)

Word Count: 2.7k

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Masterlist

A/N:Here's the third chapter!! Finally!! I'm really sorry about the delay guys, truly. The reader is hispanic but I don't specify what kind of hispanic. I've tried to make all the Spanish sentences as neutral as I can, but they won't probably be completely be neutral, I'm from Spain, so it could show sometimes, sorry in advance. Well, feel free to tell what you thought about this chapter! (Always being kind please) I'm kind of nervous about writing smut in the future chapters (I've never done it). I specifically included the whole dancing part because I personally feel it's a big part of hispanic culture and it's not enough mention in fics where reader is indeed hispanic.

P.D: headcanons, asks and thoughts about this fic are welcome on my ask anything section ;-) <3

Divider by @saradika

“Pops, we are already too late!! Come on!!” Javier yells from the entrance of the house where he can't help but to look in the mirror on the wall and rearrange his shirt, doing and undoing a few buttons, debating what would you think of every option. He finally shakes his head and reminds himself that he can't think of you like that, not only you´re 13 years his junior but he also isn't good for you.

“Ya voy, mijo! (I'm coming, son!)” Chucho shouts walking down the stairs.

When Chucho arrives at the entrance of the house and sees Javi checking himself on the mirror, making sure the collar of his shirt is okay. Chucho can't help but to raise an eyebrow in disbelief.

“We're feeling cute today, mijo?” he says, holding back a chuckle.

Javier gets startled by his father´s voice, “umm, no pops, just…didn't want María to scold me about a crooked collar like she did when i was a teen” he lies quickly before his dad has more questions.

“Sure, mijo, si usted lo dice (if you say so)” Chucho comments while taking his hat and his keys and walking out to the truck.

When they arrive to Doña Lucia´s house and they come into the backyard by the door fence on the side of the house, the first thing he sees is you, your hair down over your shoulders, your body frame by a summer dress, light blue with little daisies and thin straps, and your feet completely bare, just like when you were a kid. You hated wearing shoes as a kid, your mom and his were always behind you trying to tell you that you could hurt your feet by not wearing any but that never stopped you from going around the ranch “trying” to help Chucho with no shoes.

You´re dancing with an old lady that, if he remembers well, is Doña Esperanza; your cheeks are flushed and your mouth is curved into the most gorgeous smile he's ever seen. He can't help but freeze on the spot, making his dad crash with his backside.

“What the-? Javier!” says Chucho, balancing a bottle of whisky he had brought.

“Um?” Javier gets back to earth and turns around “Oh, sorry pops, here let me do that for you” he takes the bottle from Chucho´s hand and walks to the table where all the drinks are.

While putting the bottle down into the table, he can feel a hand on his shoulder. All of him inside shouts to the earth to swallow him, it must be another town person just wanting to talk about how proud they are that someone they know has done such amazing thing with the government and to ask how did it feel to take Escobar down; to his surprise when he turns around he finds you instead, with that smile, that could heal any illness he'll ever have, still adorning your face.

“Hey, you came!” you say with your hand still resting on his shoulder.

At first he can't find his word for a few seconds, but then he answers you “Um, yeah, wouldn't miss the free drinks and food for anything”

“Ey! Dancing is also one of the best parts of these things!” you say removing your hand from his shoulder to put up your hair into a messy ponytail; his eyes watching the action and it making him gulp.

“I haven´t been to one of this in a long fucking time” he chuckles, putting his hands into the back pockets of his tight jeans.

“Lastima (too bad), it's what i enjoy the most of this get togethers” wait, where you suggesting that you wanted to dance with him? “By the way, don't tell Doña Lucia that i told you but she keeps the really cold drink inside, if i get it she won't suspect a thing” you say suggesting that you could get him one.

“Sure, i would love a cold one with this stupid heat” he says, feeling the sweat going down his back, not sure if it was really from the heat or your mere presence.

“Well, then i'll be back in two minutes” your smile widens a little bit more before turning around and starting to walk towards the backdoor of the house.

His eyes can't help but to wander towards how your hips move when you walk away and how the dress you´re wearing hugs you ass…just before you start opening the door to go inside something, that makes his body freeze all over again, catches his attention. A tattoo on your right shoulder plate that says as clear as day, “Mi Alma” with a little heart beside it.

A chill goes through his body, you´ve tattooed his mom's name on you…

You dry the sweat at your temple as you walk inside the house; it was empty, the AC welcoming you and cooling you a little from the Texan heat from outside and to be honest from Javi´s presence as well. In the kitchen you lean your lower back into the counter and take a deep breath.

“We made a fucking deal, I'm not 15 anymore, i can't react to him” you say softly, arguing with your own mind, if anyone would to walk in now, they would think that you´re insane.

Since you saw Javier again on that parking lot, it was like he was the very air you were breathing; he had consumed every thought you had when your hand wandered inside your underwear at night; you would catch yourself counting the minutes that were left to see him again, even when they felt like way too many, you would think of excuses to show up at Chucho´s ranch before they day that you usually do. At some point in this over a week expanse of time, you had stopped yourself mid thought of him and told to yourself that it needed to stop; you weren't 15 anymore, you were a grown woman now, you couldn't spend your days just drooling and daydreaming about a man 13 years your senior, who you were pretty sure would never look at you as more as the closest thing he ever got to a younger annoying sister.

You smooth the skirt of your summer dress down and pull yourself up from the kitchen counter, you open the fridge and feel a few of the beer bottles to see which one feels colder, when you find it, you take it out of the fridge, uncap it and prepare yourself to walk outside and be in his presence again.

As soon as the sun hits your skin again, your eyes find him immediately, but now he isn't alone like you had left him, your mom is right there beside him, talking his ear out.You make your way towards them and without interrupting your mother, you reach your hand out to offer him the cold beer; when his fingers graze yours, it makes goosebumps crawl through your upper arms and you internally scold your body for betraying you. Once your mom finishes the sentence she was saying, her gaze turns to you.

“Oh mija, le prometí un baile contigo al nieto de Doña Lucia (I promised a dance with you to Doña Lucia´s grandson)” she says, giving you that smile that you know way too well.

You groan and throw your head back “Again ma? I told you on the last barbecue, deje de intentar juntarme con hombres…(stop trying to matchmake me with men) ” you say glaring at her.

She ignores your statement “He has a little dental clinic in town, es un hombre bueno para usted (is a good man for you), he could be a good husband” she says smirking and hitting your arm with the back of her hand.

“Ma…” you warn her; by your side you see Javier hiding a chuckle by taking a sip of the beer you brought him.

“No me haga quedar mal en mis promesas (don't make me look bad on my promises)” she says sternly, putting her hand on her hips.

You groan again and give a little nod; you put up your index finger and say “Just one dance, that's it” her facial expression changes immediately into a smile and nods enthusiastically.

“Es el muchacho de allí (It's the boy over there)” she says, pointing to a man with glasses and slightly curly hair, probably a few years older than you, that's sitting in one of the wooden tables.

You turn slightly towards Javier and tell him “wish me luck” you roll your eyes and walk quickly towards the man before your mom says anything about your comment.

Javier had watched your whole interaction with your mom in silence, feeling the need to jump into it several times to defend you and to prevent any interaction of you with any man. He now watches you dance a salsa with the unnamed man, his fist tightening around the beer bottle unintentionally.

“They would make a good couple, right?” Maria asks beside him, also watching you dance with the guy.

“Umm…don´t know, she didn't really sound interested Mia” he says back trying not to greet his teeth together.

“She could be, he's a good man, lo que ella necesita (what she needs)” she says not taking her eyes off of you and your dancing partner. The sentence makes his chest hurt, a good man…not what she would think of him if she knew even just some of the things he had done in Colombia.

“Mia…could I ask you something about her?” he says feeling like a little kid asking for a piece of chocolate.

“Claro (sure), Javiercito “ she says finally taking her gaze away from you to direct it towards him.

“I saw the tattoo…” he says, knowing he didn't need to say more.

“Si…” she says breathily looking back at you for a second “she got it done when she turned 18, when she was away in college, she came back that christmas with it done already, when i saw the ink at first, casi le grito (i almost scream at her); but then i saw what it said and all i could do was going into the bathroom and cry…” she tells him, at some point through it she unconsciously starts to caress his arm up and down, he's not sure if she's doing it to comfort him or herself.

He can only nod as an acknowledgement that he has heard her, feeling like if he opens his mouth, the only thing coming out of it would be a sob.

He's pulled out off the moment by your laughter, his gaze quickly wandering towards you. The guy you were dancing with accidentally stepped on you and he is apologizing again and again while you laugh it off and shake your head no, to let him know that it's okay.´Javi feels that if his hand gets tighter around the beer bottle, it will break, but before he could even think of doing anything about it, Maria talks again.

“Doña Lucia is calling for me, i'll see you later mijo” she gives his arm a final squeeze then takes off towards the host of the barbecue.

A minute later you're making your way back to where he is, the salsa song has finished and you were serious about only giving the guy one dance. He can see the sweat drop going from the base of your neck disappearing into the valley between your clothed breasts; he gulps the sip of beer he is taking. A few strands of your hair had fallen out of your messy ponytail, your cheeks a little more flushed from the heat than before.

“I think i'm needing one of those” you say pointing with your head to the beer in his hand.

“Well, Doña Lucia is distracted with your mom, and I need another one too, so let's go inside and get us both one, eh?” he says smirking, you just nod, look briefly towards where your mom and Doña Lucia are talking and then start walking again towards the back door of the house with Javier behind you.

The AC welcomes you again when you step inside and you even sigh from the relief it brings to your heated body. You can feel his presence right behind you, you´re sure that if he reached one arm out just a little bit, he would get in contact with your lower back. Once you both get a beer on your hands, you climb on top of the kitchen counter, crossing your ankles together, and he leans into it beside you. For a few minutes you both just stay silent sipping your respective beers, and you can't ignore how the side of his arm grazes your thigh when he takes a sip. Javier is the one to break the silence surprisingly.

“Pops has told me that you visit the ranch often…” he says, looking at the bottle in his hand and picking at the label in it.

“Mmhmm” you say while nodding even if you know that he is not looking at you.

He then turns towards you, now leaning the side of his hip into the counter “Thanks for that, I'm sure it has made him feel less lonely when I was away…” he says to you, looking into your eyes, shaking your entire nervous system.

You shrug your shoulders “It's not a big deal, his family and I actually enjoy his company” you chuckle softly.

“Right…But anyway, thank you” he says before his body acts by itself and his free hand lifts and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You freeze and your eyes widen a little bit, not expecting the sudden physical contact. He doesn't take his hand away, but rather rests it on your cheek. You both stare into each other eyes, your heart is going way too fast for it to be even healthy and when your eyes wander towards his lips, you both hear the back door of the house being open; he almost jumps away from you quickly, he is very thankful that Doña Lucia doesn't oil the hinges of the door very often.

Chucho walks into the kitchen a minute later, his eyebrows lifting since he didn't expect the both of you there.

“Muchachos, what are you doing here? The party is outside, you´re young, you should enjoy” he says walking past the both of you towards the fridge.

“Nos resguardamos del calor por un rato, viejito (we´re sheltering ourselves from the heat for a bit, old man)” you answer when you see that Javi can't handle it right now.

“It's just a little bit of heat” he says with friendly mock in his tone “ustedes jóvenes no pueden manejar nada (you youngsters can't handle anything)” he smirks and you see how much it looks like Javi´s smirk; you stick out your tongue to him and he laughs and combs his mustache with his fingers.

“Mijita, we might be needing you by the ranch soon, the peach and nectarine trees are getting too full” he tells while uncapping his own beer.

Javier keeps being quiet and it makes you worry inside of what is going inside his mind “Sure viejito, whenever you tell me” you say, giving him a soft smile.

“Gracias mija (thanks, my daughter)” he squeezes your shoulder when he walks past you “Come out when you want kids” he says while walking out of the kitchen. You wait until you hear the hinges of the back door again, indicating his full leave, to turn towards Javier, you open your mouth to address what happened before Chucho came in but before you get even a breath out, he walks out of the kitchen without a word or a glance towards you, and leaves you there, anxiety already creeping up your body.

Next chapter

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somereaderinblue · 11 months ago

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Hyacinths & Daisies

Tesla is tired.

She wants humans & Plants to be equals. She wants the humans who are selfish enough to abuse her Plant sisters & innocents to stop. She wants Knives to stop so Nai can properly heal. She wants to go back to those days where they were kids & innocently carefree.

She wants her wishes to be heard. But no one listens.

She tries anyway.

She screams and shouts and uses bullets as punctuations when she has to. But ammo is finite & she’s been screaming so much, her throat tastes of dried blood even when she’s just breathing.

She’s tired. She’s so tired.

