#it took me 2 full hours to write out the answer and FIND A FUCKING WAY TO POST IT

[loserchildhotpants]

Tumblr won't let me post my answer, so I'm making it it's own post

So, good news for you, anon, is that that whole series is gonna be a shit ton of examining destiel through the eyes of other characters. But also, i love talking abt the Process of writing emotionally charged scenes, and so im happy to chat abt that moment, bc it's a significant one!

So, the scene:

"Another glance at Dean, and Sam thinks he ought to just rip this off like a band-aid, because every mention of Cas seems to push Dean’s soul further out of his body.

As gently as he can deliver the news, because he knows Mary considered Cas as much of a son as Dean and him, he rips off the proverbial band-aid, “Cas is— Cas died. He’s been dead almost a year. Jack left. He’s reconstructing Heaven with Amara’s supervision, I think. We haven’t heard from him in a while, though. I think maybe you’ve been dead longer than you’re thinking.”

“Oh,” Mary says softly.

Cautiously, she turns to look at Dean, and Sam has to clear his throat loudly so that Dean will notice there are people still around him, and look back at their mother.

When Dean does come back to the conversation, he must not like whatever expression is on Mary’s face— he doesn’t get angry, not out loud, in any case, but he seems further wounded by whatever expression she’s giving him.

“Dean, I’m so sorry about Castiel.”

Dean nods.

He keeps nodding.

Sam thinks of Dean sleep-deprived, circles and shadows under his eyes, sitting in a diner booth, talking to an empty bench, Dean chugging coffee, tearing the library apart all day and night, Dean drowned in liquor on the kitchen floor, jaundiced, blood-shot, Dean sitting in dewy grass like a kid in time-out while Baby’s carcass lets up streams of smoke behind him in the darkness.

“Knee’s busted,” Dean had said at the time.

Sam had thought to himself, “your soul’s looking pretty busted too, Dean,” but he’d not said it out loud.

It’s not like it would’ve done either of them any good.

“We can’t just leave her like this — out here in the dark. It’s cold. She’ll be all alone… she’ll think I just left her here to rot in the dark, all alone! She won’t know I’m coming for her! She can’t know how hard I’m trying to get back to her!”

Looking at Dean now, nodding, eyes empty, trying to look normal enough for their mother and failing so publicly, he feels a small flicker of compassion return to him.

He’s been hating Dean since the barn, and it’s not to say all that resentment and vitriol is totally gone in an instant like that, but Sam’s known for more of his life than not that no one hates Dean more than Dean, and remembering that now, in this very moment, makes him hurt for Dean.

You look insane, Sam thinks at Dean, sadness winding around his heart line a vine and squeezing, Dean, you’ve got the look of someone with dementia right now. You're so fucked up. 

“What happened?” Mary wonders, sympathy woven in her voice.

Sam wishes he could’ve had time to warn her not to ask that.

“I, uhm…” Dean is floundering, looking pained and lost, and he’s not looking to Sam for help, because he probably thinks Sam won’t help him anyway, and Sam supposes he’s not given Dean much reason to believe otherwise.

Not twenty minutes ago he was thinking he’d have preferred Dean stayed dead.

“Who is Castiel?” Jess pipes up politely.

“He—” there’s a frog in Dean’s throat suddenly, he seems to lose his ability to speak altogether, he might even be struggling to breathe, and finally his eyes rove to Sam’s.

Instinctively, Sam snaps into action.

“Dean, go grab mom a drink. I’ll fill her and Jess in,” he says, taking Mary by the shoulder and leading her to sit at the same table as Jess.

There’s a cross of shame, embarrassment, and gratitude over Dean’s face before he retreats.

...

Mary puts her elbows on the table, and then her head in her hands.

Leaning in closer across the table, Sam tells Mary quietly, “mom, he’s worse this time. He’s worse by a lot.”

Picking up her head, Mary looks at him worriedly, and Sam spares Jess a glance, and explains, “Dean’s lost Cas before. They’ve been friends for over a decade, and even longer when you consider how much time they spent together in other dimensions, too— point is, Dean’s never coped well, whenever Cas went missing, or was taken from him, but this time…” Sam looks back at Mary, grimacing, “... something’s different this time. He's...”

Sam could swear Mary knows something he doesn’t.

She looks down and away, but not as if she’s deep in thought, or even confused, or shocked— she seems resigned, almost.

As if she knows how that sentence ends, even though Sam doesn't."

So, Sam's perspective is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that chapter. Sam's perspective here almost matters more than Mary's, but that's why this isn't in Mary's perspective. We'll get her POV later, but right now, it matters that it's Sam, thinking and talking about Dean, to Mary.

In the opening of that chapter, Sam is pondering, resentfully, how he is more Dean's son than John or Mary's. He puts himself in the position of being Dean's son, knowing how fucked up that is, and hating Dean for it, despite knowing that was so outside of Dean's control.

Their relationship is weird and fucked up! Dean is his brother, his mother, his father, his friend, his guardian -- Dean wears a lot of hats for Sam. And here, this part of the scene opens with Sam looking at Dean, and knowing him.

He's the only person in that room that actually knows Dean.

That's why this scene, in regard to Mary, really 'begins,' with the observation that every mention of Cas' name is triggering Dean. Sam knows what Dean looks like when he's triggered, he can see Dean dissociating. He's letting Dean flounder, not out of anger, or anything, but because Dean hasn't asked for his help (because Dean is so reluctant to do that, Sam is his 'son,' and he doesn't ask Sam for help even when he should -- Sam knows this, this is the behavior of a person knowing when to tread lightly with a paternal figure).

Sam is keeping Mary's eyes on him purposefully, that's mentioned in the narration, that he's intentionally keeping Mary from looking at Dean, because Dean 'looks insane.'

We can only surmise what that might mean from Sam's perspective. This is also why it's really fun to play with POV switches -- what 'he looks insane,' means to Sam is probably not what it means to Mary. Still, the knee-jerk reaction is to keep anyone from seeing Dean in that state.

He considers Dean too vulnerable. Now here Sam is playing the Dean to John; just as Dean protected John (and will absolutely reflexively do when John is back in the bunker with them), Sam protects Dean, despite the everything of it all.

"Cautiously, she turns to look at Dean, and Sam has to clear his throat loudly so that Dean will notice there are people still around him, and look back at their mother.

When Dean does come back to the conversation, he must not like whatever expression is on Mary’s face— he doesn’t get angry, not out loud, in any case, but he seems further wounded by whatever expression she’s giving him.

“Dean, I’m so sorry about Castiel.”

Dean nods.

He keeps nodding."

Sam can't see Mary's expression, and we're not with Mary in her head yet.

We can only imagine whatever silent exchange happened with their faces when Dean came back a little bit to reality.

What does Mary see, is the question, and that's a really good question.

Without spoiling other plot stuff, we can keep it limited to speculation here -- Dean is as good as, if not a better hunter, than Mary. They both read people well, it's how they survived in the game as long as they did.

So, Dean looks at Mary and sees something that makes him angry, and defeated, as far as Sam can tell.

Mary, earlier in the scene, just mentioned that she was raised from the dead in the same place she first lost John.

Now she's looking at Dean, living in the same place he last lost Cas. I think it's safe to suggest that Mary, when she looks at Dean, sees herself.

She has no right to claim parts of Dean, she wasn't there for him or with him in any capacity, even when she was physically available, she was never emotionally available, she has no right to look at him like she Gets It, even if she does. Even if she's holding compassion for him -- that would irk Dean. Dean has his own grief with Mary, for her absences, for not appreciating that he was so on his own, for not somehow knowing that John would be who he was -- but starting a fight with Mary about how she's looking at him would be admitting something.

If he confesses that he's angry about the way Mary is looking at him, as if she 'gets it,' then he's confessing that there is anything there to 'get.'

So he looks away, he keeps his mouth shut. He just nods and keeps nodding.

There's so much frustration in that body language. Confused anger. Unable to maintain eye-contact, unable to stop nodding, but not saying anything, and then --

"“He—” there’s a frog in Dean’s throat suddenly, he seems to lose his ability to speak altogether, he might even be struggling to breathe, and finally his eyes rove to Sam’s.

Instinctively, Sam snaps into action."

Dean is doing exactly what he did in the dungeon. Dean's PTSD is on loud display here, but it's often just brushed off as being part of Dean's 'difficult' personality. Dean can't speak -- he went mute as a kid for a while when Mary died, he would shut down and stonewall whenever he lost Cas, he couldn't speak through Cas' confession, and now faced with Mary and Jess asking basic questions 'what happened?' 'who is Castiel?' he can't speak again.

How panicked must Dean be, to look to his little brother for help?

Sam thinks he's maybe not even breathing.

And word choice matters always, but especially here -- his eyes 'rove' to Sam's. His eyes are roving around the floor, and we don't know in search of what. They almost *happen* upon Sam. It's almost incidental.

His eyes 'rove,' to Sam's, implying a sort of lack of intention. His eyes don't 'shoot,' or 'snap,' to Sam's -- Dean is looking around the room, Sam likens him to a patient with dementia, says he looks 'insane,' and maybe to Sam, that means 'lost.'

Dean looks lost.

Dean is lost.

He happens upon his little brother/son in the darkness, and Sam, being the empathetic person he is, jumps into action, because anything else would go against his moral grain.

"Mary puts her elbows on the table, and then her head in her hands.

...

Sam could swear Mary knows something he doesn’t.

She looks down and away, but not as if she’s deep in thought, or even confused, or shocked— she seems resigned, almost.

As if she knows how that sentence ends, even though Sam doesn't."

This will come back later, but in the earlier seasons, Dean says to Sam that he doesn't know what the loss of love like losing Jess is like. He basically says that he doesn't envy Sam, and all he knows is that he's never loved and lost that way before. He implies he never will, that he doesn't feel capable of loving that big.

Somewhere along the line, Dean did learn what loving and losing big felt like.

Sam doesn't know it yet, because Sam can't see himself in Mary or Dean. They aren't mirrors for him. He sees them struggling, they struggle so differently from him, he can't identify it, but there, in the room with them, is where this conversation first began.

Jess.

See, this is a fun part of talking about writing, because this isn't gonna be explicitly stated in the narration at any point, I only get to talk about this bc someone asked me abt it lol -- the entire conversation these characters are having, couldn't have happened without Sam losing Jess.

First, Mary lost John, she made a deal, then John lost Mary, then much later on, Sam lost Jess, then Dean lost Sam, he made a deal, then Sam lost Dean, then much, much later on, Dean lost Cas.

There is only one person in that room that couldn't/wouldn't understand what Dean is going through right now, and that's Jess.

She's haunted the narrative just as effectively as Mary. The chapter begins with Sam hiding from her still -- he's hiding from Jess, he's hiding from his grief, because before he knew his parents really at all, he was a widower. He lost Jess, and that took over the all of him.

The thing is, though, the loss of Jess made Sam move. He got up, he got hunting, he got angry, he got into motion -- what happens to Mary and Dean, in their bereavement, is that they both shut down. They stop living.

That's why, during this exchange, Sam realizes he's angry with Dean for killing himself in that barn (or letting himself die -- it's computing as the same thing in Sam's head). They're all talking about grief, and a loss so profound, life loses all meaning.

Sam went out in search of meaning again, Mary and Dean never did. They disconnected from their emotions whether they meant to or not, the loss was too much, it defined who they are, and made them both absent.

Sam is angry with Dean's absence/leaving the same way Dean is angry with Mary, and this song and dance of loss and grief and rage and dissociation is so commonplace among them all, they can't remember that at one point in time, they were all Jess, and they weren't Jess's anymore, the day they lost their own Jess.

Jess, shiny and new, full of promise, unmarred, emotionally. She hears that Dean went to Hell, and she gasps. Mary and Sam aren't that effected, thinking back on it. To them, it's just a fact of life.

There is a ghost in the room, a constant, if gentle and innocent reminder, that life was not always so grim, and so heavy, and that ghost is the measuring stick of loss. Jess is That Big Loss for Sam, whose perspective we're inside of. He avoids her. He avoids looking at her, he isn't thinking about her too much, he's concerning himself with Dean and Mary, it's easier, it comes more naturally, but she's not going anywhere. She's in the room.

All that loss and grief have ever meant to Sam is sitting in the room with him while he looks at Mary, who is putting her head in her hands, resigned, full of some knowledge Sam thinks he doesn't have, because he's not looking at it across the table from him.

Earlier in his interiority, Sam muses about who he might have been, and that's an enduring character flaw in Sam, that he's fixated on fixing a past he can't fix, and wondering about what might have been, instead of staying in the present, accepting who and what he is, and finding a way to be okay with that.

Sam and Dean often parallel each other in canon. A lot of what Sam *says* he believes, he doesn't act as if he believes, and Dean often *says* things he doesn't actually believe, and we can tell he doesn't believe the things he says, by the way he acts.

Sam speaks a lot about healing, but never does it. If asked, Sam would say that the past is in the past, and he's gotta stay in the present time, but he so rarely actually does that. Dean *does* try to heal, but he does it all wrong, he hurts himself in his pursuit to feel better, he withdraws into himself like an animal with a broken limb receding into the woods to lick its wounds and see if the bone ever sets again.

Sam talks the talk, Dean walks the walk; Sam thinks there's nothing he can do to fix the past, but that doesn't keep him from trying to. He stays angry about it, he stays in motion about it, that's what Lights Out was also about -- Sam not sitting still in the face of loss, being unwilling to accept some doom. Dean resigns himself to the doom, and can't withstand the grief that comes with that resignation, but that doesn't mean he hasn't accepted it.

The question of what Mary sees can only really be spoken about, for right now, through Sam's lens of reality. And Sam has his own biases, his own blind spots, his own assumptions, and that colors how all that interaction goes down.

If Sam were more able to accept the ghost at the table and all that ghost brings with it, he'd be able to see more clearly what Mary sees. He'd know how the sentence ends.

Mary, being a Dean Mirror, knows how the sentence ends, because she is also at the end of that sentence.

[c2-eh]

I just had a charlos thought (prompt maybe??) Charles writing things about Carlos in his note book, and then losing said notebook which results in a mini breakdown because he HAS to find it before anyone reads it and he’s freaking out but he can’t tell anyone why he’s freaking out either, everyone’s searching for the note book which causes him more stress, Carlos ends up finding it but doesn’t read it but Charles thinks he has

oh god this has been in my inbox for A YEAR and i randomly found it now... idek if you still follow me anon or if you even care about charlos (you should they are fruity and in love!), but i come with 2k as compensation <3 it was funnn to write this! enjoyyyy luvs! <3

Charles is freaking out. Rightfully, if he were to say so himself, as he just lost a very important thing in his life.

The whole garage of his is up and on their feet, trying their best to find an A4 blue notebook that is filled with details about Charles’ life – mostly racing, because Charles’ life is racing, racing and racing again, so it made sense to do that.

And well, that’s what he told everyone. Acted like the said notebook only holds the racing knowledge like data, strategies, technical stuff, Charles’ feelings about the car, possible improvements and such things. It is half true, however, not the full truth. Not in the slightest.

No one knows why he is freaking out so much. Only Andrea. And Joris. And Antoine. Because Charles can’t keep his fucking mouth shut about anything, ever.

The tell-tale rapid breathing of his was a hint Charles should calm down and not overthink this, but the fact he couldn’t reveal why the search was so urgent, made him lose a bit of sanity each time someone approached him a question about why it was so important.

Racing is important, was be his answer, but no one actually believed him, because everyone knows Charles holds all the information in his mind. The notebook is just a help. A boost if you may. He lives and breathes racing and he would think back to the imperfections (or the perfections, but there’s not many currently) on the whim.

Charles was surprised and wondered why no one seemed to be disturbed by the fact he insisted and nearly shouted at everyone that if they were to find the notebook, they could never ever open it, no matter what. He could blame it on wanting a privacy, but why would you need that big of a privacy from your team, if the things in the notebook were about the data the said team has?

“Nothing?” Charles asked in dejected voice after around 2 and half hours of searching. One look at his mechanics’ faces and he did not really need a vocal answer. He sighed and thanked everyone for their effort, sending them off in the process, retracting to his room with his head hung low.

It’s not like Charles was drawing his and Carlos’ initials in hearts into the notebook, no, but there were some things that would easily reveal his true feelings towards his teammate and he couldn’t allow it.

He wouldn’t be able to swallow down the rejection – Carlos’ big brown eyes so apologetic, feeling sorry for him and just because Carlos is such a good guy, he would try to force himself to like Charles just to make him happy.

Only if that was actually possible, Charles thinks and scoffs, the sound echoing around the hall.

Charles loves Carlos. It took him a long time to come into terms with it and it was honestly a big messy battle within him – one of his heart and brain and probably dick too – which in the end his heart won, no matter how much his brain tried (did it?) to resist the feelings.

Charles returned back to his driver’s room, his mood still sulky. He was slowly losing hope, but at the same time gaining it, because if his notebook got lost somewhere no one could find, then it meant Carlos couldn't either. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking, but Charles’ brain was determined to convince him that was the case (or maybe it was Charles himself trying so hard to not get his feeling revealed to avoid the hurting).

---

Back in his hotel room, Charles still feels a bit down and paranoid, but it quickly disappears once he settles deep into his bath. Hot water sooths his muscles and he sighs – for the hundredth time today.

The rest of his evening routine passes by quickly and just as he’s about to climb into his bed, his face moisturized and hair washed, someone knocks on his door.

It’s Carlos. Looking better than ever.

Charles’ breath hitches when he opens the door, but he plays it off with a cough. He curses himself for not checking who it was before. His teammate looks sheepish, shy even, with how he’s looking at Charles with his big brown eyes. However, once Charles sees what Carlos is holding in his hand, he is done studying Carlos’ handsome face. His breath quickens and suddenly he feels like suffocating.

“What is that,” he says, voice flat. His eyes are zeroed on the A4 blue notebook filled with his handwriting talking about Carlos, his hands, hair, nose, eyes, and… Fuck.

How fucking stupid was he to write it into his work notebook? Charles needs to not be close to that thing during boring meetings ever again.

“Wow, I at least expected a simple ‘hello’,” Carlos chuckles and Charles can’t even appreciate the sound now. He only frowns and misses the way Carlos’ face drops.

“Carlos,” he warns firmly and then, without thinking, snatches the notebook from his hand, not caring it’s rude, nor that he still did not invite Carlos into his room. He immediately checks it, listing through the pages to make sure everything is intact.

Once he is sure, he takes a deep breath and turns back towards Carlos that is now standing in the middle of his room, the door behind him closed shut.

Carlos is looking at him – studying him, his expression scrutinizing – as if Charles turned into alien or something. His brows are slightly furrowed and his full pink lips are downturned. Oh no.

“Care to explain what the fuck was that?” Carlos asks, crossing his arms on his chest. And Charles is not the God’s strongest soldier. His eyes fly over Carlos’ whole body, eyes stopping on his bulging biceps, before he snaps out of it.

Out of nowhere, Charles’ blood starts to boil. Why is this man acting like Charles is stupid?

“Oh don’t act innocent, I know you did it,” Charles scoffs and clutches the notebook close to his chest. He’s never ever leaving it out there in the open.

Carlos looks confused and Charles is momentary startled. He shakes his head. No, he definitely did, he wouldn’t look so guilty other way.

“I am truly confused, Charles. Can you please talk to me and explain what’s going on?” oh and if Charles does not hate when Carlos is calm and rational, all while Charles is losing his mind.

He rolls his eyes – over exaggerating it.

“I know you read it. The notebook,” he says, his tone harsh, "everyone would, because that’s who we are. It is in our nature to be curious and do something we would perhaps regret later, but also never admit to. You read my notebook. Or maybe even took a peak.”

Charles chances a glance at Carlos and he doesn’t look confused anymore, no. More like a little hurt, but also amused, which Charles thinks is the worst combination ever. Partly because how the fuck is it possible to have 2 contradicting emotions battling on your face, but mostly because what is Carlos hurt for?

“The curiosity got the best of you, yeah yeah, do not even apologise, I know it all. We’ve all been there,” Charles waves his hand, but he can feel his throat tightening and he mentally curses himself.

“I didn’t-“ Carlos starts, but then shuts his mouth and waits. Charles finds it weird. Guess he gave up on the excuses.

Charles sighs, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, but to no avail, “just leave it. I know you don’t love me back, so there is no need to feel bad for me. God knows I am fed up with that sentiment,” he says and throws the notebook on his bed, turning away from Carlos, “can you just forget it and go now?”

It’s quiet, eerily. Charles is not sure if it has been minutes or hours, nor if Carlos is still there.

“Charles,” Carlos’ voice suddenly sounds way closer than before, “Charles,” he repeats, firmer now and he has no choice, but to turn to face his teammate.

Looking up into those eyes should come with a warning.

“I did not read your notebook. I really didn’t. I found it under the counter where you keep your helmets, when I was tying my shoes. I did not give it to you, because you were not in the garage, so I took it into my room. I wanted to give it to you in person, in case someone would be a jerk enough to read someone’s personal stuff,” Carlos says, emphasising the last part of the sentence.

Great, it’s safe to say Charles feels like shit now.

“Oh,” he says, averting his eyes, “so you really didn’t read it,” it’s phrased like a declarative sentence, not a question.

Carlos shakes his head still, which Charles can only see from his peripheral vision.  He feels like dying because… because he just confessed without a need to do so. He's so stupid.

Big warm hands land on Charles’ cheeks and he has no choice, but to look back on Carlos’ handsome face, “can you tell me more about the love you mentioned?”

“No,” Charles whines automatically and Carlos has a nerve to chuckle. Charles’ head thunks against Carlos’ shoulder and he immediately feels Carlos’ hand in his hair.

“It’s okay,” Carlos whispers and Charles feels like crying, because here it is. The pity, the rejection he was so afraid of- “I love you too.”

Charles giggles and nuzzles his nose into Carlos’ neck. He stays there, breathing in Carlos’ scent when he suddenly realizes what the fuck he just said.

“What?” he abruptly moves away, almost shouting.

Carlos looks smug, with the slight smirk playing on his lips, but his eyes look soft. So soft and earnest Charles feels like his knees will give out from under him. It is all it takes to believe him, because he knows Carlos. He knows Carlos shows emotions through his eyes more than anyone else, because he’s seen it so many times it is integrated in his brain.

“You heard me,” he says and his smiles transforms from smug to soft and Charles launches.

Their lips crash and Charles puts every drop of his willpower into keeping himself on the ground and not climbing Carlos like a tree.

Kissing Carlos does not feel like anything he’s dreamed of, because nothing of sorts can compare to the real thing. Carlos starts slow, with careful closed mouth kisses that after a while start to frustrate Charles. He whines, to voice out his displeasure.

Carlos gets the memo and finally starts kissing him and Charles finds himself on cloud nine. He’s turned breathless as Carlos goes from slow, to vigorous open mouthed kisses, his tongue prodding at Charles’ lips to let him in. Charles moans, loudly, into Carlos’ mouth, sending a message of how much he’s loving it.

The tips of Carlos’ fingers run down Charles’ spine and a whimper falls from Charles’ mouth once Carlos grabs his ass, squeezing it. The action brings Charles closer. So close he can feel the outline of Carlos’ dick against his hip.

“Carlos,” he whimpers, his own hard dick rubbing against Carlos, “I need you.”

“Let’s take this to the bed, cariño,” Carlos breathes out, guiding Charles there before he was even done speaking.

Later, when they are lying in his bed, Charles’ head pillowed on Carlos’ shoulder, does Charles finally feel fully relaxed. Looking up at Carlos’ freckled face, his strong nose and big plump lips brings a strange sense of happiness and comfort to Charles.

(What doesn’t bring comfort, is the drying cum on his ass and thighs, but he is content enough to ignore it and stay in Carlos’ arms. For now).

“Why did you look so guilty on my doorstep?” Charles asks, not able to help himself. He needs to know, because the only explanation his brain could come up with back then was ‘Carlos is guilty’, which apparently was not true.

Carlos sighs, his fingertips slowing down their tracing on Charles’ back, “I know you were looking for your journal. Ricky messaged me.”

Charles is confused, “and?”

Charles giggles, the sound coming out of his mouth freely. Carlos kisses his forehead and Charles brings his hand up to Carlos’ jaw to caress it. He kisses his nose in return, then cheek and then finally his mouth.

“I could have given it to you back then or send it through someone. I was not back here yet,” he pauses and Charles says nothing. Leaving him space to continue whenever he wants, “but I was selfish. I wanted to give it back to you in private. I don’t really know why, “he resumes his stroking, his voice getting quieter, “perhaps I wanted an excuse to be with you alone.”

“I’m glad you did.”

[iamnot-crazy]

Brainwaves Part 2

Summary: Law wakes up one day to find another person you, being in control of his body and speaking in his head. Now the two of you are trying to solve the mystery of how you got there in the first place and how to get you out of his body and into your own.

A/N: be sure to read part one first but I am enjoying writing this fun little mystery. I also find the idea of Law doing things he would never do like skip and tell people to have a great day very funny which is why I started writing this.

Law’s hand glides over the stone walls of the cave, gently analyzing the grooves and texture.

“This is where Shachi said they found me, thirty minutes after I went in,” he thinks aloud. “It took at least ten minutes to walk from the entrance to this point, so that leaves twenty minutes unaccounted for.”

“All I see are dark, musty walls,” you groan in his head. “Now that we’re far from the crew, can I take control again?”

He rolls his eyes. “I already told you, no. Our deal is you have control in the office and while eating, and I have control the rest of the time.”

“But it’s so…”

“Cold and empty, I know!” he cuts you off, his voice tight with impatience. “Look, I need to be in control right now. One, because if something happens, I need to use my powers to get us out safely. Two, I can research better by moving at my own will, not watching through you. And lastly, it’s my body, and part of our deal. If you ever want to find your own body, you’ll let me do what’s needed.”

You huff in reply as he continues down the dimly lit cave. “Looks like I was fighting something?” he ponders, running his fingers over a deep, slash-like sword mark.

“Oh, is that what that is? I just thought it was a very intense game of tic-tac-toe,” you snicker in his head.

He rolls his eyes again, pulling out his sword and comparing the marks with the movements he would have made. “I was throwing my sword rather chaotically, and I don’t think I made contact, seeing how the walls seem to have taken the brunt of my swings.”

“Or maybe you were just showing off. You know, ‘Look how strong I am!’ Slash! ‘Look how cool I am!’ Slash! Slash!’” You giggle at your own joke as he continues to ignore you. You pout, a flicker of annoyance in your thoughts. “Fine… you were fighting something invisible. Does that bring back any memories?”

He shakes his head. “No, not yet.”

You sigh. “Do you at least remember why you were in this cave?”

“Shachi said it was because I was getting weird feelings from the cave.”

“I know. I was there for that conversation, remember?” you say in a duh tone. “That doesn’t help us much.”

He sighs in annoyance. “Okay, well, what about you? Clearly, this all started in this cave. Do you remember anything? Recognize anything?”

You ponder for a moment. “Nope!” you pop, earning a groan from him.

“Well, this cave has to have some answers. We just have to keep looking.”

“Or… we go back to the ship and see what Shachi’s cooking for dinner!” you offer, a bubble of humor in your voice.

“What is it with you and food?” he questions as he walks deeper into the cave. “Shachi’s food isn’t even that good. It’s barely edible and all he makes are rice balls.”

You shrug. “I just feel like I haven’t eaten in years.”

“Well, you literally ate an hour ago, much to my embarrassment,” he cringes, thinking back to the moment when you were in control, shoving food down his throat before asking everyone on the crew if you could have the rest of their meal. His stomach still groans from being so full.

