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calaofnoldor · 4 years ago

Text

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly��?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

TEAM IDJITS: @mrswhozeewhatsis @carryonmywaywardbucky @swiftlymoniquesblog @moosewinchester @sams-sass @thinkinghardhardlythinking @jotink78 @winifrede @writingforthelonelysoul @turtletaylor98 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @peridottea91 @tvdspngirl314

TEAM MOOSE: @paulaern

if you’d like to be added (or removed) please let me know!

#sam winchester x reader #mads300madones #333 badass followers #spnfluffbingo2021 #Girl Next Door's Make Me Feel Bingo #sam x reader #sam winchester x female!reader #sam winchester smut #enemies to lovers #sam winchester fluff #secret dating #sam winchester x you #sam x y/n #spn #supernatural fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #text

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nottonyharrison · 4 years ago

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A bullet pointed summary of all my Star Wars fics

*note* this hasn’t been updated in months I might consider it one day but right now nah too many it’s unweildy

Of Duty (Rexsoka, Codex, Codexsoka, Blyla, Queerplatonic Codywan, WIP @ 12/25 68k, E)

Everything is pain

No seriously this is the misery AU

Extremely bad life choices

Dead doves everywhere

The writer did not go into this intending to write poly

Of Duty: Sacrifice (Foxiyo, WIP @ 7/20 15k, M)

Politics, Politics Politics

Fishbowl Fox

Riyo Chuchi and the Horrifying Morality Crisis

Knock Yourself Out (Sev/Fi/Parja, 5.5k, E)

The endless frustration of Sev’s internal monologue

A very specific type of L O N G I N G

Buddy you’re so close to figuring out your sexuality and it’s driving everyone nuts

Kal Skirata and the vaguely hostile ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Idle Tether (Cody/Ahsoka, unrequited Cody/Rex and Rex/Ahsoka, 1.3k, E)

Do not read this if you can’t handle it rough

No seriously

This fic not safe for...

Just trust me on this

At Least Something’s Stayed the Same (Fox/Rex, 3k, T)

Oh no did I write more FoxLives? What a shame

Rex is Not Happy About This

Crying.

Anatomy Study (Ahsoka/Rex, 4k, E)

Old Rex Can Get It™

Age related body dysphoria is absolutely a great premise for a fic don’t @ me

Blink and you’ll miss it repcomm reference

SO MUCH blathering on for such a short fic

Different Toned Flecks (Fox/Vos, 3k, M)

Frenemies to lovers oooh yeah that’s the good stuff

Gratuitous setup gratuitous grime

Fox says my job sucks please and thank you

Off the Books (Besany/Ordo, under 1k, M)

Rated M for Mukdek

Ordo likes to learn new things including sexy things

Besany Wennen is (almost) unflappable

Equilibrium (Howzer/Ahsoka/Rex, ~13k, E)

Overly complicated Howzer backstory that nobody asked for

You didn’t have an OT3? WELL YOU DO NOW

Not really unrequited love I prommy

COINCIDENCES GALORE

Kinky.

Everything Turned Out Fine (Eleni/Cham/Howzer, under 1k, T)

Create OC, kill OC moving on...

Reunions! Yay!

Extremely canon divergent because fuck canon, that’s why

Clones in the Rebellion! Yay!

Five Sentence Ficlets (Multi, Ongoing series now with accompanying art, various ratings)

What it says on the tin

Send me a headcanon or prompt in my askbox to get your heart broken and feelings dismantled quickly and painfully

Stop, Reset (KixRex, 1.5k, T)

Emotional isolation

Rex and his absolutely truly really not a martyr complex honestly it’s just being pragmatic

Kix is the prettiest clone no write ins

Possibly the best kiss I’ve ever written but maybe that’s because it’s still new and shiny

Yeah, I'm fine (Echo, Ahsoka, Rex, eventual OT3, WIP, T + E final chapter)

Five times they comfort one another and one time they fuck

Rex can be a real prick sometimes

Did someone say character development?

Echo my beloved

Ahsoka, Echo, Rex, and the No Good Terrible Very Bad Days

More Than a Maybe (Rexsoka, 3.5k, E)

Xeno tentacles

Snark

Too much emotional weight for a Tuesday night

Hidden in Plain Sight (EchoFives, 1.8k, T)

FiveLives

Implied strap-ons

Please congratulate me for keeping this T rated

Many many ellipsis and em-dashes

Good People (CodyFox, 1.5k, M)

Hatefucking

Roundabout ways to explain why 79s is called 79s without actually saying the bar is 79s

Basically just worldbuilding with some clone romance thrown in the mix don’t @ me about it

Apparently a killer of a closing line but IDK you decide

Debrief at Oh Nine Hundred (Fives/Ahsoka, pre Fives/Rex/Ahsoka OT3, heavily referenced one sided Fives/Rex, 2k, E)

Long promised sequel to Pick Your Moments

No worldbuilding just horny

Fives’ head is a mess don’t come at me about it

Calling out accidental voyeurism is an aphrodisiac k?