Tesla’s hope is akin to the sand of No Man’s Land. Seemingly infinite but rough & coarse, a witness that enables misery more than anything. She grabs it in tight fists until her palms are scraped raw but it spills through her fingers sooner or later.

We’ve seen heroes who start out as idealistic become realistic, if not outright jaded. Try as Tesla might, she knows she’s not really living. She has no idea what she’ll do once Knives is stopped because at this point, she’s more likely to die trying to do that than achieving her dream of building equal ground for humans & Plants.

Still, she helps where she can. She can’t play God, surely she can make sure death at least finds the bastards who deserve it more? Surely this time, she can add a tally to the people she's saved instead of another she's failed? She’s trying, she’s trying, she’s trying.

Enter Livio (& the age-reversal wand).

All the kids at the orphanage avoided the scrappy boy who sharpened his teeth so nobody would pick on his brittle bones. When Nico bit Livio hard enough to draw blood, he teared up but didn’t flinch. When Nico finally let go because his jaw ached, Livio wiped the dirt from his cheek instead of slapping it.

In turn, Nico didn’t run from Razlo either. Livio taught Nico how to calm a crying baby while Razlo taught him how to punch the older meaner kids in places that count. Livio was the shield, Razlo was the sword.

When the Eye of Michael came, Livio accepted it; showed them Razlo & proved his compatibility with their experiments. He became their Double Fang. Naturally, everyone preferred Razlo but a coin only had value when both sides were intact. Putting up with still stupidly gentle, weaker, Livio was a small price to pay.

Until they decided they had a mission that was perfect for Livio, not Razlo.

And so, the sheep that was forced to wear the fangs and claws of a wolf was once again stuffed with cotton until it soaked up the blood & left his lungs clogged.

The worst part? Tesla meets Livio and slowly but surely, the sand-like hope she has is refined to glass. Still fragile and capable of cutting once shattered but the transformation? It burns, it shapes, it’s delicate & it’s beautiful.

Neither of them were meant to be weapons, but maybe with the help of each other, they can learn to be people again.

Extra AU notes:

TW: mention of addiction

-Tesla loses her right eye while Livio covers his left (it dramatically comes off when Razlo takes the reins).

-This visually shows how they're similar yet different in a way that complements each other & foreshadows that they're literally on opposite sides.

-Tesla jokingly calls Livio a grandpa because he carries a lot of candy & always nags her to rest more.

(The irony of that nickname is not lost on either of them.)

-Nico of course, followed Livio. The Eye purposely got him addicted to cigarettes laced with the serum to further keep him under control.

-Instead of canon!Livio's skull mask, he wears a mouthguard to resemble a muzzled dog (I'm sorry for doing this to you Wolfwood-).

-Livio doesn't smoke but he carries a lighter to perform tricks, it's calming for him.

#purple hyacinth au #trigun au #role swap au #trigun #tesla #livio the double fang #nicholas d. wolfwood #also i hc tesla as ace in case the purple coat didn't alrdy give it away /j #honestly leaning this more on platonic than romantic #bcz we could always use more male female friendships #and that the intimacy of platonic love deserves more rep #i'd never kiss you but i'd lay my life on the line for you #i'd never get down on my knees to give you a ring but i'd casually toss my life into your hands #get my point?#also LOL yk how fans make content of nai losing his shit™ over the punisher fucking his brother?#nai thinking livio 'corrupted' tesla & slept with her when ironically tesla is sex-neutral #and altho razlo teased livio he was like bruh NO i'd give her my kidney but never a kiss just NO-

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aprillikesthings · 9 months ago

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I'm awake, I'm drinking coffee, and I'm waiting for some laundry to get done before I do some homework for my Bible/theology discussion thingie (EfM, for the handful of Episcopal nerds I've become mutuals with) (....who didn't give up tumblr for Lent)

So I might as well watch some She-Ra, right?

s4 ep4 pulse

(Side note I posted a short fic yesterday if you're interested)

PLOT

I've read the synopsis and I'm not sure if there's much I'm gonna screenshot/talk about with this one

does this character have a NAME? I forget

the bit of animation of Double Trouble shifting out of "Flutterina" is pretty great, someone clearly had fun with it

(Do you think it takes effort to stay in another "shape"? Amethyst in SU clearly had to put forth effort the whole time, whereas I think Double Trouble doesn't, other than the acting part.)

"Espionage is a long game, kitten."

Catra is Amused

Double Trouble: "This is supposed to be fun!" Catra: ":( this is supposed to be war" Double Trouble: "No reason it can't be both :)"

Me, A Human in a Non-Fictional Universe: there are many good reasons it should not be both but I suspend them for fiction

Double Trouble literally makes a foreshadowing joke, I love them

...is it all poisonous plants

I mean that does look like foxglove

She's laying it on pretty thick imho

eugh

STOP TOUCHING PEOPLE'S FACES oh my god

are they going to drill down to the Cluster

(how many Steven Universe references am I gonna make by the time I'm done rewatching THIS cartoon)

nope don't like that

I was rereading that one "missing scene" fic that Nate posted and in it Adora talks about how doing the healing thing here is actually fucking exhausting and makes her sore all over. If you were wondering why she doesn't do it all the time.

It also doesn't entirely heal the person in question; they still have to rest a lot!

One person: suggests, even slightly, that the Horde is somehow tracking She-Ra Adora: OBVIOUSLY THIS IS ALL MY FAULT

Meanwhile, Glimmer:

(she also blames herself)

oooooh I forgot

She's talking to Double Trouble but I still cackled

oh god Glimmer goes to Shadow Weaver to ask "how to think like Catra, since you know her best," and while Glimmer isn't wrong in that Shadow Weaver is the only one around (other than Adora) who knows Catra at all, it's just.....eugggghhhh

DUH

Okay the "what do those do" "those are daisies, I find them cheerful" is actually pretty funny

every time she gets into someone's personal space like that it's creepy as shit

....she's not wrong. Part of me is like "lol even Shadow Weaver knows" but tbqfh she probably knows better than anyone considering how much she used their mutual affection to abuse them. >:(

what is it with lesbians and game nights (she says, knowing she bought the boardgames Wingspan and Ticket to Ride as Christmas gifts for a partner) (actually it's been a while since we played I should suggest it again)

"people don't come to game night because YOU insist on serving vegetable platters" okay is this a "lesbians are vegetarians" joke are they gonna mention hummus next lolol

"no one likes vegetable platters!" D: I do (...with hummus, even)

anyway they get surrounded by drill bots, meanwhile Glimmer sneaks up on Catra

"wtf?"

(she literally thinks it's Double Trouble at first lol)

I love it when Catra's just like IMMA BITE

please tell me the Glitra shippers reference this line as often as possible

Poor Adora, Glimmer is straight up like "I will continue using you as a decoy--I mean a distraction :) while I destroy shit" and Adora, well--

This actually reminds me of a conversation on reddit the other day, about how people who've always had happy families (or at least, no truly shitty family members) often cannot wrap their minds around the idea that someone who is nice to them could be an abusive piece of shit to someone else, and you end up in these situations where naive people try to force a reconciliation or pull a "but they're your faaaaaamily" or just straight-up don't believe your version of events, because nobody could be that horrible to their own kids, right???? I don't think that's what Glimmer's doing here but it still sucks for Adora.

"I'll bring back some cake!" lol I forgot about this line when I wrote my fic (linked above) but I'm glad this is canon, that she just raids the kitchen, and specifically for cake XD

ehehehehehhehheh

also we see Catra hand Double Trouble an actual little bag of (presumably) coins, what currency do you think Etheria uses??? Like who sets the standard for it. The most obvious thing would be that it's just coins of some standardized weight of a metal rare enough to be valuable. But it's funny to ask yourself if it's like, the kind of coins with someone's face on it, because whose face would it be?! Because then either the Horde and everyone else would be using different currencies (which would be useless across sides) or they're all using the same currency. Some obscure person from Etherian history, probably.

Also I'm not sure the Horde actually pays anyone. I think it's just "you can get enough to eat (barely), and a place to sleep (sort of), and uhhh you can fight each other over getting a small step up in power"

As usual I am overthinking the world-building here lolll

okay episode over :D time to flip the laundry

#april rewatches spop #pulse

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wonderlandleighleigh · 2 years ago

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77 Thoughts While Rewatching Supernatural 11x04: Baby

Let’s gooooooo!

1. There are, thankfully, behind the scenes photos of Jensen in those shorts. But we were robbed of Dean in his “It’s a free bunker” daisy dukes.

2. But the conceit of this episode is so great. I remember watching it for the first time and being floored and how personal it felt.

3.And the little details we see in the car that we know are there. The army man. The initials and the leggos. Just. Ugh. The great thing about having a show run this long is that there’s so much history to draw from.

4. Guitar Man playin.

5. I love that Sam just pitches in with washing Baby. Like it’s a normal thing they do together. Maybe Cas helps sometimes too.

6. And the transition from Dean spraying down the car to the rain. So good. Dangit.

7. It’s 21 hours from Lebanon, Kansas to Oregon. I always forget how long the distances they go are, because the show condenses the drives. But holy fuck that is so long.

8. LOL Sam and his smoothies. “Where’s the rest of the beer?!” Hahahaha it’s such a typical little brother move, and even Sam’s face reads “oh shit big brother mad.”

9. I love how protective they are of Cas. They really do both love him. They want him to heal.

10. Cas just cruising through Netflix. You know that at some point Dean snuck into Sam’s room and fucked with his Netflix algorithm.

11. I love this scene at the Roadhouse. “Actually she never texted me back.” For as handsome and adorable as Dean is, he’s still such a doof, and you know what? Sometimes potential romantic interests just ghost him.

12. The time lapse here is brilliant. It keeps us in the car, but also, like... we don’t need to see them hookin’ up. That’s personal.

13. “Mistakes were made. Mhm.”

14. HOW DID SAM FIT IN THE BACK SEAT WITH THAT WOMAN?! HE IS SO TALL! SHE DOES NOT LOOK SHORT! WHAT THE FUCK IS THE IMPALA A SEX TARDIS?

15. “Don’t Night Moves me.” I love this part. And! Night Moves appears in two of my favorite shows: This, and The OC.

16. And any time we get to hear Dean sing is a great time. He CAN sing. He pretends he can’t for various reasons, but he so can.

17. The montage is great, too, of them in the car. Just livin.

18. Again, having such a long run means we get to see these life moments that are just wonderful. Between the blood and the tragedy. They eat burgers in teh car and sing songs. They drive.

19. “We got tonight, who needs tomorrow?” I feel like Dean would make a great D and D bard, you know?

20. And this conversation they have about that Apple Pie life is good, too. That Sam would still like it. That’s Dean’s...just not sure it’s for him. He tried it once, and it blew up in his face. Add to that that he has Cas now. So...

21. I need to talk to you about this Judy Collins song. It was, according to Dream!John, one of Mary’s favorite songs, and it just...feels right. One of the only things that bummed me out about The Winchesters was that we didn’t get a callback to this song in the show.

“I would follow him right down The toughest road I know Someday soon Goin’ with him someday”

22. It’s such a great departure from the harder classic rock that winds up in the show as being very much John’s music. We get something softer that’s Mary’s. Something that maybe the boys took comfort in when their father would put it on, knowing it was something she loved.

23. ROBBIE JUDY COLLINS CALLBACK WHEN! ROBBIE! ROBBIE PLEASE!

24. But also Matt Cohen really is amazing as a younger John Winchester. He really channels Jeffrey Dean Morgan in a tender way here. I love it.

25. Sam’s face. He’s so freaked out. Like.

26. Hey season 11! Before Jared stopped trying and started phoning it in! We love to see it.

27. “When has death ever stopped a Winchester.” oh John. You have no idea.

28. “You played your part.” Poor Sam. John was so checked out. The level of neglect both Sam and Dean suffered is really extreme.

29.The lack of music here with just the sounds of the road and the car is really great here. So tense.

30. Another great conversation between these two. I think because Dean is such a goof sometimes, it’s easy to discount his big brotherness. Sam is constantly playing the straight man. Here, we get to see Dean do some big time big brothering.

31. I love the lighting, here too. It would be easy to have it be super dark, but it’s great that they use street lights to illuminate everything.

32. LOL Dean and Sam keeping secrets. after a while, that was kind of the whole show, wasn’t it? Just Dean and Sam not telling each other shit and hurting each other like dummies.

33. “I read.” HE DOES! Way back in season 4, Sam found a Vonnegut in his bag.

34. There’s a SPN official novel called Nevermore where Dean does not know who Edgar Allen Poe is, and upon reading that I was so much, I never tried to read it again. Fuck you, Dean knows his lit. He plays dumb, he’s not actually dumb.

35. Dean’s dream about John hits me hard now, after The Winchesters season 1 finale, because in that universe that Dean futzed with? That dream could now be a reality.

36. “Perfect landing, Son.”