“Whatever. You just don’t know how to appreciate things.”

“Can you just focus?” he groans as he moves down the cave. Suddenly, a small bat flies at him. He throws his arm up, swatting at the bat as it dances around his head. “Get the fuck away.”

“Hey, leave it alone. It’s not its fault your hair looks like it has its own ecosystem stuck up there.” He continues to swat at the bat, ignoring you. “Hey, I mean it! Stop that!”

“I’ll stop when it leaves me alone!” He then makes contact with the bat, and it flies off squeaking.

Your stomach drops, and you are overwhelmed with a sense of fear, a primal instinct screaming at you to flee. “Law… run,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“What?” he asks, confused.

“Run! Now!” you yell, your voice laced with terror.

He turns to run as a roar echoes down the cave, and the sound of large, beating wings propels him forward. “What the hell is that?!” he shouts as his stride lengthens.

“It’s Mom,” you state, your voice filled with dread.

“It’s Mom?!” He turns his head to see a giant bat that fills the entire cave and is three times the size of him. The bat’s back legs are extended, ready to claw him, and it’s gaining ground quickly, nearly on his heels.

“Slide to the left!” you shout.

He obeys, dropping to the ground and sliding into a small opening to the left. The bat’s claws scratch at the edge of the opening as he shifts deeper into cover. After another foot, the top of the cave opens up, allowing him to stand and catch his breath.

“What the hell was that?!” he pants, his heart pounding in his chest.

“The little bat’s mother,” you sigh.

“I caught onto that,” he rolls his eyes. “How did you know about her and this hiding spot?”

“I don’t know. I just felt a wave of déjà vu. Like I’ve witnessed that scenario many times,” you ponder, your brow furrowed.

“Interesting.” He puts his hand to his chin in thought. “Well, do you have any déjà vu on how to get out of here?”

“Maybe, if I had control, I think I could figure it out.”

He groans. “Fine, but as soon as we’re out, I’m taking back control so I can speak with my crew.” He closes his eyes tightly, and when they open, they’d shifted to your blue eyes.

A smile quickly overtakes the grumpy face. You stretch, getting familiar with controlling the body again. “Alright, this feels better already!” you laugh, popping your knuckles.

“Will you stop that! I’d rather not get arthritis,” he groans in your head.

“That’s just a myth, you baby,” you roll your eyes before starting to walk down the tunnel. You quickly pause, a weird feeling washing over you, as if something was telling you not to go down there. A shiver runs down your spine, a sense of unease settling in your stomach. You spin around, heading the other way.

“You better be able to get us out of here in a decent time,” he says, his voice laced with impatience.

*“*Can you just say something nice, or say ‘please’?” you sigh.

He groans. “Fine… can you please get us out of here on time?”

You smirk. “Thank you. Yes, Law, I’ll do my best to get us out of here on time.” You then disappear into the cave. “Besides, the sooner we get out, the sooner we can eat!”

He groans as you laugh, skipping down the cave.

—

You found your way out of the cave with ease and no further trouble. Now you’re sitting in the back of Law’s mind as he leads a meeting with his crew.

“This is so boring…“ you moan.

“Be quiet,” he hisses under his breath, covering his mouth with his hand as he leans back in his chair while his crew discusses their plans.

“But I’m bored.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Captain?” a voice asks, gaining Law’s attention. He shakes his head and sits up.

“Yes, Ikkaku? Sorry, what was the problem?” he asks.

“Ku,” you mindlessly correct.

“What?” He shifts his head away from the crew, hissing at you.

“I’m sorry, Captain?” The woman in front of him asks, looking confused.

He shakes his head. “Not you. Sorry. Continue.”

Ikkaku nods, turning back to the board with a map of the North Blue. “I was saying, in order for us to get to the Grand Line, I’ll need to upgrade the engine to make it through the Calm Belt. The island we’re on doesn’t have the parts I need, but this island and this island should,” she points to two islands. “Both are within range, but deciding which one we go to will determine where we start on the Grand Line.”

“We’re going to find my body before you go to the Grand Line, right?” you ask, worry lacing your voice in his head.

He sits back in thought. “Bepo, what do you think?” he asks.

The polar bear sitting next to him sits up. “If we go to Island One, we’ll start further back on the Grand Line. But if we go to Island Two, we’d start in more dangerous parts with no experience.”

“Yeah, but we can handle it!” Shachi slams his hand on the table excitedly. Penguin agrees, nodding enthusiastically.

Law holds up a hand to silence them. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Starting further back on the Grand Line isn’t ideal, but it would give us more experience,” he reasons.

“I also have a reliable source that says the parts we need will be on Island One,” Ikkaku states.

He pushes himself out of his chair. “Then it’s settled. We’ll head out to Island One tomorrow, where Ikkaku…”

“Ku,” you correct again, interrupting him.

He pauses, shaking his head. “Ikkaku can get the parts, and then we’ll head straight to the Grand Line.”

Everyone in the room nods, standing and filing out.

“Law?” you question. “We are going to figure this problem out first, right?”

He turns, facing the porthole. “Yes, Ish, we’ll figure this out first,” he says quietly.

“Captain?”

He turns to find Ikkaku standing beside him, looking puzzled.

“Yes, Ikkaku?”

“Ku.”

He frowns at the sound of your voice in his head, and Ikkaku raises an eyebrow.

“Are you alright, Captain? You’ve been acting weird.”

He relaxes his face and nods. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Ikkaku smiles. “Good. Can’t have our captain having second thoughts. Once we enter the Grand Line, there’s no coming back.”

He nods. “Yes, I know.”

Ikkaku turns to leave. “Well, if you need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Ik…” he begins.

“Ku!”

“Ku!” he repeats, the word catching in his throat. Ikkaku freezes. He spins around to face the porthole. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he hisses to you.

“Her name is Ku,” you say.

“And how would you know that?” he questions.

“I just do,” you pout.

He groans before turning back to see Ikkaku still frozen. “Ikkaku?” He reaches out to touch her shoulder, but she yanks away, leaving him confused.

“Don’t ever call me that!” she yells, spinning around aggressively.

He raises his hand defensively. “I’m sorry, it just slipped.” He raises a brow. “Wait. Why?”

Ikkaku’s breath hitches. A flicker of pain crosses her face before she schools her features into a neutral expression. She lets out a small, shaky breath. “Captain,” she says, her voice barely a whisper, “I forgave you a long time ago…but some things still hurt.”

He looks down at the woman, confused, his eyes darting around, searching for answers, but he can’t find a response. What did I do? he wonders, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach.

Ikkaku turns and storms out.

“What was that about?” you question.

“I… don’t remember,” he admits, a wave of guilt washes over him.

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

A/N: Thanks for reading Part 3 will hopefully come out by the end of the week and will probably be the last part if not then the second to last. Please let me know what you think 😁.

Anyways if you enjoyed this and wanna read more of my work check out my MasterList

[nerdanel01]

No. 2 - Aostrolf's Weed (NSFW/18+)

“Is this okay?” she took the care to ask him, almost sweetly. Something a little self-conscious and worried in the look she gave him. “This is still okay?”

Maker. It’s better than okay. It’s a wanting more edged and hot than he has ever known, a pleasure so deep he might lose himself in it. It’s too good; it isn’t right at all. He knows that no matter what promises he has made, he is going to be imagining her like this for the rest of his life: beautiful thighs spread on either side of his hips, flush of arousal across her chest, pert breasts, his cock in her hand—ready, he can only assume, to ride him raw because he did not fuck her hard and fast enough the first time, as she had been asking him to. 

He is tongue-tied, too thick with need to answer with words. But his hands found her hips and guided her downwards, both of their groans echoing off the walls of the Necropolis as she sank around him, taking him fully inside of her in one slow, steady, deliberate press.

The pleasure is staggeringly total: his toes curl; his back arches off the floor; his hips drive up to meet hers. His eyes rolled back as his eyelids squeezed shut, his jaw slack, mouth open wide to let loose a groan that is nothing short of obscene, loud enough to echo through the vast hall of the Necropolis without. 

And that’s just the feel of her—but the sight of her, look! The tension in her thighs and her core as she lifts herself only to seat herself fully around him again; the messy curls of dark hair spilling over her shoulders and around her face and the curled patch of dark hair between her legs; the bounce of her breasts with each of her thrusts. Strange, how it still feels a move too bold to touch her—but she has no reservations about touching him. When Agnes caught him staring, she smiled, bit her lip, did not quite bite back her moan of satisfaction; lifted her free hand to hold his face, her fingers brushing his cheek so reverently, so gently—far more gently than the force with which she rode him. When her thumb swiped low along the curve of his chin, Emmrich opened his mouth and captured it, gently but firmly, between his teeth. 

[read full fic]

—

I’m really proud of all the writing I did this year! So for the last ten days of 2024 I’m going to be reblogging my 10 favorite pieces that I wrote.

I think this is the longest single smut one-off I've ever written?? It got so out of hand??? It inspired a whole spin-off series I had 0 intention of writing???? And compared to other pieces it was so easy to write— a real joy.

The fic owes a lot to two other sex pollen fics I'd HIGHLY recommend—firstly, a Solas x Trevelyan one, which is mind-numbingly good and (I think??) can still only be found on the Kink Meme/LJ. It's so good I spent over an hour and $22 trying to find it in all those comments again just to rec it here, and it was worth every minute and penny. I was for sure heavily influenced by the absolute crash from erotic to devastating at the end. Not gonna put the author on blast since it was filled anonymously but if they are seeing this: this is one of MULTIPLE of your works I still think about years later and I hope you are thriving. And SECONDLY, oh my god, @bdafic's Solavellan sexpollen fic, Aphrodisia. YES IT'S UNFINISHED, I DON'T CARE, GO READ IT ANYWAY. I am sometimes literally just doing things around my house like, walking my dog, or washing my dishes, and the reveal in this fic hits me over the head AGAIN and I have a little chuckle at Solas' expense thinking of him hiding his embarrassed, red face in his hands… and then I just stare into space like, wow. wow. Incredible. 13/10. I won't spoil it for you, but it's so hot, and so funny. Multiple outloud belly laughs reading it. Incredible Dorian and Varric banter at the top. And @bdafic's Ellana is one of my fave quizzies. I never would have put all that work into Aostrolf Van Markham if I hadn't been inspired by the absolutely insane world building this fic spoils the reader with. START YOUR 2025 OUT RIGHT! RUN DON'T WALK!!

[hollowpointwords0o]

Not stopping

18 or older>

Based on a dream i had, so i am gonna try to write this as best as i can. This is a Jensen imagine.

Jensen: You are an actor on the show, your Deans love interest and ere comes a kiss scene, After the actor yells cut do you stop or continue.

Warning:: Smut. Fem oral, P in V Protected sex. Slight Daddy kink,

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You were getting ready for your scene with Jensen, Jared and Misha. You joined the show only a few months ago. Dean and Sam found your character (Mac) when they were hunting and took you into the bunker, things just took off from there.

"Y/N we are ready for you on set." you nodded and got the final touches of the makeup done. Walking to the set, heart pounding. Why though? Oh yeah cause your dumbass is in love with Jensen. Knowing you shouldn't be because he's married but it happened and you wish it didn't. Jared is the only one that knows about this. He over heard a phone call with your mother.

*FLASHBACK*

"I know mom but what can I do. I love him but I'm not allowed to. Fuck why did my heart have to pick Jensen?" "You love Jensen?" Jared screamed.

"Gotta go mom. Dude you can not tell anyone what you heard okay. Promise me."

"YOu know his married right.

"No shit Jar. It's not like I meant to fall for him. Please don't tell him"

"I wont but you should before things get worse." You just nodded my head and he walked away. Of course you didn't say anything. And now your here on your way to kiss the man you secretly love.

"ACTION"

Dean: Dammit Mac you cant just run into a nest of vamps like that. You could have gotten your self killed.

Mac: But I didn't and I had to save the kids.

Dean" Just do not ever do it again. You can't be that stupid.

Mac: Oh why do you even care Dean. Since I got here all you do is tell me what I do wrong. You could give two fuck less if i died.

Dean: You wrong.

Mac: Oh yeah and why is that.

Dean: Because I love you. I have since the minute I met you. Dammit i can't lose you. I won't.

Dean/Jensen walks up to you and kisses you. *CUT* calls the director. But Jensen doesn't pull away and neither do you. the kiss deepens. His hand finds your waist while yours finds his hair. Jared walks up and pulls you two apart. He looks at the both of you and says that they yelled cut 2 minutes ago. "excuse me" . Speeding walking, more like running the hell out of there and into the bathroom. Locking the door behind you, sliding down the door and started crying.

Why did you have to kiss him. Why didn't he stop. Does he feel the same way. So many thoughts run through your mind. Getting up you go your trailer, grabbing your keys and leaving.

It's the weekend thank god so you have time to figure things out. Jensen tried calling. never answered though. Monday rolls around and you have a meeting with the directors.

"I need to leave the show" They nodded knowing full well why you are leaving. Back at your trailer, Jared walks in seeing you pack your things.

"Are you leaving" Words would not come out so you continue packing. "You can't just leave Y/N. If this is about what happened you can move past it. It will be okay..."

"LIKE HELL IT WILL BE JAR. IT'S TOO MUCH. THIS IS BEST THING RIGHT NOW"

"What about Jensen" "What about him. He's married. Happily i might add. He doesn't love me. He doesn't want me." You finished packing everything in your box. You took off your necklace that you wore since the first episode you were in and set on the table. Jared looked at you and his eyes filled with more sadness. Taking it off meant you wanted to leave this whole thing behind you and not just the show, but the town. He hugged you "Don't be a stranger he whispered. ANd with that you walked out.

A few hours later you were at home packing. Not everything but enough to stay with your mom until you get things in order.

*AT THE SET*

Jensen is houting your name looking every where he can. Worry flooded his mind when he couldn't find you. Finally he goes to trailer in hopes that you would be there taking a nap and that's why you didn't hear him. Walking him he sees Jared sitting at the table with his head in his hands. "Where is she man1' "She's gone dude"

"What you mean she's gone." "She left Jensen. Shit got too much and she left" "What shit. Man what are you going on about?" She's in love with you man. Has been for a while. And that kiss made things in her head blur. Why did you have kiss her like that." "I don't know man, Things have been blurred for me too okay. But I don't have time to explain please just tell me where she is. "

"Like I said man she's gone" Jared but the necklace in Jensen's hand. Looking at he knew. Shoving it into his pocket he ran outside and to his car. But it blocked in. Looking around he sees one car that isn't. BABY. He drabs the keys from the set and hops in. Speeding off to your house. The whole time shouting and praying that he gets there in time.

He slams BABY into park and runs to your door knocking on it as loud as he could.

As your packing you hear a loud banging on the door. Heading down the hallway you open the door. Only to see a panting Jensen at your door. Before you could speak he chimes in.

"You cant leave. The show, the town or me. Okay I need you here with me Y/N. Since I met you all I can think about is you. I look forward to seeing you smile and being around you. Okay that kiss it wasn't Dean kissing Mac, that was Jensen kissing Y/N. I didn't want to stop. When Jared pulled us apart all I wanted to do was pull you back in. I love you baby. Please don't go. " He waits for you to answer. You stand there for a minute. "What about your wife" "That's over, it's been over for a while. We are just holding out for the kids." Before getting a chance to sat anything his lips were on yours.

Once again the kiss deepens. He kicks the door shut with his foot and pushes you up against the nearest wall. His hands roam your body while yours tugs at his hair. A slight moan leaves his lips, turning you on more. HIs lips move down to your neck, biting hard, for sure to leave a mark but right now you don't care. You tug at his shirt. "Impatient are we" He laughs. You nod. "Jump" You jump up and wrap your legs around his hips. He walks to your room. Laying you down on the bed he kisses you again. Tugging at his shirt once more he finally takes it off. You hun your hands up and down his abs which earn a slight moan from him. He helps you take off your shirt and bra which he undoes with one hand. His lips find your breast while his hand plays with the other one. "Fuck" you moan while arching into him

He switches breasts and hands. Moans escape your lips and you feel him smirk while sucking on you nipple. Jensen kisses down your stomach and stops right at the line of your jeans. Helping you take them off he kisses the inside of your thigh. He licks a strip between your folds causing you the throw your head back. Jensen starts sucking on your clit. "OH shit Jensen" You moans while tugging at his hair. He groans at the sound of his name leaving your mouth in pleasure. He adds a finger, then two. Moans and profanities is all that you can make. "Jensen Im..I'm close. Oh fuck gonna cum" "do it baby. Cum for me, let it all go" And with that you scream his name and cum hard. So hard it cause you to black out for a second. You open your eyes to see a surprised Jensen. "Damn babe I think you squirted. That was hot. Do it again for me yeah." Before you could protest his mouth was back on your clit and fingers pumping in out of you at ungodly speed. "OH GOD JENSEN YES> FUCK DONT STOP RIGHT THERE." You came quicker then before and harder. Squirting once again. Jensen comes back to kiss you. Making you taste yourself. Your take your hand and rub his hard on. "As much I want to feel your mouth of my dick I need to be inside you right now. He takes off his pants and grabs a condom from his wallet.

Climbing on top of you, he looks at you one more time, nodding your head "yes" And with that he slowly pushes inside you. Giving you time adjust, "Move" He moves slow giving you time but you can tell he wants more and that's exactly what you tell him. "More Jensen please" "Baby I give you more I won't be able to hold back, i will pound this sweet tight little pussy of yours raw. You won't be able to walk tomorrow." Do it" Jensen's sped starting increasing more and more. Pounding into you just like he said he would. He goes faster and hard the more you moan and scream for him. He groans and moans in your ear. Fuck how is is possible to get more turned on while getting railed. To deep into your thoughts you didn't hear him. He halts his movements which brings you back to reality.

"Oh look at my pretty little slut. Too dick drunk to even listen to daddy's words. I said you won't cum until I tell you to understood." Words won't from so you nod. This causes Jensen to pull out and slam hard into you. "Words darling. use your words" You didn't though. Mind fuzzy, you didn't speak. which again cause Jensen to pull out and slams into you. "SHIT" you moaned loud. "YES I understand daddy please just move. I need you" Jensen smirks and moves once more. Nails digging into his back. God" he groans in both pain and pleasure. He sits up on his, grabs your hips and pulls you closer, going harder then before he takes his thumb and pushes it hard against your numb. "Yes right there. Oh god." "Wrong darling. Me. God don't got shit to this with this. It's all me. Making you feel this good. Making you dick drunk. Me who is causing those sweet moans to come out.. He grabs your hand and puts it on your stomach. "Feel that baby. That's all me, filling you up." He grabs your neck making you look at him. " Do not moan god's name again." He goes back to fucking you senseless, and rubbing your numb. You clench down against him. Trying to hold it in. "Jensen I can't hold it. I'm so close. Please."

He shakes his head. "Not yet baby. I'm almost there okay hold it for me yeah. You can do it. With in a few minutes his thrust gets sloppy and his breath pick up. "Come with me Y/N" You and him let go at the same time. Riding out yall's highs he stops and lays on you for a minute before laying beside you discarding the condom into the trash can beside your bed.. You turn to lay on his chest while trying to calm your beathing.

"I love you Y/N . Will you be mine." He looks at you with eyes pleading. You smile and look up at him. "I already am" HE smiles and kisses you one last time before pulling the cover over you and falling sleep with you in arms.

************************************************************************

First time writing something like this. I hope you enjoy.

[thetinylittlespider]

Tearing Up: Season 1

Chapter 6: A meeting

Finally some interaction! Im awful at writing xD

Cw: Dehumanizing treatment. Mature language. Blood.

KUM9's POV:

I dont remember when did my eyes closed, the fall was something I was terrified of, I didn't knew if I could survive. And all my senses shut down probably because my body assumed my dead already...This was exactly what I didn't want to happen!

For a few seconds, I believe I opened my eyes again, I felt my surroindings again...Hear, well...The sounds were being supressed by something, my ears felt strange, like being smothered by the space, where was I? The answer to that was answered really fast.

The cold feeling in my body...I couldn't breath...My lungs were filled by water! An unfortunate scenario that I was more than familiar with.

Transported back in my memories, I was 6 years old again, the scientists in charge of me started to tap the glass of my box, they wanted me to stay awake even after I just slept less than 3 hours. I could not make up the meaning of their words at the time, I just recall being scared, my legs couldn't stand the sight of them...Their size, how those eyes aimed at me, knowing full well they could dispose of me with ease if I did something wrong.

ー"Hey buddy! Ready for your next test? Are you excited?" ーA femenine voice asked with enthusiasm...My answer, was just a weakened nod of agreement.

The next thing I remember...Was her fingers, holding my head with too much strenght, I believe I started crying due to the pain and pressure over my skull. This was back before my resistances showed up, I could've been easily broken at that exact moment, a stain of blood in her hand...

Her grip got loose, I was falling to a glass container of water...

And then...in a flash...I was 15 again...

I tried to find air, to swim my way out, attempted to stick to the glass, crawl out before I drowned in here...apparently I landed on a cup of water, but if there was a cup in the middle of the big forest I was meant to live in...Did I finally found the camping area!?

Finally! Yes! That means humans should be here!

ーEw! Did that thing just fucking moved!?ー A voice boomed from above.

Oh, no...Humans are here.

My heart beated faster than normal, panic overtaking my senses, and the cough to clean my lungs from the water got complicated...My brain, ached...That smashing feeling of dread and danger. I didn't need it now! I can tell there is a human right above me! That is more danger than I expected in my plan to come see them in the first place!

But it didn't matter how much I tried to escape, using all my might, there was not enough time for me to get away from the clear view those humans had upon me, the same humans my sister always warned me about, the same species of the people who created me, who subjected me in torture every single day since I got memory, the ones who were ready to trash me and considered me a failure...The same creatures were now fully aware of my existance, and the tone of their voice was mixed in emotions, none of them were positive, not that it could save me from an awful fate.

ーI-Is that a fairy?ー The same voice asked in disgust, it was a male...

ーThose things got extinct like 2 years ago...And this one doesn't even have wings!ー A female voice started to freak out while I was trying to get some air.

My movements were full of panic, I wasn't good in water, I could try...But the longer I stayed there the more memories came to mind to remind me how lethal the liquid can be.

"What do you want me to do!? Kick it!?"

"Call Civil Protection! They'll know what to do!"

Words that I wish I could give more attention to the moment I finally fell off the edge of the cup. The ground welcomed me unceremoniously, and I took most of the water I could out of my lungs with deep and heavy coughs that probably did more damage to my throat.

Once I recovered from almost drowning, I remembered the couple of humans who were right above me watching my every move without an ounce of joy. Casting their shadows on top of me, by the look of their faces, they didn't plan to let me go like if nothing ever happened here.

ー"There goes our only fucking turn in this place, it will take months to get another reservation!"ー The masculine voice said with clear annoyance. What was a reservation!? I was just learning new words the last week! Hold on...I should not be worrying about that, I needed to get out of h-...

As I turned around slowly, trying to stand up from all the mud and filth in the ground... I could see the giant hand of the man getting closer and closer...No, no...He was going to pick me up, a human, a human that seems angry enlugh to just squish my head in between his careless fingers. Just like in the laboratory, just like them...

I felt like a kid again, one that gave up any hope of freedom, a kid who's tears already ran out...As painful as the tortures were, it was impossible for me to even tear up, I've been doing it so much that my own body grew tired of it, unable to produce the tears because I had none left...

Begging was pointless, my creators usually got mad at me if I did that...A tendency to inflict more pain upon me was clear. Always being reminded how that was what I needed, how much of a failure I was to be taken to those extremes...I was their worst mistake, a waste of resources...

Everything was still so fresh that even without being touched yet, I could feel my muscles aching because of the grip of humans hands, my bones shattered to dust by their pressure, and feeling like I could explode at any given moment...

I was lucky if I died in one of those tests...

I should've never come here...

ーD-Dont touch it! Are you insane!?ー The high pitched female voice snapped me back from my little flashback, and as soon as I was brought back to reality, I felt my breathing getting cut short.

The man who picked me up had no idea of how much strenght he had, he raised his hand all the way up until I could meet his eyes, in any other situation I'd be just crying by just having a human this close...But he was making breathing really hard when his thumb and index finger were pressing my chest like a button of some sorts.

ーWell this thing sure looks like one of those fairies...But it doesn't have wings...Maybe they were not extinct! And this little one just lost their wings to some animal!ー The man explained to the woman, who seemed to ease a little bit with the small reason his "partner" gave her.

Now both humans started to inspect me, every single part of my body, the way their hands got closer to move my head for a little, to check my back for any trace of wings, everything was causing an inmense level of claustrophobia, their fingers were everything my eyes could perceive, the woman used one finger to lower my jaw, exposing my fangs...thing that had the reception I expected...

ーT-Those are fucking fangs!?ー She said with a clearly concerned tone on her voice, pulling her hand back and taking to massive steps away.

ーJust put it inside the cup! What if it's poisonous!?ー She remarked him, they had already call some kind of security...I didn't knew how much time I had...

Yes, I could bite the hand of the guy holding me, the pressure was enough of a factor to convince me to do it...I needed to do it, or else I was back into a laboratory, back to have my body under all forms and shapes of pain.

But I didn't want to hurt them, I can't do it...I don't want to do the same...I don't want to be the same. My sister already told me how dangerous my venom could be, I didn't wish to cause that suffering...All I could think about the concept of killing was the faces of my siblings, taking their last breath...They all died while fighting each other. Why? Just to show someone we were worth living? To show the torture we've been in all those years wasn't for nothing?

ーP-Please, stop...I-I don't want to hurt...you, just let me go...ー Words, I finally released words, this could feel amazing if my chest wasn't about to explode by the pressure.

And somehow...by the grace of some god, they stopped poking me with their huge fingers, and holding me like if I were some kind of toy, the grip of the man eased a little bit, probably out of surprise ... or...where they mad? Oh no, the last thing I needed besides curious humans were angry humans.

Back in the lab I would've been placed in a test chamber, expecting flames to burn my skin, or be electrocuted for the fifth time a day...

But nothing happened, I was still on the human's hand, unable to figure what thought could cross their minds, what they would do to me now that I showed them I could talk.

They seemed as lost as I was at that moment, no words, no panic, no fear...They were just looking at me, and then back at each other.

ーD-Did you just...Speak?ー The female said with a whispering voice. Of course, it was unbelievable to find a similar creature to another that in a certain moment was believed to be extinct, and on top of that, unlike their extinct counterpart...this one talked, like a human..

It took me a fat second to find a simple word to answer that question, It was the first time I was holding a conversation with humans, even when I learned their language...It was far too late for me to be able to speak with them, the scientists already installed a natural reaction of fear and submission that I had to show if I wanted the pain to be over soon...

ーYes...ー I said softly with an almost broken and shaky tone of voice. I hoped for their reaction, I needed it in order to know what was going to happen to me next. But their fast blinking was hard to translate.

ーWhat are...you?ー The male replied to me while he checked to his back, making sure his friend was also as amazed as he was.

And what was I? This was hard to tell...A test subject? Was that all I was?

"A predator, a superior to these weaklings"

That's what my sister would say...But I wasn't a predator, unlike her, I was yet to know what it felt to hunt a prey, to test my power and watch the contrast against my "victims". But it never crossed my mind, I was so lost trying to understand the few books I read, the nature of the humans who created us, it was enough for me to overshadow the thinking my sister tried to instruct me with. But none of that gave me an answer...What was I?