Thirty Levels Up, Due East (Blyla, 5.5k, E)

Bly is a sub no write-ins

Pr0n

Ripping off my own shit

That one time Bly and Aayla went to a strip joint

Discretionary Alternative (Un-fun Codywan, 3k, M)

Oof

10 years of Imperial indoctrination will do things to a guy

Obi-Wan is a kriffing asshole

M Rated but no fucking

Intermediate (Rexsoka, 4.5k, E)

Thirty-Somethings finally getting their shit together

Awkward fucking

That’s phosphorescent and I was not expecting that

Weird-ass metaphors

Pick Your Moments (FIvesoka, 6k, E)

Dipping out after important truth bombs

More plot than required to facilitate zero-G porn

Oops, I had An Emotion

Trying to rip a droid’s head off with your thighs is an aphrodisiac just trust me on this

Hope, Perhaps (Codysoka, 4k, E)

Even more Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

No seriously this is some fucked up self flagellatory identity porn (credit goes to the comments)

Existential MCD

Ugly grieving of the worst kind

Counting the Beat (Codex, 2.5k, E)

Inappropriate boners

That’s it, that’s the fic

It Doesn't Work Like That (Rexsoka, 2.5k, M)

I really need to stop writing DDDNE fics this is a problem

HIGHLY inappropriate fraternization

More ugly grieving

Fuck off, Fives

The Merits of Fleshglue (and Other Flirting Techniques) (Padmaayla, 1k, T)

Make the most of being alone on a spaceship with a hot lady or u dumb

Bly has a nice ass no more questions Your Honour

Commentary on That Dress because what is going on with the state of the women’s clothing industry in this galaxy, honestly

Fuck subtle

REXSOKA WEEK 2021

Gravitational Potential Energy | M For day 1: Boredom/Hurry up and wait

Everyone’s favourite, UST

That very specific form of exhibitionism where you’re trying to get someone’s attention while working out

Rex’s beard is hot no write-ins

Fifteen Hundred by Fifteen Hundred | E For day 2: Some like it hot(t)

Friends with benefits with big stupid feelings

Remember team, if you’re gonna do it in a shower make sure you have something to grab on to

The Twits | T For day 3: Bitter, not so sweet

They’re idiots, your honour

Besany Wennen is hot and will steal your girl (and Ordo can share too, I guess)

Fuck Kal Skirata, he dead

Scratchy Blanket | T For day 4: It happened once in a dream/AU day

Rex dies you’ve been warned

Existential horror mixed with a bunch of force visions is a great way to realise you fucked up

Dead Dove: Do not eat

Playthings | E For day 5: Show me your dark side

Rex is a sub and finally admits it.

Ahsoka’s unconvinced

Pegging with a Side of Power Play™

Seriously read the tags my kinks are showing

Convoluted and Ridiculous | M For day 6: Truth or dare

Repcomm adjacent

Rex in Lingerie, you’re welcome

Apparently I wrote comedy as an apology for Scratchy Blanket

Made You Look | E For day 7: FUBAR

Look away Cody, you horndog

When you’re desperate to escape the empire you’ll sometimes push things a bit too far

Only a bit of semi-consensual voyeurism

Pre-OT3 because I had to chuck a bit of that in this week who the heck do you think I am?

#clone wars fanfic #fic masterpost #pinned post

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libsterslobsters · 4 years ago

Text

Whole Lotta Love

Synopsis: For some people, Valentine’s Day is another word for "stress", especially when you don't know what the other person is expecting. Several years into their relationship, Bucky’s pretty sure he has a good understanding of the Reader, until a word from Sam makes him question everything he thinks he knows. The race is on to make their first Valentine’s Day since saying their vows a special one, but as per usual, fate has it's own ideas about what will make the holiday truly memorable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Enhanced! Super-soldier Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Author's note: This fic contains references to earlier stories. For more information, click the series masterlist link. As always, the reader is unnamed so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I think of her as an OC.

The song referenced is Hearts Don't Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran

Series Masterlist

A The Song Remains The Same Fic

---------‐-----------------------------------

“So, Valentine’s Day.”

Bucky doesn’t look up from his laptop (or more specifically, the field report he’s typing) at Sam’s words. Despite his concentration, he can tell that his partner is staring at him, boring holes into his back with his gaze.

“Uh-huh.” He’s listening, but so far, he doesn’t care.

“What are you doing for it?” For Valentine’s day? Um…

“Not much.” It’s a Tuesday this year, right? Then probably working, like most other people, he’d imagine.

The room is silent as he types, so Bucky assumes that settles the matter. That is, until Sam mutters a quiet, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“About what?” How many paragraphs does he have to type before he can pass this off as a full report? When he joined the Avengers, he thought the hardest part of his job would be the bad guy of the week, not doing paperwork!

“You’re really not doing anything for Valentine’s Day? Seriously?” He nods absentmindedly and clicks the save icon. He’ll finish this tomorrow. It’s five o’clock. Time to head home. Home to-

“What’s your wife gonna think about that?” He shrugs and cuts the power to the laptop.

“She thinks that the whole holiday is a rip-off. See you Monday?” He turns around for confirmation, only to catch Sam staring at him, mouth hanging wide open. “What?”

“A rip-off?” Is he just going to be stuck repeating himself?

“Yep.” Told him that the first February 14th they spent together.

“And you actually believed her?”