37. Sam dreaming about Mary is a whole thing, too. Of that person he can’t remember. Ouch.

38. That overhead shot of them is so great. Love it.

39. Werepire! oh Dean.

40. Meatman cometh.

41. The minor freakout over valet parking lol.

42. But with good reason.

43. But also girl me too. Let’s be real, who wouldn’t? It’s a great car. And this is a great moment.

44. She was definitely doing donuts. I love it.

45. Dean would shit himself if he knew.

46. This entire scene is so good. But also, I love Dean and Cas here.

47. LOL step away from the Netflix.

48. Dean, stop trying to make fetch happen, bud.

49. Poor Cas, talking to himself, thinking he’s helping. But again, it keeps us in the car.

50. But this whole scene is so great.

51. Poor Dean missed him saying werepire.

52. I love this fight scene so much. It’s played for laughs and it works so well. It is so gory.

53. “It turns out I did shoot the deputy.” I need you to know that I SCREAMED when he said this, because it’s an add-on from a joke made in SEASON 3. 3! THEY WRAPPED THAT JOKE EIGHT YEARS LATER! Again, it’s the benefits of a show that goes this long.

54. Poor Cas. Just...having to sit on the phone while carnage happens on the other end.

55. The windshield wiper. Dean is so unfazed.

56. Poor cooler. It went from beer and smoothies to a monster head.

57. Again, Dean is so not bothered by any of this. It’s just another day, and it makes it so much funnier. Like he knows it’s gross, but like. It’s just another workday.

58. I’m not sure about these extreme closeups. It’s a lot.

59. “What bench?” oh Cas. <3

60. Sam getting distracted with the fiirty and Dean getting jumped. Again.

61. HEAD IN A BOX.

62. They just left that head in the backseat with a woman he thought was like a full blown human. Because they’re that desensitized. Head in a box. “Yeah? And?”

63. “You do anything for your family.” Oh boy.

64. Sam just not noticing a damn thing.

65. Dean face down in the back seat, sees the Hello Kitty bag: “How did...I don’t wanna know.”

66. The monsters are scared.

67. Dean’s in a tough spot here, and he’s just rolling his eyes at this monster monologueing. It’s part “Are you fucking kidding me with this shit? I can’t believe I let this happen, why am I so dumb?” and part “Bitch do you know what I am? Get wrecked.”

68. Poor Baby. God she is beat up.

69. this inside/outside the car fight is great too. I love that we don’t need to see like a big full fight scene. It’s so cramped and so cool.

70. Fucking decapitated with the car door that is fucking brutal.

71. “Oh baby I’m so sorry.” Yeah dude your car is fucked.

72. Both Dean and Baby. So fucked up.

73. Jensen learned that car move on his lunch break. Talented bastard.

74. Sam also looking messed up.

75. “Would you mind starting tomorrow?” Oh Sam.

76. And we end on Night Moves as the boys and Baby limp on home.

77. Truly, one of my all time favorite episodes of this show. Shot so cleverly, with great character moments and glimpse at what’s going on with the larger season-long plot. Love it.

#SPN #Supernatural #ep rewatch

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writerben01 · 2 years ago

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Teardrops stain my drawing, smudging the crayon markings that are as blue as drowned lips eating birthday cake.

“Are you going to have another tantrum?” Miss Daisy asks. “I thought you had gotten used to mommy leaving?”

Of course I cried that morning. It was the first time seeing my mother in decades and she had nothing on her mind but the early meeting she could not be late for. “I’m sorry, miss.”

She hands me a tissue. “Big girls don’t cry.” She looks at the picture. “Are you drawing a dolphin, dear?”

I shrug. I’m not sure what I’m doing. In Alfheimr there was no use to drawing. My fingers are so used to writing letters and numbers that I find it hard to draw. But the colour speaks to me.

I remember a birthday cake, covered in blue frosting and topped with seven candles. Susan smiled as she blew them out. Nobody needed to guess her wish but we made silly guesses anyway. We were laughing in the hollow expanse of Alfheimr’s dining hall, and for a moment we forgot about the thousands of other tables in the hall celebrating birthdays that day. It was just the twenty of us, formed into unbreakable hær, making a home for ourselves.

But then I’m also thinking of Susan turning white under icy waves when her önd was not strong enough to keep her warm. Nineteen terrified hands reaching for her as she sunk away, her smile now as permanently etched on her face as in my memories of her.

We begged our seggr to slow down and she refused. We cried that we just needed more time to learn. But time was the one thing that was in short supply. The loss of life was not only a calculated risk, but a guaranteed expectancy. No gradual awakenings for us. We were thrown into the deep and we would either sink or swim.

There were so many girls, and they needed only one queen.

“Put your drawing supplies away!” Miss Daisy says. “It’s time for gym.”

It feels good to run again. Miss Daisy wants me to play games, but everyone around me is too young to know any. The children make up their own and yell new rules every few seconds and I have no interested in making order within that chaos. I do not have to play along. The only thing not allowed is sitting still and I can do that. I’ve always been good at that.

I remember Cathy-Ann, the most competitive of us. She was always ahead of us no matter how quickly I ran. Each morning we would race and each morning she would win. Her heart was strong and her tongue was quick. Whenever we grew tired, it was her games that made us push through. Another mile. Another push-up. Another spar. She had more lik, strength of the body, than any of us.

She was the one who convinced us to train instead of cry. We all wanted to go home. Each of us had been ripped from our reality without warning and without consent, by the mysterious Ashmen. They told us how desperate they were and how sorry. They promised that they just needed a queen, and then they would send everyone back. Everyone who survived.

Cathy-Ann took that as a challenge and decided our group would make it until the end.

It was only in her final moments, when her impressive lik was not enough on its own to give her önd, that I finally saw the fear in her eyes. She had needed her games because then she could pretend the rules would be fair.

“Watch out!”

A boy is coming towards me. His face is turned away from me and I know, I KNOW, that this is just an accident. But all I can see is the Jötunn with fangs so sharp it will leave scars on my body for the rest of my life. I can feel its breath and hear its low baritone growls. It is pure instinct that makes me punch the boy’s face as it’s coming close.

It’s the sounds of his crying that snap me out of it. I don’t know much healing magic, but I know enough to stop his nosebleed. Something so small fatigues me now, because my body is so much weaker than it once was. I lack the lik of my previous life. And there is no magic without balancing body and mind.

The teacher scolds me and I cry. From the scare, from the guilt, from the exhaustion. She sends me back to class and tells me to read to stay out of trouble. All the books are too simple for me. But if I must choose between them, there is one that draws me in with morbid curiosity.

It is about a camel in the dessert. And the writer clearly had no idea what true heat is.

The story is simplistic. The entire thing is over in less than two hundred words. So I read it again. And again.

And I imagine it’s Cassy telling it to me in secret whispers after lights-out, both of us too exhausted to sleep. She had been an avid reader. She knew more words than anyone else in our group and she mastered all the lessons before anyone else. She talked so fast and still her mouth could hardly keep up with her brain.

She had more vördr than grown women, yet it did not balance out her small body. When she fainted in the sauna we screamed and begged the seggr to let us out. But the lock remained firmly in place. Nobody was coming to safe us. And therefore it would have to be me. I awakened that day, blowing the iron door from its hinges and releasing the steam from the room.

And still I had been too late to save her.

I don’t know what came of the other girls. Presumably they were put under increasing pressure until they broke or exploded with magic like me. I did not get to see it. Because I had magic and that meant I could continue to the lessons.

When Miss Daisy comes back with the other kids, she declares it’s time for a video lesson. She turns on a children’s show on the big screen that covers the blackboard. It is about a trio of fairies who go to a magic school. The children all sound jealous. It is ridiculous.

Magic school for me was not memorising spells or waving wands around. It was increased physical training, intense studying of physics and Math, and hourly spars with other students. We could only eat or drink if we beat someone in a fight. I was quick to form a coven. My sisters watched out for me and we took turns losing from each other to maximise our chances. We shared food and drink with each other when the teachers were not watching us. We did what we needed to survive.

We learned about the fight. The Ashmen had lived in peace until the Jotünn had come for them. Now there was only the centre of their empire that was safe, while the planets on their frontiers were always under fire. It was a war they said they were losing, which was why they needed help from other universes. If the Ashmen lost, and this universe was devoured, the Jotünn would come for our home universes next.

Our teachers could not use our magic of light, but they had some knowledge of their own kind of ancient magic called Seiðr that used runes and words and sacrifice. There were no special words that focused our powers. Just the ever-present balance. We trained our lik with daily exercise, our vördr with our lessons, and önd was the natural consequence of what followed. The magic cannot be trained like muscles, or better understood like equations. It simply is, and the only thing to learn is an ease to grasp it.

On the screen in a classroom of children are fantasy creatures wanting to learn magic. And none of them are asking what it’ll be for. Why they would be taught to play with the fabric of reality.

I thought the seggr were monsters for how they trained us. But then I turned twelve and I was faced with true evil.

The creatures were named Jötunn and they killed without remorse. They were impervious to mortal weapons and did not need food to eat or air to breathe. Not even the Seiðr could harm them. They were wounds in the earth and only the light magic of young girls could stand against them.

Some were mockeries of natural beasts, some corporeal shadows, some looked like moving trees. Some were small as insects and others large as buildings. There was much difference between them yet they all had one thing in common: the cold you could feel when facing them.

I stayed with my coven and we expanded. There were twelve girls in my contubernia and together we were expected to hold the village we were stationed at. The people we were protecting provided us with food and water by using Seiðr. They could do things with their magic that we could not with ours. Their magic sometimes felt more powerful. Yet only ours worked against the Jotünn.

Our days were filled trying to keep them all from being killed. We slept in shifts and tried to keep up our training.

After two years, the surviving half of my coven was moved to a city. After four, I was sent to a metropolis as the sole survivor. Each time we were sent somewhere with stronger enemies, each time I was almost faced with more than I could handle.

They were doing their best to stagger us. At first I thought this was all just part of the training, and part of that was true. But it was something else too.

Our strongest witches were fighting against the King of Jötunn and while each day that the multiverse was not collapsing constituted a victory, it also came at a heavy price. The only girls who could replace these front line fighters were the ones who had been fighting the generals of the Jötunn. But who were strong enough to now fight the generals? Surely only those who had been fighting the captains.

We were trapped in an ever-lasting cycle of death. All in the hope that one of the girls fighting against the king would awaken one more level of power and become queen.

“Why aren’t you singing along?” Mrs. Daisy asks.

“I don’t feel like singing.”

Singing is not something I have ever done for joy. We sang funeral hymns for the fallen. We sang our prayers in hope that we would not follow them to Valhalla. We sang when the people demanded we put on a show and demanded we would have our scheduled fun, lest they feel like they had enslaved us.

“But it’s your turn to sing.” Mrs. Daisy points out.

Everyone is looking at me. If I must dance again, then I shall. I tap my desk for a rhythm and then I belt. “Helmwige. Hier. Hieher mit dem Roß.”

They’re looking at me and I can deal with that.

“That’s an advanced piece.” Mrs. Daisy says in a lull. “Can you show us how much you know?”

I keep singing. I straighten and become the Valkyrie. My young body can’t reach all the notes, but I easily transpose to a lower key to compensate. There is no accompaniment that stands in the way of it. No Gerdy who plays the violin for me. No Helga who plays her flute. No Waltrude who can harmonise.

I remember the last night we could play together. The Metropolis wanted to meet their Valkyries. I sang to an audience of thousands and used my magic for beauty instead of power. We had rehearsed a dance and it was fun. A different way to move our bodies that was just as taxing as our daily exercises but nowhere near as boring. Waltrude and I ebbed and flooded, circling around each other in playful antagonism. Moving made so much sense that suddenly it wasn’t just my body that was dancing, but my magic as well.

I learned how to teleport. And with that ability, I was ripped away from my sisters and told to fight the Jotünn King.

Finally I finish my song. Mrs. Daisy leads the applause and encourages everyone to join in. “I don’t know where you memorised German opera, but that was beautiful. We need to get you in the school’s talent show.”

“Yes, Miss.” I say.

She moves on to the other children, who sing Itsy Bitsy Spider and Old McDonald. And then it becomes time to play outside. The other children declare we will play Hide and Seek. Someone’s counting down from ten and I know the perfect place to hide.

I sunbathe on the roof, sweating from more than the heat.

The Jotünn King was not a creature that could just be fought with raw power. He moved around in space and was the size of a planet. It reached out tendrils of destructive force strong enough to cleave the moon in twain. Fighting it was an exercise in attrition.

Bait the King into attacking somewhere with no collateral damage, creating a weakness. Attack the weakness. Escape the King’s attack. Each day it grew. And each day we tried to shrink it. We searched and searched for the best ways to attack. And we hid from where it would find us.

I was the youngest of thirty girls who fought the King together.