ーI-I'm a...An experiment, co-could you please let me go? I-I didn't want to be so...close, sorry.ー It was true, my plan was just observe this gigantic creatures from a safe distance, enjoy their conversations, watch their behaviours...Not have a talk with them, as much as I saw this as an achievement, this was far too risky...Specially with my memories bombarding my brain with the previous human interactions of the past years...

Probably out of pity, the hand that held me was getting closer and closer to the ground, the man was crouching, his look of confusion met my eyes, of course...they didn't meant to harm me, they were just curious. I could understand that...

ーJack, the fuck are you doing? We already called authorities to come check that thing out...You think they are going to let us go home if we are empty handed? We might even go to prison for wasting their time!ー Those words coming from her were enough to stop the guy who's name was...Well, Cool, god why didn't I thought of that name for me!?

But Jack thought of it, the ground was close, my only escape without hurting anyone! Come on Jack! Jackie? Release me! You will never, ever know about me, not because I want to, but because I will probably won't have the chance to come here again...

ーH-Hey, fuck that, we can just tell them that it escaped and we couldn't follow...Give fake directions, it's not the first time we have done that! And there is no way you want to take this thing back at home with us, Bethー Jack seemed reluctant to let me go, I was glad, I didn't expect a human to finally show some kind of respect...for my freedom, he was a good guy...Right?

ーUgh, fine...then we better get things ready to go...Not that they ever give any reward for finding weird stuff anywaysー I could sense that Beth was annoyed, apparently I messed up their camping day, and they were in trouble with some sort of authority...tho, I didn't knew much about it. It was better that way, the less we knew about each other. The less trouble there was.

Right?

[mikqls0n]

Jealousy|| Jamie Campbell bower x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Jamie and reader are a couple of 11 years and 9 years married, still Jamie always finds himself jealous whenever you talk to other men

Warnings: smut, mature language,arguing, half of this probably makes no sense(smut part) cause I just started writing and did not think about how it sounds so

Extra: use of y/n, this is my first smut so I have no fucking idea how to write this shit

———————

You were standing at the bar, drinking,waiting for Jamie,coming from his concert.

Today was his 27ty birthday and also first counterfeit concert, you couldn’t be more proud of him that he finally got what he always wanted.

You would be in the next performing because it was too full in there and you wouldn’t see anything so you decided to just go in the second round.

———

Throughout the concert a men beside you started a conversation with you, clearly flirting with you which you didn’t noticed though, you were too focused on your Boyfriend on stage.

“Hey y/n!”he said a little louder which then caught your attention.

“Huh what?”you looked at him confused, not knowing what he said the past 10 minutes.

“I said if you wanted a drink?”

“No, I’m good”you both were standing at the font in the first line so that Jamie could see you two, jealousy building up in him, seeing too that he was definitely flirting with you but tried to focus on the concert.

“Come on, one drink? Please” the show was almost at the end so you thought one drink couldn’t hurt.

You walked out with the man as Jamie saw you both out the door imagining the worst that could happen.

———

“He said that? No way” you two were having you, you think 4th drink as he told you about his best friend giving him a dare to ask his mom out.

“Yeah, she wouldn’t speak to me for the next few days until we told her it was a dare”

“ I can’t believe you” you laughed.

“Yeah an-“ you didn’t even realise the show was at the end and the most people were already gone as a not-so-happy Jamie comes through the door

“Pack your things. We’re leaving” he said as he grabbed your arm softly and your bag.

“Calm down man, don’t you see she’s busy?”

“Yeah well I don’t really like when someone is flirting with my wife, so back off” he said at the man’s face which now looked terrified.

“Let’s go y/n”You mouthed a drunk “Bye” before walking next to Jamie.

———

“Now what the fuck was that” he said as you both sat in the car.

“I don’t what you’re talking about” you almost drunk self said as you crossed you arms.

“He was flirting with your for HOURS and you just kept going talking with him”

“No he wasn’t” you said as Jamie just began to ignore you.

———

When you were at home it wasn’t different, he just walked in and upstairs to your bedroom.

“You’re Just Gonna ignore me or what?” You yelled after him.

“Idiot..” You walked into the kitchen and made yourself a glass of water before sitting on the couch deciding to watch a movie before you would go to bed too.

———

After almost 2 hours the movie was over you stood up and walked into the kitchen to wash your glass as you felt Jamie’s hand wrapped around your waist from behind.

“Love, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you” he whispered between kisses he placed on your neck.

“It’s ok, I should’ve noticed that he was flirting with me”you said as you gasped when you felt him sucking on your soft skin.

“Jamie..” you moaned as he sucked on your soft spot when you leaned against his front.

“Fuck..”you turned around and smashed your lips against his, with your hands in his hair and his on your waist pulling your impossibly closer.

You grabbed his shoulders and sat him down on the sofa as you sat down on his lap not breaking the kiss.

As your hands went up to his hair,Jamie broke the kiss and took off his and your shirt and flipped you over so he was on top.

You both stared at each other as Jamie broke the silence after a while.

“Why did you even talked to him?hm?”

“I don’t know, I was bored?”

“From my show?”eyes filled with lust as he didn’t have you time to answer him as you felt his lips crashing against yours and his hands wandering down to your jeans, pulling them down your legs as you pulled him closer when you Were only laying in your underwear beneath Jamie who was still half clothed.

“Fuck me Jamie..”you moaned as his lips wandered down to your neck,sucking on your skin.

“Oh believe me,I will” he mumbled against your neck.

It was now your hand which went to his belt,you sat up a little and unbuckle his belt as Jamie helped you pulling down his pans,followed with his boxers as he pushed you flat on the sofa again.

Jamie didn’t wast any time,before thrusting into you,making you scream out his name.

He didn't give you time to adjust him, as he began to move out of you and thrust fully into you again.

His lips found its way to your neck again as he moved his hips against you,pounding into you hard and fast, leaving you a moaning mess under him.

“You like it when I fuck like this huh?”he whispers.as you tried to answer, all that came from your mouth was a moan as you felt him every spot inside of you.

You wrap your legs around his waist,pulling him closer as you connected his and yours lips,moving them in rhythm, moaning against his lips every time when he snaps his hips against yours.

He knew you were close by the way you were clenching around him.

“Are you close love?”jamie whispered as his lips trailed down to your collarbone,placing kisses as you couldn’t say a word and just nod.

“Me too, let go for me,love” he didn’t had to tell you twice as you came around his cock, soon followed with him cuming inside you leaning his forehead against yours.

“You okay?”he said. “Yeah, you?”

“I’m sorry that I got mad at you and yelled at you, I should’ve listened to you” he said as laid beside you,taking you in his arms.

“It’s okay,but we should go to bed”You said tired.

“Yeah,you’re right”

[trealamh]

Copper

Day 2 of ScotEng week:

Drama // family, consequences, worth // “Do you really believe that?”

[What is it with the wedding themes in all of these prompts you might ask? The answer is ‘I don’t know’ and ‘I’m just happy to be writing again do not question my life choices’. This takes place in an AU where Arthur has been half in love with Alasdair all of his life. He runs off after introducing him to Francis and watching them fall in love. Francis doesn’t let go of him so easily and so he and Arthur stay in touch, but Alasdair hasn’t heard from Arthur in years. Alasdair and Francis are walking down the aisle in two days; Arthur loves them both and cannot fathom that they could love him back.

Ask me about the coins and the salt in the piss pot and I will tell you a wee bit about Scottish wedding traditions.]

-------

His eyes find Arthur across the room at every turn and he does not lie to himself. He is seeking him out of the corner of his eye, drawn to the sound of his voice and the familiar shape of him in a crowd. He keeps to himself, lingering near windows and walls, his back never turned to the door. Alasdair looks at him and sees negative space; sees five years into the past. He thinks that Arthur’s hair might be a little longer, his posture a little better. His clothes lived in but well-fitted. He looks well.

Alasdair should not be looking.

Just across from him, Francis looks happy; is happy. He looks beautiful backlit by the warm light of the faux sconces on the homely walls of the pub. And Arthur loves him, Alasdair knows he does. He would not be here, if he didn’t. Not when… He would not be here.

Someone (Sean, probably) has put a piss pot full of salt in Francis’ hands and he is making the round around the pub trading in kisses for copper. Francis’ friends from abroad throw in two pound coins and kiss him so hard that they nearly bowl Francis over. If he keeps his feet on the ground it is only because they hold him up, arms held firm at his waist, hands amiable and familiar on his body. Alasdair could no more resent the easy way Francis loves and is loved than he would his smiles or the sound of his laughter. There is something in him that aches though, watching now as he makes his way to Arthur to earn his due. Arthur’s tight lips quirk in what is almost a smile and he drops two pence into the pot. He turns his face when Francis leans in and Francis does not chase his mouth, content to press a lingering kiss to the soft swell of Arthur’s cheek like a brother.

Alasdair’s fingers itch to curl into a fist. He goes to find another pint instead.

At some point in the night half their party heads off down the street to the next pub over and the rest split ways. Francis does not try to coax Alasdair away but leaves him behind with a quick embrace and a whispered promise. Alasdair will not keep him to it and takes the damned piss pot to put aside. Fuck knows where Sean’s been off to; he hasn’t seen Daffyd all night. Alasdair should call him in the morning and ask why, why? Did Arthur say...?

 Or he could ask Arthur himself, it seems.

He cuts a lonely figure, the sole person left behind, half-sitting on a table top with his hands held loosely between his thighs. There is no device in his presence here, no gambit or intent. This place felt like it was theirs once, back when Alasdair had first put down the anchor to rebuild the family business from the ground up. Every hour he had spent sanding the floors and thatching the sunken benches had been worth Arthur’s evenings spent pouring over ledgers and faded receipts. He never took a cent for any of it, shrugging off Alasdair’s offers coarsely and claiming ownership to nothing more than the black ink on the records that first fiscal year they broke even. Alasdair knows now that it was more than pride that kept Arthur one step removed but he struggles to follow the logic of his actions. He cannot guess at the storms that brew behind the green of Arthur’s eyes unless he puts them into words. All he knows is that for all that he is difficult Arthur is also honest. For a while he belonged to these rooms as much as the furniture, and so if anyone has the right to beg off from the revelry of a wedding that isn’t his and spend the night letting his eyes get lost in the woodgrain instead, it is him.

“You were right.” Arthur breaks the silence and Alasdair is caught short, unsure of what he means.

“The sconces,” he clarifies, and makes eye contact with Alasdair only briefly before looking away again. “It was worth wiring them. The room does not need any more light than this.”

Alasdair hums, and thinks back to the arguments that had very little heat at heart.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Arthur shrugs.

“I don’t suppose it’s cold enough to warrant a fire.” He is thinking out loud and doing a fine job of ignoring Alasdair, eyes on the ash stains that frame the fire place.

So, Alasdair does what he’s always done best. He puts himself right where Arthur cannot ignore him.

Arthur keeps his weight resting on the table behind him but straightens up from his slump when Alasdair comes close enough. He looks at the enamel piss pot he is still holding by the handles first and then, finally, his face.

“I’m short on change,” he deadpans.

Alasdair huffs his amusement without smiling and sets it to the side. The salt and coins resettle with the movement, scratching the bottom of the pan.

“Will you stay?” Alasdair has never known how to keep from sounding angry when he speaks low like this.

Arthur opens his mouth to speak and he interrupts him before he can argue.

“For the wedding,” he clarifies, and thinks in numbers. Two nights and three days. Arthur must have arrived earlier in the day, and he will be staying the night. Alasdair does not know where he might be staying but he’ll have dropped his bags there, some spare clothing and formalwear, for the ceremony. Another pair of shoes.

Arthur looks at him silently, his expression blank but softened by the lax set of his lips. He nods, barely there but he nods, and Alasdair feels at one like he can breathe and like one of his ribs had popped out of place to dig painfully into the soft tissue of his lungs.

“There’s a spare room—”

“Upstairs.” Arthur finishes for him with finality and for the first time there is something like anger in his eyes. “Across from yours.”

What Arthur means and does not have to say outright is that it would be cruel at best to have him stay. Alasdair knows that and offered anyways because somehow it feels worse not to have Arthur under his roof. Francis would be glad to have him. He would come out of the bedroom in the morning to find Arthur tucked into their kitchen nook and smile wide enough to hurt. He would kiss Alasdair’s neck to thank him silently for whatever bargain he’d made to bring Arthur home. Even if he told him so, and tried to explain, Arthur would not believe him.

“Aye.” He will try anyways. “Across from ours.”

Arthur’s jaw clenches and he breathes an angry huff, looking like he is of a mind to storm off. The only thing that stays him might very well be that Alasdair is standing so close that he’d have to shove him aside to leave.

“Where are you staying?” Alasdair asks, though he’s starting to suspect he already knows the answer.

“I’m not.” Arthur snaps.

Alasdair holds his ground, scowling right back until Arthur’s temper begins to flag.

“I shouldn’t have come,” he laments, bringing up a hand to press against his forehead and dragging it down to his eyes.

“Why did you?” Alasdair presses.

Arthur shakes his head lightly and for once Alasdair lets it be.

“You can’t be driving.” He tries for reason. “And you’ll not find a room this late, the inn’s booked full. You could call—” he tries to think of anyone Arthur would trust enough to impose on and comes up short. “—someone. I’ll call someone for you if you’re set on being stubborn.”

Arthur’s hand is still covering his eyes, but he is very obviously grinding his jaw.

“Or you could stay.” Alasdair finishes brusquely. “And come upstairs to sleep in the spare room.” Your room, he wishes he could say still.

Arthur exhales and drags his hand down roughly to cover his mouth instead. He looks up at Alasdair through the mess of his fringe for a long moment before he speaks.

“I haven’t been drinking,” he says and sounds like he is only trying to himself not to stay.

“If you stay, you’ll want to.”

That at least makes Arthur snort.

“Sure,” he agrees, and Alasdair can suddenly picture him years younger and curled into the sunken couch upstairs, a hot toddy held in his hands.

But this isn’t the Arthur he remembers. He looks tired, suddenly, and speaks with a gravity that begs no argument.

“I left for a reason.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Arthur raises his chin in a challenge.

They will have to have it out. If not now, then later. They will have to talk and figure things out if they have any hope of keeping the peace long enough to see the wedding out. For Francis’ sake he would rather it be now. For Arthur, he can be patient.

“Why, then?”

Arthur searches his face, chewing on his lower lip like he is struggling to find the words to parry along the confrontation he wanted.

“Because I couldn’t…” he tries, and sighs like he is frustrated with himself. “I don’t want this. I don’t know if I can want this. And I do not know who I am to you and what my place in your life is if we’re not fucking.”

Alasdair swallows back his anger and counts to ten in his mind.

This is the effect of having taken all that Arthur offered before he knew any better and questioned his motives. It is all so clear in hindsight that it chaffs against his pride that he could be so blind, once. There is equal blame to place on Arthur for his silence— for running away— and every opportunity he let pass without making himself known. Alasdair could have loved him better, would have if only Arthur had told him how. Never fucked him at all, for all that matters. Has never even kissed him like he deserved to be. And now there is another person to consider and half a decade of missed opportunities to work through.

Every word they speak now will carry the consequences of their past omissions, so Alasdair does not stop to consider his words and says what he wishes he has told Arthur years ago instead.

“You are family,” he declares and shakes his head roughly once before Arthur can interrupt him. “Whether you stay or leave. This place is yours, a third of it, a half. Whatever you will claim of it is yours to keep. And you are family. To Francis, to me. As much as Sean and Dai could ever be; more, for who you are to us. To both of us.”

Arthur’s eyes on him are intent.

“Do you really believe that?” he asks, and Alasdair has always known deep down that before he is anything else, Arthur is a cynic that wants to be proven wrong.

“Is it so hard to believe?”

The question hangs in the air for a beat too long. Arthur drops his gaze.

“What will you tell Francis?”

Alasdair grunts.

“That if he had time enough to orchestrate this while running me ragged he could have spared a moment to wash the bedding in the guest room.”

That startles a huff of laughter out of Arthur, but it sounds a little wet. One of his hands is back, hovering near his lips in an old nervous gesture.

Alasdair has never been good with words. He resorts to his hands instead and buries one deep into the roots of Arthur’s hair. It feels thicker than it looks and is coarser than Francis’; a shade closer to sand than gold.

He would not be surprised to find the bedsheets in the guest bedroom washed and pressed, all the edges tucked neatly under the corners of the mattress the way Francis never makes their own bed. There is no hurry, though. He’ll wash them himself if he needs to and keep Arthur company while the washing machine makes a racket in the kitchen, spinning through the dry cycle. If the sheets come out damp he’ll spare Arthur half of theirs and the thick, woollen blanket they only pull down from the cupboard in the winter. For now, he lets himself relearn Arthur’s warmth with his nose buried in his temple and thinks in numbers. Six more hours until morning. Three cups of coffee over breakfast in three mismatched mugs. One more night before his wedding and ahead of that a lifetime worth its weight in copper.

[crinkled-emotions]

Ohhh my FAVOURITE part of the weekend 😍 16 and 19 please, maybe Rooster with severe tonsillitis or something

*rubs hands together* you KNOW I'm gonna write a tonsillitis fic!!

16. "Can you talk?" and 19. "You can just nod, but I need you to answer me."

Imagine Rooster not being able to insult Hangman right back. Pfft. It would be a very quiet week.

Sorry these are so late, moving sucks lmao. I'm moving from my home town to the nearest capital city which is five hours away via car. And I have a lot of shit to move. Also, my mum hates driving so I do a majority of it. Funny how that works.

Actually, come to think of it, I'd be down to go for a drive with Rooster. Anyone else?

dOWN BOY-

After the whole we-nearly-died-mission, the team decided as much as they loved shirtless beach football, they had to get out of the Californian heat for a while. No one was really sure how or why, but Phoenix eventually mentioned that her family had a cabin in Colorado that was hardly ever used and they all leapt at the chance to get out for a bit.

Maverick had decided to stay behind, too busy rekindling his romance with Penny and coming to terms with the fact that he'd just lost his best friend but managed to find common ground with Bradley after nearly twenty years.

The Daggers all packed up and flew out the second it hit December 1st, a couple months after the mission and they'd all managed to get additional time off to recover. It was only 2 hours by plane but they all seemed to white-knuckle through the commercial flight. Phoenix winced at one point when Bob's grip on her hand started to hurt and he immediately apologised but she switched seats with Fanboy so he and Bob could be scared together.

-

"Hey, do you know what would be really funny?"

Phoenix glanced at Coyote, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, I'll bite. What are you thinking?"

"We're all going to have to bunk together; why don't we put Rooster and Hangman together?"

"Last man standing? Really, Coyote?" Phoenix hissed. Coyote laughed, frantically shaking his head.

"No, no! They haven't talked much since we came off the carrier. Might be a good chance for them to figure their shit out."

Phoenix shook her head.

"Rooster hasn't said much of anything, he's got his own shit to work through. I don't think he and Hangman will ever be best buddies again."

"It couldn't hurt. Besides, they hate it that much we'll both have spare beds in our rooms."

"An ambulance is, like, three hours away," Phoenix warned. Coyote shrugged.

"We're all Navy. What could possibly go wrong?"

Famous last words, Coyote.

-

When they got to the cabin they all unpacked quickly. To everyone's surprise Jake and Bradley didn't complain or even really comment on the fact that they got roomed together via gentle bullying from everyone else. They changed into warmer clothing and agreed quickly to head out for the slopes nearby. Phoenix was walking out the door when she felt an arm hook over her shoulders.

"Was that your doing?" Rooster asked. Phoenix shrugged innocently.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Hm."

He chose not to continue the conversation but didn't go that far either. His nose was already tinted pink from the cold, not used to the snow. To be fair Jake and Javy were out of sorts too with the cold. Texas men.

-

"So, what's up your ass?"

Rooster jumped at the way Hangman came into the bedroom. He was wiped after a full day of snowboarding, his first time in about a year. He'd done a lot of it in Japan. Hangman, as he usually did, took to snowboarding and skiing like a fish to water, completely at ease as he got the hang of it.

No pun intended.

"Fuck off, Hangman," Rooster snapped. He heard footsteps approaching his side and immediately raised his arm up just in case Hangman tried to touch him. He was so not in the mood.

"Hey, whoa! Chill out. Look, we don't have to talk about our shit. I just- you're going through a lot. Reconnecting with Maverick, losing Admiral Kazansky-"

"-don't say his name. You don't get to say his name."

"He was important to you, Rooster. I know that much."

Rooster kept his back turned. He could feel Hangman backing off.

"I'm sorry, Bradley."

Then he was gone, and Rooster gripped the clean clothes he'd been pulling out of the drawers a little tighter.

He was going to shower, and then he was going to find something to drink. His throat was scratchy from the freezing air.

-

After showers and dinner, Phoenix managed to find the Cards Against Humanity pack in the living room and they all crowded around the coffee table to play. It had been brought back from Australia so it was particularly disgusting, enough to make Fanboy blush and Payback giggle. Unsurprisingly, Hangman was winning.

"Dude," Fanboy gaped, "that is disgusting."

"What can I say?" Hangman grinned, "it's my charm. Don't expect it from me and it's ten times worse."

"Yeah, no, we expected it. Pick the next black card, dude, let's go," Payback said. Hangman reached for the box, pausing before he read it out.

"Hey, Rooster, maybe you should hit the sack," he suggested tentatively. Rooster, sitting on the floor resting against Coyote's shin, stirred and rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

"No, I'm good, let's go. Give me the scotch."

"You're such an old man," Bob chuckled as he passed over the scotch. Rooster swigged, wincing internally at the burn in his throat. Part of it was the alcohol, considering you should never swig scotch, the other part his throat that was becoming more sore as the night went on.

"Roo, your card?" Phoenix prompted. He tossed a card down at the last minute, adding it to the pile. Everyone listened to Hangman read out the options (something about sloppy blowjobs out the back of a fast food place?? Great). He quickly decided the best (worst) card and Fanboy yelled in delight at his win. When Coyote felt Rooster's head lean against his leg a little more he glanced down, raising an eyebrow.

"No shame if you want to go to bed, Roo," he said softly. Rooster waved him off.

"I'm good."

"You sure?" Coyote asked. Rooster shrugged.

"Actually, my throat kinda hurts. I think I'm just tired."

"You haven't said a lot... y'know, since... since the mission."

"Javy, man, you and I are cool, but I don't want to talk about the mission."

"If not with me, talk with Phoenix, or Maverick-"

"-Javy. Let it go, man."

Coyote shut his mouth, sharing a look with Phoenix across the room. She just shrugged.

-

"Night, Bradshaw."

"Fuck you, Bagman."

Ah, there he is. Truly, Jake might have been more snarky but Bradley could be downright bitchy when he felt like it. Jake snorted, rolling on to his side to face the wall. He could hear Bradley shifting around, and eventually the sound of clothes coming off.

"Please don't tell me you're sleeping naked."

"No?"

Jake's shoulders started shaking as he laughed.

"Roo, do you remember- oh my god, I forgot about this- do you remember that one time, in flight school, you passed out drunk and naked in your bunk, and the CO barged in in the middle of the night and ripped the blankets off, screaming about the drill?"

Rooster hummed.

"I will never forget the look on that poor guy's face."

"Yeah? I'll never forget the look on yours."

They both laughed to themselves, and Jake finally rolled on to his back. He was glad to see Rooster was wearing a pair of sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

"Hey, aren't you gonna be cold? It's freezing overnight."

"Not with the way Phoenix runs that fire."

They went quiet as Rooster climbed into bed himself, pulling the blankets to his chin.

"Rooster, listen... uh, I'm sorry. About your dad. And... bringing him up like that. Even if I did know the whole story it wasn't okay for me to talk about him like that."

In response Rooster snored.

He was wiped, apparently.

-

The team made their way into the kitchen gradually the next morning. As usual Bob was the only one sober so he made breakfast, which dragged Phoenix, Payback and Coyote out of bed. Fanboy came out next, still half asleep as Bob handed him a cup of fresh coffee and guided him to the massive island counter. Hangman appeared with the coffee smell wafting down the hallway, the only one dressed for the day in a henley and jeans.

"Oh my god, he is human," Bob whispered. Phoenix sniggered, elbowing his side.

"Morning Jake. Where's Bradley?" Javy began. Jake waved him off.

"Oh my god, he snores so loud. I don't remember him snoring like that in flight school. Is that coffee?"

"Sure is."

Natasha passed over a fresh cup. Jake inhaled it like it was Christmas.

"We should go into town, they do like Christmas stalls and shit from the first of December," Natasha suggested.

"Oh, that sounds so cool. Should we wait for Bradley?" Bob asked. Everyone agreed that was the way to go.

"I'll go and poke him, see if he wants to come," Phoenix said. She climbed off her chair at the island and immediately Hangman opened his mouth to make a short joke.

That earned him a glare from Bob.

Hangman didn't realise Bob could glare like that.

-

Rooster was still snoring when Phoenix carefully made her way into the room, pausing to give his shoulder a gentle shake.

"Hey, Roo," she began softly. He swatted at her and she dodged easily, squeezing his hand.

"You awake?"

He tried to speak but all that came out was a squeak. Natasha's eyebrow raised.

"What's wrong?"

That same squeak, so she passed over his phone. He began to type then passed the device over.

Throat hurts.

"Can you talk?" Phoenix asked. He shook his head and she winced.

"Does anything else hurt?"

He shrugged, rolling back to face the wall. She raised an eyebrow.

"You don't have to talk. You can nod, but I need you to answer me."

He finally nodded and she sat on his legs when he shifted on to his back.

"Do you have a fever?"

Shrug. 

She reached forward and felt along his jaw.

"Okay, that's not good. Go back to sleep, I’m gonna wrangle the guys and kick ‘em out. Good news; you don’t have to sleep with Hangman anymore. Don’t want him getting what you’ve got.”

Rooster nodded against his pillow. When Phoenix got up he moved on to his stomach, drawing his arm up under his pillow. His teeth clenched in pain and Phoenix patted his shoulder.

“Hey, I’ll get you some pain meds as well. Any preferences?”

He shook his head.

“Gotcha. Tylenol and another blanket.”

“Mm.”

“And I’m sure I can find you some soup.”

-

“Okay, Rooster is not joining us,” Phoenix said as she came down the hallway. Payback served up the last of the French Toast, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” Bob asked, moving his piece around in the maple syrup.

“I dunno. A cold, maybe?”

“What makes you say that?” Fanboy frowned, accepting the carton of milk Coyote handed over when he asked for it.

“I think he’s got a fever, and his tonsils are swollen.”

“He also snored the house down last night,” Hangman added. He swigged the last of his coffee, getting up to rinse his mug out.

“It sounds exactly like something Rooster would do. Only he could get sick when he’s got time off. Is there anything we can get for him in town?” Bob offered.

“I think he just needs some more sleep and some meds.”

Natasha’s hands moved from her hips to steal Jake’s french toast. He let her, not even bothering to complain.

-

By the time the others left, Phoenix had managed to clean the kitchen, work out, and watch an episode of Criminal Minds (the others would kill her if she watched more than an episode ahead without them). She let Rooster sleep until lunch time and then woke him up, poking his hand from where it was hanging out from the blankets.

“Hey, you hungry?”

He shook his head and she rolled her eyes.

“Nod or shake your head. Does your throat still hurt?”

Nod.

“Okay. Do you still feel warm?”

Shake.

“Do you... want a hug?”

Nod. Then he poked out from the blankets to reach for Natasha.

“Ah, there he is. C’mere.”

Phoenix ran a hand through Rooster’s curls, grimacing.

“As cute as this is, you’re sweaty and gross. You gotta go back to sleep, sweat it out.”

She laughed at the response she got from him in the form of a middle-finger-salute.

“Okay, I gotcha.”