He nods. “She’s not one to lie.”

Sam nods incredulously. “Uh-huh. And are you planning to ever have sex again?”

He’s not going to dignify that with an answer (because really, isn’t it obvious?).

“Fine.” Sam shrugs. “You do you, man. All I’m saying is, if I had a wife who looked like that-” he indicates the lock screen of Bucky’s phone (a picture of her laughing, telling him to put away the damn camera after wrestling the dog for the tie to her favorite robe). “-I’d have my V-day plans set up a month in advance.”

Normally Bucky would take what Sam says with a grain of salt, but he is after all a man out of time, so maybe it’s worth considering that his partner may be right.

“What would you suggest I do?”

“Outside of the bedroom?” He narrows his eyes at the Falcon. “Okay, bad joke.” Sam scratches at the back of his head, thinking. “I don’t know, man. That’s your girl. You know her best, but flowers are always a good place to start.” Good to know that hasn’t changed since the 1940s. Although, last time he brought her flowers, she spent the afternoon sneezing until he eventually convinced her that it was okay, he wouldn’t be offended, she should throw the damn things out. Then again, that was before she was a super soldier.

“Flowers.” He repeats, earning a nod from Sam.

“You can get creative. Do a little research. But I’m just saying, when a woman waits five years for you to reappear, the least she deserves is a few flowers.” On that, they can agree.

He must bid Sam some sort of goodbye and make his way through the Avengers compound, but he’s unaware of anything until he’s in the parking lot, sitting behind the wheel of his car, googling “What to do for your wife on Valentine’s Day.” There’s a web page that boasts twenty different selections. Might as well give it a look.

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s nearly home when her phone dings with a text from Barnes. “Just got in. Forgot to get milk. Can you swing by on your way, or should I go to the gas station and pick up a gallon?” A frown forms on her face. It’s pretty rare that Bucky forgets things. Must’ve been a hell of a day at work, then. Either that, or his brain has completely turned to mush thanks to typing out field reports. Either way-

“I got it. See you in twenty.” She thinks about tacking on a “love you��, but the light turns green before she can.

The grocery store is packed thanks to so many people getting off work. There’s only three carts left, all with bad wheels. She chooses the least squeaky option and, grabbing an add on her way, heads into the grocery store. Milk, and if she remembers right from this morning, they’re running dangerously low on coffee and tea. Despite caffeine having absolutely no effect on their enhanced bodies, both of them are nightmares to be around in the mornings without their beverages of choice. Force of habit and all.

She’s halfway to the checkout when she sees it. A sign, decorated in garish shades of red, pink, and purple. “All Valentine’s Day chocolates 10% off.” Shit. Yeah, that is coming up. To tell the truth, she’d completely forgot all about that day halfway through February. For most of her life, it only meant giving homemade cards at school when most kids had store-bought. Then, once she reached adulthood, it was a reminder that she was destined to be alone. Who would want someone who’s on the run, and what’s more, sees the future? Once she and Barnes got together, it didn’t change much. That first Valentine’s Day, he mentioned the holiday, and she shut it down immediately. They were both broke (or at least, he had no legitimate way of making money while she was broke), and celebrating a mostly commercial holiday seemed like a waste. Plus, she didn’t want to put a strain on a new relationship. Over the years, the subject never came up again, and she’s content for it to stay a non-starter, thank you very much. In her opinion, you should show your partner you love them every day of the year, not shoe-horn it into one twenty-four hour period. Call her unromantic if you must.

She’s completely immune to the various displays of cheap chocolate in heart-shaped boxes and overly sentimental cards as she approaches the register and starts to unload her items. Milk. Tea. That one specific brand of coffee that he likes because, “It tastes like what we drank in basic training. Terrible, but I kinda got used to it, so now everything else tastes like it’s trying too hard.” whatever that means. He’s right; she’s tasted it, and it’s fucking awful. Still, every morning, he drinks at least three cups while she drains her pot of tea.

“You got a hot date for Valentine’s Day, hun?” The cashier asks her, never breaking her rhythm as she rings up the items.

She chuckles. “As a matter of fact, yes.” The cashier’s eye go wide, and she holds up her left hand. “And every other day.”

“Ooh, nice. How long have you been together?”

“Nine years.” Wait… “Or four years, depending on which of us you ask. He blipped, I stayed.”

The cashier nods. “So are you older than him now?”

Physically? They’re not completely sure, but if you calculate the times he was off the ice with HYDRA and add that to the age he was before the serum, then they’re not far off. But chronologically- “No, he’s still older.” And yes, it will always be funny that Sam responds with “Okay, boomer” whenever Bucky makes an outdated reference (even if he’s off by a good twenty years).

With a little more light chatter, she pays for her items and leaves. Now, for home.

As soon as she opens the front door, she’s greeted by their dog, Sarge, barking excitedly and hopping around like he’s on a trampoline despite missing a leg. Bucky’s not far behind, placing a quick peck on her forehead before taking the bags from her and unloading them in the kitchen. Tonight’s his night to cook, but unless her nose has suddenly decided to give out, he hasn’t started dinner yet. She doesn’t mind taking over tonight, and when he sheepishly apologizes while she begins her preparations, she brushes it off. Although, for the second time in an hour, she’s seen proof of his unusual absentmindedness. Oh well. She’ll ask him about it later.