Until I was the oldest of thirty girls.

There was no more physical training, because we already exhausted ourselves running from the King. There was no more studying, because there was nothing more challenging than outsmarting the creature. Every time I teleported, my önd was easier to reach.

I don’t know why I lasted as long as I did. I was not the smartest amongst my sisters. I was not the strongest. I was not the one with the most virtue or the one who most wanted to go home. All I did was survive.

Until finally I turned eighteen, and I awoke with three eyes instead of two. I had become a queen.

“Playtime’s over!” Miss Daisy calls.

I slip back down from the roof by the rain gutter when nobody’s paying attention. I don’t have the magic to teleport down the same way I got up, but I still have the agility to make it down unscathed.

Our next activity is finger painting. The paint feels thick and alive against my fingers. I have to blink away the idea that it’s blood. But even so it crawls on my skin. The only way to get it out of my head is to draw the image on the paper. And it’s not the King that I draw.

The Jotünn don’t bleed. But it wasn’t only Jotünn that I killed.

After I got my third eye, I was crowned Queen Hayate, the herald of long awaited peace. I looked to the King and I saw not only what he was doing, but also what he was going to do. Using the eye was exhausting, but with it I knew how to defeat a Jotünn that was the size of a planet.

Where each day as Valkyrie had been three steps forward and two steps back, as Queen I managed thirty steps forward and prevented the need to retreat at all. I saved my sisters. We were thirty girls against a King. And then we were forty. We were fifty. We were sixty.

The war was going to be won.

We celebrated. We shared stories of the friends we had lost. We laughed and drank and toasted to returning home again. Freya asked me to look at her future. And for the first time I pulled my third eye away from the King to look at the girls.

And I screamed.

In anger. In grief. In sheer disbelief.

Freya would stand on the corpse of the King of Jotünn. She would cry out in triumph. She would receive a medal on a stage standing next to her queen. The Ashmen would send me back in a big ritual as a special reward for my service. And then they would promise the other girls that they were next. Just as soon as the other Jotünn were exterminated.

Freya would fight for years in relative safety. She would lose the edge that the King had sharpened.

And then there would be a new King. Freya would fight it and die.

We were trapped in an ever-lasting cycle of death and I had been fooled to think the scope was so much smaller than it really was.

I looked at the Ashmen that had raised us. I was not the first queen they had drafted. I was not going to be the last.

And they knew.

Just like they knew they had to send me back before I turned my eyes to them. Before I asked the questions that I had been raised to ignore.

Where did the Jotünn come from?

We had always been taught that they were wounds on the earth but we had somehow forgotten to ask who had wounded the earth. We had forgotten to ask who kept wounding it.

The Ashmen were the hands. Many of them had good intentions. There was a government that was doing the best it could, the heart of the cosmos.

And then there was the head. The corporations who paid for their safety like they were buying off their guilt. And all the time they knew. Not just of the cycle. Not just of the deceit. They knew what was causing the wounds. Because they were causing it.

There was a reason that the Ashmen needed little girls with their light magic to fight the Jotünn. It was dark magic that created and fuelled them. It was the Seiðr that they used for profit and comfort.

At the head was a man who called himself Loki. I knew where he was. Crossing impossible distances was easy for me. One moment Freya’s smile was in front of me and the next, Loki’s frown.

I demanded he give up his magic. I demanded he stopped wounding the universe. I shouted at him and he shouted back. I called for justice for each girl that had died by his hand and he dared claim innocence. He said he did better than other companies. He said he was the foremost investor in finding alternatives for the ancient magic. But he would only stop over his cold dead body.

Only time could make his body cold.

The rest was up to me.

The paper is ripped from my desk. I see Miss Daisy’s shocked face as she looks at my picture. “What’s going on with you today?”

“Can I get cleaned up?”

She nods.

I wash the blood from my hands.

I was Queen Hayate. I fought the Jotünn King but I did not defeat him. Not yet. Not until I had visited every practitioner of Seiðr and had taken the knowledge of it from their minds. Those that tried to hide, I always found eventually. I tore through whatever defences they built to block my path. Some tried to offer me money. Some tried to offer me power. Like I had use for any more of it.

Some tried to beg me to stop, claiming Seiðr was part of their cultural heritage. And they had no idea. Yes, their culture had functioned for a long time using dark magic. But for millennia each spell had been fuelled by sacrificing the blood of innocent little children. As their society grew modern, they stopped killing to cast their magic, and the lack of balance created the Jotünn. And, per their cultural tradition, they had gone right back to sacrificing children.

Some listened to me and understood in horror that their life of luxury was paid by the war plaguing the borderlands. Some still tried to argue as if I had not spoken at all, and those made me angriest.

Those that had knowingly harmed the universe, I bit their shoulder to keep them in place as my soul tour into their heart and left a chasm in their memories. Those that had been ignorant were held in place with gentle hands, receiving a kiss on their forehead as I replaced the memories of magic with skills they could use instead.

I was feared across the cosmos. Because I would not take their money or honeyed words. Because they knew there was no stopping me. Because they knew I was right.

The government was on the fence. They thought I was too drastic. They said they had no alternatives and that their society would crumble without the destructive dark magic supporting them. I visited the leaders and brought scientists with me. I showed them that I could not only destroy, but also create. I was queen and I would not falter in my convictions. But I had no interest in ruling a kingdom of rubble.

It took a long time. Three more girls awakened their third eye. I named them princesses and told them where to direct their gaze. And once they knew, I told them how to direct their fury.

Eventually, there was no more dark magic in the cosmos. That is when we killed the king of the Jotünn with full confidence he would never return.

By mutual agreement, we sent the youngest girls back first. It was not a fast project, but we had patience. The oldest girls defeated the last vestiges of Jotünn, while the youngest were first freed. Those least damaged by this world were the ones who needed most protection.

There would be no more dark magic. No more Jotünn. No more girls who had to die.

I was the very last to go. Scourge of the cosmos, finally a queen without subjects. I closed my third eye. I pulled my önd inside myself. And then I went back to being a toddler, crying at seeing her mother for the first time in decades.

“I think they’re clean.” Miss Daisy says.

I stare at my hands, irritated and red from my scrubbing. “I’m sorry.”

“I called your mom. She’s coming back from work early to pick you up.”

“Okay.”

There is a big poster on the side of the room. At the beginning of the school year all of us wrote down what we wanted to be when we grew up. It was a lifetime ago for me that I said I wanted to be a ballerina. I had even added a drawing of myself in a pink tutu.

Everything is done. Perhaps I can finally learn to dance.

Mom picks me up and drives me home. “We’ll talk about this after dinner.” She says, holding up the painting.

She brings her work with her into the house and lays it out on the table.

“What are these?”

“Just the designs I’ve been working on. They’re not quite working out.”

I look at them. “There’s not enough support here.”

“Why do you say that?” She says with a smile.

I take a pencil and start the equations. With the material she is using, the load would be too great to stand on its own.

“That’s… where did you learn that?” She asks as she looks at my Math.

I shrug. “Must have seen you work on it before.”

“That’s…” She takes a deep breath, calming herself. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but if you’re interested in knowing more about engineering that’s a much easier problem for me to solve than anything else.”

She explains the markings I had not recognised. Some of them were to indicate stronger materials specifically to solve the problem of keeping the structure from collapsing under its own weight. The electrical wiring is filled with symbols that were different in the other world. But easy to memorise and understand with some explanation.

“This is helping me a lot.” Mom says. “It’s like the rubber duck theory. It’s easier to understand my schematics merely by having to explain it.”

“Wouldn’t this work better with another resistor added?” I say, pointing.

“Except a rubber duck doesn’t talk back.” Mom smiles, looking where I’m pointing. “And doesn’t give genius insight. I think… I think that would solve my problem. I’ve got to make a few calls.”

I nod, still studying the machine my mother was designing. It was supposed to collect carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and concentrate it. There was a lot of thought that had gone into the design and there were many clever solutions to problems that she must have encountered along the way. It must have taken years of work.

Still my hands itch to make it even better, my own mind already taking every bit of it apart and piecing it together again in a dozen different ways.

“What do you mean, there’s no money!” Mom shouts on the telephone. “That’s bullshit, David. You said you’d secure the funding if I got the last issues figured out. I just did.”

Mom has left reference books on the table and I start to go through them. I learn not only about the scientific principles underlying this engineering project, but also about global warming and the political mindfield surrounding it.

When mom gets off her call, she is dejected. She does not want to talk about it and starts on dinner instead. She asks with a trembling voice if it’s okay to just watch some television tonight and to talk more tomorrow. I agree. We watch my favourite Disney movie and sing along as Mirabel tries to safe her family without using any magic.

Mom tucks me into bed and kisses me good night.

While she sleeps, I creep back downstairs. I pull more of her books from the shelves and read. I take her designs and keep going. I need to understand the problem better. And then I need to work on it until it is solved. Mom’s design is effective, but expensive. I can work on making it cheaper. And if there are those who oppose change, I can find out whose minds need to be changed.

I’ve already saved the cosmos for my sisters. How hard will it be to save one planet for my mother?

When mom wakes up, I’m still at it, surrounded by sketches and news clippings.

“The good news is that I found a solution.” I say, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“Solution to what, sweetheart?”

“Your funding. There are three organisations that you can go to. Your current employer left a loophole in your contract that we can exploit.”

Mom was left speechless. Eventually there is only one thing she can ask. “What’s the bad news?”

I open my third eye to make sure. It hurts with so little magic, but I need to know there is no other way. “The bad news is that there are six people who are going to inevitably use these machines as a public excuse to pollute more. And sixty more who will decide so in private. Your designs will not embark humanity on a new course towards greener energy. And without drastic measures, the human race will be extinct within the century.”

The bad news, in effect, is that I am not done killing yet.

I am still Queen Hayate. And I refuse to rule over a kingdom of rubble.

They stole you from your world when you were but a young girl, and they forged you into a magical weapon that has been feared across the cosmos. Now that the war is over and you’ve won, they send you back to the moment before they captured you. The skills, PTSD, and memories? Those never fade.

#Thelionwrites #writing prompt

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daisynik7 · 10 months ago

Note

HI MY PRECIOUS ANGEL BABY SNOOKUMS<3 i missed you so so much, and i've arrived with a boatload of love and cuddles to make up for the eons i was gone, hold me. i write to you while mildly sleep-deprived (the amount of spelling and grammar errors 🤡), binging dog kennel shows, and on my third peach green tea Celsius (caffeinated energy drink) but overall nourished and (maybe) over-hydrated lol.

oml, when we last spoke i said i’d be in for a busy week HOWEVER i wasn’t expecting the shitshow awaiting me all i can say is (tmi) uti’s suck 🫠 long story short i’ve been staying with/ helping family who was admitted to the hospital a few nights ago and staying the night but i’m actually running on fumes a.) i’m not sleeping in my bed and i take forever to adjust b.) because i’m fucking paranoid the wrong meds will be administered because it’s happened before 🥲 luckily recovery is happening and hoping for discharge soon:)

but i miss you dearly enough about my shitshow, how have you been????????? i’m penciling time to catch up but did the office let you work from home? and of course, how was your weekend spent? anything special plans? or just catch up on rest? i hope you’re being extra kind to yourself and spoiled yourself with something nice, even small things!

i hope this week goes swimmingly for you, i’m not sure if the weather is warmer but regardless i expect you to stay warm and cozy, stay hydrated and nourish your body, a polite reminder to step away from the things that you simply can’t control because you my sweet don’t deserve nor need that kind of burden and negativity! and as we’ve agreed, if i say it, then it must be so and this is especially non-negotiable 🥰

i hope the day starts and ends well for you, i’m not sure if the tech issues at the office have been resolved, or if you’re still wfh, but you’ve got this! proud of you! your message was well received and kept safe and cherished in my inbox 💞 even if i'm not here daily always here for you and by your side! sending so many cuddles! so much love! so many hugs! so many kisses! i love you daisy!!!!! <3

i want to say i tried to comb through my rambling but the caffeine said no lol 🫣

WIFEY AHHHHH I'M SO HAPPY TO HEAR FROM YOU!! I've missed you so so much too snookums.

I'm really sorry to hear about the uti, god that sounds so painful and uncomfortable. please keep me updated with how you're feeling and when you're finally discharged. I'm glad to hear you're on the way there. sending you kisses, flowers, and snuggles for you to get well soon. also, I really hope they don't give you the wrong meds!! 😕

I've been okay! I had to go into the office, but it's fine. I had a pretty chill weekend and got some writing done. then yesterday I had some friends over for pizza and gossip, which is always fun hehe. I'm always working on being kinder to myself and I think I'm doing a good job at it so far! please remember to be kind to yourself too after the week you've had! I feel so bad you had to suffer through that!