-

When Bob and the others got home the cabin was dead silent, save for the snoring from Bradley and Jake’s room.

“Tash?” Bob called, frowning as he walked around the cabin. Fanboy and Coyote were calling dibs on first showers and Hangman was quickly showing his Bagman side because he was tired.

“No, I don’t want to fucking shower last!” He huffed, “you assholes are gonna use all the hot water and I’ll be left with shrinkage!”

“Not that there’s a lot to shrink,” Bob muttered. That just seemed to piss Jake off more.

“Dude, do you need a nap?” Payback grinned. Coyote snorted and Bob rolled his eyes.

“Has anyone seen B or Tash?” Bob asked. Everyone shook their heads.

“He might be asleep. It could be tonsillitis,” Fanboy suggested.

“Oh, poor bastard. I had that when I was, like, ten and my mom fed me soup until I puked which only made it worse,” Bob offered.

“I had it when I was seventeen, and I moved five hundred head of cattle with my older brother and my little sister,” Jake hummed.

The rest of the team stared between the two of them.

“Is there something you two need to get off your chests?”

“Nope, that would be my twin brother,” Bob deadpanned. The door down the hallway opened and Phoenix appeared.

“Hey, guys. Uh, how was town?”

“Bagman needs a nap and we found hot chocolate that tastes like scotch,” Coyote said. Phoenix burst out laughing.

“Did you bring some back for me? I’m the one who said goodbye to getting shitfaced today.”

"Have you seriously just been cuddling his sweaty ass this whole time?” Fanboy laughed. Phoenix blinked, reaching for her phone.

“You guys left at 8am. At midday, I woke him up and offered food. He said no because his throat hurt. At 1pm, I woke him up again and managed to get him to take some more Tylenol. Props to me because his stomach was starting to hurt by then. By 3, Rooster had decided he’d had enough rest and he was ready to go skiing again. I caught him at the front door in shorts and a t-shirt. At 4-”

“-it’s quarter to 4-”

“-at 4, I’m going to go into that room again, tell him if he doesn’t eat something I’m going to be forced to call Maverick. We all know he’s going to crack the shits. If you’re not going to help me, fuck off and get drunk elsewhere because I’m not leaving my best friend behind.”

“Tash, wait. Hey, hold up.”

Unsurprisingly, Phoenix’s backseater was the first to step up. 

“How can we help?” Bob asked. She squeezed his arm.

“You can do the 4pm check.”

“Okay, I can make dinner. Stew sound good?” Coyote offered.

“I’m down to help,” Hangman finally volunteered. 

“We could make up the couch? Pretty sure it folds out. Maybe he’d like to be out here with the rest of us if he’s feeling up to it,” Fanboy said, gesturing between himself and Payback. Phoenix’s shoulders finally dropped a little.

“Great. I’m going to go and shower.”

-

4pm rolled around and Bob didn’t think about what he’d gotten himself into until it was too late to back out. Knocking hesitantly on the bedroom door he poked his head into the room.

“Hey, Rooster? You awake?”

The lump in Rooster’s bed didn’t move, but Bob could see the glow of his phone screen.

“Hey, Bob, that you?”

Bob shit his pants for a moment, glancing around the room looking for Maverick.

“He fell asleep, I didn’t want to leave him. He’s breathing really heavy though, did you guys listen to his chest?”

Carefully picking up Rooster’s phone, Bob took it off speaker and held it to his ear.

“Mav?”

“Hey, Bobby Boy. How’s it going over there, everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s going okay, but Rooster’s sick. Did he call you?”

“He did. Kept calling me dad, though, so I dunno if he’s with it all that much.”

“Oh no, he does that when you’re not around. I think it’s easier than saying my dead father’s best friend and also my father figure lowkey.”

“Lowkey?”

“Anyway. Uh, did he say anything useful?”

“No, sorry kid. Is he warm to the touch?”

Bob carefully placed his hand on the back of Rooster’s neck.

“Yeah, he’s hot, but my hands are cold and I think he’s also warm from sleep.”

Maverick hummed.

“Okay, well can you get some food and meds into him?”

Rooster blinked, stirring at the way Bob paced around the room. He saw Bob and closed his eyes again, apparently not stressed by Bob’s presence.

“I think he’s awake if you want to talk to him,” Bob whispered.

“He’s not saying a lot, but yeah I’ve got some things to say to him.”

“You got it, Captain.”

Bob nudged Rooster, offering the phone to him.

“Mav’s on the phone.”

Rooster put the phone on speaker, wincing as he tried to clear his throat.

“Hey, kiddo. Sounds like you had a good nap. Get some food into you, hm? I know it hurts but it’s probably the best thing for you.”

Rooster grunted. It didn’t make any sense to Bob.

“Yeah, I’m sure they can get you something warm to drink. Why don’t you ask Bob for some hot chocolate, or maybe some tea? Will you keep some tea down?”

Another grunt.

“Okay, that’s a no go on the tea. Hot chocolate it is then. No coffee for you, and go easy on the cocoa because I know your stomach hurts. Has Bob got some Tylenol for you? What about soup?”

“Hangman and Coyote are working on a stew, we could drain it and make a broth,” Bob offered.

“See, that sounds great. Plenty of nutrients and easy on your throat. Are you gonna take the Tylenol?”

Rooster sat up, Bob handing him his water bottle and the Tylenol.

“There ya go, get that in you. You’ll start feeling better soon kid, if you don’t feel better or it goes downhill overnight, go to the emergency room, okay?”

Silence.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

A snort.

“Yeah, you got it. I’ll call you tomorrow night and we can see if you’re up to talking yet.”

-

[ginwalt]

uhh could I request a wanda x reader doing something really reckless (like stealing the car for a 3 am drive) and Carol and Nat (who are like their mother figures - and also are in a relationship) scolding them for it!!

ps: I don't know if scolding is even a word but I guess you know what I mean hahahah

a/n: I am absolutely in love with this prompt and I had a lot of fun writing it :) hope you enjoy!

Warnings: none just some cursing and some underage drinking.

Word Count: 2,680

--

It was around 3:30 in the morning when you felt someone nudge your shoulder. Groaning, you pulled your blanket further over your head.

"Leave me alone," you grumbled under your breath.

It was only when a strand of red magic surrounded the edge of the blanket and jerked it off your body, did you awaken. You gasped at the sudden assault of cold air and shot up. Wanda stood over you in a Black Sabbath hoodie and ripped jeans with a far too pleased smirk on her face.

"What the hell, Wanda?" You hissed, rubbing your bleary eyes.

"Put some clothes on; I want to show you something."

"The sun isn't rising for another 2 hours, Wan. I want to go back to bed," you complained, grasping for the blanket once more.

Wanda pulled the blanket fully off your shared bed and looked at you pleadingly, "Come on, please? I promise it will be worth it," her eyes were wide as she looked at you hopefully. At this time of night- or morning, you supposed - her accent was thicker than it would be during the day. You cursed your weak resolve and slunk out of bed.

"Fine, but I'm stealing one of your hoodies," you grumbled.

She chuckled, "You are already hoarding at least half of them," she pointed out as you stepped out of your pajama pants. You rolled your eyes playfully and pulled on black yoga pants and an Iron Maiden sweatshirt you had been keeping on your side of the closet for at least a month now. Wanda gasped and slapped your arm lightly, "I have been looking for that everywhere, Y/n. I thought I lost it!"

"Your hoodies are comfier," you reasoned with a shrug. "Anyways, how are we supposed to get past mother hen one and two?" You gestured towards the direction of Natasha and Carol's room.

Wanda pondered this for a moment, "Just be fast and quiet, you go out and wait in the car, and I will grab the drinks."

You raised an eyebrow, "Natasha's a world-class assassin, and Carol wakes up whenever Nat does; this won't work. Also, we're going to drink at 3 in the morning?"

Wanda huffed, "It will be fine. You worry too much, Y/n. Plus, when have we ever drank irresponsibly?"

Narrowing your eyes, you stuffed your hands in your pockets, "Do you really want me to answer that."

Wanda pushed you towards the door, "Go outside and wait in the car." You snickered and carefully opened the bedroom door, wincing when the hinges squealed slightly. It wasn't a matter of not being caught as much as it was a matter of being long gone before Natasha and Carol decided to go after them. Regardless of how sneaky they thought they were being, Natasha- if not both her and Carol - was bound to hear them. Ever so carefully, you wedged the front door open and slipped through it.

You had moved in with Carol, Nat, and Wanda a year into your relationship with her. Having graduated college with a nearly nonexistent relationship with your parents, you needed a place to live. Your girlfriend and the women who practically made sure you didn't starve throughout college seemed like the most reasonable choice. You had met Wanda on campus, and it had taken three weeks of being her friend until you realized she was an Avenger. Shortly after that, Wanda introduced you to the rest of her team. At first, your only interaction with the married couple was them giving you the "shovel talk" when Wanda first introduced you as her girlfriend. However, after working with them as a hacker for SHIELD, they quickly took you under their wing as well.

Smiling slightly at the memory, you opened the passenger door to Natasha's black Corvette Stingray. It took all of three minutes for Wanda to come running out the door, a bottle of apple cinnamon whiskey in hand. She threw the door open and shoved the bottle into your hand before pushing the key into the ignition and gunning it down the street. Your eyes bugged as your fumbled to get your seatbelt fastened. You clutched at your chest as the two of you went 45 in a neighborhood.

"Wanda, what the fuck!" you yelped, gripping the neck of the whiskey bottle tightly.

"I'm sorry, I heard their door open, and I panicked!" She cried, grasping blindly for her seatbelt. The two of you slowed down slightly as you gained distance from the house.

"They're totally going to notice the whiskey's gone, Wan. We're both 19; we can't legally drink yet!"

"Relax, Y/n they won't notice one drink is missing out of a whole cabinet filled with alcohol," Wanda reasoned, turning onto a gravel road.

You raised an eyebrow at your girlfriend, "How many times do I have to point out that Nat is the world's top assassin and Carol was trained by both the US military and the Kree?"

"I promise it will be worth it," Wanda insisted, grabbing your hand from across the middle console. You sighed and leaned down to kiss the top of her hand.

"You're lucky I love you."

Wanda grinned and shot a wink at you, "I know." With that, she pulled off the dirt road and into the middle of a grassy clearing. You unbuckled your seatbelt and reached down to grab the whiskey, which had rolled under the seat during your escape out of the neighborhood. Wanda stepped out of the car and went around the back to grab a large black and red checkered blanket. You followed her as she smoothed out the blanket atop the grass and pointed up at the sky. A small gasp escaped your lips as you saw streaks of light blaze across the sky.

"I didn't know there was going to be a meteor shower tonight," you whispered, eyes never leaving the sky. Wanda grinned and unscrewed the bottle. She took a hearty drink from it and passed it over to you.

"I was hoping to surprise you," she explained, laying down on the blanket.

You followed suit and took a large drink of your own. "Why did we need alcohol for this, exactly?"

The corner of Wanda's lips quirked upward as she turned her head to look at you. "Make it a bit more...colorful, I suppose. I considered whether edibles would be better, but Nat and Carol would definitely skin us alive when they found out about that."

You giggled; the apple cinnamon whiskey had settled in your stomach, warming your body against the early morning breeze. Your head felt fuzzier as you leaned over to place a kiss on Wanda's cheek. "This is perfect, Wan. Thank you." Wanda placed a cinnamon-flavored kiss on the corner of your mouth. "How much do you want to bet Wanda and Carol are waiting by the door for us right now?"

Your girlfriend let out a drunken laugh and set the now half-empty bottle aside. "10 dollars that they left the house to find us."

"You're on." The two of you dissolved into hysterical giggles that lasted so long your stomach started to cramp. The blazes of white-hot light lit up the sky as your vision turned blissfully hazy. Clumsily, you crawled towards Wanda and placed your head atop her stomach. "Mmm, you're warm," you hummed, a goofy smile cracking through your lips. The witch placed her hands against the side of your head and started stroking them through the locks of your hair.

Just as your eyes started to slip shut at the attention, your felt her hands halt. "Y/n?" You let out a quiet 'mhm' in response. "How're we gonna get home?" Her voice was slurred and thick with her Sokovian accent.

Your eyes snapped open, and you shot up. "Shit, we can walk, maybe?" Wanda gave you a blank look in response as she gestured to the expanse of nothingness around you. You sighed, "We have to call Carol and Nat."

Wanda groaned and covered her face with her hands. Her chipped black nails scrubbed at her eyes and cheeks, leaving red lines all over her face. "Do we have to?"

"Well, we can't drive Wanda, and by the time we're sober enough, it'll be nearly 7:30!"

"They're going to kill us," she complained, burying her face in her hoodie. "Just get it over with."

You fished your phone from your pant pocket and hesitantly pressed Natasha's contact. The phone barely got through with its first ring before the older woman picked up.

"Where the hell did you two go?" her raspy voice was nearly brimming with anger. You almost dropped your phone at the venom lacing her words.

" 'M sorry, 'Tasha," you winced at the heavy slur in your words before continuing. "We thought it'd be fun."

You heard someone grab the phone, "Are you two drunk?" Carol demanded.

"No..." you trailed off pathetically. Wanda glared at you and lightly kicked your foot.

"Y/n try to say Natasha's full name, right now," you straightened slightly at Carol's military voice.

"N'tasha 'Manoff," your tongue felt too big for your mouth as you attempted to form the words. "...Okay, maybe a little bit."

"Where are you? We're coming to get you," Nat insisted. You heard footsteps from the other end of the line and someone pulling the hallway closet open.

"Wan, where are we?" you asked, glancing around the fields of overgrown grass and wheat.

Wanda winced and bit the tip of her finger, "Uhhh.."

"You don't know?" Natasha and Carol shouted. Wanda pursed her lips and looked down at her lap.

"I didn't have a specific route planned out beforehand," she admitted.

"Turn the location tracker in your phone settings on," Natasha ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," you both grumbled in unison, feeling akin to a scolded child.

"When we get there, you two better hope you have a better excuse than the ones we heard over the phone," Carol warned.

"You took my Corvette?" Natasha complained.

"It was either that or Carol's truck, and Wanda isn't used to driving stick yet," you insisted. "Her car's still in the shop from last month." A speeding car had rear-ended Wanda's car on the highway.

We will talk about this when we get there, do not touch the Corvette any more than you already have," with that, Natasha hung up.

"Well, apple cinnamon whiskey isn't a terrible last meal," you reasoned as Wanda folded the blanket and set it in the backseat.

"Y/n, we haven't eaten since dinner time. Whiskey is hardly a meal," Wanda grumbled, shutting the door.

"Babe, I'm trying to be optimistic."

"Captain Marvel and Black Widow are on their way to kick our asses into the moon," Wanda replied, leaning back against the Corvette. You sighed and rested your head against her shoulder. "Sorry this night was a bust," she mumbled, eyes staring down at her boots dejectedly.

You smiled and leaned in to press your lips against hers. Wrapping an arm around her waist, you pulled away and rested your forehead against hers. "This is one of the most romantic things anyone has ever done for me, Wanda. Thank you." Wanda grinned sheepishly and buried her face in your shoulder.

A few dreadful minutes later, you saw the headlights of Carol's truck speed down the gravel road. The truck lurched to a stop as the two superheroes jumped out of the car.

"Are you two alright?" Natasha demanded, half-running to the two of you.

"We're fine, I can protect myself, and Y/n was with me the whole time," Wanda reasoned. "We went out to watch a meteor shower, not go clubbing.

"I can protect myself just fine," you whined.

Carol raised an eyebrow, "Your hands were built for hacking and reading, not punching." You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. Wanda offered you a sympathetic smile but did not say anything to counter the older woman's claim. Rude.

"Wanda, get in the Corvette, Y/n get your ass in the truck," Natasha ordered. She was wearing a black leather jacket over her red silk pajama set. Carol was in basketball shorts and a tank top with a brown leather bomber jacket pulled over it. You quickly shuffled over to the truck and slid in.

Your foot nervously tapped against the floor of the car as you watched Carol grab the nearly empty bottle of whiskey and made her way over to the truck. Shutting the door, she set the bottle of whiskey on the open seat between you two and turned the keys in the ignition. As the pickup truck rumbled to life, she turned to face you. "Kid, you two nearly downed that bottle in a single night. What were you thinking?" You burrowed further into Wanda's sweatshirt as if to protect from her stern gaze.

"You're really mad at us, huh?" you mumbled, fidgeting with your hands.

Carol sighed and followed behind Natasha down the road, "You scared the shit out of us, kid. We didn't know where you had gone, why you left, plus it's nearly pitch black out here."

"But, we're adults just like you and Nat," you insisted weakly.

"You're still teenagers; we're in our 30's. Millions of things could have gone wrong; some creep could have taken you before Wanda could get to you, you could have crashed had you chosen to drive home, your phones could have died, or you could have gotten lost."

You shrunk further into your sweater, "Sorry..."

Carol sighed and looked over at you as she turned into the neighborhood. "Listen, kid. We really care about you two a lot. Nat and I have to resist the urge to duct tape you to the kitchen chairs to keep you two from leaving for missions. We know you can take care of yourselves, but a heads up in the future would be nice, and also more reasonable hours for your plans."

You grinned sheepishly, "Yeah, that seems fair."

Carol smiled and pulled into the driveway. Natasha and Wanda were waiting on the doorstep when you two got out. The latter looked thoroughly chastised as she burrowed her mouth and nose into her hoodie. When the four of you got inside, Natasha sighed and checked the clock on her phone.

"Well, we might as well watch a movie or something since it's nearly sunrise." You and Wanda settled on the couch, with Natasha to your left and Carol to Wanda's right acting as bookends. The assassin wrapped an arm around your shoulder, allowing you to rest your head in the crook of her neck. You saw Wanda lay her head in Carol's lap as the older woman pulled up Netflix. Natasha was idly threading her fingers through your hair, causing your already drunk and lethargic mind to grow hazier. Your eyes started to slip shut as you felt yourself being guided to lay your head in Nat's lap. You jerked slightly, attempting to fight the drowsiness from taking hold. Forcing your eyes open, you tried to sit up. However, the battle for consciousness was quickly lost when Nat started using her nails to gently massage your scalp.

--

"Carol," the assassin whispered to her wife. The blonde stopped her search for a good movie as she glanced over at Natasha.

"What is-" her question was quickly cut off by her wife quietly shushing her. Nat gestured down to the younger women currently lying in each of their laps. Carol glanced down to find Wanda's face hidden against the sleeve of her hoodie as she let out soft snores.

"Well, guess the movie idea's a bust," she whispered.

Natasha nodded, "You grab Wan, and I'll get Y/n."

Carefully, the heroes scooped the younger women into their arms and carried them to your shared bedroom. Natasha gently set you onto the bed beside your girlfriend and pulled the blanket- which was lying on the floor for whatever reason - to cover the two of you. Ever so cautiously, the couple crept out of the room.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Desperate Measures 1

Warnings: nonconsent and rape (miniseries); stalking, fear, intimidation.

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: At first, you think it’s a joke when you get the strange messages, but when they don’t stop, you realise too late how real it all is.

Note: This was going to be a one shot but it kept going and going and going, so it’s gonna be split in 2.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Have a piece of American dream Open up, and swallow, on your knees And say Thank you I'd like some desperate measures, please

💌

The first picture was sent on Monday. You remembered it clearly unlike most Monday mornings. It was the same boring ritual; a coffee that had long turned cold, a pen that wouldn’t write, and a computer that ran as if on dial-up. 

The only bright side was that your small desk was near a window and you could look out onto the city streets, though they were hardly less miserable than your own existence. You were so high up the people were merely moving specks. You often found yourself distracted by the crowded traffic below.

You were drawn from such a distant reverie by the buzz of your phone. You kept it face down by your monitor. Despite the temptation, you limited yourself to succumbing only once an hour. You sat back and your chair creaked as it tilted beneath you. You checked the time in the corner of your screen and reached for your cell, the rubber case scuffed and scratched at the edges.

Notifications for the same emails that sat open in front of you and a few personal ones in the next bubble. Another for the game you played on the subway or when you were overly listless, several updates for your hoarded apps, and a single text. 

There was no number attached to the message, only the foreboding thick font that read ‘unknown number’. You chewed on your thumb as you leaned forward on your elbow and swiped your screen up and punched in your password. The screen flashed and you hit the last notification. No words, just a file. You hit download.

You blinked as it ate your data and the image of your apartment door appeared. You glanced around and laughed to yourself. You shook your head and keyed in your response; ‘very funny, Eva.’ You hit send and set your phone back down. 

Your old friend liked her jokes and you hadn’t missed her little ploy the last time she showed up at your place angry over her latest fling. You had thought she was getting a picture of the stain on the hallway carpet that looked suspiciously like blood… or feces… or a mixture of the two.

You went back to your work and switched the document you’d been picking at for most of the morning. Your job was as entertaining as watching paint dry then peel from age. When you applied for an editing position, you’d expected thrillers and melodramas. Instead, you got dry textbooks and educational guides.

You yawned and pushed through to your scheduled break. You dumped your cold coffee and headed down to the café to grab another. The coffee they kept in the office was cheap and bland. You ate your salad in the lunchroom as you watched the clock tick away. You checked your phone. No reply to that unusual text. Eva must’ve chickened out.

You scoffed and switched chats to send her usual number an ‘lol’. You tucked your phone in your pocket and punched back in before you headed back to your desk. A couple more hours and you’d be home to stew in the early week daze.

The last half of the day went quicker and your subway ride was uneventful; well, for New York. You walked home from your stop and pulled out your phone as you climbed the stairs. You slowed down and moved your feet blindly. You’d finally gotten an answer. ‘Eva?’

You opened the chat again and hit the image. It filled the screen and you squinted as you came to a stop. The stain wasn’t there. Your landlord had finally relented and had the entire hallway torn up and replaced with an even duller shade of grey. The picture had been taken since then; within the last month. The last time you’d seen Eva, you’d gone to hers.

Your chest clenched and you gulped. You hit the little icon in the corner of the conversation and hit ‘block’. You continued to your floor and neared your door. You looked down the hallway and back to your door. You tried the handle. Locked. You took a breath.

It could still be a joke. The stoner next door, Perry, had your number from when you agreed to feed his cat that one time. Maybe he was high or just trying to be funny. Still, it hadn’t come up under his name. Well, he might have changed his number since then.

You unlocked your door and scurried inside. You made sure to turn the latch and slide the chain into place. You tossed your bag beside the mat of shoes and added your flats to the pile. You dropped your phone on the coffee table and untucked your work shirt as you walked around the small living room. 

Nothing was out of place, not that you truly believed whoever it was had gotten past your door. You rubbed your forehead and went to the small kitchen that looked out into the living room. You grabbed a can of sparkling lime whatever and plopped it next to your phone.

You went to your bedroom and stripped yourself of your stiff work clothes and pulled on the night shirt crumpled atop your blanket. You looked down at the thin grey cotton and reached under to unhook your bra. You flung it in the corner knowing you’d be cursing yourself when you couldn’t find it the next morning.

You flopped onto the couch and grabbed your remote. You turned on some mindless Youtube video and opened the mobile game which had taken too much of your life from you. You connected three and four and five and somewhere in between your existentialism kicked in and had you wondering at the point of it.

You closed the app before it ate all of your battery and your phone shook in your hand. 

‘You didn’t tell me who Eva is.’ The message flashed over the top of the screen then disappeared. You pulled down the notification and hit it. You were certain you’d blocked the number. The other messages were gone though and ‘unknown number’ was still emblazoned across the top. You blocked the convo again and dimmed the screen. 

You plugged in your phone and sprawled out across the sofa. You stared at the television, a blur and a buzz to your frantic mind. 

It was dark already when you dragged yourself off the couch and heated up a microwave dinner. You ate it without tasting and your phone chimed to signal a full charge. You left it as it was on the arm of the couch and resumed your repose on the sofa. You fell asleep to the angered commentary of a gamer trying to fight a clam.

You awoke with a start. You blinked through your daze as your television showed stills of mountain and grassy fields. You sat up and grabbed your phone. You checked the time; midnight. Another message.

‘She’s the one you had coffee with last week.’ It said.

You gaped and dropped your phone. You looked around as if whoever it was would be hiding in the corner. You shook as you reached down and took the phone. You swallowed and began to type.

‘Whoever this is, this isn’t funny anymore. Cut it out.’

‘Funny?’ The response came quickly.

‘I mean it. Stop.’

‘Good night, sweetheart.’

You recoiled at the message and bit your lip to keep it from trembling. You checked your door again, the chain still in place, checked every inch of your apartment in your paranoia. Nothing. You let out a breath and took a blanket from your bed and huddled up on the couch. You turned on a playlist, not sure you’d be sleeping much that night.

💌

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep again but you rose before your alarm. You drank your coffee as the sky turned a duller shade of grey. You went through your usual morning dance and headed out the door with a bagel hanging from your mouth. You chowed down on your way to the subway. You felt your bag buzz as you stepped on the train.

You ignored it and clung to the bar as you counted the stops. You got off and stopped by the coffee shop. You ordered a black tea and headed down to your building. Your desk was as it was when you left it. The chair was tucked in and your mouse was hidden behind the keyboard. You sat and booted the laggy machine.

As you waited for it to start, you stirred around in your bag for your phone. You had another message. You dreaded opening it but the circle just kept spinning in the middle of the monitor. You hit the bubble and your phone unlocked.

You took a sharp breath as the image glared back at you. It was you, on the subway, that morning judging by the jacket, staring at the door as the photo was taken unknowingly. Your phone slipped from your grasp and you spun in your chair.

Everything was as it should be. Your co-workers looked just as dead inside as you. Your boss was boxed up in his office on a ‘conference call’. You shuddered and turned back to your desk. You burned your tongue on your tea and signed into your computer. Your phone vibrated beside your shoe and you bent to retrieve it.

‘You looked tired this morning’. The next message blipped on the screen.

You were quick to sweep the clock upward and type. ‘Who the fuck is this?’

‘Sweetheart. I don’t like that kind of language.’ The response was quick and sharp, even in text.

‘Tell me who you are? Why are you doing this?’

‘One thing at a time.’ The letters burned into your vision.

‘Who are you?’ You keyed in again. No answer. 

You set the phone down and watched it. Five minutes, no buzz. You hovered your hand over your mouse and tried to focus on your monitor. Your heart was so loud in your ears, your head began to pound.

💌

When you got on the subway at the end of the day, you looked around frantically as you settled into a seat, your bag hugged to your chest. You glanced up and down the car a dozen times over as you awaited your cue. Your toe tapped anxiously and you stood so fast you were dizzy when your stop came up.

You rushed down the sidewalk, peeking over your shoulder every other step. You didn’t say anything unusual; no one following you, no one watching. You ran up to your building and unlocked the door clumsily. 

You hurried up the stairs and down the hall to your apartment. The key slid in roughly and you turned it so quick, you were certain it would bend. You skirted inside and put the chain in place.

You looked down as your thin-soled boot brushed over something. A pile of flyers slipped through the slot in your absence. You picked them up and sorted through them, an envelope amidst the mess. On its face, it read ‘for my sweetheart’.

You hovered by the door, staring at the envelope. After a moment, you slung your bag down on the floor and placed the flyers on the end table by the lamp. You clicked on the light and ran your thumb along the lip. You carefully opened it and pulled out the paper inside. You unfolded it and your breath caught in your chest.

It was a sketch, quite well done, of you. You’d worn that sweater last week. You went to the park and walked around, sat by the fountain, tossed rocks into the babbling basin. They had been there, whoever it was. How long had they been watching?