Despite being relieved from tonight’s chef duties, Bucky stays in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar scrolling through his phone as she cooks. His expression is neutral, which can mean one of two things; a) he’s just killing time and there aren’t any interesting posts or articles vying for his attention, or at the opposite end of the spectrum, b) he’s deep in thought, possibly angry, sad, or even frightened, but he’s gone into Winter Soldier mode and shut down so that she won’t pick up on his mood. Damn the man and his poker face.

Eventually dinner is served and she sends him off toward the fridge in search of two beers while she serves their plates. Just as she’s spooning a generous helping of salad into her bowl, it happens. A vision, but a limited one. All she’s seeing is a phone. Well, that and the hand holding it. She’s not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed that she immediately recognizes the hand as Bucky’s, but that goes by the wayside as she takes in the article he’s reading. “Should you do something for Valentine’s Day even is she says no?” It’s a thread on some anonymous discussion board. The reply that has his attention is in reference to a now divorced individual who “was dumb enough to believe that, on our first V-Day as a married couple, she didn’t want anything.” Oh boy. Not good. This will be their first Valentine’s Day since exchanging vows, and if the fact that he’s read this reply (if not already read, will read soon) means that it’s at least crossed his radar that she might be feeding him bullshit. That’s not the case, but after his research, she knows from experience that no matter how much she tries to convince him otherwise, a small part of his mind will be stuck on, “But what if this is a big deal?” Which means-

“Doll, are you just gonna stand there with the salad tongs in your hand?” That snaps her out of it.

“No. Just a vision.” He frowns as she passes him his plate.

“Anything important happen?” Should she say?

“No.” She’s not sure if the smile or not, so she takes a bite from her roll to cover it. “Random sneak peek.” It’s not a lie. What she saw really isn’t important. Still, if he’s in that mindset, she should probably go on and do something for him just in case. After all, why should it only be the ladies who reap this holiday’s benefits?

___________________________________________________________________________________

Not flowers. That’s the one thing that, after copious amounts of research Bucky is one hundred percent certain about. They may still be a common romantic gift, but since they were also a go-to back when he was courting girls in the 1940s, it’s safe to say they’ve been overdone. Plus, he doesn’t really want to remind her of that time she had such a severe allergic reaction to the flowers he picked her on a walk through the park in Bucharest that her eyes nearly swelled shut and she sneezed herself sick. That doesn’t exactly seem like prime romance.

Chocolates or other candies have the same issues as flowers. Contrived and predictable. A bottle of wine is nice, but neither of them can so much as get mildly tipsy thanks to the super serum. The fourteenth is his day to cook, so he guesses he could do some reading and try to create something a little more special than spaghetti (he thought about going to a nice restaurant for dinner, but there’s a few issues with that, not the least of which is they’re likely to be recognized without their disguises, and he’d rather not look at his wife through sunglasses on Valentine’s day), but that seems a little underwhelming.

As he loads the dishwasher (she fell asleep half-way through the third episode of whichever nonsensical comedy they’re watching this week, so he sneaked back downstairs to clean up the dinner dishes), he thinks back to the dozen separate articles he read on the subject of Valentine’s Day gifts. Jewelry was a common theme, but that’s out. She’ll say thank you to his face, but worry about the cost behind his back. Plus, he has absolutely no idea what she’d like, and there’s no sense in purchasing something only for her to hate it.

Another common one was lingerie. Bucky almost choked on his tongue when he saw some of the examples given with that option. None of it looked comfortable (in fact, he’s still scratching his head about how you even put on one of the pieces that popped up on the web page) and he doesn’t want to give her the impression that she has to dress up for him. Even putting all that aside, he has no idea what size she’d even wear. He likes to think that he knows his wife pretty well, but somehow, in all their years together, it never occurred to him to ask her for her clothing sizes. That, and have you even seen the bra sizing system? Does it make sense to anyone, because to Bucky, it’s all gibberish. 32 B? 36 DD? What the hell? Somehow, when HYDRA was training him to extract information, they failed to go over the translation of a woman’s bra size. He supposes he could ask, but he’s not sure there’s a non-suspicious way to work, “Hey, sweetheart. What size are your breasts?” into casual conversation.

Sam said to get creative, so he tried to think outside the box. What’s something she really needs? A new vacuum cleaner is the first thing to come to mind, but he’s not stupid enough to think that would make a good gift. He knows she’s had her eye on a set of throwing stars, but that doesn’t seem to correlate well with what this holiday is all about. That’ll keep until her birthday.

He’s still wracking his brain for anything at all that might work when he feels a wet nose poking at his hand. Sarge. “Hey, boy. Has your mom gone to bed?” The response is a quiet “woof” and lick to his palm. He scratches the mutt behind the ears, smiling to himself as Sarge’s back leg thumps at the treatment.

“What do you think we should get our girl? Huh?” There’s no reply (of course not, he’s talking to a dog), but he nods, pretending all the same that Sarge has offered up a suggestion. “A bone. Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’s her thing. Try again.” The dog blinks at him lazily. “No, you’re the one who wants new tennis balls. Not Mom. Although you’re right about her liking peanut butter.” At this rate, he might as well get her a bone and some tennis balls, because he’s sure not coming up with any ideas.