It's still cold here, but not as much as before! Is it getting warmer for you too? I know you're not in your usual bed right now, but I hope that you have something there to keep you cozy and comfortable!

Thank you for these important reminders! I've been much better about not focusing on things I can't control and that's made my experiences much more positive.

I hope today and the rest of your week goes well! Rest up and take care of yourself! I can't believe you have to deal with this right now, I feel so bad. I wish I could somehow take away the pain and discomfort you're currently feeling. Sending you so much love, good healing vibes, and my most loving kisses. 💗 I love you so dearly thea

#my lovely thea #lovely moots #wifey's love letters

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featherstcnes · 11 months ago

Text

continued from [x] @destroyerof

natasha had lived plenty of lives. the latest, however? she would have preferred it to have never existed. she always knew shield did anything and everything to get what they wanted. she just had never quite imagined that the day that was supposed to be the happiest of her life turned into the day that would prove to haunt every thought and every action for years to come. she could remember the day so vividly. the way she felt the bullet hit her chest, the way the darkness took over all of her senses. the taste of blood in her mouth while everything had went dark as she stared up at daisy. she'd woken up on a ship, not even sure how many days later, an iv in her arm and people running around around her. everything had been ruined, and nothing had been the same ever since.

she'd lost trust in the people she was meant to sacrifice everything for. she hadn't cooperated for weeks as she'd healed. but eventually, she had to say something. natasha had no problem not cooperating for the rest of her life -- if they wanted to keep her locked away, then they could. but she found herself hoping that if she found a way out, she could get back to daisy.

it hadn't happened.

she knew they were tracking her even before she'd strayed away from the mission and had someone intercepting her just a few hours later. natasha knew how this worked. she'd been a pawn for years, doing the bidding of people that owned her. and so she did what she knew best -- she threw herself into the mission. deep undercover. it wasn't just a simple mission that would be over in a few weeks. this was months, years, of pretending she was someone else. bringing down an organization from the inside out. that was something she knew how to do. she knew how to get close to important people, to make them trust her. she'd done it her entire life. hell, she'd even done it her first few years in shield out of instinct.

marina orlova. another alias to add to the list.

she'd tried to not let the emotion show on her face when the person from shield had shown her the file about her new alias. marina. a friend, a best friend, that had turned into nothing more than an assignment. she'd taken the name as her alias without a complaint. she'd use that name like a weapon. a silent promise that she'd help take down everyone and everything in her way to avenge her old friend.

natasha had pulled the trigger, yes. but the red room had killed her.

completing her mission was easy. it had taken years. years that she would never get back or replace. she did what shield wanted her to do. she'd brought ruin to organizations, just as she had in her past. she'd taken out powerful men that no doubt would cause uproars. what was another few enemies to add to the list of people that wanted her dead?

after it was over, she'd been given a new assignment: find this mysterious person that was wreaking havoc. creating disasters. take them out.

an easy target, supposedly. except when every single piece of intel led her back to daisy johnson, she'd wanted to back out. but she couldn't. she'd find her. but she wouldn't kill her. couldn't.

she wasn't sure how she'd ever be able to, even if shield tried to force her hand.

truthfully, natasha wasn't sure what would happen. she'd expected hostility. she never expected daisy to be happy she was standing in front of her. her intel had told her that there was multiple people with her -- a team. natasha prepared herself for that. she'd gotten herself out of situations with more people than this fighting against her, she could handle this. or at least that was what she told herself.

as a man spoke harshly towards her, natasha didn't even bother raising a weapon. it wasn't worth it. not yet, anyway. she could ensure that half the people in this room were wounded or dead before someone could even blink, if she wanted to.

" you want me to explain everything in ten seconds? " a part of her wanted to laugh. looking at daisy, at the expression on her face, it was like she was looking at someone completely different. in some ways, she recognized the woman in front of her. but that softness in her gaze was gone. any love that daisy once had was gone. natasha knew that she shouldn't look for any of that in her expression before she'd walked in on everyone, and yet, she still had.

" if you think i planned any of this, then you're blinded by whatever lies are in your head. " natasha didn't know enough about what happened after that day she'd 'died'. any time she'd asked about daisy to whoever had organized her mission, people avoided her questions. they'd said they helped with things after her death, and that was all the information she'd been given. natasha had a feeling that was a lie. " if i told you what happened, would you even really believe me? would you call me a liar? " natasha wouldn't blame her -- she didn't trust anyone these days, either. she'd given up on trusting anyone after she'd found out that the same organization that saved her was trapping her into a mission she couldn't get out of.

natasha shook her head. maybe she'd just walked in here to greet death as an old friend. maybe she was destined to have everyone she'd once loved and trusted turn on her.

" if you're so angry, have your guard dog do the dirty work. " natasha motioned her head towards the man that had held a blade towards her. " kill me. " she walked closer towards the man, her hands still not reaching towards any weapons on her body. " do it, " she challenged, louder, eyes focused on the man. she wasn't threatening her life for no reason -- it was partially a way to really see the hierarchy here. to see exactly who listened to who. to see how far she could push someone before daisy couldn't stop them or just wouldn't want to. " or do you want the honors yourself? " natasha turned her gaze back towards daisy. it was clear daisy was agitated already -- she could feel the effects of that.

explaining all of this would be worthless. natasha knew that. what worth was there in explaining how all of this hadn't been her idea? sure, she could have figured out a way to get to daisy almost immediately. but she hadn't. it was something she questioned herself about as she stayed undercover. but she had to finish the mission. and she had. it just so happened that her next one brought her back to daisy, anyway. and to get anywhere, to find anything, she had to get through to daisy somehow. but as natasha stalled with her words, her piercing gaze, she still was coming up empty. this wasn't the daisy she knew. it was the furthest thing from that.

" look me in the eyes and tell me honestly that you think i made the choice to drop off the face of the earth. that you think i would have ever made the choice to do this. "

#destroyerof #* ⟢ ━━ natasha romanoff. ( threads )#well um.....................................#i need to add au tags for this solely for our own purposes so i can make an archive for us.#hehehehe #1.2k words later. here we are

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halfmoonshines · 3 years ago

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Ohhh!!! I loved your Leo Fitz one shot!!!! Can you do one where he and the reader are in an argument and one of them blurts out I Love You for the first time and it leads to their first kiss?

Yes yes! As always, every time someone requests something I get so excited. ((Note written after; I kind of struggled with this? Let me know if it's what you were wanting!))

Tension

Summary; Field Agent!Reader makes a questionable call while on a mission, Leo doesn't know how else to get her to understand.

You gave Jemma a small smile when she finished your stitches, trying not to wince as you hopped off the exam table.

"No field work for at least a week, Y/N, I mean it. That was a deep cut and you'll pull your stitches." Jemma informed with a stern look.

You nodded, giving her a mock salute. "You got it."

You exited the lab and ran a hand over your face, exhaustion creeping in your muscles as you head toward your quarters at the lighthouse. Pulling your phone out of your back pocket, you furrowed your brow at the lack of notifications. Leo was always waiting when you got back from a mission, whether it was 2pm or 2am, but you'd yet to see him tonight. Your best friend had a bit of a protective streak in him.

"Hey, Mack?" You called out to grab the Director's attention. "Have you seen Fitz?"

"Not since this morning, no."

That didn't really sit right. "Thanks." You continued on your trek to your room, hoping he was just there waiting.

Sure enough, there he was. Leaning against the wall opposite the door with his arms crossed, jaw clenched tightly as he just stared at you when you walked in.

You paused inside the door, shutting it slowly behind you and tilting your head to the side. "Is something wrong, Leo?"

"What did Jemma say?"

"Uh, she just told me no field work for a week. Had a few stitches but I'll heal up fine."

He scoffed, kicking off the wall and running a hand through his hair. "How many stitches is that in the last year, then?"

You were thoroughly confused. "It's the job, right? Sometimes you get injured-"

"Sometimes being the operative word there, Y/N. It's like every single time you step foot in the field you end up with something broken or bleeding. Do you have no regard for your own safety?" He had come to a stop in front of you, hands on his hips.

It was your turn to cross your arms, brows furrowing. "Of course I care about my safety. Is there a reason you decided to wait in my room so you can jump on me about something that's never been a problem before?"

"It's always been a problem. I was just hoping at some point you would start caring about yourself a bit more, but you just keep jumping into the line of fire-"

"I didn't have a choice, Leo! That guy was literally going to stab Daisy in the back if I hadn't gotten in the way. Better a small cut in my side than a knife in her spine."

"But it's not better. Why is you being hurt the always the preferred option?"

You shook your head, eyes boring into his. "It's not the preferred, it's just want happens! You think I enjoy being injured? Why are you so upset about this?"

"Because I love you, damn it! And it's hell! It's absolute hell sitting here, waiting for you to come home knowing full well there's going to be a day when you just don't." He was breathing heavily, a pleading look in his eyes.

You paused for a moment, his words replaying in your head. "What do you mean you love me, Leo?"

He scoffed, walking forward and taking your face between his hands. "I mean that I love you, Y/N. I have for a long time, and I can't keep watching you sacrifice yourself. There has to be a line drawn somewhere and I don't care if-"

Your hands wrapped around the front of his shirt and pulled him down the rest of the way to you, lips capturing his in a searing kiss. He only hesitated for a moment before giving in, one of his hands moving from your cheek to grip your hair.

Pulling away, you rested your forehead on his, a smile playing at your lips.

"Is that... that was a good reaction right?" He asked with a breath of a laugh.

"I love you too, Leo. I promise to be more careful."

"Finally." With that, he pulled you into him again.

#leo fitz x reader #leo fitz fanfiction #leo fitz #aos #agents of shield #mcu #marvel #my works #anon

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topazy · 3 years ago

Text

Silent bloom

Pairings: Bellamy Blake/reader

Warnings: swearing, and character death

Chapter: 2.05

1.13

"Oh my god," Clarke gasped.

I stood speechless as I stared at the pile of dead bodies laying in the ground. What had Finn and Murphy done?

Clarke suddenly moved fast, "Daisy!"

I turned around to see Daisy stumbling to her knees. I thought I’d never see her again. Everything felt like a blur as I moved and knelt beside her. She looked like hell. I brushed her blood-stained hair out of her face and said, "I thought you were dead."

"Ditto." Hearing the small tint of happiness in her voice made my chest hurt. Daisy furrowed her brows, probably confused by mine and Clarke’s silence. "So what have I missed, Blake?"

I helped Daisy to her feet slowly, dreading what was about to happen. She let out a sound of disgust as she looked at the grounder village. I nudged Clarke light and mouthed ‘where are they?’ When I noticed Murphy and Finn had disappeared from our line of view.

Noticing Daisy swaying on her feet, I quickly caught her before she fell. I could feel her shaking as Finn quickly approached us. At first I wasn’t sure if she would be happy to see him, not knowing what had happened, but Daisy must have put the pieces together quickly, judging by how scared she looked.

I moved my arm around her, pulling her closer to me when Finn got close enough.

"I found you."

2.01

"You look lonely out here."

I stopped in my tracks when I saw Murphy sitting down beside Daisy. What the hell was he doing? They weren’t friends as far as I was aware, and he was an untrustworthy asshole. I wanted to talk to her alone before we left, but I knew being near Murphy wasn’t a good idea.

"You good?" I looked over my shoulder to see Clarke.

I nodded, "ready to go?"

"Yeah, my mom is just gathering the guards who are coming with us." I nodded and turned back to face Daisy, who was now laughing. "You know, Y/N should stay here. It’s the safest thing for her and us."

"What?" I snapped.

"Her wounds still haven’t fully healed, and her being there would just distract Finn." I opened my mouth to protest, but Clarke cut me off. "We need Finn to come with us."

Clarke stepped forward and squeezed my shoulder. "I know you care about her Bellamy, but you need to focus. The best way to help save our people is to get them out of Mount weather."

I glanced back at Daisy once more to see Octavia talking to her. Shit. O wouldn’t be very happy when she realised Daisy wasn’t coming with us.

Murphy remained in the same spot, watching as they walked away. Frowning, I turned my back to him as I made my way towards the rest of the small group that was leaving. I hoped he didn’t try anything stupid when we were gone.

2.02

"Absolutely not! Are you insane!" When Daisy asked to talk to me privately, I assumed she had come up with some kind of plan, but I never thought it would have been so dangerous.

"Stop being so loud, somebody will hear us."

I stopped walking and turned to face her. "You can’t do this, I won’t let you."

She scoffed, "let me? You don’t own me, Blake."

I fought the urge to smirk. "It’s too dangerous."

She stepped closer to me while holding my gaze. Her face was turning red with frustration. "Tell me you haven’t thought the same thing, and if you can tell me, I’ll drop this."

"We’ve talked about going into the mountains before. That’s always been a part of the plan."

"I don’t want to sneak in."

No, she just wanted to risk her life.