And they had been at your door, close enough to slip this through the slot. You folded the drawing and shoved it back in the envelope. You stomped into the kitchen and tossed it into the bin beneath the counter. You backed up and gripped the other counter behind you. You felt a lump in your throat. 

What the fuck was going on?

💌

You started going in early to work; catching the train half an hour before your usual one. You left late and changed your route between the station and your building. You entered through the back, hopping the low concrete barrier between the apartments and the backlot.

Still, it only gave you a single day of peace. No messages, no pictures; and you thought the game was over. You hoped it was. That it was just a sick joke that had finally grown tiring. 

But Thursday saw another image of you just outside your work building. Friday, another of you on the subway.

The weekend was listless. You did your shopping quickly and on Sunday, you wore a loose hoodie to the laundromat. You could find nothing peculiar around you. The city was full of sketchy people but none seemed to be watching you. The hordes were still about their own lives; ignorant of those around them. You felt entirely alone, as if you were being hunted.

Monday was much the same as the last but how could it ever be dull again. You shut your phone off so you could focus on your work. When you were finally done, you dialed the toll-free number for your provider. You took a taxi home and spent two hours on the line but you got your new number and a sense of relief.

You kept your phone on, ringer on max, and nothing. You watched the screen rather than the television but it only lit up with emails and a random text from your mother. You slept in your bed that night,almost soundly.

You still kept your eye over your shoulder. Still searched out any sign of unusual interest. Perhaps you were clueless or maybe your lack of response had finally gotten through to them. Once their messages bounced back as out of service, they might have given up. They got their laughs, now you wanted peace.

It lasted until Friday. 

A full week and you were certain it was over. You finished work and stopped by the liquor store for a bottle of wine on your way home. You could finally let loose. Life had gone back to its usual tedium. You browsed the reds lazily but pondered a pack of coolers instead. Your phone buzzed. You slid it from your pocket out of habit.

‘That cabernet on the top shelf is on sale. Just to your left.’ You stared at the message and backed away from the shelf. You looked around but all the other customers seemed intent on their own purchases. You gulped and blocked the unknown sender.

You left emptied-handed and ran for the train. You got home an hour later than usual. You raced up the stairs and stopped dead in front of your door. The tall gift bag looked familiar; it had been hanging in the store by the till. You neared and peered inside. The golden cap of the wine that had stood in front of you; top shelf.

You bent and flipped the little card attached to the string.

‘For you, sweetheart. Enjoy your weekend.’

You stood and grabbed the bag. You glanced up and down the halls and stormed back down the grey carpet. Your feet hammered down the stairs and you burst through the back doors. You threw the bag into the dumpster and heard the shatter. Your lip trembled as you spun and sprinted back inside.

When you reached your apartment, you called Eva. You struggled to open your dresser with one hand and started pulling out clothes and stuffing them into your neon duffle. She finally picked up.

“E-eva,” you stuttered, “can I-- Can I stay with you, please? J-just a night or two--”

“Wohoa, whoa, slow down,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t… I can’t tell you now. I’m just-- I’m freaking out and I can’t stay here.” Your voice cracked and you sniffed back tears, “I-- Please. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I… I have plans but I can cancel,” she offered.

“No, no, I… don’t--”

“You’ll have the apartment to yourself,” she said, “I’ll just let Ray know I’ll be late.”

“What time are you supposed to--”

“Seven but it’s fine,” she assured you. “You okay?”

“I… Wait, you’re fucking around with Ray again?”

“Do you want the couch or not?” She half-kidded, “you want me to meet you there or--”

“No, no,” you whisked into your washroom and grabbed your toothbrush, “I’m coming right now.” You returned to the bedroom and shoved an armful in the bag. “Eva… thank you.”

“Stay on the phone,” she said softly. “Please… you’re scaring me.”

“Okay,” you zipped up the duffle, “yeah, I’ll stay on.”

💌

You hung up as you came up to Eva’s building. She met you at the door, a thick silence between you as you sensed what she wanted to ask you. You weren’t sure how to tell you. You weren’t sure if you could.

You pushed the door closed behind you as you entered her apartment. It was cuter than yours, a spiral staircase led to a loft above and the curtains were lace and matched the dainty pillows on the couch. You placed your bag on the floor and she turned to you.

“Just give me a moment,” you said. She didn’t need to ask.

She went to the desk in the corner of the spacious room and turned on the ring light of the round mirror. She fished through her make-up box and pulled out her eyeliner. She was already done her base and highlight. You neared and hovered just beside her desk.

“I don’t even know…” you stopped yourself and went to your bag. You pulled out the paper you’d shoved in the side pocket on your way out. “Look.”

You crossed to her again and unfolded the sketch on her desk. She glanced down from drawing a wing along her eye and lowered the pencil. She blinked and shrugged.

“Look, someone dropped this through my mail slot. No address on the envelope, just this.” You felt crazy. “And I thought it was all some joke. They were sending me pictures, of me, of my building… I blocked them but they just kept on. I even changed my number.”

She scrunched her lips and looked back to her mirror. She finished her other eye and set the pencil down.

“You call the police?” She asked calmly.

“I… the drawing is all I have. I just deleted the messages when they came because… well, I didn’t think much of it at first. Not until… There was a bottle of wine waiting for me when I came home. The very same I was looking at right before I booked it for my train,” you rubbed your cheek, “Eva, I’m not crazy. I swear.”

“I believe you,” she said, “why wouldn’t I but… there’s nothing you can do but keep a log of what happens from here on out. Screencap everything.”

“You think… you think the police would help if I did?” You asked.

“Not much. Stalking isn’t really something they take seriously. I knew this girl in college-- Well, the evidence can at least get you a restraining order… if you ever figure out who’s sending you all this,” she paused and glanced down at the drawing. “Whoever it is, they got talent.”

“I’m sure they’d be happy to hear that,” you scoffed and crossed your arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay here with you?”

You pondered her offer but shook your head.

“As much as I think you should send Ray along, no. I can’t ask any more of you.” You sighed and grabbed the sketch. You dragged your feet to the couch and flopped down on the cushions, “I really do appreciate it.”

“I always told you to get out of that neighbourhood,” she said as she searched her assortment of make-up, “but you know I never mind you hanging out.”

💌

You spent the night on Eva’s couch, alone. She didn’t get home until three in the morning and you waited until noon for her to wake up. When she did, her face was smeared with eyeliner and her hair a mess. 

You hadn’t touched your phone since the night before. You chewed your thumb as you waited for her to emerge from the shower, restless and unsure what to do with yourself. She slammed the lid down on her coffee machine and growled as she turned and crossed her arms.

“Are you okay?” she asked sharply.

“I’m sorry,” you said as you stopped pacing. You barely remembered getting up to walk circles around the coffee table, “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, how about a latte?” she yawned behind her hand, “my coffee machine is fucked… again.”

“Um, maybe that’s best, get out and… distract myself,” you twiddled your fingers as your stomach ached. You hadn’t eaten anything since the day before and that was just after noon.

“We’ll get lunch,” she rubbed her forehead, “soak up the wine.”

You shook your head and said nothing. She always drank too much around Ray but you didn’t have the energy for that argument again. So you stayed quiet and watched her disappear into her bedroom.

She emerged as you zipped up your purse. You didn’t bother with your phone as you waited by the door but felt listless without the device. It was like a shield you used when you went out in the world. It kept you from eye contact or awkward conversation.

You set off and headed down the street to the pub that seamlessly shifted from brunch to ladies’ night every Saturday. You ordered breakfast tacos as you sat just inside the large floor length windows that looked out onto the shady patio. The other guest lent a sense of normalcy as they carried on their own conversations and reminded you that you were just another ant on the hill.

As you got your latte in the stemmed glass, Eva pulled out her phone and scowled at the shaking. She was so wrapped up in her texts with Ray she hadn’t even mentioned the reason for your overnighter. You were happy for it and yet, you couldn’t think of anything else.

“Jesus, I told him we were having breakfast and he’s blowing up my phone,” she huffed, “just a second.”

“Eve,” you said as she stood and slid her thumb across the screen, “our foods gonna be here--”

“I won’t be long,” she promised and lifted the speaker to her ear and turned away, “Ray, I’ll be over later, promise. I barely slept--”

Her voice trailed away as she wove between tables and pushed out onto the patio and went to the short fence to chat beyond the ears of diners. You sipped from your drink and stared down at the splintered curve of the table. You couldn’t stay with Eva forever and she was hardly any comfort in her distraction with her on-again, off-again dirt bag. Maybe, if you moved--

“There you are, sweetheart,” the low voice startled you and you sat stalk straight as a figure smoothly slid into Eva’s empty chair, “you gave me quite a scare, up and leaving without a word…”

You stared wide-eyed at the stranger across from you. Well, you knew who he was. Everyone in the city, in the country, even the world, knew Steve Rogers. He smiled at you as his blue eyes glimmered. His posture was cool and confident and it was you who felt out of place.

And you knew, it was him. The shock was not enough to fuel your denial as that feeling deep down assured you of it. That little voice that told you this was your tormentor and that you were fucked.

“I…” you breathed and blinked. You couldn’t find the words, you hardly understood the storm of emotions flowing through you. You glanced through the window as Eva threw her hand up and continued berating her phone, “it’s you?”

“I hate that it has to be this way,” he said, “you know, my work keeps me out of town so much and I just wish we had more time.”

“Wha…” you gulped and gripped the edge of the table, “why--?”

“You haven’t been answering me,” his smile fell, “I don’t like being ignored.”

Your hand shook and you kept it in your lap to hide the rising terror along your spine. You sat paralysed as he sighed and glanced around the restaurant. He tilted his head and pushed his shoulders back.

“You threw out my gift,” he said evenly, “that wasn’t very nice.”

“Go…” you uttered, “go, please--”

“Sweetheart, we’re just talking,” he took a gulp of Eva’s Americano casually, “I missed you… I miss you every day and it hurts that we have to be apart.”

Your shoulders slumped and you clutched your hands in fists on your lap. You could scream but what good would that do. He was Captain America, the first avenger, a hero. 

As if your thoughts sent a banner waving, a young kid approached the table and smiled nervously as he held one of the colouring pages supplied by the restaurant in his hands.

“Um, Captain, uh, America,” the kid stuttered, “will you sign-- Will you sign my--?”

The kid smiled through tight lips and held up the colouring page. Instead, Steve chuckled and took his cap from his head and fished around in his pocket. He pulled out a sharpie and signed the brim and placed it back on the kid’s head.

“There you go,” he said.

“Thank you, Cap!” the kid almost squealed, “oh my gosh!”

“No problem,” Steve laughed and watched the kid run back to the table where his mother sat, she waved at the man across from you and mouthed a thanks. He cleared his throat and stood as he tucked away the marker, “sorry, this is why I didn’t wanna do this in public,” he gripped his hip with one hand, “but… we’ll have our time.” He slowly backed away, “I’ll text you. You’ll answer.”

He grinned one last time and strode away. He stopped before the door as he held it open for Eva and she batted her lashes at him as she gushed. You could guess at her star struck words but couldn’t make them out. He left as she finally stopped her babbling and she almost skipped over to you.

“Oh my god, did you see him?” she trilled, “I didn’t think he’d be even better looking in-person.”

“See who?” you asked dumbly as you tried to disguise your discomfort in your latte.

“Steve Rogers,” she announced, “ugh, even without your phone, you got your head in the ground.”

[ltleflrt]

Hey Carrie! You talked a little the other day about writers' tendency to start a fic too early in the story, and how you see a lot of first scenes that could have been scrapped to improve the story. My question is if you have some tips to recognize while writing that first scene that you are starting too early in the story?

Hello friend!

That's a really good question, and I'll see if I can give an answer that makes sense. I am not a professional, and I'm not educated or trained in this stuff, it's just something that I recognize from years and years and years of voracious reading. And as with all writing advice, I encourage you to take what I'm going to say with a grain of salt and remember that no writing rule is a hard rule, only a guideline.

Also, my advice is going to be pertaining fanfiction, and specifically to AUs. Obviously a published book has an editor with a razor blade going through a manuscript for you, and the problems that bother me in fanfiction crop up in AUs more than Canonverse.

Oh, and every instance of "you" is general, not specific 😜

So I think the main problem that I see is that people are starting with an Info Dump. An Info Dump is not always a bad thing, sometimes it's completely necessary, but it is NOT where you want to start your story. If it absolutely has to be done, it's better to be somewhere in the middle or near the end. When it's something that your characters need to know.

That's an important bit: Do your characters need to know this?

And related to that: Does your audience need to know this for the story to make sense?

And very important follow up: If the answers to the above questions are yes, does the character/audience need to know this RIGHT NOW?

There's a lot of information about your story that YOU need to know. Heck, my notes files are full of sooooooo much stuff that I know about the characters and plot that never reaches the final product.

So when you're reading your first chapter (I say reading, not writing, because sometimes info dumping for your own benefit is good, and then you fix it before you share the story lol), ask yourself those two questions.

So for example:

In an AU where Dean is a tattoo artist, and it's his POV. The story starts with Dean driving to work, and when he gets there he's going to find out that the empty shop next door has been purchased and is going to be a yoga studio. He meets Castiel out front, up on a ladder trying to hang a hand painted sign, and some teens go running buy and knock into the ladder and Dean has to catch Castiel from falling. (Anyone who wants to adopt this idea is welcome to it btw, I would love to read this lol)

The mistake I often see in a first chapter like this is that as Dean is walking to work, there's a whole Info Dump about why he's a tattoo artist instead of a hunter. He'll be ambling along, thinking about his nice little business, and there's info about how his mom died in a fire, and his dad was a jerk, and Dean didn't go to college because he saved his money for Sammy's college fund, and Dean's only passion was art, and Bobby Singer introduced him to a tattoo shop owner who took Dean under his wing, etc.

Question 1, does your character need to know this?: Why is Dean reflecting on his past? Does Castiel need to know this information in order to build a romance with Dean?

Question 2, does your audience need to know this?: Why does this information matter? If Dean's only reflecting on this because you want to make sure your audience knows where the timeline changed and this became an AU, then you're starting too early in your story. Dean doesn't need to know this, and honestly in a lot of cases the reader doesn't need to know this. This is information that should have been left in your notes file.

Question 3, does the character/audience need to know this NOW?: If this information is pertinent to the plot, like maybe there's some trauma there that Castiel might need to know about to develop their relationship, then you don't want to put it HERE, you want to put it in a conversation with Castiel LATER.

If I was writing this AU, I would just start with Dean sipping his coffee, he's kinda tired because reasons, he looks up to see an unusual commotion, and has to drop his coffee and sprint forward to catch Cas. If he's reflecting on anything in this scene, it's going to be whatever made him tired, or how good/bad the coffee is this morning. Since Cas is a new business owner, they can talk about the origins of Dean's business on their first date, because it'll be a relevant response to Castiel talking about the origins of his yoga studio.

And just in general, if Dean's origin story includes a lot of canon elements, like mom dying in a fire, dad being a deadbeat, Sammy being the adorable overachieving Stanford student.... try to hide that info for as long as you can so that the audience is actually curious about it by the time the info might pop up. It's the wild divergences that are more interesting earlier on.

Okay, and then I want to talk about my giant pet peeve for a starting chapter. It's a specific kind of info dump, that often includes the stuff from above, but then goes a step further.

My nemesis, The Daily Grind.

I haven't asked the authors, so I could be wrong about this, but I feel like most of the time when this type of chapter is included in a story it is because the author wants to show the reader that the character's life is boring and meaningless before the plot's inciting incident. I can absolutely see why that might be considered an important detail about the character, but keep in mind if it's boring and meaningless to the character, it's boring and meaningless to your audience.

You know how I said earlier that writing tips should never be hard and fast rules? Well this is in regards to that Show Don't Tell rule, and it's an example of TOO MUCH showing lol

It is possible to do a daily grind in an interesting way, but only if you include a Shake Up right away. And you have to look at the 3 questions a little bit differently.

So for example:

Castiel POV, and he works in an office. His daily routine is to always get up at the same time every day, he goes for his run, he grooms himself, he has his breakfast, he goes to work and talks to Kelly about how Jack's doing in kindergarten for a few minutes before going into his office. Adler comes in to be a prick, Castiel hates him for it, and then he does his reports, has lunch hiding in a corner of the lunch room so that his co-workers will leave him alone, he does more reporting, leaves an hour after his shift technically ends, goes home to a lonely apartment that maybe includes a pet who is the only being that shows him affection, has an unsatisfying dinner of leftover takeout while watching a mindless reality tv show, then he goes to bed.

Ugh.

BORING.

Which, yeah I get it, the point is that his life is boring. But now the story is too, and I've clicked the back button before I can see how exciting it's capable of getting.

Question 1, does your character need to know this?: No. He knows. Poor thing definitely already knows.

Question 2, does your audience need to know this?: Yes, but...

Question 3, does the character/audience need to know this NOW?: Yes, but new question for ya:

Optional Question 4, why does this need to be separate from your plot's inciting incident? The answer to this 4th question is usually that it doesn't.

Chapter 2 of this type of beginning usually shows the shake up of Castiel's day. My advice is to start with the shakeup, and sprinkle in the details of what you would have put into chapter 1 to show the contrast. It's far more interesting to learn how boring Castiel's day is by starting with the shake up.

So, same scenario:

Castiel's alarm doesn't go off for some reason, OH NO HIS ROUTINE IS SHAKEN UP! You're explaining his routine while also stressing him the fuck out because he has to rush, or skip something that he normally needs to do. Action! Interesting! He gets to work late, and has to miss his conversation with Kelly about Jack because she's telling him that Adler's already in his office being a prick because Castiel isn't there waiting for him like he always is. Oh shit, he's pissing off his asshole boss! Conflict! He's so flustered by the shakeups that he misses something on his report, and he gets a call from that new marketing guy Dean Winchester who asks if they can have a meeting about it when Castiel normally takes his lunch. BAM! MEET CUTE OPPORTUNITY! While Castiel is getting all flustered by how pretty Dean is while they talk about TPS reports, he can reflect on how this is both better and worse than hiding from his co-workers in the corner of the lunch room. The rest of the day after that meeting he's thinking about how weird this day is, he still goes home an hour late, he talks to his pet about his weird day when he gets home, and maybe he still eats leftover takeout, but he's not paying attention to the reality tv show because holy shit he wants to count Dean's freckles.

In this example, you're Telling the audience about Castiel's normal routine instead of Showing them. But since it's during a plot heavy chapter, it works!

Lemme see if I can TL:DR this...

As you're reading, ask yourself who needs to know this information, why do they need to know this information, and why is it important for this information to be included early instead of later?

If the answer to any of those questions boils down to "this is backstory" instead of "this kicks off the plot", then you've started too early.

I hope this helps? I'm always nervous about giving writing advice because so much of the time I have no idea what I'm doing, and I'm just feeling around in the dark. And I definitely do not ever want to hurt an author's feelings, because this hobby is so fucking hard, and we're all fragile. Even authors who welcome con-crit with open arms will have a weak point that they're unaware of that might get poked wrong and cause a crack, ya know?

I hope anyone who gets this far who might see their own works reflected in my examples understands that I have a lot of respect for their ability to put their work out into the world, and I want them to keep doing it. We're here to have fun, okay? Okay. I love y'all 💜

[internalsealpanic]

Sealing the Deal part 1

Summary: Always, always be nice to sea creatures but never ever accept their pelt.

  A/n: A fic I’ve been meaning to write since forever. My contribution to mermay.

  warning: Disgusting fluff and bad decisions

Main Masterlist

part 2

You look like you're gonna die from boredom in your little fishing boat. 

 Dick rolls over to where Jason was sprawled and used his momentum to push the larger seal into the water. Jason gives an undignified squawk of outrage. Dick just preens and looks smug. 

 You cup your hand over your mouth as you begin to laugh. 

 Jason glares even harder at Dick. Dick... couldn't care even less if he tried. All he can focus on is the wrinkle in the corners of your eyes. They'd been gone for so long these past few months. It felt like the first ray of sun after a long storm.

 Dick claps his fins in excitement even as Jason snuffs and rolls his eyes. You clap in return but accidentally drop your fishing pole into the sea. Reaching for it, you fall into the water. Dick feels a little bad for laughing but you manage to get yourself back up into the boat safely.  You sigh in defeat as your fishing pole drifts away. Dick notices for the first time that your face has grown gaunt from the last few weeks. Are you eating enough? Are you even taking care of yourself? Dick swims over to your boat as it rocks back and forth on the waves. He hops in easily and plops onto your stomach. You laugh and pet his head. It was a weak laugh so he croons at you in question. 

 “Sorry pup, I don’t have any food for you today. I mean I don’t even have any for me.” Despite the sweet timbre of your voice, Dick can still taste the bitter hopelessness in the statement. 

He nuzzles his face into your chest. He can feel just how thin you’ve gotten. He has to do something about this. 

To say Dick had been afraid of humans would be a monumental understatement. It had been around 200 years since humans had left the island and the first thing they did when they came back was hunt down selkies. Dick's parents had been two of the unlucky few who'd been hunted down.

 So when Dick found himself stranded onshore because of a fin tangled in a fishing line, he thought he was a goner. And when he saw you approaching; well, he still thought he was fucked but he thought you'd at least be nicer than the adults.

 Maybe if he acts cute enough you'll spare him. 

 Dick whimpered and he gave you the big innocent look. 

 You shushed him harshly. Dick flinched then you flinched and muttered apologies.

 You approached him slowly. You looked around before crouching and fiddling with the line Dick had managed to get himself caught in. Carefully, you began to disentangle him. It hurt, especially when you took the hook out, but once he was free. He clapped and trilled before you shushed him again.

 Dick thought that it was all over and he could just roll back into the sea until you scoop him up and swaddle him in your shirt.

 After 10 minutes of your father screaming at you, he agreed to treat Dick who knew better than to snap at him. Your father was kind with gentle hands. He worked on Dick while you fed him fish. It wasn't the best fish but  Dick can't complain. 

 After an hour or so, Dick started to wriggle and you pull him closer to your chest. 

 "Dad, can we keep him for a few days? He might still be sick." You plead with big eyes. 

 Your father glared at you then sighed. "No more than two. His wounds just need to close up, understand?"

 You squealed a little. Hugging Dick tighter, you thanked your father before scampering off to find you a basin to put Dick in. You, thankfully, had the good sense to fill it with lukewarm water.

 Dick lived like a king in those two days. You fed him a lot of fish much to your dad's exasperation. You kept him warm. You even read to him and sang songs to him. 

 Dick wanted to stay but he missed Bruce, Alfred, Damian, and maybe that new kid Jason.

On the fourth day (one of the wounds was deeper than expected), Dick was released back into the sea but he never did manage to stay away after that

Dick sets the odd little trinket down in front of Jason's sleeping form. It was something you'd caught in your net days before along with the meager amount of fish you'd managed to net. You'd busied yourself with it for days before throwing it out. Dick wasn't sure what it was; all he knew was that it was something Jason would like. 

 He waits semi patiently for Jason to notice it, nudging it forward a little until it touches Jason's snout and the larger seal is forced to pay attention to Dick. 

 "I know when I'm being bribed, Dickface." Jason says, glaring. 

 Dick volleys it with a wide-eyed hopeful look. He nudges the little trinket forward again. This time, instead of ignoring him, Jason rises to his full height, teeth bared. This... does not faze Dick. 

 "C'mon Jaaaaaaay," Dick says as if the prolonging of syllables would whittle down Jason's irritation. Jason suspects if he were less inclined to tell Dick to fuck off, it would have worked. Probably. But as it stands, Dick is responsible for ruining a very good, very rare nap for Jason and so he's on the shit list and has lost any favor privileges until further notice. 

 "I said no. Go away or ask Bruce."

 "But Jaaaaaaay, it's just a teensy tiny favor. It won't even take an hour. Not with your skill at least."

 "That kind of flattery may work on Harper and it may even work on West but I'm not an idiot about to get involved with whatever shenanigans you have planned with the human."

Dick lets out a long-suffering sigh. Jason isn't stupid enough to think that Dick has actually given up. No, the stubborn little fuck is worse than a barnacle. "You've left me no choice-"

 "I have given you plenty of choices. Most of them involve minding your own goddamn business." Jason says with a little snuff. 

 "-I'm calling it in."

 Jason narrows his eyes at Dick.

 "Don't you dare. That was 5 years ago."

 Dick smiles, evilly. "Unless you want the rest of the family to know about-" 

 "Fine! What do you want?"

 Dick looks smug. Jason wants to bite his face off. 

 "I need you to help me catch fish."

 Jason looks at him, incredulous. "Did you hit your head or something?"

 "Not recently. Look, I just need you to help me catch fish for the human." Dick explains like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Contrary to what Dick seems to think, Jason really isn't concerned with the one human on the island. Most of the selkies on the island have barely even interacted with you outside of staring at you.

 "You're insane."

 "I think we reserve that term for Bruce." 

 Jason raises his head from the ground. "You're not wrong."

   You think you hear the light pitter-patter of raindrops. You sigh. You would be lying if you say you aren't the least bit thankful for the excuse to stay indoors today. You... don't exactly like foraging for food. You had avoided it for as long as you had food in the lighthouse. You thought it would at least last you 'til the ships came in but whatever is going on in the mainland has kept the ships from your shores. You don't mind. You never did find the sailors all that pleasant on the rare occasions that you did have to interact with them. 

 You like your island the way it is but... you're not exactly the most skilled at hunting... or fishing. You have no idea how your father did it. You chucked it up to the miracles of loaves and fishes. You miss him.

 You curl around your pillow in a vain attempt to chase the wakefulness away but the sun in your eyes was too bright. You flutter your eyes open. The sun had the audacity to be there. Still the splushing sound continued. 

 You strain your ears to listen, trying to make heads or tails of it. It was a squishy sound, the sound of putty hitting stone over and over again. You scramble to the front door. In hindsight, you probably should have grabbed a weapon before running towards the strange sound. 

 Opening the door, you're greeted with the sight of a familiar seal caught red-handed with a fish in his mouth.

 You stare at each other for a long moment before your eyes wander down to a pile of fish. A large amount of fish. Laughter rolls from your lips, musical and manic as you bury your face in your hands.

You think the seal furrows his brow at you, dropping the fish in its mouth before plopping towards you. Plop. Plop. Plop. He looks at you with big dark eyes. Your mouth twitches between curling down into a frown and a smile that spread across your face. On one hand, you are confused. On the other hand, you were gonna be able eat some meat. 

 A concerned croon comes from the pup and your face decides that it would rather smile at the moment. You throw your arms around him, not at all caring about the seawater getting on your nightclothes.

 "Thank you." You whisper and the seal answers with a happy trill.

 Dick is over the moon. 

 He can't even help how loud his trills get. It's ok you don't seem to mind either. He's just happy that you get to eat now.... but you don't. 

 Dick's a little frustrated when you don't immediately start digging in. Instead, you go back inside your home, swear, shout in delight then come back out with a basin and a jar of white powder. You then run around to fill the basin with seawater then add what Dick finds out is salt into the seawater. 

 Dick is... concerned. 

 You go back inside the house. When you come out again, you have a knife in your hand. Dick waddles back a bit. He knows you won't hurt him but it's a habit. You develop these kinds of habits around Bruce. 

 You settle yourself onto the ground cross-legged and grab a fish. Dick looks on with mild curiosity. You begin to dismember the fish by cutting off it's head, cutting it up in the middle then removing the bones and stomach. That kind of makes sense, Dick thinks. The bones are kind of annoying. Dick nods his head agreeably until you toss the fish into the basin.

 Dick looks on in utter confusion as you repeat the process with most of the fish he's brought you. 