She likes music. The thought pops into his head while he’s brushing his teeth. All sorts of music. Over the years, he’s tried to make sense of the songs he’s heard her listen to, but has yet to find a discernible pattern in her listening habits. She doesn’t seem to stick to just one genre or era. More like she picks songs by how they relate to what she’s feeling at the moment. Wait a second-

“A mixtape.” His reflection mouths the words back at him. Despite technology having moved on from the days of burning CDs, she still has a thick stack of the disks stored in a cabinet and plays them on the regular. He’s even seen a few that she made herself, pasting together the songs she likes to make a “Cleaning mix”, “Workout Mix” and “Pissed off Mix”. Bucky’s sure he could figure out how to burn a CD, but it’s not like she’d be able to listen to that everywhere she went. That leaves a playlist. She uses one of those apps to listen to music on her phone, right? Surely he can put something together for her using that.

Quietly, he climbs into bed next to his sleeping wife and pulls her back against his chest, slinging one arm over her waist as usual. He closes his eyes, but his mind is alight with activity. A playlist. Of course. He’ll put some extra effort into whatever he cooks that night, stop by a bakery and pick up some sweet treats for dessert. Hell, maybe they’ll both dress up and act like they’re on a date. Then, once they’re sitting down to their meal, he’ll pull out his phone and hit play. It’s perfect. At least, he hopes it is.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Putting on a lacy bra and panties set underneath her regular work attire seemed like a brilliant idea this morning. Today’s a short day; she’s only got three classes to teach, and Rhodey called last night to tell Bucky that he’s suspending work hours at three pm “Since most people have holiday preparations to make.” Her plan was to be waiting on the sofa in the living room when he arrives home, professional button-down blouse open just enough for him to get a good look at what’s underneath, pencil skirt pushed up enough to reveal the stockings and garters she’s donned for the occasion. It’s fun, with just enough cheesiness to match this whole holiday. And, well, it’s a guarantee that by the end of the night they’ll be in bed together, both rumpled, sweaty, and satisfied. Perfect, right?

Wrong. On her drive to work, her skimpy underwear began to ride up, giving her a wedgie, and there was no way to adjust without running the risk of wrecking. She was so distracted by her discomfort that she missed her exit, and by the time she arrived at the college, she was running so behind that she didn’t get the chance to run to the bathroom and readjust. Her lecture on sentence diagrams was pure torture before the underwire from her bra decided to join in the fun and poke her directly in the ribs, but with that addition, she was especially impatient with her students’ tendency to joke around a little too much in class.

Luckily, she had just enough time to wrap the exposed metal bit in tissues before her next class, which eliminated the pain in her chest, but did nothing to alleviate the discomfort once her stockings began to slide down, having at some point disconnected themselves from the garters. She taught like that for the next two classes, but as soon as they were over, she pealed the whole ensemble off in the teacher’s restroom and changed into her gym clothes. Alright, screw the whole seduction routine. She needs to blow off some steam and fast, or else she’ll be in a bad mood all night.

That’s why, thirty minutes later, she finds herself in the training room of the Avengers compound, working over a punching bag. “Fuck-” Her fist connects, making the bag swing crazily from it’s hook. “-this- whole- day!” It goes sailing, and she feels a little better.

“Ouch!” The voice comes from behind her and she whirls around, gaze resting on-

“Sam.” The man in question holds up his hands in an “I surrender” gesture.

“Don’t shoot! I come in peace.” Rolling her eyes, she holds up her middle finger, receiving a snicker in acknowledgment.

“Just working off a little frustration before I head home.”

“Good.” Sam chuckles. “’cause otherwise, I’d be worried that when Barnes pulls out his dick tonight, you’ll bite it off.” She thinks about telling him that there’s no chance of that, but she might just cut off his if he crosses her. However, that jogs her memory.

“Has he left yet?” Sam nods.

“About an hour ago. Said he had to pick up groceries.” Shit. There goes her plan to shower, throw the damn lingerie back on and proceed as planned.

Bidding Sam a hasty reply, she makes tracks towards her car and, once inside, heads for home. Fine. New plan. She’ll shower once she arrives and then when the evening is drawing to a close, wait for him in bed. Nodding to herself, she puts the car in park and climbs out. Now, to psych herself up enough in the next few hours to put the damn lingerie back on.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Where did he go wrong? It takes all of Bucky’s self control not to spit out the spoonful of sauce he just tasted. This was supposed to be an easy recipe for Chicken Alfredo (or at least, that’s what the website boasted; he should’ve known better than to get his information from the internet and stuck to a good old-fashioned cookbook from the library). Not… whatever the hell this is. Maybe even if the sauce is nauseating, the chicken is okay?

He pulls open the oven door, and immediately smoke billows out, making his eyes water. Okay, chicken’s a little well-done. Who is he kidding? Black. The chicken is burned black. And the pasta… he lifts the pot lid and stirs, only to come to the realization that the pasta is completely stuck to the bottom of the pot. Wonderful.