"You want to be bait!" I snapped.

"It makes more sense. If I get taken, they won’t be suspicious. I can fill our people in on what’s going to happen before-"

I couldn’t let her do something so reckless by herself. "We don’t know when the commander will want her people to attack. It’s too late for this plan to work."

"Right."

I knew by the look on her face when Clarke returned the night before, and explained her conversation with the commander, that she wasn’t convinced. "You don’t think the commander will agree to a truce."

She shrugged, "they have no reason to trust us."

"They will want to save their people who have been turned into reapers."

"I don’t doubt that, but once we’ve done that and stopped the mountain men, what is stopping them from slaughtering us?" She had a point. "Jasper and Monty are my family. I can’t sit back while they suffer."

She wanted to keep them safe.

"I can’t let you be bait."

Daisy opened her mouth to say something else but stopped when there was a knock at the door. "This conversation isn’t over."

Daisy’s feisty side always amused me. She stared at me, confused, as I held the door open for her. I’d just need to come up with a better solution for when this conversation continues.

2.03

"Why isn’t she waking up?" I brushed strands of bloodied hair off Daisy's face. "She should have woken up by now."

"She’s been hit on the back of the head, what do you expect?"

"Shut up Murphy!" I glared at him. I wasn’t in the mood for his sarcasm.

He rolled his eyes before walking out of the room. Raven must have been desperate to ask him to come.

"Bellamy," Clarke said softly. "She will wake up soon."

Frowning, I looked at my hands that were blood stained. This was all Finn’s fault. "She shouldn’t have been hurt in the first place."

Finn stared at me wide eyed, "I didn’t-"

"You can’t do anything for her right now," Clarke cut him off. "Bellamy, you should take watch. I’ll call you when she wakes up."

Grumbling, I went outside. No matter how hard I tried to pay attention to my surroundings, I kept thinking about Daisy and our kiss. I needed to know if she regretted it, and if not, what she wanted to happen next. I must have paced back and forth for twenty minutes before I heard something. Oh fuck. The grounders had found us.

I rushed into the drop shop. "We got company!"

"Oh fuck. We’re surrounded."

As everyone made their way outside, I froze. Daisy was awake. A wave of relief washed over me, knowing she was okay. I moved towards her quickly. "I’m glad you're okay. You made me worried for a moment."

"Thanks. But honestly, I’m still worried."

—

"If we hit them now, at least we'd take them by surprise."

Daisy shook her head. "The problem is, we don't even know how many of them are out there."

Murphy rolled his eyes, "I’m not hearing any better ideas, Daisy."

I rolled my eyes. The last thing we needed was another argument to happen. I watched Raven as she stepped forward. "We’ll give them something."

What could we possibly give them? They want revenge. "All they want is Finn."

Raven looked away from the rest of the group, as her eyes landed on Murphy. "Finn wasn't the only one at the village."

That’s why she asked him to come. Despite my hatred towards Murphy, I wasn’t going to let her do this. We can't turn on our own.

"You can’t be serious!" Daisy stared Raven down. "We aren’t handing anyone over to the grounders."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Raven, I came here to protect him. You were the one who wanted me to come." Murphy’s face twisted as he realised he’d been lured here. "You... That’s why you asked me to come along."

The Raven glared at him. "Enough Grounders saw him at the village. They’d believe he was the shooter."

"Sick bitch!" Murphy spat.

Clarke tried to calm the situation down. "Raven, you don't mean this."

"You know what they do to people?" Daisy said, stepping closer to the brunette. "They want Finn, nobody else. We can’t protect him if we are fighting among ourselves."

Raven ignored what she said and pointed her gun towards Murphy. "They want a murderer, we'll give them one."

My heart began hammering in my chest when Daisy stepped in front of Murphy. "Raven, this is insane! Put it down."

"Daisy, move out the way, I don’t want to hurt you." I could hear the uncertainty in Raven’s voice as she spoke. "Murphy, drop your weapon!"

Of course, Daisy refused to move. "Raven, stop this before somebody gets hurt!"

I wasn’t sure what shocked me more, Daisy putting herself between… Murphy and a bullet or the surprised expression on Murphy’s face. He looked as shocked as the rest of us.

Raven still refused to lower her weapon, "I said drop it."

I went to take a step forward but Clarke grabbed hold of my wrist, shaking her head. Regardless of what she thought, I went to put an end to the madness, but Finn beat me to it. "Stop! Stop! We're not doing this. They’ve got us surrounded. The only thing we can do is stay. And defend this place. Murphy?"

"Yeah?"

"Go upstairs with Daisy. You two watch the rear. I'll take the lower level. You three, take the front gate. That’s the plan. All right?"

Without saying much, we all began walking in our separate directions. I pushed down the gut feeling of something not being right.

—

I turned to face Kane, "what is she doing?"

"I think she’s saying goodbye, son."

Kane patted me on the back before whispering something to Abby. Clarke stepped outside the commander's tent and locked eyes with her mom. She shook her head. Damn it. The commander hasn’t changed her mind. We couldn’t save Finn.

A knot twisted in my stomach as I watched Daisy lean in to kiss Finn. It was devastating to know that he was going to die soon … and we couldn’t save him. Nothing we did mattered.

"No! No! No! No! No! No!"

I caught Raven as she stumbled back. I was so busy making sure she didn’t fall to the ground that I didn’t notice what had happened right away. Hearing gasps and yells, I looked up to see Finn’s body going limp. Daisy had killed him.

2.04

"You’ve been quiet." I glanced at my sister as she slowed her pace to walk beside me. "There was nothing you could have done that would have changed the grounders' law."

I let out a deep sigh. The whole situation was so frustrating. Finn dying, Raven breaking down, the mountain men still having our friends; none of it was easy.

"I know what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking O?" I asked quietly.

Octavia stopped walking and looked up at me. "You're wondering why she’s not here."

My sister was right, but I wasn’t going to admit it out loud. We needed this alliance to work, we needed to get our people back. "I don’t know what-"

She raised her brows at me, "you’ve been behind everyone else for a reason. Daisy isn’t going to come running up behind us."

Gulping down, I looked away. "I just can’t believe she didn’t come or talk to us before we left."

"It’s not like she got much of a choice," Octavia nudged her head in the direction the rest of our group were walking.

"She didn’t come because of Raven?" I was confused.

"No, I overheard Clarke telling her it would be better for everyone if she stayed at camp. I tried to find her afterwards but she must have gone back."

"What exactly did she say?"

My sister's facial expression quickly changed to one of aggression, "something about how the grounders blame her for what Finn did. Daisy already blamed herself, and after what happened that was the last thing she needed to hear.”

My blood began to boil, Clarke had no right. Daisy did what she had to, the grounders would have tortured him. I thought of Atom, and how his death was an act of mercy. "It’s not right that she needs to deal with this alone now. The guilt will be chipping away at her."

"Ohh, I don’t think she’ll be alone for long."

"What?" I wasn’t sure what she was getting at.

Octavia had the same mischievous look on her face from when she was a kid," Murphy stayed behind."

"So?"

"I don’t think you're Daisy’s only admirer."

#the 100 #Bellamy Blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x you #the 100 season two #bellamy blake/you #bellamy blake pov #Bellamy Blake/reader #grounders #silent bloom #the 100 fandom #octavia blake #Clarke Griffin #bellamy blake fanfiction #the 100 fanfiction #finn collins #John Murphy #Raven Reyes #fanfiction

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jamiedc-they-them · 3 years ago

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I got you (Platonic)

Requested by @emcon-imagines

“Jemma --” Daisy said, as much as she loved her friend, she knew that she still wasn’t at the top of her lying game. To be honest, she hoped that Jemma never made it there, as if that would signal some sort of end to the Jemma Simmons she knew.

Still, back on point, “Daisy...I promised Y/N…” She said. And, that did get her attention, she had promised you something.

“I just wanna help her, Simmons. I mean, you’ve seen her...Tired, not herself. Not the bubbly person we all know. Something’s going on…” She knew how this would seem to anyone else; someone interrogating someone, almost gaslighting in some way to get some information.

But, the two women knew better; it was two friends trying to help another.

Besides, the three had formed their own group; the term “power puffs” being thrown around a lot. Still, not the point --

“I didn’t just swear and drop my concern, Daisy. I wanted to help too…” She trailed off, and Daisy nodded for her to continue, “I did to her that she would probably get yelled at...but, she brushed it off at the time. I don’t think Fitz’s sarcasm helped it either.”

“What’d he say?”

“‘What’s the worst thing that could happen? I mean, yeah, you’ll probably get yelled at, but it’s not like she’s going to kill you.’ And I said, ‘Not helping’ and...Oh, sorry.” She said, catching herself.

Daisy smiled, “It’s alright, Jem. Just, tell me, please. I’ll stop after that.”

Jemma could never say now the puppy dog expression Daisy Johnson could pull off, “...That’s the problem, she isn’t stopping.But, she told me to not bother you about it. She knows how you can be with this and...she doesn’t want to worry anyone else. She says she can handle it.” The Brit said, almost in one entire breath.

“Famous last words, sadly in some cases.” Daisy said, looking out the window before back to Jemma, “Where is she now?”

As Jemma went to answer, her gaze changed; she looked alert, “Well...there.” She said, nodding her head behind Daisy.

The woman turned, seeing you walk in, bag over your shoulder from yet another assignment...yet another few months undercover.

If you were good at hiding the strain of the work before, this was not one of those times; with the heaviness in your eyes, worn down expression and posture of your body.

It was getting to you.

Daisy then looked to Jemma, giving her friend a pat on the arm, “I got this.” She promised, before taking her leave.

She wasn’t one to break them.

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

You had put the weapons away, and was getting ready for the ebrie. Just ready to get that ticked off, then wait until the next job comes your way. You had to keep going, SHIELD was always cut throat, but especially now; you were on the back foot and what not. You had to prove yourself to Coulson, he brought you and Daisy in and kept you in despite what you had done to them.

That had to be worth something.

You went with your bag, a bag mixed with your own things and the contents of the sting. Smart? No, not really. But, you were working with limited time. So, you know.

Besides, Coulson had cleared it and said it was fine.

So, you went into the kitchen, gonna go upstairs to get it all done with, when you paused…

There, on her laptop, was your sister, just typing away.

Given the fact of the bottle of water she had was only just opened, you had to guess that she had only just set up.

“Hey.” She said, looking up at you from the table, smiling as if you hadn’t caught her in the act.

“Hey.” You said back, dropping the bag to the floor. You both held each others stare for a moment too long; you had been in each others lives for forever, so you could read each other like a book.

“Been there long?” You asked, hands going in your pocket. You knew the answer, but still…

“Nah, just waiting for you.” She said, moving to sitting on the table, legs dangling off of it, “Just wanted to see if you were ok.”

You held your arms out to your side for a moment, a kind of “here I am” gesture, before letting them slap against your body as you let them drop, “I’m ok...Just want to get up there.” You said, pinching your nose as you closed your eyes for a moment; a rare moment of letting this toll be known to the world in a way that was intentional.

Daisy saw a way in there, “You tired? I mean, sleep deprivation and mental health issues don’t really go hand in hand...You’re gonna snap.”

You nodded, same posture as before, “Sure. Just wanna get up there and do this, D.”

“Coulson doesn’t need it right now.”

“He does.” You argued.

She sighed, the Johnson gene of stubbornness surely rubbing off on you, “Look, Y/N/N, I get it. But, AC -- Well, DC, is more than ok with this. Trust me.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll do shit like that when you do.” Ok, fair; did it hit? Yeah, but she wasn’t a sunken battleship yet...that phrase was weird.

Anyways, “Y/N,” She started, getting up and grabbing your hands in her own, looking you right in the eyes, “You’re tired, ok? Actually tired….I mean, look, you can barely stand right now. What you need, is rest. Ok?”

Out of the siblings, you weren’t as open as she was. But, as said before, she knew you better than anyone else. And, because of that, you could be yourself with her. You let yourself nod, eyes dropping to the ground. She squeezed your hands, smile coming onto her face.

It was like that Skye part of her, the inner child of her’s that needed healing was alway there; the optimist that refused to see the dark.

Still, she grabbed your bag, putting an arm around your shoulder, and leading you to your room.

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

Your room was a fucking mess. Jesus, was it a mess. Now, Jemma had told Daisy that she had no one touch it; no one go in or even put their hand on the door knob.

But...it was messy, to say the least.

The two of you stood, silently looking at the state of your room; clothes everywhere, doors left open, bed sheets unorganised.

She heard your breath shudder a bit. It seemed you had forgotten that the room was left like this. Then again, she was sure you were almost leading two - well, now really more than two - lives at once; SHIELD, your own, and the many undercover personas you had to adapt to.

Hunter’s lecture about SHIELD not being a lifestyle but a job was true; granted, it was a belief in the world and the good that laid in it, but he still had a point.