 You turn to him looking equally befuddled before your eyes soften. You look sheepish. "Sorry pup, I can't eat all of this today so I'm salting them so I can eat them the next few..." You count the fish in the basin. "... weeks."

 Dick tilts his head but doesn't say anything. You really should just eat more. Dick can get you more if you need it. You just need to ask but you seem content with what you're doing. 

Dick is about to rest his head on your lap when you shoot up and scuttle back inside. You return with a line and a smile. Dick watches you string the fish up like laundry. He could probably help you but he has no clue if he should. Just eat the fish damn it.

Finally after what felt like forever, you start preparing the fish and actually eat. You offer Dick some and Dick has to admit cooking the fish does taste odd but not unpleasant. It's totally different from eating it raw (the better way) but it's not horrible. Or maybe it just tastes good because you've got the biggest grin on your face while eating.

Maybe.

 Probably, Dick thinks as he munches on his fish, pressed to your side.

___

 You sing at the top of your voice. It's a cheerful song but Dick can't quite make out the words. He knows it's human but he's not quite familiar with it. The tune is nice though. Dick rests his head on your lap closing his eyes.

 He croons happily when you being to pet him.

 You stop midway through the song dissolving into a fit, of what Dick can only describe as, giggles snorts. It was a despicably adorable sound that was engineered to make Dick feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

 He looks up at you with big curious black eyes. He's not complaining but he hasn't heard you laugh this much before and he may or may not want to know how to make you laugh like this again.

 When you don't answer his questioning gaze, Dick nudges against your chest. Your shoulders are still shaking but you manage to stop laughing for a moment. 

 "Sorry pup," you say wiping a tear from your eye, "I must look crazy to you. "

 A little but not as bad as Bruce, Dick thinks. Bruce thinks you humans still don't know there are selkies on the island. Dick snorts at the idea. Everyone knows that all you humans know about selkies. That's why those men keep coming here trying to trap them. 

 You squish his face affectionately with your hands. "My dad taught me that song and  I just realized..." Your mouth turns into a curved line of held back laughter. "...It's a sea shanty about missing being between a woman's legs." The last few words come out more as giggles than proper syllables but Dick can't enjoy that because he can feel his face warm up from the thought. He hides his face in his flippers. 

 You squeal, absolutely delighted with his mortification. Smiling down at him, you say: "Yanno pup, sometimes I think you understand me."

 Thought process-wise, no.

 Dick snuggles up to you again, blowing air out of his nose to voice his ascent. You can't just say things like that but again, you just simply seem amused by his suffering when you bend down to press a kiss to the top of his head. 

 Dick looks up when you pull away. No! Give him more!

 Dick stretches up to return the favor, having to partially climb on your lap but only managing to boop your nose with his snout. You nuzzle your nose against his and Dick makes the happiest noise in the back of his throat.

   Sometimes after wandering around you had a habit of falling asleep on the shore which Dick thought was fine until he found out that you couldn't swim. Dick being the only with brains in this duo always nudges you awake when the tide starts getting too close. Dick doubts the lapping water will wake you up before sweeping you away. After all, you managed to sleep through Tim, Kon, and Bart's rock piling contest on top of you. Dick shooed them away but even after cleaning up, you didn't wake up.

 Dick sees the sailors on the shore and nudges you. You... don't even blink. You hum, content to bask in the sun as you wrap your arms around Dick. Dick huffs. He likes this but he really would prefer it if you move. Dick considers slipping from your grip and grabbing a fish to slap you with like last time.

 Dick cranes his head to look at the ship again. It was far too close now, too close for you to get away without being seen by the sailors. 

 Dick turns you back over to your back and proceeds to body slam you with all his blubber. He winces when you make a choked noise. Dick can give you apology fish later. 

 "Pup, what the fuck?"

 You see the ship. Your eyes widen then flicker to his injured fin. Dick had injured it when he’d been swimming by the docks and got caught in one of the old traps. You’ve done your best to help it heal but you only know so much. You’re still reading up on herbs in case it happens again.  

 You try in vain to push him off but he's a big loveable sack of blubber and he refuses to move.  “C’mon pup, you need to move. They’ll try to catch you if they see you.” You grunt but the sack of blubber refuses to move. 

 You and Dick stay still as the ship draws near, neither of your chests rises or fall as the ship rocks back and forth.

The ship passes and you let your head fall back with a sigh. 

 Dick nuzzles his snout against your face, his whiskers tickling your face. You giggle and try to push him off. It’s useless so you let him stay there. 

 You both decide to take a nap on the shore with Dick huffing in your face once in a while as he snores. 

You curl up on the floor in front of the fire, watching the embers flicker, flash, and fade. It's the best thing you can do to calm your fraying nerves. The storm rages outside violently as if it was trying to tear the lighthouse down brick by brick. The whole building shakes with another boom of thunder. You close your eyes and burrow under the thick blanket. 

 In the back of your mind, your father is chuckling. The absence of a hand on your head is disconcerting. You remind yourself that it won't come, that you'll have to learn to weather the storm alone. You sigh then tighten the blanket around you.

Tok. Tok. Tok. 

 You blink. The fire was dying. When had you fallen asleep? 

 Tok, tok, tok. 

 Blinking, you rub the sleep from your eyes, but the haze doesn’t lift, only growing as you watch the firelight.  

 Tok tok tok. 

 You shoot up and barrel towards the door with the frantic knocking growing louder and louder as your feet pound against the stone floor.  

 You run into the door in your haste. The loud thud of your body against the door causes the frantic knocks to turn into muffled shouting.

 Prying yourself from the door, you open it and you don't know what you expected but this wasn't it.

 Standing in front of you was a man soaked like a wet rat. You blink in confusion before pulling him inside. You run to grab him a blanket. Wait. You should probably get him a towel. No, wait. You should have gotten his name first. Fuck. 

 You shuffle back into the room with a towel, spare clothes, and an extra blanket. You.. what can generously be called a heart attack. 

 For the first time, in the soft glow of the fire, you can fully admire your guest. Not see, admire because there was a lot to admire.

 The light of the fire flicking over the planes of his chest, with a light dusting of chest hair, the amber glow highlighting all the muscles of his body, framing the ripples of his toned figure. Swallowing any good sense you have, you watch the rainwater turn golden as it drips down his perfectly bronzed skin. The water cuts through valleys of muscle that could have only been handcrafted by gods. Your eyes follow the flow until... Oh.

 You flush furiously, your face glowing brighter than the fire. He's- He's- Oh my god, he's naked. 

 You reign your eyes in. Ok, you let it linger down there a bit. Not long enough for your guest to notice. You concentrate on his face which wasn't hard to do. The man pushes his raven hair out of his face letting you fully appreciate his face. In keeping with his body, his fine boned face looked like Pygmalion himself spent hours shaping it, not satisfied until he's made the perfect face. It's handsome in an adorable way. Not intimidating. It's the kind of face you'd like to pepper with kisses. You try not to focus on his lips in case of any sinful thoughts. You just met the man. The only thing you will note is that yes, his lips do look absolutely kissable and it aggravates you. 

 The most striking feature however are his deep blue eyes. The kind of deep that you feel like you could drown in. The kind of depth that looked too pretty to agonize over the fact that your lungs are burning. You stare, trying to carve a perfect replica of those eyes into your mind. Those eyes... that are currently staring at you... as he steps closer... at an alarming speed.

 You hold the stack of fabric in front of you like a shield. Your guest stops, looking at the stack. His face goes from concern to confusion to blinding enthusiasm. He was probably freezing.

 A smile spreads on his face, the cutest dimples you've ever seen forming on his cheeks, as he accepts the stack. He thanks you and your heart leaps from your chest. Whatever chill you were experiencing from the storm was completely gone. You turn away from him, rubbing the back of your neck and mumbling a halfway point between 'no problem' and 'you're welcome'. You hope it came out as 'no welcome' instead of  'your problem'.

 The man snorts and you are pretty sure which one came out. To save yourself the embarrassment, you walk to the kitchen and start preparing tea. The man thankfully occupies himself by looking at the assortment of knick-knacks you've hoarded gathered over the years. It gives you ample time to breathe.

 "Do you like sugar in your tea?"

 The man nods enthusiastically. You can't help but smile a little. 

 You sit next to him in front of the fireplace as you hand him his mug. He leans his head against your shoulder. You can feel his body radiating a comforting heat. 

 You two sit in silence, sipping tea and watching the fire flicker. You wanna scold him for slurping his tea. You're not exactly his mother. You don't even know his name. 

 You turn to him, face scrunched and about to ask him for his name when he surges forward. His lips brush against your lips as he nudges his nose against yours. You fall backward in shock and the stranger falls on top of you, his eyes still glowing bright and cool against the amber light.

 There's a thrill working up your spine or is it fear? You squeeze your eyes shut and throw your arms over your face. 

 "Please don't hurt me." You plead barely above a whisper. 

 You feel the body above you lower itself on top of you. He chuckles and shakes his head. "(Y/n), you're being silly."

 You open your eyes. The man is laying his body on top of you keeping you pinned down and he's... pouting at you?

 "I- I don't know who you are. You can take what you want but please don't hurt me."

 The pout deepens into a frown.

 "(Y/n), I'm not gonna hurt you. Don't you recognize me?" 

 You blink. You would definitely remember someone this eye-catching.  "You always sing that sea shanty to me. The one about the sailor who misses his wife's..." The stranger flushes and makes a hand gesture. Your face scrunches again. The only person you've sung that to aside from your dad is...

 "Pup?!"

 His frown morphs back into a pout. "I'm not even that little."

 You squish his face with your hands before you let your mind wander. You think back to the scars crisscrossing his limbs and chest.  "How is this possible?"

 He laughs, prying your hands from his face. "I'm a selkie," He says as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. "My name is also Dick, not pup."

 You stare up at him wide-eyed and stupefied. Dick snuggles against you like he always does. Somehow snuggling you in this form is better. He can hold you closer like this. You run your hand through his hair, fingers lacing through the tangles in his hair. He lets out an excited trill. 

 Dick might just be in heaven right now. 

 "I dunno how but you're somehow even prettier when I look at you in this form," Dick breathes contently. "I'm so lucky to have such a pretty wife."

 You stiffen. Dick looks up at you and the confusion in your face wrenches a knife in his heart. He swallows. "That is what you meant with this, right?" Dick asks, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

Your mouth turns into various shapes trying to piece together a coherent response. It settles on the simplest one. "No."

 Dick looks stricken like you'd taken a club to his head. 

 You reel back. "I just- I- I thought you were cold and you-"

 Dick's heartaches. It's a dull ache. He thought this kind of thing would be sharp like having a hook pierce your heart.

 His insides twist as he peels of you. 

 Your stomach sinks as you feel the cold fill your body once more. You don’t want him to go. The thought of being alone right now makes your stomach curdle. Your hands grip his shirt without meaning to. The look on his face hurts but the idea of him leaving felt unbearable. You know it's selfish but here you are begging him not to leave. 

 "Dick, I'm sorry... I didn't know... I-" 

 Thunder booms. You squeak and bury your face in his chest. You can't stand storms.

 Dick smiles down at you softly. It's still pained but it's bearable.

 He lays on his side and pulls you closer. He slots your face into his neck. You're still shivering even when he uses his body to shield you from the rest of the world.

 You whisper another apology.

 Dick shushes you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

The sunlight floods into the room like it does every morning but the room is still cold. Your mind works to understand what's wrong with this picture. Your hand pads beside you. The space next to you is empty save for the blanket left behind.

 You sniffle, gripping the sheet in your hand. You messed up, you think, pulling it to your face. For the first time in months, the tears come easily. You lay there all day because the tears won't stop.

   "If you sigh one more time, I am going to rip your throat out." Jason growls not bothering to open his eyes. Why would he? Dick has been flat and mopey for the past two weeks and Jason is really starting to miss his hyperactivity. 

 Dick lets out another mopey sigh. Jason. Is. Going. To. Scream. 

 "Can't you be depressing in Roy's direction? Or Bruce's?" 

 Dick sighs even louder at the mention of Bruce and Jason, for once, is considering murder or at least maiming. 

 "She doesn't love me back."Dick sniffles and Jason really should have known this had something to do with you. 

 He turns to Dick. "I'm going to regret asking but how do you know that?" The sooner he sorts Dick out, the sooner he gets to sleep. "Did she tell you to go away and never come back?"

 "Well no-"

 It's Jason's turn to sigh. "You fucking moron, What did she even say?"

 "She said she didn't know." Dick lowers his head to the sand and Jason wants to slap him with his tail. 

 Jason is now fully awake and very ready to throttle Dick. Or he's just cranky. "Are you telling me Bruce was right?! This day just keeps getting worse."

 Something seems to click in Dick's brain. "Oh, crap Bruce is right." He mutters stupidly. 

Jason will take whatever consolation he can get out of this. "She probably thought you were just some random pervert flashing her then." Jason snickers. It's petty and childish but so is interrupting a well-deserved nap.

 "What?"

 Jason lets out an exasperated huff through his snout. He twists his body to look at Dick with minimal effort to lift his head.  "Let's see, you turned up naked at her door and then you called her your wife and nearly kissed her in what?  The space of 15 minutes?"

 "I got confused." Dick sputters. 

"Geez, I thought West was bad but you're just a disaster," Jason chuckles, "Oh! And you made the brilliant decision to leave without explanation," Jason is having far too much fun rubbing salt in the wound.  "She probably feels terrible”.

 "Are you guilt-tripping me?"

 "Is it working?"

 "What-" Dick growls. "Well, what do you want me to do?"

 "Hmmmmm, have you tried talking? Yanno the thing Bruce never does. But seriously, I can’t believe you call her your wife and then abandon her." Jason shakes his head. "And you have the audacity to call yourself the smart one."

 Dick strips out of his skin and begins running towards the lighthouse... naked.

 Jason debates on letting him.... he probably shouldn't.

"Dickface!" Jason calls out. 

 Dick doesn't stop, face crumpled in determination and his little Richard swinging wildly as he walks. 

 Jason is gonna die of second-hand embarrassment. 

 "DICKFACE!"

 "What?!" Dick asks turning around his hands on his hips. Like usual, his hip tilts to the side and his foot taps as he waits expectantly for Jason to gather a mildly coherent response. 

 "Your little Richard..." Jason says pointing with his fin.

 Dick looks down and the look of mortification on his face is satisfactory. ".... Right. Shit."

 "Just steal some from her laundry."

  "But she'll be pissed."

 "Ok, so you would rather flash her then?"

 Dick sighs and this time Jason doesn't have the urge to throttle him only because Dick is already beating his own ego into a pulp. "I hate it when you make sense."

 Jason raises a brow, setting his head back down to the warm sand.  "I always make sense."

 Dick just cackles in response as he heads to the lighthouse.

Dick shifts his weight on the balls of his feet. He feels sick like he'd eaten one of those pickled fish you made him one time.  Maybe this was a bad idea. Why did he even listen to Jason? He flips onto his hands and begins to pace.  His stomach feels like it's being tossed violently by ocean currents. It feels like a shapeless lump sitting in the pit of his abdomen. Maybe you're out or maybe you never wanna see him again.

 Your face had been so blown wide with shock when he had called you wife that it looked almost foreign like the suggestion had been so audacious that your face had to reconstruct itself to accommodate the shock. 

 Dick puts a hand to his face trying to stem the flow of thought. He was such an idiot. Why did he assume you would love him like that and why did he just leave you? Dick closes his eyes and breathes. He'll knock just once more then leave if you don't answer.

 Tok.   Tok.   Tok. 

 The knocks register just above a whisper. He thinks you don't hear it. 

 He lets out a breath and walks away. This was stupid. He should never have come back. 

 Jason was right. Fuck. Dick buries his face as he walks away.

 Distantly, Dick hears the squeak of rusty hinges but it's lost in the tempest of thoughts plaguing his mind, in all the little hurts from that night. 

 "Pup?" The sound of your voice is followed by the pounding of your feet against stand. Dick's careening to the ground before he knows it as your body collides with his. 

  "Pup," you sniffle into his shirt, "it is you." 

 Dick twist in your grip so he's facing you. Your face is buried in his shirt. He strokes your hair, wrapping an arm around you, holding you tight. "Of course, it’s me. Who else would bug you at this hour?"

 Dick feels his shirt grow warm. You mumble an apology.

You look up to face Dick with half your face still buried in his shirt. You've clearly been crying based on how red and puffy your eyes are.  Dick's stomach churns at the dark circles under your eyes. He feels guilt stab him in the gut.  All of that combined with your generally disheveled appearance. Dick can just tell that you haven't slept well the last few days. 

 "Let's go inside and talk." You say, peeling yourself off of him. 

 Dick shakes his head, not loosening his grip on your midsection. "Let's walk around you look like you need some sun."

 You flushed and put a hand to your cheek. "Do I look that bad?" You ask absently, a shy smile creeping into your features. 

 Dick smiles at you and pushes your hair out of your face. "Never but the weather is sunny for once and we both need some air."

"So you really didn't know that the island was filled with selkies?" Dick asks, adjusting the infernal scarf you had forced him into. He insisted that he didn't need it. He could just cuddle up to you for warmth but you were equally stubborn about him wearing a coat and the wool monstrosity strangling him. 

 Your face scrunches up in confusion." I- I don't even know what that is."

 Dick stops.

 You slow down upon realizing he wasn't by your side anymore. "You... don't know what a selkie is?" He asks, his face the definition of dumbstruck. 

 You shrink into your coat." My dad wasn't interested in things like that," you shrug, "I dunno much about..." Your hand twists in a circle, reaching for the right words. 

 Dick tilts his head. That made sense. "You thought we were all just seals?"

 You nod slowly, looking like you wanna shrivel up. 

 Dick starts laughing and you look like you're a second away from throwing yourself into the water. 

 "I'm sorry," he says, flailing. He's screwing this up again. He breathes to collect himself. "I just thought it's funny that we all thought my dad was wrong about you guys not knowing."

 You rub the back of your neck. "Most of us mainlanders don't really believe in magic, yanno? It's just such a foreign concept. Kind of hard to wrap my head around it."

 "I get that." The smile on his face makes your gut twist. You fiddle with your hands. 

 "So what are selkies?"

 Dick tilts his head, not exactly sure of how to word it because how do you explain something that's been obvious to you since you can remember to someone who just found out about it a few weeks ago?

 "We're fae, I guess-" Your face twists in confusion.

 Dick needs to backtrack. "We're fae..." This is hard. "We have this human form and we have our seal forms. We switch between them using our pelt."

 Your brow knits in confusion. "Which one is your true form then?" 

 Dick wraps his arm around your waist and holds you closer as you walk along the cliff tops. He hums as he thinks. "Both?" 

 You look up at him with a weary smile. “That makes sense in a way.” You hum.  Swallowing thickly, you fiddle with your hands. "So what was with the... um..." You clear your throat. "What was with the wife thing?"

 Dick’s mouth dries.  “Well... when we want to ask someone to be our mate... we- we kind of give them our pelt and I thought it translated to human clothes…” He stammers out dumbly. 

 “Oh...oh!” Your eyes widen into a look of horror. You open and close your mouth trying to form words. “Dick, I didn’t realize , that must have - I’m sorry I hurt you.” 

 “Please don’t apologize,” Dick says and presses his lips to the top of your head.  His lips are warm and comforting. “I’ve spent so long in love with you my brain just didn’t...” Dick’s mouth twists. “It just didn’t do what it was supposed to.”

 You would definitely laugh at that last part but you’re still seeing stars from the startling confession he just hit you with. You snuggle tighter into his embrace as you look over the sea. You don’t know how to respond. You really don’t and it frustrates you. It was all just a lot to take in all at once like you’d been tossed into the sea and you’re flailing and grasping at water. 

 But if nothing else, you’re at least glad that Dick is still talking to you. 

 “If you don't mind…” Dick says carefully, the look in his eyes determined. “Would it be alright if I try and pursue you properly?” Dick braces for a no. He’s not dumb enough to be hopeful twice but he needs to ask. 

 Inevitably, you freeze. You pull his arm closer to your chest. Swallowing, you ask: “you mean like a human courtship?”

 He nods closing his eyes.  “Yes, I want to court you.” He coughs clearing his throat.

 You’re silent for what felt like the longest 30 seconds of Dick’s life. Dick cracks one eye to see you fiddling with your hair. “Uh Dick, there’s this one problem that might make that difficult…” Dick raises a brow. It wasn’t an outright rejection but it wasn’t an answer. 

 “I don't know how that works either.” You laugh nervously, burying your face in his arm. 

 “Good - then we don’t know if I’m doing it badly.” Dick beams with a blinding smile.

 You twist to look at him, the corners of your mouth twitching. “That sounds like cheating.”

 Dick snorts, “would you rather I court you the selkie way?”

 “I mean it depends. What's the selkie way?”

 “Fish.”

 Dick startles when you let out a loud bark of laughter. “Fish? You’ve already done that so many times.” You giggle.  Dick tries to wrangle his mind away from the fact that he can feel your lips through the thin fabric of the sweater. 

 “I thought it worked.” Dick sighs. He really did, but alas, miscommunication is a cruel mistress.  

 You lower your gaze trying to concentrate on the fraying needlework of his sweater. “Maybe it has.” You mumble low enough for a human not to hear. How unfortunate it is then that you’re dealing with a selkie. 

 Dick is beaming when you look up again. He nuzzles his face against yours. Dick is once again insanely, stupidly, incredibly happy. 

__________________________________________________________________________

Because neither of you knew what you were doing, Dick's attempts to court you ranged from ridiculous (a literal mountain of fish that you ended up drying, giving away to the other seals, and selling to passing ships.)  to ridiculously sweet (finding you handful of pearls).  Dick nudged a little shell overflowing with pearls and looked up at you with liquid eyes.  He could have gotten you pebbles and it would have been endearing.

 It wasn't always gifts though.

 Sometimes Dick would just sit quietly with you on the beach, snuggling against your leg as you scratched his stomach. You love the ways his squish vibrated as he purred. 

 When summer passed and it became unbearable to watch the stars outside, Dick sometimes spent nights in your lighthouse, wrapped up in your sheets or wrapped around you. It was nice having him around the house even if he was kind of a slob. You love him but he is a mess.

 You made the mistake of introducing him to tea cakes and got him addicted to November Cakes specifically. As it turns out, your cute pest has a sweet tooth and will nuzzle you into submission just for another bite.

 If you ever doubted that Dick was evil before, you now have proof.

 During the winter, Dick insisted on staying in the lighthouse to keep you warm. You wanted to point out that you had a fireplace for a reason but it was so hard to turn down hugs from him.

And because you hadn't had the heart to clean out your father's room yet and Dick clearly preferred it, you let Dick sleep next to you on your cot. You felt a bit bad but Dick was just so happy with the arrangement that you didn't want to make him go away. Besides, it was nice to wake up to his sleeping face in the morning, all sleep rumpled and drooling.

 __________________________________________________________________________

 "Hey Jay, do you have a book on selkies?" Dick asks, caterpillaring on the rock Jason is sunbathing on. 

 Jason takes the opportunity to roll down the rock and knock Dick into the sea before saying: "No." It shall be put on record that there are no drama queens in the Wayne family. 

 Dick shakes off the seawater, big puppy eyes staring at Jason. 

 Jason glares at him. He can't even let Jason have a second of smugness.  "Ask Selina."

 No one really knows where Selina came from or why she stayed (well, they had their suspicions), but if you need something you can't find easily, your best bet was to ask her and hope she doesn't ask you to do anything ridiculously hard.

 Dick hasn't had first hand experience but from what Bruce tells him, they're mostly silly things like recite poems or do a flip. He could do both those things. Well, depending on the poem. He gets tongue twisted sometimes. Hmmm, maybe he should ask if he can avoid tongue twisters so he won't bite his tongue.

 Sloughing off his coat, Dick walks towards the glowing cauldron. 

 "Still no clothes pup? You're going to give a poor girl a heart attack." Selina tsked, reappearing from one of the other cave entrances with a handful of things Dick can't recognize. 

 "Oh... I- I'm still not used to it." He says sheepishly. 

 Selina chuckles, dumping the handful of what Dick can assume is plant debris into the cauldron while before dusting her hands off.

 Dick stares at the thick vat. A bubble rises and bursts emitting what sounded like a human voice. "What is that? Should I be worried?"

 "Oh no, no, this? This is just a little soup for colds."

 "It screamed."

 "All soups scream."

 "I- anyway, I came here to ask if you have a book on selkies."

 Selina tilts her head to the side. "I believe I do-"

 "Great!"

 "Buuuut..."

 Of course, the price.

 "I brought pearls and some seashells." He says hopefully. 

 The angle of her head does not change. Though from the gleam in her eyes, she's clearly interested. 

 "Tell me why you need the book."

 Dick's thoughts halt. Should he tell Selina about you? His eyes dart to the boiling cauldron.  "... Why do you need to know?"

 Selina flourishes her hand. The book appears out of thin air."Do you want the book or not, pup?"

 Dick's nerves pinch. Why does everyone call him that? "I need it to teach someone Selkie customs." He manages.

 "Oh! The little lighthouse keeper!"

 "You know her?"

 Selina shrugs. "Do you really think I wouldn't know something going on about the islands nearby?" She pinches his cheek. "Oh little pup, I know about your little crush. You spend more time on land than you do in the sea these days. Dami's been all huffy about it."

 He has.

 "I've told you my reason." Dick says holding his hand out. 

 "Hnnnn, you have I suppose." Selina sighs.

 Dick takes the book, putting it into a waterproof pouch before gingerly putting his pelt back on. He happily caterpillars out of the cave with the pouch in his mouth. He really hopes you'll like this.

You really should just fix up another cot for Dick at this point and maybe buy him a set of clothes when you go to town. 

 "It's too cold to sleep outside." Dick whines, flattening himself against you on the bed. 

 You lift your book to look at him. Dick just gives you that wide-eyed look when he wants something. You roll your eyes,  letting him snuggle up to you.  "Dick, it is obviously summer and you're like 40% blubber." You snort. 

 Dick pouts.  "You're still gonna let me sleep here." 

 You scrunch your face up and sigh. "I can't exactly let you brace the summer cold, can I?" You say, running a hand through his hair. 

 "Eeeeeexactly." Dick says happily as snuggles into you tightly.  He nuzzles his face into your neck wrapping his arms around your waist. You hum helplessly, curling into his embrace.

 "See." Dick trills with a happy grin. 

 "Are you going to be smug about it all night?" You huff, throwing a blanket over the two of you.

 "No," he says,  "you assume I can't keep being smug 'til sunrise."

 "Dork," you snicker, setting the book down. It was a book on selkie traditions that Dick had gotten you a few days ago. You devoured it the same night but you're reading it again and subtly testing things while Dick was invading your house. You hum, running your hand through his hair, fingernails lightly scraping against his scalp. Dick purrs against your chest. "There was a one eyed seal on the beach the other day. He was a grumpy fellow but kind of cute. Seals really are a sleepy lot. The big lug started snoozing on my lap after like 5 minutes." 

 Dick tense under your touch. He looks up at you seriously.

 "That was a selkie." Dick deadpans. 

 You stop your rambling. "What?!"

 "That grumpy one-eyed seal was a selkie." He repeats carefully. 

 Your breath stutters. "Are all of the seals on this island selkies? ALL OF THEM?" Dick is pretty sure your eyes are mounting an escape.

 "All of them, darling." Dick nods. 

 "Oh." You are so screwed. "Do you guys all talk to each other?!" You shouldn't have told that seal about your little crush. You want the mattress to swallow you up. 