It’s inevitable; over the years, he’s had his fair share of cooking disasters, but usually he does okay. Tonight though… who the hell up there did he piss off, because the only explanation for how badly this is going is his karma coming due.

Still holding the offending spoon, he looks over at Sarge, who’s staring at him, long pink tongue sticking out as he pants. “Trust me, boy. You don’t want any of this.” There has to be something else he can pull together on short notice. Normally he’d be worried that she’s running late without so much as a text, but today he’s relieved. At least if she’s running behind he’ll have time to… what? Maybe order takeout? Before she gets-

“I’m home.” Shit.

Sarge yips, shaking with excitement, and starts towards the kitchen door, then turns back, uncertain. “Go on. I know you’re dying to jump on her and lick her face.” Something they really should be training out of him because he’s getting too big for that sort of behaviour but, well… there’s a reason they call them “puppy dog eyes.”

Not needing to be coaxed, the dog takes off, tripping a little in the momentary lapse in his memory that he’s a tripod, but easily catches himself and goes on his merry way, leaving Bucky to clean up his mess. From the sound of things, a game of fetch is going on in the living room, so she should be distracted for a while.

He manages to pour the sauce down the drain and scrape most of the pasta into the trash while Sarge is acting as a decoy, but there’s absolutely no way he can dispose of the chicken without tipping her off (damn enhanced senses, it’s a wonder she hasn’t already smelled it). Finally, he decides to just go for it. She’s going to notice whether he throws it out now or two hours from now. Might as well get a head start on cleaning.

Sure enough, not ten seconds after he empties out the oven, he catches a movement in his peripheral vision, and the familiar sound of her breathing tips him off that he’s no longer alone.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Hey, Bucky. Did something burn in here, or-” He holds up the pan for her inspection before continuing his scraping.

“That’s one way to put it, yeah.” He slams the lid back on the trashcan and turns on the tap, intent on rinsing out the pan. “Another is whoever the god of culinary arts is has it in for me today.”

She chuckles. “You know, that would be funnier if we didn’t actually know a god.”

“Yeah, but he’s in control of thunder.” He meets her eyes, smirking slightly. “Although it did look like I electrocuted the bird.” Her lips quirk up into a smile, and he takes the opportunity to kiss her, cupping the back of her head gently to hold her in place when she tries to move away, muttering something about being sweaty.

He’s not entirely sure how it happened, but by the time they come up for air, her back his pressed against the wall and he’s got her pinned in place. Not that he’s complaining.

“Anyone ever tell you that the tip of your nose turns pink after you’ve been kissed?’ Her cheeks go rosey in response.

“I think so. One guy did. I told him it’s only when I’m kissed properly.”

He really would like to continue the playful banter, but there’s still the small matter of whatever it is they’re going to eat.

“What do you feel like for dinner tonight?”

“Apart from electrocuted chicken?” He responds with a swat to her ass, which earns him a snicker. “Let’s keep it simple. Pizza. Your choice of toppings.” Right, that’s easy enough. Plus, if they have to wait longer than thirty minutes, it’s free.

“Okay. I’ll order while you shower?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He’s just pulled up the menu on his phone when the sound of her clearing her throat attracts his attention. She’s standing in the doorway, combing through her freshly let down hair with her fingers, a playful look in her eyes.

“Or you could join me. Just a mild suggestion.”

Dinner can wait for a while.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The Brooklyn townhouse they live in has many nice features. There’s a functional if small screened in back porch, big enough to hold a table for two and a grill. Two bedrooms, on the off chance someone from work needs to crash for a night or two. A kitchen with a dishwasher. A working fireplace. Good closet space. And an en suite bathroom.

Maybe it’s a little ridiculous to call a bathroom luxurious, especially when, in comparison to what’s featured in many brownstones, it’s more than modest, but she can’t help but think of it as such. There’s a double sink so that in the morning rush to get ready, Bucky’s able to shave and brush his teeth without having to wait for her to finish applying her makeup. Shelving above the toilet makes certain that even if the last person to shower took the towel with them, another one is on hand. Speaking of the shower, it’s not the largest one in the world, but both of them can fit in comfortably at the same time, which is what’s lead to their current situation.

She’s just finished allowing the water to course over her body, easing the sweat from her skin, and is about to begin the process of washing her hair, scrubbing her body, but she hesitates. She might as well ask. It’s only practical after all.

“Do you want to start now or get cleaned up and have dinner beforehand?” It’s obvious what she’s referring to, so she doesn’t bother to spell it out.

His brown knits, and if she didn’t know him as… intimately… as she does, she’d actually believe he’s confused.

“Oh, so you’re just assuming there’s gonna be sex involved at some point tonight?”

She shrugs, wringing out her hair.

“Seemed like a safe enough bet.” She glances pointedly between the two of them. “After all, we’re already undressed. “

His laugh is a quiet huff, barely discernible over the sound of the water. “Then I’d say start now, have dinner, then go for round two. Sound about right to you?”

She nods. “Solid plan.”

“Then get over here.”

Unlike the welcome home kiss they shared not half an hour ago, this one is less tender, more electric. Hands twist in hair, bodies press together. Tongues begging for entrance quickly give way to teeth nipping at bottom lips, an unspoken sparring match for who’ll be in control this time around. Ultimately he wins, grasping her hips and lifting as she wraps her legs securely around his back.