It seemed for you, those two had fully blurred into on destructive, stress filled life. And it was slowly killing you.

You entered first, grabbing some clothes from the floor and going into your bathroom, locking the door.

She, meanwhile, went to your bed, smelling them and groaning at the stink that came from them.

She put the bag down, picking up some of your other clothes - less yours, more SHIELD’s clothes that they gave to operatives.

There was no style, only a branded shirt (some actually were, but that’s not the point) to say “Shoot at me, I’m with the people you guys at HYDRA hate!”

She put them away, the clothes coloured black. She remembered when you used to have a more colourful attire, an expression to who you were.

No, it was just SHIELD.

After the clothes had been sorted, she then sat on the floor, opening the bag. She looked up at the sound from your bathroom, a shower being turned on.

She looked back to the bag, seeing bags of cocaine, some files...and your clothes. One of the bags had a hole in, and some of the contents had gone from the bag and onto your own clothes. These ones were yours...now stained with coke.

With work…

The shower was still going. And she knew that you were devoted to these people...but what had you lost in the process?

She went further into the bag, digging deep into it. It took a few moments, but she found something, her fingers brushed against something…

Removing her hand from the bag, she found a necklace; she smiled, this one more nostalgic. It was a necklace that you had both gotten together with some money you had both saved. Inside there was a photo of the pair of you…

You’d kept it, you were still there.

She looked to the door, the shower was still going. She looked to the clothes...she could make a quick trip…

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

She came back, clothes in her possession, but no bag. The bag was with Coulson, but the clothes and necklace she kept.

She came back in, putting the clothes on the bed. The door opened, and you emerged, now in sleep gear.

“Hey.” You said.

She smiled, “Hey.” She said back.

“Can - can you uh, can you stay for the night? Just...after all that, and what you said...I think I could use a break…?”

Her smile softened, “Of course.” She said.

You were still you...you still had your own life.

SHIELD wasn’t your lifestyle, just a belief in the world and a job.

#daisy johnson imagine #daisy johnson x reader #agents of shield x reader #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d imagine #agents of shield imagine

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snelbz · 3 years ago

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I'll Be Seeing You {6}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @tacmc.

Summary: After Cassian gets injured in the war, he’s taken to a war camp to be cared for until he gains enough strength to return to his battalion. While he’s there, he falls for a nurse that couldn’t care less about his title and doesn’t put up with his bullshit. Once he’s healed and the years pass by, he finds that there’s only one thing he wants to remember from the war, and she’s only a letter away.

Trigger Warnings: war

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 1696

IBSY Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta had no idea what had happened.

She was shaken awake in the middle of the night by one of the night nurses, quickly hurrying her out of the tent she shared with a few other nurses in hushed tones. She pulled her robe around her tighter, the nightgown she wore was perfectly fine with the warm fire crackling in the hearth, but in the crisp autumn air, it left her shivering.

As did the reason she’d been awakened in the middle of the night. One of her patients she’d been solely residing over had taken an unexpected turn at some point in the evening. Infection. Fever.

She felt shaky and hollow as she pushed through the tent flaps. She knew it made her a horrible person, but she couldn’t help but pray it was anyone except—

There were two nurses hovering beside Cassian’s cot and she thought she was going to be physically sick.

“What’s happened?” Nesta asked as she approached. It had been meant to have been firm, direct, but it came out shaky.

“He was sleeping peacefully, but then he started to stir and groan,” Claire explained. “When I came over he was drenched in sweat. I checked the gunshot wounds on his back and the burns. There were no bandages. I’m not sure how he had gotten them off—.”

A ringing in Nesta’s ears drowned out the rest of Claire’s words, but it didn’t matter what the nurse said, Nesta knew the cause of Cassian’s downfall.

It had been her.

She had been cleaning his wounds when the soldier had been rushed in earlier that morning, had left Cassian to help. When the soldier had died, Madja had ordered Nesta to go clean up and she had left the tent…

It had all happened so fast.

She had lost a life, and it distracted her from her thoughts, her further duties.

She had never gone back to finish cleaning and bandaging his wounds.

And, of course, Cassian had said nothing.

“I didn’t know what to—.”

Nesta cut Claire off, shaking her head to try and clear her thoughts. She knew she was to blame, but wouldn’t alert Claire to that knowledge. “He needs a dose of penicillin, maybe two, depending on how far the infection has spread.”

Claire nodded, the other two nurses having moved on to check on other patients, most of whom slept peacefully. When she kept standing there, nodding, Nesta snapped, “Now, please.”

She blinked and was off, hurrying to the medical cabinet in the center of the tent.

Leaning down over his bed, Nesta placed a hand on either side of his face. “Cassian?”

His skin was hot, clammy and he was covered in sweat. She swore quietly. He felt like he’d been lying in front of a furnace for a few hours.

His eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t rise to consciousness.

Claire returned, a syringe in one hand and a glass bottle in the other. Nesta took it, surprised by how steady her hands were. She felt as if they should be as shaky as her breathing had become, but she quickly and efficiently administered the dose, holding a small piece of gauze over his arm where she’d stuck him.

“Should I… Would you like to go back to bed?” Claire asked. “I can watch him while I make my rounds.”

Nesta shook her head as she sat down in the chair next to the cot. “No, I— I need to stay with him.”

Claire hesitated, but nodded and excused herself.

Nesta would wait with him, would keep him company, because it was all her fault.

She told herself that was the only reason, but as she reached up to brush his damp hair back, she knew she was only fooling herself.

But fool herself, she would.

This was war. He was a soldier. Aside from being completely inappropriate, considering she was his nurse, one should never get involved with a soldier.

It often only led to heartbreak.

His face was flushed, even though his lips were bloodless, and he looked so…frail. Even when he’d first been brought in, bloody and burned, he hadn’t looked so helpless. Nesta couldn’t look away from him.

She knew no one else was around, knew the other nurses may have been nosy and curious, but they would give Nesta this privacy. And because of that she reached out and took his hand, gently holding it in hers.

Was it really just earlier in the day that he’d held her hand after coming to check on her after that poor soldier had passed? The thought, that he considered her feelings more important than his own healing, had her fingers tightening around his.

I could see myself loving a woman like you.

She tried not to think about the thrill his words sent through her, then or now. It was highly inappropriate, especially considering they barely knew each other. But there was just…something about him. She reached out with her free hand and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. Still clammy. Still burning up.

Again, his eyelids shifted, but they didn’t open. The penicillin would keep him down for a while.

She wouldn’t be sleeping, though. Not any time soon.

With a defeated sigh, Nesta took the book off of the small table by Cassian’s cot. He had read a little more that afternoon, it had seemed. He was nearing chapter six, and Nesta couldn’t wait to see his reaction to the coming chapters.

Especially in regards to his beloved Daisy.

She opened to the page he was on and took out the leather strap that marked it. It was old and worn, and she found herself wondering how long he’d had it, how long it had held his hair back. She wondered how long he’d had long hair. She assumed always. It was hard to imagine him with short hair.

It just wouldn’t look right.

He stirred on the cot before her, and Nesta’s eyes jerked up to him, but he still didn’t wake. She watched him for another moment, making sure he was sleeping peacefully, then looked back down at the scrap of leather in her hand.

It occurred to her how little she knew about him then. She knew about his mother and lack of a father, but he’d mentioned brothers. Were they blood or was it more in a camaraderie sort of way? And who were they? Did he love them the way she loved her own sisters?

Perhaps she had been selfish thus far, in asking so little about him. Usually the man never shut up, was always making sarcastic remarks with his raunchy humor, and now as he lay unconscious, she wanted him to speak.

She wanted to ask him questions.

He mentioned Velaris, but Nesta had only been there once as a child and didn’t remember much from it. She wanted to ask him about it, ask him what it was like growing up in the famous City of Starlight.

She wanted to ask about those brothers of his, if he had any other siblings, and how his mother, who had never married, survived it, living in the world that they did.

She wanted to ask if he’d ever had any pets, what his favorite subject was in school, if he’d ever broken a bone or climbed a tree for fun or been in an airplane.

She wanted to know where this scrap of leather came from that she had been fiddling in between her fingers for far too long.

Eventually, she rested her head against her own arm, still holding onto his fingers in one hand and clutching that strap of leather in the other. It didn’t take long before she was asleep herself.

A few hours later, a firm hand on her shoulder had her jolting awake. She sat up quickly, finding Madja standing behind her.

Standing, she cleared her throat, releasing Cassian’s hand, still holding onto that piece of leather. “Madja, I—.”

A gentle smile was on the old healer's face. “You should get changed, Nesta.”

Glancing down at her open robe and nightgown, Nesta blushed and nodded, before replacing the strap of leather in the book she’d leant to him.

The sun was up, but the chill in the air told her it hadn’t been for long. She hurried across the camp to the tent she shared with a few other nurses. Quickly changing, she tied a fresh apron around her waist and was surprised to find Madja standing outside the tent as she emerged, still braiding her hair back.

“Walk with me,” she said, and took off, not waiting to see if she followed.

Nesta couldn’t help but feel like she was a child about to be scolded.

“There is no rule stating you can’t have feelings for your patient, Nesta,” she said, glancing over at her.

Nesta blinked, not expecting her to be so blunt. She immediately went on the defensive. “I don’t have—.”

Madja gave her a look that told her the woman knew she was full of shit. She went on. “This isn’t a formal job. There is no rule book saying you can’t fraternize with others. He’s very handsome, and it’s clear he’s taken quite a shine to you. But remember where we are, what we’re doing. Why we’re here.”

Nesta nodded, hesitantly.

She knew.

The soldiers came in, they healed, and they left, went back to war.

And that’s exactly what Cassian would do, Nesta was fully aware of that fact. There was no romance, there was no happily ever after, not when it came to war.

“I just want you to be careful,” Madja continued, her voice gentle. “I have seen young women, time and time again, fall for men who did not come home. It is okay to feel for another, my dear, but you must remember the risks.”

The risks. It was a long list.

“I was not planning on anything happening between myself and the Major,” Nesta said, at last.

Madja’s smile was soft. “That’s always when it happens, Nesta. When no plans are made.”

#snacmc ibsy #i’ll be seeing you #snacmc collab #nessian ibsy #nessian #nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #1940s au

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the-truest-sentence-i-know · 3 years ago

Text

and for the first time, what's past is past

Fandom: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Characters: Daisy Johnson x Daniel Sousa (Dousy)

Rating: T

Summary: The four times Daniel reminded Daisy of the past and the one time he showed her what the future could be.

Word Count: 1.1k

ao3 || ff.net || wattpad

Daisy hasn’t thought about Miles in a very long time. But as Sousa talks about Hydra – “This is a fight I’ll wage alone if I have to” – Miles rises in her mind unbidden.

They’re both so ready to fight, determined, and willing to go against anyone who stands in their way. She thinks that she almost should have seen it coming when Sousa steals the bike and gets off the plane because that’s exactly what Miles would’ve done.

She hopes the similarities end there, as they circumvent history and take Sousa with them, that Sousa sticks to his beliefs more steadfastly than Miles had.

The second is Robbie. It’s something about the possibility, the potential that hangs between her and Sousa. She’s not sure if she’s ready to pursue anything with Sousa yet, but that yet still creeps into her thoughts. The timing was never right with Robbie – and hell if timing isn’t also complicated with Daniel.

“I think this is my last stop,” he says and all she can see is Robbie stepping through that portal. Leaving before she even had a chance to see what they could’ve been.

Because everyone leaves. Or lies. That’s just how it seems to be.

But, for some reason, he stays.

The healing chamber isn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but she very obediently follows Simmons’s orders to stay and rest. When she opens her eyes, he’s still there, snoozing in his chair.

And even though it’s the last comparison she’d ever want to make, it makes her think of Ward. Him coming by to check on her after she was shot.

That’s not the only time Sousa’s reminded her of him. The way he stared down Malick, playing the part of her fiancé, was the same way Ward had looked at Miles. He seems to always be there for her, the way Ward was before… Well, just before. Hell, if she squints at Sousa, he even kinda looks like him.

It’s ridiculous that after all these years – and they were never even really together – Ward still haunts her like this.

But Sousa’s nothing like Ward, she knows that. He couldn’t differ more, really. Sousa found Hydra infiltrating SHIELD’s ranks – the Wards of the past – and was killed for it.

What she’s the most afraid of is him reminding her of Lincoln. That messed her up more than most things in her life and she’s pretty sure she can’t go through that again.

But then, in the time loop, “If I die, I’ll just reset no problem. If you die you lose your memories and you have to waste all this time relearning everything,” and it’s like she hears it through a crackling radio, realization dawning too slowly. He reaches into the drawer before she can stop him and for a moment it seems like everything is going to be okay.

And then it isn’t.