 "Yes? Should I be concerned?" Dick asks, lifting his head. 

 "No! No reason!" You squeal, shaking your head.

 Dick pouts at you with suspicion. It occurs to you with some amusement that Dick is actually glaring. You wisely decide to sidestep the conversation. 

 "You guys love taking naps on people, huh?" You say, absently twining your fingers into Dick's hair. He settles his head against your chest. "That's just cus we like you." He hums. 

 A snort rips out of you. "You're just biased."

 Dick looks up at you seriously again. "We selkies like pretty things like any fae." Dick says, wrapping his arms around you more tightly. He's being petty but Dick has always been protective of you and he isn't about to stop now. Besides... he doesn't want anyone stealing you away.

 You frown at him. "Dick, there are far prettier things on this island and sweet talking won’t magically make November cakes appear." You huff, kissing the top of his head before picking up the book and using it to hide the smile shaping your lips. 

 You feel Dick pick himself up off of you. You peek over your book to watch Dick. He scoots closer to your face until the only thing separating you is the far too thin book in your hands.

 "You don't believe me, do you?"

 "No." You say. You don't mean it but it's the easiest thing to conjure up when Dick is this close. Your lips prickle from imagining Dick's lips against yours. 

 You weren't paying attention. Dick has apparently been going on a two-minute diatribe on how pretty you are and in that two minutes, Dick has managed to scoot even closer. He gently takes the book out of your hands to make sure you're paying attention. He fails to take into account the fact that his face is in fact distracting. Your eyes zero in on his very plush and very kissable lips. If you just lean forward a fraction, you could...

 Your lips feel warm and soft against Dick's, the rest of his diatribe dying in the back of his throat as his eyes flutter shut. His mind might just be melting out of his ears because the only thing he can think about is how soft you are and how perfectly your lips fit against his. 

 "I'm sorry." You whisper shyly. You should be sorry, Dick thinks. Who told you to pull away?

 You touch your fingers to your lips. Fuck, what did you just do?

 "You can do it again." Please, he almost adds. 

 You lick your lips. Dick perks up and leans closer. His heart is going to leap out of his chest. You lean closer. Dick can feel his heart pounding against his rib cage. 

 You kiss Dick on the nose and pull away, hiding your lips behind your hand as you snicker. Dick scrunches his nose and blows air out of it. 

 "You know perfectly well what I meant." He huffs. 

 You lean back into your pillow, grinning at him. "I have absolutely no clue what you're on about." You say slowly, smug.

 "Let me remind you then,"A grin takes over his face. Dick leans in, pressing his lips against yours. You exchange breaths as you drink in the feeling of each other's lips. Dick caresses your sides. He feels you shiver and he smiles into your lips. "That ring any bells?"

 "Not really..." You say, flickering your eyes to him. "But if you try again... it might."

 "Oh sweetheart, I can keep reminding you all night." Dick chuckles, winking. 

 Covering your face, you attempt to hide your embarrassment. You hate how easily he flusters you. "You can't just say stuff like that." You whimper. 

 "Why not? I'm supposed to be courting you and that includes buttering you up," Dick says, nuzzling your cheek. You're just too cute.  Dick gently pries your hands away from your face. "Don't hide your face from me, Honey."

 "Oh god, you're making me regret letting you court me."

 "Never."

 ______________________________________________________________________

 Dick's eyes are struggling to remain open as he watches the fire.  He burrows further into the thick comforter you'd given him. It's not quite as warm as his pelt but the fabric is puffy and it has a sweet smell that makes his head swim. 

 Dick angles his head slightly to watch you. You've been toiling for hours and refuse to tell Dick what it is. Your back is still hunched over with your foot bouncing on the floor. Dick lets his eyes flutter shut, listening to the sound of your shuffling tools. 

 You glance down at the adorable mess dozing off on your sofa. You gently move his hair out of his face. He swats at you sleepily, face scrunched even as he sleeps. You sincerely wish you had Damian's talent for art or that you had one of those cameras. You really wish you could keep a picture of Dick's sleepy face. It's the cutest thing in the world.

 "Hey Dickie," you whisper.

 "Hmmmmm?" He groans.

 "Could you hand me your pelt?"

 "Sure," he moans, blindly padding around for it. You snort as he nearly falls off the sofa. After groping nearly every surface, he finally finds the pelt. "here you-"

 The fur brushes your fingertips before Dick stops. Dick shoots up, nearly clipping your nose with his forehead. He's looking at you fully awake, drool still hanging off the corner of his lips."Are you sure?!"

 "Hand it over coward." You smile gently at him. You try your best to fight off the excitement bubbling in your veins. 

 Dick is off the couch, his own excitement barely contained as his whole body vibrates with happiness. He sits up. You hold out your hand but instead of handing you his pelt, Dick drapes it over you like a wedding veil. It's thick and warm to the touch. You let your hands brush over the silken fur. You can feel magic thrumming from it. It feels like a minute current of electricity but it doesn't flow linearly. It ebbs and flows as it pleases, pulsing beneath your fingers. You burrow yourself in it. 

 Something warm spills in Dick's chest as he sees you wrapped up in his pelt. Dick kisses your nose. "You have now been wifed."

 You twitch your nose. "You missed."

 "Nope. Don't think so. Buuuuut if you show me where you want me to kiss you..."

 You roll your eyes and surge forward, pressing your lips to his.  Dick smiles into it, pulling you close and savoring the sensation of your lips melding together. He makes a happy trilling noise while you laugh against his lips. 

 "That clear enough, Dickie?"  You ask, pressing your forehead against his. 

 "Yeah, I think I got it, wifey."

__________________________________________________________

THANKS FOR READING

Tag list:  @batarella​, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish , @birdy-bat-writes​,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell   @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red @ marshmallow12435 @vvipgot7be​ @jadedhillon​​

[petri808]

If you're open for nalu requests, can you write a smut fic where nalu goes to a lingerie store because lucy wants to try on some lingerie and natsu ends up getting aroused? But if you can't it's fine just ignore this ask😊

Hi Nony, this is the last request I’ll do. Decided to save this for @thenaluarchive Sinfully Nalu event Mirror prompt. What did Lucy expect by dragging Natsu lingerie shopping?

“I’ve just got one more stop to make.” Lucy pointed towards the other side of the mall.

“Ugh…” Natsu’s shoulders dropped, “but we’ve been here for 2 hours already, Lucy, and I’m getting hungry.”

“I’ll spring for lunch. Anything you want.”

“I’m holding you to it,” he grumbled, but allowed her to pull him forward.

Natsu knew the mall well enough to know that the section they were heading towards were mostly women’s clothing stores— definitely not where he wanted to be. All these fancy clothes, and accessories, and… stuff that his girlfriend loved to wear. Sure, he didn’t complain cause it made her happy, he just didn’t wanna shop for it. Forever twenty something, Cache or Channel— whatever, “oh, uh-uh, no way,” he jerked them to a halt. “I ain’t going in there.”

“It’s just Victoria’s Secret.”

“Well Victoria can keep her secret. Lucy you’re crazy if you think I’m going in a women’s lingerie store!”

Lucy turned to face, then grabbed both of Natsu’s hands, holding them together close to her chest. “Please,” her eyes begged. “I need you to tell me what you think will be nice on me.”

Thinking about his girl, in lingerie, while standing in a mall was *not* the image Natsu wanted conjuring in his mind. But between the soft, puppy-dog expression, and her whimpering pleading— he was powerless to turn Lucy down. He sighed with a whine. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Yay!” She giggled, kissed his cheek, and took his hand again, entwining their fingers together. “I’ll make it as painless as possible.”

Yeah, uh-huh, right… Painless.

As they walked down the rows and racks of lingerie, Natsu hummed in his head as a distraction. Bras, panties. Low cut, high cut, thongs, g-strings. Sets, individual pieces. Lace, satin, cotton. So many choices! He let the colors blend in his vision, the scents of brand-new clothing mixed with perfumes sold, or miscellaneous accessories. How do women pick anything when there’s so many options? Give him a t-shirt and jeans and he was good to go.

Every so many picks, Lucy would ask his opinion. ‘Yeah, that’s nice. No, that looks itchy. I like that color. Eww, it doesn’t match you.’ Finding her size in the styles she wanted wasn’t always easy, but after 30 minutes, Lucy had half a dozen or so items to try on. So, they head towards the fitting rooms.

Natsu stopped in front of the doors, and readied himself to stand around and wait—

“You’re coming in with me.” Lucy tugged on his hand. “I need your final opinion.”

Up until now, Natsu had managed to avoid thinking about anything even remotely related to sex, but now?! “Uh-uh, no way!”

“Please…” Lucy turned on the pouty lip-action and puppy-dog eyes again. “It’s not like you won’t see me in them later.”

Natsu gulped hard as the naughty images were unlocked. “Are you trying to kill me in public?”

“Pfft, no,” she giggled. “Stop exaggerating this.”

‘You have no idea, woman…’ “Alright, fine. But don’t blame me if anything happens in there.” Because if the twitch in his pants and slight bulge growing was any indication, it wouldn’t be what she’d be expecting.

“Tch.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “It’ll be fine, Natsu, you’ll see.”

The dressing room was a lot more spacious than he was used to seeing. Men’s fitting rooms, at least the ones he’s been in are like closets with just one full length mirror, and maybe a small bench inside. This one could easily fit them both, with wrap around mirrors to catch every angle. It had a small, cushioned bench along one wall, and a couple of hooks on the inside of the door. But most noteworthy was the fact it was a fully enclosed room— not those partial-length doors at lower-quality stores. It was very, very private.

Natsu sat down on the bench and closed his eyes while Lucy fiddled with her options. He could hear the plastic and metal hangers going up on the hooks, as well as the sounds of his girlfriend shedding her clothing. His mouth suddenly felt dry… Lucy’s voluptuous body bared for him to see with only her regular panties left on— he squeezed his eyes tighter shut. ‘Don’t think about it! Don’t think about it!’

“Ready— Natsu, silly,” Lucy giggled. “How are you gonna tell me if it’s good or not if you can’t see?”

“No.”

Lucy threaded her fingers gingerly through his hair. “Just one peak…”

‘Fuck…’ he groaned as the tightening in his shorts grew uncomfortable. “One peak.”

Natsu opened his eyes and immediately slammed them shut again from the screaming bra and panties glued to her frame. A sheer red with solid fabric only over the nipples and a strip covering her crotch. So much flesh revealed in these outfits, was there even a point to wearing anything at all?

“Great!” His voice squeaked out. “Looks fine.”

Her giggles only added to his demise. The sounds of more fabric rustling, and the twitch in his shorts… Natsu shifted in his seat trying to get comfortable, but he couldn’t. Lucy had grabbed about six of seven different pieces to try, and this was only the beginning. She was too damn sexy, and he swore, derived pleasure out of torturing him like this! Ugh, his cock was so hard right now…

“Okay, next piece,” Natsu heard her say. “I’m not sure about it, cause the color doesn’t seem to look good on me.”

Tch, it could be multi-colored polka dots and Lucy would still be a man’s wet dream. He cracked open one eye. It was a dark green, combo with frilled lace along the waistband. Natsu gulped hard as she did a turn around to reveal a thong and curvy swell of her backside.

“You do realize I’m biased, right?” Natsu blurted out. “Everything looks good on you to me.”

“Awww,” Lucy bent down and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I still think I’ll add this to the maybe pile,” she spoke as she started removing the pieces. “I think you’ll really like the next one I found; it has these cute flames on them.”

“You know what I’d prefer to see?” Natsu questioned, for he was done holding back.

Lucy stopped mid-way, bent slightly over with the thong down to her thighs. “What?”

Without answering her, Natsu got off the bench and started helping her take the thong off.

“Natsu, what are you—”

Once off, he moved onto her regular panties down.

“Nat— s-stop!” Lucy grabbed for his hands, but she couldn’t do much without twisting or tripping. “What are you do—”

“Keep your voice down.” He tugged those off too leaving her exposed from the waist down.

“Natsu this isn’t funny!” She seethed in an exasperated whisper.

“Neither is this,” he gestured at the bulge in his shorts. Guiding her against the mirrored wall as he spoke. “You said I could choose whatever I wanted for lunch, and I’ve decided to put you on the menu.”

Lucy whimpered when she felt the cold mirror against her bare skin. “But we’re in public.”

“I warned you didn’t I…” Natsu leaned in with a whisper, cheek to cheek. “Then I suggest you not make any noise,” his words wisp out, warm breath fanning down the barren skin as his lips burn a trail over her neck. Lucy dug her fingers into his hair, holding on but not stopping him as he moved lower.

His stops were brief, lips ghosting burning marks along her chest, a mountainous journey over the pillowy bosoms, a few licks against the pert nipples, and lower… down … snaking over her torso to what he was truly after. “Breathe, baby,” Natsu teased at her halted, bated breathing. “Just look forward and watch.”

She sucked in a gulp of air and stared forward at the mirrored image of Natsu going down on her. It was strange to literally watch every move he made like a voyeur living through another’s body. Lucy’s fingers tightened their grip on his hair in anticipation as he spread her legs a little wider…

“Mmm,” he mused in thought on how to get the best angle. “Hold to me,” Natsu suggested, and before she could reply, lifted Lucy’s left leg, and rested it on his shoulder. “Perfect…”

Natsu dove right in, latching his mouth onto the moist folds he knew so well, humming at the quick squeak his girl couldn’t catch in time. But he knew from the pull on his scalp exactly what she was experiencing. He kept one hand on her raised hip, while the fingers of his other toyed around the edge of her wet opening. His tongue pressed and circled around her clit, sucking, palpating, interspersed with soothing flicks and long strokes to lap up the growing sap gathering in the area. He closed his eyes as he relished in the warmth oozing over his face from her beautiful sex.

Heaven help her, Lucy couldn’t stop staring at that mirror… her gripped fingers to his hair and nails digging into his shoulder for dear life from the seasoned oral ministrations that slowly undid her sanity. Just his tongue alone… but the teasing fingers… Oh! Oh— Her thighs clenched to the sides of Natsu’s head as she felt one, then two fingers slipped through her walls. Lucy’s body arched slightly, and head tilted back as those fingers began swiftly pumping.

“Natsu…” Lucy moaned softly through sealed lips. She could feel his grin against her flesh, hear the squishing sounds, and smell the light scent of her extreme arousal. Damn him…

In a race against time, Natsu pumped fast and hard while his mouth and tongue devoured Lucy’s sex and sanity with an intensity to rival any known battle for supremacy. Each passing second, drawing the heated coil at her core closer to snapping. Her legs trembled, yet clenched and stiffened as his fingers pummeled, bumping the swollen sex being driven to his knuckles reach. He could feel Lucy start unraveling and held firmly to her hip bone as the jerky spasms rocked her body in orgasmic euphoria.

“Stop, stop, stop—” Lucy clawed at his back and neck as she whimpered from the immense pressure boiling in her body, and radiant moisture pooled in her eyes. “Please… enough, Natsu my legs are gonna give out.”

After giving her pussy a few more licks to clean up the excess juices, Natsu finally obliged and put down Lucy’s leg, then stood up while still supporting her as she caught her breath. He licked around his lips and cleaned off his fingers. “Best lunch in the world,” he grinned.

“Oof!” Lucy playfully slapped his chest with a short laugh. “Not what I’d meant. And now I don’t have time to try on the rest.”

“Why not?”

Lucy started putting on her regular clothes. “We’ve been in here for too long, it’ll be suspicious.”

“Tch, then just buy all of it if you like them, cause I’m telling you they’ll all look great on you.”

She glared at him. “Fine, but after pulling that stunt, now you owe me lunch!”

Natsu shrugged and grabbed all the hangers of clothing. “Okay, since you’ll need your strength later.”

“Later?”

The widest seedy grin bloomed on Natsu’s face. “You’ll see…”

[sp00kworm]

Black Oak (Part 2)

Pairing: Alcott Glyn (Headless Horseman) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Body Horror, Murder

PART 1 

---

---

The police arrived about an hour after you had woke-up the whole village screaming. Peswick was far away from the nearest city’s response, and you sat shivering, wrapped in a blanket from the house, clutching it close as Mrs Shaw rushed to bring you a hot drink. She and her husband were dressed, but neither went into your house. They rushed back home, bringing you a cup of tea from their own kitchen along with a foil blanket for the shock. You weren’t allowed to touch the body, and you tried to ignore the swinging noise of the corpse as you sat perched on the front doorstep to your home, sniffling into the cup of tea. The police took off their hats as they stepped past your gate, and you watched as the crime scene investigation and forensic van pulled up behind them. The two officers nodded at Mr and Mrs Shaw before smiling as best they could.

“Would you like to come with us, please?” The male officer asked gently, “Lets go inside and we’ll get your statement of events, okay?” The female officer with him looked back at the tree and swallowed hard as Forensics suited up to remove the body and take evidence.

“Come on, Sully.” He ushered his companion as he helped you to your feet and nodded to your neighbours. He whistled and smiled as he opened the door for you, “Nice old place you’ve got here.” He complimented kindly, the corners of his eyes wrinkled with crows’ feet, “Mrs Finch used to live here. Are you a relative?”

 You shook as the officer led you gently into the front room, “It…She was my aunty, distantly.” You whispered as you eased yourself back onto the sofa, clutching the lukewarm tea tightly, as though it was a lifeline in your grasp.

“She was a kind woman. Made a lot of oils out of her garden, but she had nothing but trouble and vandalism with this place. Kids used to make a mess of the sides of the house regularly.” He tipped his head to the wall where the fireplace was, “It was always on the chimney. She never did anything, but the kids called her a witch and all that trollop.” He shook his head.

“You haven’t introduced yourself.” Sue gave him a lopsided smile as she pulled out the clipboards full of paperwork to be completed.

“Ah, so I haven’t!” The officer dipped his head, “I’m Officer Perks.” He pointed to the blond woman with him, “And this is my partner Officer Sullivan.”

You nodded shakily licked your lips, “It was nice to meet you. Thank you for coming. I know...Its far.” A breathy sigh left you as Sullivan took out her pens from her vest and smiled.

“We just need an account of what you did this morning and if you knew the victim.” Percy offered as he sat on your couch, “Spare no details. Even something small to you might be important to us.”

 Conflict burned in your throat and gut as you thought about what had happened, “I don’t remember anything of relevance from last night. I spent the night in bed. I’ve only just moved in, so I was exhausted.” You took a shuddering breath and continued, “I went out this morning to the tree and…and I looked up… and he was hanging there, without his head.” You looked into the tea in your hands, noting that it was now ice cold.

“How long have you been here?” Sullivan asked as she shorthand filled in the details on the paperwork, “You said you moved in recently?” Perks looked from the paper to you and smiled reassuringly.

“I moved in yesterday afternoon.” You whispered and Sullivan gave you a pitying look.

Perks shifted against the cushions, “Did you have anyone with a grudge against you or motive from where you used to live?” He asked.

“No one that I know of.” You answered as you put down the cup of tea, fighting the tears and upset.

“Okay so what time did you find the body?” Perks asked. You took a deep sigh and continued to answer the police officer’s questions well into the afternoon.

 Perks and Sullivan could drink their weight in tea, it turned out, and you offered them many drinks over the course of the few hours. They had a couple each, pens scratching papers as they took notes and an official account of the events for the records. You looked out of the window as Sue and Percy signed the bottom of the page. Crime Scene Investigations were hoisting the body down from the thick black branch of the oak, working to preserve the noose he was swinging by. Three people held the corpse up as they cut the rope carefully, keeping the knot intact and bagging the rope before they got the body down into the bag on the stretcher.

“He’ll need to go to pathology to determine cause of death…though I think I have a pretty good idea.” Sullivan whispered, trying not to be heard as she eyed you sat across from them. Perks rolled his eyes and elbowed his colleague.

“Here. Let me draw the curtains.” Perks stood and reached for the curtains before drawing them over the forensics team dragging the body into the bag, impassive to the blood that stained their tunics and gloves.

“I think we have everything.” Sullivan announced as she stood up and took hold of both their mugs, “I’ll put these in the kitchen for you.” She offered with a small, pathetic smile.

 Perks nodded his head as Sullivan as she left towards the kitchen. You heard her bang the cup on the countertop before you tugged the blanket closer and shifted uncomfortably.

“Thank you for your cooperation today.” Perks took his hat and tucked it under his arm, “I know these kinds of cases are very difficult to talk about. I have this card for you.” He held you out a green printed business card, “That’s the helpline for a couple of organisations and the other side has someone you can seek out if you would like some help talking through all this.”

You looked at the numbers vaguely before nodding and placing the card on the coffee table, “Thank you.” You replied quietly before Perks replaced his hat on his head.

“We’ll see ourselves out. Thank you once again and good afternoon.” He looked at his watch before he opened the lounge door and quietly exited.

Sue scoffed at him in the hall, “Come on. We’ve got these reports to write up.”

“Coming, coming.” Perks grumbled, “Nothing wrong with being nice. They just witnessed a damn corpse…” The voices trailed off as the front door closed behind the two of them with a bang.

 Silence.

 You looked to the curtains and stood up, letting the blankets finally fall from your shoulders as you fisted each side of the heavy curtains. They were old and embroidered with curling leaves. You tugged them open with a heave and watched the police vans trundle away back down the old stone roads, back towards the hills where they had come from this morning. With a deep breath, you tied the curtains back before taking one last long look at the gnarled, black oak in the garden, and heading towards the stairs for a shower and to get dressed. You hoped that a shower would wash away the sticky feeling of malaise on your skin and mind. Hot water usually purged bad thoughts, or so you hoped as you tried to erase the memory of the swinging corpse from the shrivelled branches of the old oak tree.

 You shivered through the house after your shower, wrapped in a jumper and heavy jeans as you tried to navigate the halls without looking out into the garden. The memory of the body lingered with the burning feeling of the heavy box in the other room, filled with an old skull. It was a skull inside. A perfectly preserved ivory skull. The teeth were yellow with age on the enamel, and you looked to the table where the muddy box sat with the key in the lock. The headless creature had moaned and groaned as its head screamed from the other room. You turned and looked at the ornate metal decorations before daring to turn the key again. The lid popped open and flew back to reveal the skull again.

 It sat perfectly still on the cushion, staring at you with empty eyes. With a deep breath, you dared to reach out and touch the skulls surface. It didn’t move. No magical energies tore out of the eye holes. It was perfectly still. It was just a skull. But the memory of it screaming and cursing inside the box was burned into your memory and you carefully picked the skull up, cushioning the bottom of its jaw before your strokes over the place where the eyebrows had once been when it was a man. It had to belong to the headless horseman, but why your aunt had it locked away in her home was another question entirely. You held the skull up to your eyes and peered into the bone of the eye sockets as you pondered your decision. There was a glimmer of gold inside the mouth which caught your eyes, and you dared to open the jaw wide enough to snatch at the shiny object. It was a single heavy golden coin which had been wedge between the back teeth. You looked at the old print and then quickly replaced it, wedging the jaw back shut as you placed the skull away on its pillow.

 It sat and stared at you, and you stared at it, wondering what happened last night as you clutched at your head and sighed. You slammed the lid closed and snapped the lock closed before you placed the box in the centre of the table.

“What the fuck were you up to aunty?” You asked the air as you rushed to the kitchen to make yourself another drink. As you set the water to boil you continued to curse, thinking about the headless man who what invaded your home chasing the poor man who had ended up hanging from the tree in your front yard. The head had screamed ‘witch’ from its confines, but you had no knowledge about what it could mean. You took the hot water and made a drink before looking at the last few boxes of unpacking and scoffing, deciding that the day would be better spent researching what had slaughtered the man and hung him from your tree.

 The village library was barely a few bookshelves put together and you sighed looking at the poor collection of books before you dated to approach the old librarian sat next to the desk. She had her own book open, some trashy romance novel set in the Victorian era, and she looked engrossed as she flipped the page and took another bite of her current tea cake.

“Hello?” You asked quietly in front of her.

The librarian jumped in her seat before she clutched at her chest and adjusted her glasses, “Dearie me! You scared the soul right out of me, love.” she took a moment to take a breath and close her book before she stood with a small wince and smiled, “What can I do for you?”

You could see the questions burning in her eyes. She no doubt knew you were the new person in town, and about what had happened at your home.

“I’m looking for some history books about the town. I wanted to try and get to know the place, but I don’t think there’s anything on the shelves.”

Her face pursed a little before she smiled again and pointed to the last one of the small walls of shelves, “There isn’t a lot but there’s a couple of books on the bottom shelf of the end one. For the records and such I’m afraid you will have to ask at the village hall. Rose keeps them in good nick there, lovely woman she is.”

“Ah, thank you.” You returned her smile and left her to her book as you went to the last set of shelves in the wall and started to rummage through the folklore and history books.

 There wasn’t a lot, she was right, and you sighed after about twenty minutes of pulling out books. You tugged the last, thick history book from the shelf and dusted the cover to reveal a history of the local mines and hills. It wasn’t what you were looking for. You peered at the shelf again and huffed before there was a glimmer of silver lining at the back of the bookcase. You squirmed your hand to the back and plucked the small book from behind the tattered paperbacks. It was a pocketbook, stencilled with an old name in cursive, faded and marred with cage.

‘Maria Theresa Glyn’

You dusted the front and followed the name before looking around and tucking the book into your bag. You felt bad just taking it, but obviously the Librarian had no idea it was there, and the name was familiar to you. You remembered the coat of arms on the old teapot. If this was the diary of someone with the same name it might have clues, or so you reasoned as you plucked a few books from the shelf and took them to the counter after replacing the rest.

 “Did you find what you were looking for, pet?” The librarian asked as you placed the books on the counter. She smiled and pulled out an old paper ticket to write your name onto. She poised the pen over the paper, and you told her your name before she copied it onto another for you and jotted the book codes down. She tutted at the date stamper and fiddled with it to get it to the correct date. Obviously not many people used the library.

“Yes, I found a few interesting things to have a flick through.” You told her as she stamped the tickets inside the books and stacked them in front of you.

“Well, you have fun...and be careful, huh? There’s a lot of weird and wonderful things that go on around here. It would be a shame if you forgot that, and something happened.” She smiled sweetly, but it sent shivers down your spine.

“Thanks. I’ll try.” You smiled awkwardly back at her before you took your arm full of books and made a quick exit back into the chilly air.

 The village seemed to watch you as you wove between the avenue of trees, crunching autumn orange and brown leaves underfoot. The chill in the air mimicked their icy feelings. You were the outsider among them, and soon enough they’d come to hound you out of their home. You only hoped to solve what you had seen. There was no way a headless man was riding around taking heads...right? You tried to console yourself as you made it to your home, and past the gnarled black tree in the front garden. It was twisted and old, and the branches seemed to creak as a greeting on your return. A glare silenced it, or so it seemed, perhaps it was just the wind dying, but the tree went silent as you walked up to the door with your keys in hand. The door swung open when you unlocked it and you clutched at your books as the wind howled into the mouth of the house, screaming down the hall like a ghost before you kicked the front door shut, shivering. The old back boiler chugged in the background as you kicked off your boots and placed the books in the lounge on the small table by the chest.

 When the chest remained still and silent you left to place away your bags and get a drink. You returned, rubbing your eyes as you opened the little journal you had found. It was penned with ink and quill, that much was obvious, and you ran your fingers over the woman’s name again before you touched the crest and went to find the teapot. You grabbed the porcelain handle and placed the two together over your lap. They were the same. The Glyn coat of arms. You placed the teapot down and opened the diary to look at the first passage. It was dated back three centuries ago, back when the alliance was beginning to form between the different races, monsters and humans alike, though you could tell this village hadn’t had such luxury. The entire populace was human, apart from the dairy farmers four miles outside the walls of the village. They were large goblins of some kind, cave dwelling and gangly limbed from years in the dark, but you had only seen them.