There’s no need for prep; the teasing of their earlier words is foreplay enough. Back pressed against the wall, her body easily welcomes him in as she braces one arm against the glass shower doors for balance. Any concerns about slipping and falling wash away as they move together like so many times before. She’s sure her nails will leave marks on his back, fingertips digging in for purchase and it’s a guarantee her hips will be littered with fingerprints from his grip, but she can’t find it in her to care, and if the desperate, bruising kiss assaulting her lips is anything to judge from, neither can he.

“So damn good, Doll.” It’s panted against her neck. “Always. So damn perfect for me.” All she can manage is a moan in response.

She feels him twitch inside of her and knows he’s close. So is she, but she can’t quite get there without-

As if he’s read her mind, he reaches between them to touch her where she needs it most, and on instinct, she readjusts, locking her arm around his neck to stay in place. “Let go, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” She couldn’t disobey if she wanted to.

“Fuck.” As her walls contract around him, he pulls out just in time to paint her middle with his release.

“That’s one word for it.” She’s still fighting to catch her breath, but she shoots him a shaky smirk, which he returns.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Barnes.” Snickering, she releases him to stand on unsteady legs and pecks his legs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Barnes.” Maybe there’s something to this holiday after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“You want the last slice?” Bucky considers it for a moment before deciding-

“Nah. You can have it.” It may not be exactly what he planned, but it’s been a good night. Between the two of them, they’ve gone through two large pizzas while watching the new version of Beauty and the Beast (she rolled her eyes when he asked if this was her way of saying he reminds her of a certain hairy, horned character) in their pajamas.

“No, really. You take it. I don’t want it.” She nudges the mostly-empty pizza box towards him. The noise makes Sarge lift his head from where he was snoozing beside her on the sofa. That gives him an idea.

“I don’t want it either, but I can think of someone who does.” He cocks his head towards the now-drooling dog. “How ‘bout it, boy? Wanna help us out?”

Snickering, she picks the pepperonis and pieces of sausage and ham from the pizza, forming a pile. “Here, Sarge. Catch.” She tosses a coveted treat in the air, and Sarge’s jaw snaps, swallowing it whole. “Good boy.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.

“You know, I actually did have something planned for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She nods.

“Absolutely. Had a whole seduction plan laid out. Tiny underwear, lacy bra, and stockings with garters included.” Huh. Guess she wouldn’t have taken the “lingerie” option the wrong way. He’ll file that away for future use… along with a mental note to ask her bra size. “That is, until I tried wearing the damn things for longer than an hour. Turns out, hiding a dirty secret under your clothes is more itchy than sexy.”

He can’t help it. He laughs, producing a pout from her which quickly turns into her own quiet laughter.

“Well, that fits in perfectly with my fancy dinner going up in smoke.”

“We really do have shitty luck with the whole “romance” thing.” She’s joking, but he decides to respond anyway.

“I don’t know about that.” Entwining his fingers with hers, he lifts their hands, twin wedding bands catching the light. “You waited five years for me to reappear after the blip, and I convinced you to elope with me. Seems pretty romantic.” Although, that reminds him…

“Don’t move.” Releasing her hand, he stands and goes in search of his phone.

“Bucky, what-”

“Don’t move, Doll. Stay right where you are.” Ah. On the kitchen counter, just where he left it. Jogging back into the room, he resumes his place on the couch next to her. Ignoring her questioning gaze, he pulls up the app and, selecting the correct playlist, hits play.

Immediate recognition blooms on her face at the opening lyrics. “She is the sweetest thing that I know. Should see the way she holds me when the lights go low.” He’s not one for modern music, but when he was googling “songs for Valentine’s Day” and this one popped up, he couldn’t help but think that the lyrics were fitting.

“I didn’t know you’d heard this one.”

He chuckles. “Even old men have a few tricks up their sleeves. That, and a wifi connection.” She rolls her eyes but leans closer, which he takes advantage of to show her the playlist.

“This is the app you use, right?” Receiving a nod, he continues. “Feel free to scroll through and add whatever you want. I haven’t listened to all of them the whole way through, but they seemed to fit the mood.”

Her hand closes over his, covering the phone. “Thank you, Bucky. It’s perfect.”

As the singer goes on about how hearts don’t break around here, he presses his lips against hers.

“I love you, Doll.”

“Love you.”

Not bad for a disastrous Valentine’s Day. Not bad at all.

#marvel #the avengers #bucky fanfic #bucky x original female character #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #captain america #the winter soldier #bucky barnes smut #smut #fluff

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laufire · 4 years ago

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Supernatural s5

I finished it a little while ago, but I haven’t had the time to make an involved post about it -or watch that much of s6 yet; I’m trying to be Resposible and the time I have has been spent in advancing fics a little bit or answering short asks lol.