Daniel slides to the ground and he’s in pain and he’s scared and she watches him die. Then the loop begins again and he’s fine, but she’s seen him die. She knows what he looks like when he’s dying.

And they fix the loop and get out of it but now she’s kissed him and she can’t help but feel like she’s handed him a death sentence. Like what happened in the loop is a preview of whatever future they may have together. And she can’t shake it.

Then things start to go well – or as well as any day on this team can be. Sure, odds are mostly against them, but they always are. And sure, he’s proven once again that he’ll follow her anywhere, and kissed her – for the first time in his memory – but that isn’t actually a death sentence. That’s ridiculous, she knows that.

And least until “I’ll stay. I belong here.”

Until “I’ve already been given the privilege of a second chance.”

Until he takes her hands in his and looks at her and she has to try so hard to pretend she isn’t about to fall apart at how familiar this feels.

And even though Deke takes his place, it doesn’t take away the fact that he offered to be the one to stay. The fact that his original death was also him dying in service of SHIELD, of the greater good.

That’s the thing about being with a good guy, she supposes. He might not lie and betray his principles or turn out to be a double agent and murderer, but he will do the right thing even if it sucks. He will go to a worse world to protect this one from a dangerous book or take her place and sacrifice himself to destroy a monster. He will stay behind in a time he doesn’t know to save the world from a robot alien invasion and let them all get back to their timeline.

Sousa is a good guy who left his post for her and would do anything for her and the team and the greater good and she likes that about him. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare her to death too.

The When We Get Back to Earth game isn’t really a game, it’s mostly off-hand comments she makes. While they can watch just about every movie, tv show, and political speech (Daniel insists on those, not her), it’s not the same as going places or experiencing things or, most importantly, eating foods. Street food cannot be replicated in space. Neither can Times Square or singing obscene lyrics way too loud as you drive way too fast.

So she plays the game.

The way he plays is by asking questions about how specific things are now. He’s quite excited about The Museum of Television and Radio, because of course he is.

But one day, he plays differently. They’re laying in bed, enjoying a lazy Saturday morning, and he says, “When we get back to Earth, maybe we could get a place.”

It’s not like it’s a surprise. She practically lives in his quarters already. But the last time she lived with a guy was Miles – unless she counts Framework Ward, which she doesn’t. The last time she seriously thought about living with a guy was Lincoln.

There’s no way he doesn’t notice her hesitation, but he doesn’t take it back (like Lincoln and Ward and probably Robbie would’ve), he just lets it hang there. Because he’s not uncertain in himself like Lincoln. He’s not playing her or being overly deferential like Ward. He’s saying it because he thinks it.

Because he’s not Robbie or Miles or Ward or Lincoln. He’s Daniel. And she can’t predict what’ll happen, good or bad. But if she keeps worrying about it, she’ll miss the good.

So she snuggles in closer to him.

“Yeah,” she says finally. “We should.”

#agents of shield #dousy #daisy johnson #daniel sousa #daisy johnson x daniel sousa #daisy x daniel #aos #marvel #mcu #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #my writing #amwriting #ao3 #wattpad #oneshot

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anyoneseenadam · 4 years ago

Note

Hii

Can you please write something for fenrys? first meeting maybe? And the bond clicks? Thank you 🥺🥺

pairing: Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

warnings: implied smut, kissing and nudity, lil bit of blood and injuries but mainly pure fluff

a/n: fenrys is my fave and u can tell in the fic omg!! i hope you enjoy it cause it’s probs my fave one i’ve written yet :))) (i also made it a teensy bit ddlg but that’s just cause i want Fenrys to baby me lol)

——————————————————————————

Shit

Fenrys pressed his hand to the wound in his side, feeling the slow pump of blood seeping between his fingers as he stumbled through the woods. He had won the fight. The other guy now lying in the dirt, however not without consequence. And he wasn’t entirely sure he would stay alive unless he could find a healer soon.

He stopped to lean against a tree, breathing heavily as he held himself together. He transformed into a wolf, moving faster, and trying to pick up a scent, any scent, that could possibly help him, when he caught the sweetest smell he ever had. It was a female, smelling like peonies and blackberries, sweet but with an underlying smoky smell. She smelled of long days in flowers fields and even longer nights beside campfires, evenings spent curled in hand woven blankets and mornings spent drinking dark coffee and eating sweet toast.

He whimpered and began running in the direction of the scent. If he wasn’t so focused on not bleeding out he may have stopped to consider why the scent was pulling him in the way it did. He would have considered the direction he was running into, the direction of his future, his past and his present. But he just kept up, going as fast as his injured body would allow, concentrating on the sweet smell and putting one foot in front of the other.

He felt the change almost immediately, the cold snow and rough bark being swapped for cool moss. The pine trees swapped for tall, oak trees teeming with life. The silence of a frozen forest swapped for the rustling of bushes as nocturnal animals moved silently under the guise of darkness. The chill of the snow-covered woods swapped for the warmth of a summer evening. He pushed between two bushes and found himself facing a clearing, in the middle of which stood a wooden cottage, the wood dark and the roof covered in more moss, flowers growing from every surface and ivy peeking out of the crevices in the house. He stumbled down the path to the cottage, turning back into a male and crossing a small bridge over a stream that separated him from the intoxicating scent he chased.

He let out what he could only describe as a bark, calling for the female that carried the scent he was growing addicted to, collapsing onto his knees, feeling his conscious fade as he held to the side of his stomach, searing pain replaced by fiery veins as his head swayed. He barely heard the door open, only noticing the scent get so much stronger. He attempted to look up, the movement making his head spin as he collapsed, the last thing he saw, a girl in the halo of the moon.

Fenrys awoke in a foreign bed. An unbelievably comfortable bed, but foreign all the same. He pushed up on his forearms, gritting his teeth at the reminder of his wound.

The room he was in was dark, not just in light source, but also in décor. The window was cracked open with lacy curtains half closed, there was a tall bookshelf sat next to a desk with leather-bound books lining it, and tall candles flickering and casting the room in a golden glow. The bed he was in was small, clearly just for one, but so soft. He had blankets surrounding him and copious amounts of pillows, some that appeared hand made. In fact, upon closer inspection, a lot of the room looked handmade. Art covering the walls depicting crying women or bloody scenes that he presumed had been done by the owner of this house, given the pallet and assortment of brushed he saw on the windowsill.

And then there was that scent. It was stronger here and he pressed his face into a pillow tentatively, breathing in through his nose as he picked up on the deeper undertones. Fresh picked daisies, melted wax, the pages of old, worn books and something he couldn’t describe. Something so intoxicating he felt tears spring to his eyes, his body reacting in an unheard-of way, so overcome with emotion from scent alone.

He heard footsteps approaching the closed door and hastily put down the pillow, sitting up straight and readying himself to fight whoever it was if they were an intruder. But when you entered he faltered.

Mate. The word clanged through him as he came face to face with an angel. You were wearing a dark brown broderie dress with white hearts lining the hem, your feet bare and toenails painted black. Your hair was falling around your face, messy and untamed, and you had dark smudges around your eyes, makeup that accentuated your features and made you look like a character from the scary books he read as a boy. However right now you looked more like a teddy bear.

He briefly remembered the tail of a witch he had read. An evil witch who lured men into her house with whispered words and sweet kisses, only to steal their hearts and use their blood to keep her skin young and eyes bright. This girl however was no witch, you had elegantly pointed ears and a graceful way of moving that only came from being Fae. He watched as you moved to his side, silent on your feet, putting a tray down beside him before moving an opening the curtains further, letting in more natural light.

“How are you feeling?” your sweet voice interrupted his thoughts. His mind coming to a halt as he heard you speak.

“I- er fine..?” His voice was rough, and you smiled, a reserved smile. Moving to his side and sitting at the edge of the small bed he was on, pouring him a glass of water from a small decanter you had brought through.

“(Y/n.)” you answered his unspoken question.

“Fenrys.”

He muttered a thanks as you passed the glass to him, noting the crystals that hung around your neck and adorned your fingers.

“Crystals?” he asked, and you looked down, playing with the rings you wore nervously.

“My mother taught me about their meanings, they’ve always helped me.” You bit your lip and Fenrys decided he would never meet anyone as cute as you again, it simply wasn’t possible.

“Me too, my mother used to carry them everywhere.” You smiled at him shyly, a beat of silence passing between the two of you as he listened to the birds outside.

“Can I see your wound? I want it make sure it’s healing properly.” You asked and he nodded, pulling the blankets down slightly, grinning as your eyes widened as you took in his physique.

“I’m presuming you’re the healer I have to thank for letting me see another day.” He flirted playfully but you shook your head,

“I’m not a very good healer I’m sorry, but I did stitch it up and it should do the rest itself.” You pressed gentle fingers against the skin surrounding his wound and he glanced down, seeing it was already practically healed.

“You still saved my life.” He said, completely serious and you looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“I’ll let you rest.” You said quietly, standing to walk away and he smiled, feeling more at ease than he ever had since the war, watching his little mate leave.

He woke up again a few hours later, wound completely healed and puckering into a scar. Standing he stretched his arms above his head, not bothering with a shirt as he left the room in search of the girl that had occupied his dreams.

The rest of the house was alike your room, tall candles and worn books everywhere. He passed a kitchen filled with copper utensils and a living room with an old armchair, a half-filled mug left next to it, but still no you. He saw the front door was cracked open and wandered over to it, pulling it open and stepping into the fresh air, barely feeling the chill on his body as he found you kneeling on the moss-covered ground facing away from him.

You were muttering under your breath and as he got closer he saw you were cradling a small bird with a broken wing. He watched as you closed your eyes, the ground and air seeming to still as you called upon your magic, a soft white light flowing from your hand into the bird until its wing was healed and it could flutter away.

“I thought you said you weren’t a healer,” he broke the silence and you turned to him with a small smile.

“I said I wasn’t a very good healer.” You replied, standing with green stained knees, your hair now piled atop your head and lip gloss coating your soft lips.

“What are you then?” he came closer to you, unable to resist holding his mate, even if you weren’t aware yet.

“My mother said we were natural faeries.” You said, looking at him shyly, “we derive our power from the earth, crystals, sea water, dirt, fire, stuff like that.”

He hummed, “So technically you could have any type of magic?”

“I guess, but I’m not very good at magic,” you muttered, hands fiddling with your rings again as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Fenrys?” you asked, all pouty lips and wide eyes.

“Have you realised yet darling?” he asked, and you bit your lip. He knew he could tell you, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“I- we’re mates I think.” You were practically shaking, and he didn’t know why he suddenly had this burning desire to scoop you into his arms and protect you against the horrible world that was out there. He nodded with a smile, watching as awe took over your stunning face.

“Can I kiss you princess?” he asked, and you felt your face heat up, looking down as he pulled you closer. “Have you ever been kissed before angel?” he asked, his face hurting from the grin that was spreading over his face when you shook your head.

He tilted your head up to his, looking deeply into your eyes as your breaths came out quicker. “Not many people can find our cottage, my mother put up wards when she got ill, our family wasn’t well liked by the king. You probably only got here because we’re mates,” You muttered.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked again, running a soft hand over your head, smoothing your hair away from your face as you nodded sweetly.

He smiled before leaning down and kissing you gently. Pulling away and feeling as smug as a thief when your lips followed his, pouting at the loss of contact so quickly. He chuckled at your put out expression and leaned down to kiss you again, deeper this time, his tongue slipping into your mouth when you gasped against his lips, quickly beating your own in a battle for dominance and taking his time exploring your mouth.

He laid you down that morning and took you for the first time in the soft moss. Then again in your even softer bed. Now you were sitting in his lap, eating strawberries of a bush you had in your back garden as he pressed dizzying kisses into your neck, both of you still as bare as the day you were born, Fenrys having forgot how much he missed skin to skin contact, when you suddenly remembered.

“Fenrys?” he hummed in response, completely enamoured with the feel of your soft skin against his rough calluses. “Why were you hurt last night?”

“I didn’t tell you my job did I angel?” he asked, the pet name making you giggle as you shook your head, “I work for the queen of Terrasen.”

You gasped, “But she was killed!”

“Oh angel, when was the last time you left this cottage?” he asked, worry coming over him as he realised you had been holed up alone for so long.

“Not since my mother died. She said the king was dangerous and that he would hurt me if he found me,” your bottom lip was wobbling and Fenrys quickly kissed it away, shushing you as it dawned on him just how innocent his little girl was.

“No baby, he’s gone now, the new king of Adarlan is a very kind man and the Queen of Terrasen is wonderful,” he promised, “Will you let me take you to meet them?”

You nodded enthusiastically, bouncing slightly in his lap making him groan. He nipped at your ear lobe and you squealed as he pushed you down. You could meet them another day, today he was too busy with his little mate.

#throne of glass #tog #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys x reader #fenrys moonbeam x reader

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