 The first passage was written in neat, printed cursive, echoing the care the woman had taken to write her feelings and events down.

‘Today is the day of my birth. My birthday rather. I was given this journal by the kind Mister Glynn, as a gift, and so I find myself beginning to write down the events of my daily life, so perhaps I can look back on it and reminisce when I am old and grey.

 Mister Glyn is a kind soul. He is part of the King’s Royal Entourage and the Commander of a large cavalry unit. Why he is in this small village is unknown to us all, but my father suspects it is because of the Wood Witch. Perhaps he has been tasked with taking her head? It is rumoured the armour he has is enchanted against such magic, but I feel as though those are rumours made about a dangerous and powerful man to excite fear.

 He is nothing but polite to me. I suppose my father will want to marry me off to this one as well.’

 The passages were perhaps a couple of pages maximum, and you flicked through the dates quickly, watching her words change from cold and indifferent to soft and loving of the man see always called Mister Glyn. It wasn’t until a year later in the diary that you saw his true name.

 ‘Alcott escorted me to the capital atop Mallor, his beast of a horse, though the creature seems to like me now that I bring him sugar lumps. Alcott wished to show me the city and its fruits though there is rather less fruit and more muck and grime. I am used to mud on my shoes, but I despised the odour of the place, much to his amusement. As I write, I can hear him snickering at me across the table.’

 There was a few blotches of ink and another set of handwriting.

 ‘She stood in a man’s excrement.’

 Their trip seemed peaceful, and Maria even attended a gathering at court. It seemed well until you found the final page in the diary, written across a page in shaky ink.

 ‘They took his head.’

 There was no fond farewell at the bottom of the page or a cursive signature. It was stark and naked on the yellowed paper, like a bad omen forever preserved. You ran your fingers over the words before you flicked through the last pages seeing nothing but blood splodges and blackened dark blood at the corners. It smelt faintly of rot, and you recoiled from the smell as you looked at the empty bare pages. The back of the book was burned across the inside of the cover. It was mysterious but it seemed like Alcott Glyn had been killed. But by who? You had no idea but as you looked at the chest again and thought of the head inside you shuddered.

 Alcott Glyn. There had to be a grave. You tugged your bag open and stuffed the book inside before you rushed out of the door, locking it quickly as you rushed towards the little church. It was at the top of the hill, sat in a mound of earth, subsiding on one side with props and scaffolding to try and hold it up. It wasn’t used anymore, the town hall was used to any religious needs, but it was haunting. The stained glass was dirty, and the front doors bolted and chained to prevent anyone entering. You rushed around the side of the church and looked at the dates on the graves and the dates in the diary. It had to be the 1700s. You thought back to your history lessons and tried to recall the date of the alliance war. 1774. You rushed around the small paths and glanced at the years, 1770, 1772, 1773... you looked at the gap where the 1774 stone should have stood. There was nothing, just unchurned earth and a set of roses growing from the floor. A troubling feeling settled in your gut as you meandered down the path to the back of the overgrown graveyard. There were old stones, crumbling and forgotten under blackberry vines and leaves. It was chance that you leaned down next to a short stone and looked at the faded name.

 Alcott Glyn.  

 The name was chipped and faded, like the memory of the man. Vines grew in wild abandon over the grave, and the blackberry vines had taken over the base, winding around the whole stone with wide dying leaves. It was perfectly hidden and forgotten about. The village’s little secret in the secluded corner of the graveyard, forgotten and buried. Or apparently, not buried completely. The earth was turned over, like something had ruptured from the ground and burst free. It was a long patch of upturned soil, as long as you were tall, or even longer, and the earth and stones were wet, fresh with the rain from the evening and being upturned, as though someone had run a plower through it.  Carefully, you ran your fingers through the earth, feeling the soil between your fingers before you took a steadying breath.

“Someone came out of this…” You breathed into the chilly air, your breath making mist with the cold as you stood and looked over the grave. You said it again before turning and bolting from the graveyard before the night could fall over the village.

 When you reached home, you threw your bag onto the couch and grabbed the chest, prising the lock open to peer at the skull inside. It was sat, still as a statue, on the cushion, with the glimmer of gold between its jaws. You lifted it from the cushion, carefully, pulling it up to your face level as the sun set over the horizon, bathing you in a golden glow with the skull clasped between your hands. There was nothing but the distant hum of the hot water pipes in the old house to answer your stare. The skull did nothing. It sat in your hands as the sunlight died over the horizon and the night began to settle in. In your gut, disappointment settled with the cold reminder that you were holding a dead man’s skull. A real human skull. Carefully, you placed it back down on the cushion and sighed as you went to draw the curtains, ignoring the creaking of the gnarled oak tree outside your door.

 The wind blew as you looked back at the head in the chest, positioned slightly skewed on the cushion. You chewed your lip and sighed before you stood over it again.

“Alcott Glyn.” You whispered to the skull. Nothing. The old electrics flickered for a moment, dimming before they brightened again. Silence, except for the hum of the back boiler. The breath you had been holding escaped and you turned away with a grumble before the lights surged bright and yellow, like the sun, before the bulbs exploded in a sudden thunder of noise. Glass shattered and flew across the carpet in a shower, and you gasped, covering your ears before you looked back at the cushion.

 The head was sat, jaw agape, with two lights in the blackened sockets, rolling side to side. The little lights rolled like stoned before they settled on you and the open jaw began to jitter, chattering the yellowed teeth together loudly. The skull didn’t move, just snapped it’s teeth like a scared dog before it stopped, and the eyes dimmed. It was only a moment of silence before there were three heavy pounds on your door. With a gasp you rushed to draw the curtains, and gazed upon the creature stood on your doorstep, his steed kicking and throwing it’s head by the twisted roots of the black tree. The body stood there, breathing, its undead chest moving as though it needed the air.

“Alcott Glyn.” You whispered again with a dry mouth. All the moisture dried up from you and you tried not to shake as the skull slammed against the side of the box, it’s eyes glowing.

It shook and chattered its teeth before a voice screamed from between the open jaw, “Let me in, witch!”

Fear twisted your guts as you rushed to slam the chest shut on the screaming skull. It chanted inside the decorative metal, hollering about burning you at the stake before you took it to the front door. The horseman slammed his fist on the door again, repeatedly, as though he was going to tear it open, and you shivered as your fingers shook by the latch and keys.

 The horseman began to bang repeatedly and the head in the chest slammed around, shaking your arms as you struggled to keep hold of it. You took a stuttering breath and unlatched the door, turning the keys before you wrenched it open. The headless horseman heaved puffs of misty breath up from the stump of his neck, his trachea flexing with the movement as the nerves of his spinal cord twitched and thrummed behind it, imitating life in his corpse body.

“Witch!” the skull screamed again, his head you realised as you stepped back, and the creature followed. His boots left muddy smeared marks on the wooden floors, and you looked down to see the crushed blackberries over the soles. Your heart pounded as you realised, he had crawled from the grave you had sat by earlier.

“I saw you by my grave. I will not do business with you again.” His voice came from his body this time, contorted and dark as it leaked from his lungs like a wisp.

“Business? What business have you?” You asked, voice shaking with fear.

The skull laughed in its box, a malicious and evil noise, dark and tempting, as though you were truly stupid for asking, “What business did we not have? Have you forgotten in your age, crone? Death and blood, that’s what you wanted, and I delivered it.”

“Who did you have the deal with?” You steeled yourself.

“You, you pathetic soothsayer.” He droned before his dead fist slammed the door closed, “Now give me my head. Our bargain is met.”

“I am not my aunty.” You tried, “I have no deal with you.”

 The horseman stopped, his body stiffening as his horse brayed and screamed outside, kicking its hooves at the black oak with a great smash. The tree shook, shedding twigs, but didn’t fall. He stalked closer, the bulk of his frame blocking out the light from the moon and the electric fitting overhead.

“But you have my head.” The skull whispered from inside the box before he grabbed for the chest. He touched the metal of the latch and screamed, the noise escaping the corpse before you and the skull inside the box. It was an ear piercing, unholy noise which burned your ears and made your head swim in agony. The horseman clutched at his chest and the stump of his neck, his gloved fingers pressing into the gored wound of his neck as he wobbled towards the wall and grasped at it for balance.

 “Fuck.” You cursed before you whipped the chest open and grabbed his skull by its eye sockets, hanging it over him as he slid down the wall and screamed again in agony, twitching against the wood.

“If I give you your head, horseman, will you indebt yourself to me? Your previous contract will be null, and you will only serve me.” You announced.

The horseman writhed before going deathly still. He laid like a corpse for a moment or two before shakily he braced his arm against the floor and pushed himself up. With a shudder he got onto his knees and kneeled before you, his neck dipped to expose the sore, congealed wound of his decapitation.

“I... I will serve.” The horseman gurgled.

“Then I give you your head to end your torment, Alcott Glyn.” You promised before you held his skull between your palms and lowered it to the spinal column of his body.

 There was a great groan as the spine extended from Alcott’s body and snapped to the skull, holding it in place as the eyes burned bright with purple light, the colour of blackberries, rolling in his skull as he reached and clasped at the bone, howling as light burned from the base of his neck and enveloped his skull with a whoosh of purple fire. The fire abated quickly as the moonlight disappeared behind the curtains and the skull shimmered as muscle and tendons swarmed the bone, linking and covering the surface before the he howled, and skin crept from his neck to his face, covering the surface in a perfect alabaster coating. His eyes however, remained voids of black, the centres beautiful blackberry lights in the dimness of your home. Black waves of hair grew from his head, dripping over his shoulders like ink as he howled, leaned against the old wallpaper. They finished growing with a crackle of fire, purple flames licking at the ends before it disappeared, leaving a heaving, black eyed creature curled against the wooden floor.

 Your mouth hung open as you watched the horseman shake against the wood, heaving as he reached to clutch at the hair that draped from his previously naked skull. The inky waves slid through his gloved hands and was quickly marred with dirt and blood before he peered at you through the curtain, looking at you with the purple lights in his irises which were sunken back into his skull. His lips parted before he took a deep breath, wheezing out dust and muck, coughing like a goose before he kicked the chapped skin and crawled closer to your feet. He only looked at you, staring before one gloved hand whipped out and snatched your ankle, holding it tightly in an iron grip.

“Bound to your bloodline again...” he growled, “Humiliating.” Before he pushed himself back and stood, swaying on his legs like a new-born deer as his balance came back to him. Having a head was a heavy burden.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” You breathed as Alcott slammed the side of his head and beat dirt out of his ears.

“Of course, you don’t. None of you ever do. Now I’m bound here to you until the day you drop dead and rot. Why can you never let me die?” He growled in a worked-up fury, flinging his hands to the windows before he stalked to the door, his boots slamming against the wood. He swung it open, and his mount brayed in greeting, throwing its giant head back before it caught sight of you and snorted, bowing it’s neck like a graceful Swan.

 “You are all the same!” The horseman shouted before the moon was revealed, a cloud moving away from its white surface. He shuddered and you watched the skin on his face disappear with the muscle, revealing the purple lights in a bare, burning skull. As the cloud recovered the moon, the base of his neck flared with purple smoke and fire, revealing the scar where he was decapitated, and his face reappeared.

“I gave you your head back, Alcott!” You shouted after him.

The horseman shivered and turned back to you, looking at you with his haunting eyes, both hands gripping the pommel and stand of the saddle, “How do you know my name?” He whispered in questioning.

With a small breath, you locked your lips nervously and ducked back to the table, grabbing the little diary from you bag before you stood on your porch and held it out to the wraith, “Maria wrote about you.”

He growled and snatched at the book, and you let him take it with a painful smile, “I know the townspeople killed you. They betrayed you. I don’t know what happened to Maria.” You confessed.

Alcott opened the diary and flicked through it before he looked at the night sky, “She lived in mourning the rest of her life. They institutionalised her after they found her carrying my head, wailing through the town. She died, high on cocktails of medicines, with her head buried in the soft soil of a flower bed.”

 The revelation was something of a shock and you looked at the undead man in front of you with a bitter, pitying look.

“You watched her die, didn’t you?” You asked, barely above a whisper.

The horseman scoffed, “That was the curse after all. To terrorise the town for their betrayal. But not her. I used to try call to her from the window, but she never could bare to look at me. Eventually they gave her more cocktails and she stopped coming to the window all together.”

“Jesus Christ.” You cursed.

“Such foul language.” Alcott sneered as he snapped the diary shut in his gloved hand, “She died from the madness and grief. That is the fault of the town and its yet another reason to run into each of these homes and tear their heads from their bodies.” Alcott spat furiously. As fury overtook him you could see the white scarred seem of where his head had been replaced burning with smoke the purple fumes puffing from it like a new wound before his neck popped and cracked, sending his head to the left, hanging on by a thread of flesh to the other side. You let out a screech and clasped your mouth as the horseman gurgled and reached for his head, grasping it by the hair before he groaned and dragged it back into place, snapping the vertebrae back into place with a twist and a squelch of bloodied tissue. It cracked again quickly, and Alcott held the top of his hair tightly with a groan as the smoke poured from his mouth and his head twisted backwards like a ghoul, spinning on his neck before it snapped again and came free, rolling over the floor to your feet as a skull. The flesh and hair melted in waves of muck from its surface, and you shakily took hold of the skull again.

 The horseman stumbled left and right as he reached towards you for his head.

“MY HEAD, WITCH!” He howled at you, but you dashed back up the porch steps and held it protectively.

“You are under my command. Anything against my wishes is against our contract...so you lose your head. Do you hear me horseman?” You blagged, hoping you were right, “So there will be no killing.”

“Evil, corrupt creature. I'll hang you by your feet and bleed you from the neck!” Alcott threatened as fire and smoke poured from his throbbing trachea. The smoke puffed before he went sent to the floor in agony, the black oak behind him creaking and swaying left and right as though the roots were snaking towards him. Sure enough, the ground rumbled, and the black oak’s roots exploded from the ground, snagging the horseman by his wrists and ankles hoisting him into the air as the branches hissed and his mount, Mallor, brayed and screamed, blood spraying over the fence from the horses broken throat.

 It was a curse. You should have expected as much, but you shook as the tree cinched the man’s limbs, holding them tight before it pulled, making him scream in agony as his joints were pulled tight.

“Stop!” You screamed, and the tree stopped pulling, holding the horseman aloft still as it swayed and bent towards you, its branches touching your head as though trying to figure out who you were.

“He is mine.” You told the tree, “He will obey and submit to the laws of his contract.”

The tree groaned, it’s roots wiggling in the cold, hard earth for a moment before it dropped Alcott like a sack of grain and settled down quietly, smacking at the horse inching closer to its trunk.

Alcott touched at his neck as he rose, swaying as he cracked and snapped his joints back into place like a disjointed puppet.

“Are you going to play nice now?” You asked as the man wheezed in front of you. When he nodded you offered him his skull back and watched the skin and flesh cover its surface again before he snarled behind his curtain of overgrown hair, blackberry-coloured lights burning the void of his eyes.

“You truly are her kin if that disgusting thing listens to you.” He snapped as he headed for his horse and mounted the saddle with a quick bounce on one powerful leg, his thighs locking tight around the beast’s sides as it bucked and brayed. Alcott turned his horse and tipped his head with a wave of purple smoke and fire, “Call on me then, witch, and see what havoc I can wreak for you.” Alcott laughed bitterly as he turned Mallor onto the cobbled drive and rode onto the road, his face becoming bone and flesh intermittently as the clouds passed overhead.

“I’m not a witch!” You screamed after the horseman, but he was gone into the mist and the trees, unlikely to have heard you cursing against the stairs of the porch as you collapsed.

[maria-akira]

good girls don't get used: michael langdon x fem! reader

—♡—

READ PART 2 HERE

summary: michael langdon, your ex, falls into a bet wherein he has to (fake) date you. if he falls in love again, he loses and doesn't get the prize.

warnings: private school au, fuckboy!michael, slight mention of sexual topics + i didnt proofread this mwahaha

this fic is inspired by the song 'good girls (don't get used)' by beach bunny.

i don't know if other private schools have bells, because mine doesn't :(

italicized bold words are direct lyrics from the song. but in this chapter, there are none since this is like an intro :)

—♡—

"Dude, shut the fuck up."

"Are you kidding? She really said that?"

"You really think that's gonna happen?"

"Who's class do you have first?"

Voices of different students flooded the white and grey hallways of the school. Different friend groups and teachers can be seen roaming the halls, getting stuff from their respective lockers as they waited for the bell to ring.

"Y/N! Do you mind if I borrow your calculator? I forgot mine at home and Math is my next class." She said while panting.

"Sure, here it is. If you lose it, I'd probably drop kick your ass." Y/N let out a small laugh and grabbed the calculator from her locker, giving it to her friend.

"Gosh, Y/N. I'll never lose it! I'll give it back during recess. Thanks again!" She flashed Y/N a smile and waved bye, before returning to her locker.

Y/N looked at herself in the mirror she had on her locker, fixing the tie that always seemed to be out of place whenever she checked. Her hair was neat, complete with a white headband that complimented the color of her school's uniform.

A few seconds later, the bell rang and everybody started rushing. Different couples were seen kissing before they parted ways for the mean time.

Cringe. Y/N thought. She shrugged it off and held her books tightly to her chest, walking to her next class.

Walking straight into the classroom, she noticed a group of guys dart their eyes to her direction as she entered. They gave her weird smirks. In return, she stared back at them while she made her way to her seat and never broke eye contact. Eventually, she noticed a familiar face among the group.

Michael, her ex.

How the fuck is he in my English class? She thought, along with a whole hundred thoughts roaming around her head. Michael stared back at her, giving her a wink.

Y/N's face gave a hint of disgust, "The fuck do you want, Langdon?" She stood up from her seat and walked over to Michael, pushing his other friends. She heard his friends coo and tease Michael for his act towards her.

Michael put up his hands in defense, "Chill, is it bad to wink at a pretty girl like you?" He said with a smug look, while he grazed his hand over her arm.

"Shut the fuck up, Langdon. Don't you ever touch me." Y/N slapped his hand away, his friends taken aback from her actions. As she walked back to her seat, the teacher entered as well.

Y/N put her face in her hands. By now, a million thoughts were in her head. It's been 2 years since Michael and her broke up, and since then, she made a promise to herself that she would never fall in love with men like him. She was so tired of all the tears and sleepless nights that Michael gave her.

She let out a sigh and lifted her head from her hands. The soft light from the windows filled her eyes after the darkness formed by her hands, causing her to rub her eyes to adjust from the light.

The rest of the hour went smoothly for Y/N, after English class was recess, her most favorite time of the day— aside from going home, of course.

She glanced at her watch, 10:28 AM.

2 more minutes, and English will be over. She thought.

She averted her gaze back on the white board full of scribbles about some writing lesson she clearly did not listen to. She looked over to her classmates and friends, Well they aren't listening either. She laughed at the thought.

As soon at the bell rang, everyone started packing up their notebooks, textbooks, and whatever they had on their table. Every student was seen rushing out of every classroom in hopes of being the first ones in line for the cafeteria.

On the way there, Y/N bumped into her friend group. "Hey Y/N! We heard about happened in English class. Michael is really in your class?" A friend of hers mentioned, "Yea, and apparently that son of a bitch winked at me, such a disgusting ass motherfucker. he should keep his fuck boy ass to himself." Y/N spat out, earning a chorus of 'oh's' from her friends.

When they arrived at the cafeteria, the line was painfully long, all of them groaned in frustration and they had no choice but to wait for the line to move. But once it did, it was faster than usual. After Y/N and her friends received their food, they left the cafeteria to eat at their usual place.

The school rooftop.

A few students know that staying in the school rooftop is permitted, which was why Y/N and her friends loved eating there.

When they arrived at the rooftop, they saw the usual people that they always encounter while staying there. The view was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. The small garden in the rooftop gave a beautiful and elegant touch.

Though there were a few chairs and tables, Y/N and her friends always preferred to eat on the floor. So, they laid the linen cloth on the ground and sat on it. Y/N was wearing the skirt uniform, thus she removed her tux and placed it on her legs to prevent her skirt from lifting.

They shared a few giggles while they ate their meals, laughing about some life experiences, or whatever they wanted to talk about.

Y/N loved this. She loved how she and her friends would have little moments like these, it was like an escape from reality.

The rest of the day went smoothly for Y/N. She didn't fall asleep in any of her classes, which in this case was a very big accomplishment for her.

As soon as she arrived home, her little brother, Aaron, rushed towards her. "Y/N!! I missed you!" He chimed, Y/N kneeled down onto his level and gave him the tightest hug. "I missed you too, Aaron!" Her mom came into the room and smiled. Y/N stood up and gave her mom a hug as well.

"How was school?" Her mom asked, Y/N placed her tux on the coat hanger by the door. "It was fine, Mom. Where's Dad?" Y/N walked over to the fridge and poured herself a glass of milk, "He'll be home soon, he still has a meeting right now." She took a sip of her milk, "Oh, okay. I'll be upstairs doing school work." The glass of milk that was once full, now empty.

She took her things upstairs and plopped herself on the bed. Out of nowhere she felt a vibrating noise from her bag, she rummaged through her bag to find her phone and once she did, a message was see on her lockscreen.

Unknown Sender has sent you a message.

She unlocked her phone and went to her messages.

Unknown Sender: hey ;)

Her eyebrows furrowed. What the fuck?

(Y/N): hi? whos this?

read 2:29 pm

Unknown Sender: oh shit you deleted my number? damn.

"Huh? I don't recall deleting anyone's number..." She went to her recently deleted contacts and it showed nothing.

(Y/N): im sorry, i haven't deleted anyone's number recently, maybe you have the wrong number?

read 2:32 pm

Unknown Sender: im pretty sure you know me, Y/N.

They know my name. And her heart started pounding.

(Y/N): and im pretty sure i dont, so just reveal yourself before i report this number

read 2:35pm

Unknown Sender: ayo chill 😬 its me michael.

"Michael fucking Langdon? You've got to be fucking me right now." She felt rage fill her, slamming her keyboard.

(Y/N): langdon what the fuck do you want? i made it very clear that i dont want you talking to me.

read 2:40 pm

Before Michael could reply, she changed his contact name to 'Motherfucker'

You have changed Unknown Sender's contact name as 'Motherfucker'

Motherfucker: damn you still mad at me after 2 years? gosh (Y/N). whats with the nickname?

(Y/N): of course im still mad, asshole. ill never forget what you fucking did.

read 2:43 pm

Motherfucker: i thought you forgave me 🥺

(Y/N): FORGIVE YOU???? god langdon you're so fucking stupid, i will never forgive you. you didnt even say sorry in the first place!

Pissed off, Y/N blocked his number. "That fucking asshole." She mumbled to herself.

—

"Hey! Y/N!" A familar voice called out from the crowd. Y/N removed one earbud and turned around to find the voice that called her.

Once she saw the shiny blonde locks from that stood out in the crowd, she immediately ran in the opposite direction in hopes of avoiding him.

It was Michael, again.

"Y/N wait!" Michael called out again, chasing her

For some reason, Michael was able to catch her. He pulled Y/N into an empty science laboratory and they were both panting.

"What the fuck do you want this time, Langdon?" Y/N was catching her breath, fanning herself with her hand.

"Okay. First off, sorry for the sudden message. I know I pissed you off and that wasn't my intention at a—"

"What was your intention then?" She cut him off.

Michael panicked.

"Uh, you know? I just wanna talk to you again. Clear the bad air between us.."

Y/N let out a laugh, "Clear the bad air?? Oh gooood Langdon, you are really so stupid! You know what? You just made it worse." She pushed him off and walked out of the room,

"Whatever it is your planning, Langdon, I'm telling to stop it. I don't wanna talk to you or even go near you."

Michael was dumbfounded. She changed so much. He thought to himself.

2 years ago, Y/N was the sweetest, most innocent girl he knew. Playing with her feelings was Michael's biggest regret, and he's starting to feel it again.

Michael was about to leave the room until he felt a buzzing from his pocket, He pulls out his phone to see who was calling him.

Duncan, one of his bestfriends.

Michael answered the call, "Hello?"

"What's the update on your little girl?"

"She still doesn't trust me."

"That's sad man."

"I know. She changed alot. "

"What do you mean by 'changed'?" Duncan emphasized,

"I can't point it out, Dunc."

"Whatever you do, don't chicken out. I promise this bet is worth it."

"Fine, I trust you."

Call Ended.

Michael ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and left the room before the bell rang.

—

It was the last subject of the day. Most students were falling asleep or on their phones.

Y/N was scribbling weird things on the back of her notebook, when suddenly the bell rang. She packed up her stuff and stood up from her seat. Before she could leave the room, she saw a familiar face again.

Michael stood by the doorway of her classroom, the strap of his bag over one shoulder while he looked for Y/N among the other students.

Y/N ignored Michael and walked past him, but he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards him.

"Langdon! What the fuck do you want?!" She screamed, all of the students averting their attention to her.

Michael put a finger on his lips, shushing her. "Let's go somewhere private, yea?"

"But—"

Before she could object, Michael dragged her outside towards the parking lot.

"Okay this is actually something serious—"

"CUT THE SHIT LANGDON! IM TIRED OF YOU."

"Woah‐woah! Easy now. I actually need your help, with school..."

Michael rubbed her shoulders, looking straight into her eyes. For once, Y/N believed him. His eyes were speaking the truth.

"Okay, fine. Shoot."

"I can't believe I'm saying this.."

"Don't waste my time, Langdon."

"Fine! I'm failing."

Y/N's mouth hung open. Michael was one of the top students in their batch and this was obviously a huge surprise for her.

"Oh, really? What am I gonna do about that?" She crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side.

"Can you please help me? Like, tutor me?" At this point, Michael was desperate.

"Um, no thanks. Just fuck some other girl's pussy for your grades." Y/N pushed him away, but Michael stopped her again.

"I'm serious, Y/N. I really need your help."

"Why me?"

Now that made Michael nervous.

"Because you happen to be the top of our batch right now?"

"Fine! Under one condition."

Michael was curious, "What?"

"If I do this tutor shit, we're doing it at my place. I can't tutor you in your messy ass room." Y/N said. She always remembered how messy Michael's room was when they were together. He would only clean when he was scolded by Y/N.

"That's fine by me."

"Okay then. 5pm, sharp."

She walked away, but Michael pulled her again.

"Let me go! What do you want now?" Y/N said, clearly annoyed.

"Unblock my number, silly." Michael chuckled,

"No."

"How are you supposed to know if I already arrived?"

"Theres a doorbell, dimwit. I'll be downstairs waiting for you."

"Bu—"

"Bye, Michael. I'll see you later." Y/N flashed him a small smile and continued to walk away.

Once he saw Y/N reach the bus stop, he started walking to his car, until someone tapped him on his shoulder.

"Hey Michael, whats the update? I saw you talking to her." It was Duncan. His brown hair was lightly gelled back and the first two buttons of his white dress shirt were undone.

"I'm still trying to win her back, I lied to her that I was failing so she could tutor me. That way, it'll be easier."

Duncan smirked, "That's my boy! When will this tutor thing start?"

"Later, 5pm."

"Hmm, that's good. Remember, if you fall in love again, bet's over."

"I won't."

—♡—

tags mwah: @kitwalker02 @sojournmichael @angelicmichael @deademobitch @iheartfrogs101 @tatestripedsweater @mrs-march-ahs

i hope you guys enjoyed this. i wrote this while doing schoolwork </3