-I have really enjoyed this season for the most part, but there’s something I need to get of my chest LOL: all through it, the song “Too Many Dicks (On The Dance Floor)” played in my head xDD. Like, listen, I knew what I was signing up for with this show!! I didn’t expect NOT to find it offensive or regressive on multiple occasions!! But I guess s3-4 must have spoiled me lmao. I’m not saying those seasons are the height of feminism, but if you removed its most important female characters, ESPECIALLY Ruby, the plot of the season would fall apart. That’s not something you can say for s5 and preventing the Apocalypse, just sayin’.

It wouldn’t’ve been that hard to expand Meg’s, Anna’s or the Harvelle’s part (they had good material to go there -Meg as the faithful possibly opening her eyes, Anna as the betrayed and the juror jury and executioner, the Harvelles as normal hunters fighting something way too big for them-, but barely any time and like I said, no incidence in the actual plot of the season). Hell, I’m biased but bringing back Ruby would’ve at least taken care of the problem lol. Or if the show had indulged me and kept Bellamy Young as Lucifer, at least. But everyone with a real say in the plot is a dude, or at least wearing one as a vessel (angel’s conception of gender is clearly different from humans, but in terms of ~~representation the results are the same lbr).

-My constant frustrations with Supernatural’s bigotry-related stuff lol, like I said, I really enjoyed the season (that combination is one of the most frustrating things about the show lmao). Especially Castiel’s plot. The guy has reached Potential Hall of Faves status and that’s hum. A Problem xD

But seriously, he was breaking my heart in all the best ways. His search for God (the Absent Father that the show specifically compared to John añsldkfjasf. This show ISTG!!), his disappointment and sense of betrayal at being let down (he called God Himself “son of a bitch”!!!). I was especially fascinated by his Endverse version -that AU will have its own section lol-, although it resulted in making me reaaaally nervous whenever he was close to an addictive substance :). Like yes, those scenes were lowkey humourous and adorable (like when he drinks shots with the Harvelles and Ellen is fascinated and Jo delighted -... lowkey shipping this too btw. Lowkey shipping Castiel with lots of people-, or his combo with Sam when he got drunk), but also, you know, WORRYING xD

Some of my favourite scenes of his were, predictably, his interactions with Meg or Lucifer in 5x10. The Megstiel scene was SUPER HOT (both their voices are very unf-y lol), I can’t wait to edit it. And having Lucifer call Castiel “a peculiar thing” sure was something xD (although lbr, this Lucifer isn’t keeping with his rebel angel reputation, Castiel is carrying that all by himself smh).

Another scene I couldn’t get out of my head if I wanted to is when he uhhhh... completely LOSES IT and starts beating the crap out of Dean when he was ready to give it up to Michael. “I gave everything for you, and this is what you give me?!?” ooooooof. It was hard to watch, and fascinating and intense. I shamelessly loved it lmfao.

Though my favourite moment of his is one that can only be appreciated when you know certain things about s6. It’s the scene where, unlike everyone else, he shows appreciation for Sam’s plan of sacrificing himself to get rid of Lucifer. Because yes, at this point it’s the only thing that can save the world. But Castiel isn’t saying, “Sam’s life is a small price to pay in comparison”, because he will go into s6 and snatch Sam out of the cage immediately. s5 established Sam got out, so with that in mind, he didn’t bring it up because he didn’t want to create false hope in case he failed, but he backed the plan with the intention of saving Sam anyway. I love that. I love him.

-The entire season was Missing Ruby Hours for me lmfao. Like I said, some of the problems in the season wrt female characters would’ve been at the very least lessened if she’d gotten to be here wrecking havoc. But generally I just miss her and What Could Have Been with her here. I enjoyed some of the crumbs (Sam using the witchcraft skillz he learned from her! Sam immediately knowing Meg isn’t Ruby, unlike Dean! Her knife! The ARCHANGEL GABRIEL referencing her as “the demon Sam chose over his brother”!! The callbacks with Crowley or Brady!!), but I would’ve wanted her here, dammit xD.

-Aaaaand we’re finally getting to Sam, who is without a doubt the star of the season, if you ask me. His plan at the end, to let Lucifer possess him in the hopes he can fight back for just long enough to overpower him and throw them both into the cage, with no hopes for himself? This is the kind of Big Damn Hero stunt I’m a sucker for, I won’t lie. And I love that the show felt the need to confirm he was still alive at the end of the season hehe.

He really Went Through It this season and he held on lmfao. On top of everything (the apocalypse, the guilt of being its final trigger, the addiction recovery, etc.), he also had to deal with Dean’s usual bullshit, which is no small feat xDD. Like, sure, from an audience stand-point all those things are interesting (some fave/the fuck moments are when Dean is obviously peeved that Bobby still supports Sam because he wanted Bobby in HIS corner, or when he has the nerve to say he wants to say yes to Michael because he doesn’t trust SAM not to say yes to Lucifer lmfaoooo), BUT IT’S STILL A FEAT XD

One note: for all the talk about bi!Dean, bi!Sam is so SEEN this season xDD. AFAIC he totally hooked up with that bartender Paul (RIP Paul. At least in your last moments you enjoyed Sam, who’s clearly an energetic, attentive lover 😔). And Crowley refers to Brady as Sam’s demon ex-boyfriend and nobody bats and eye lmfao (that story is so angsty... the parallels to Ruby, how he ingratiated himself with Sam by pretending to have fallen off the wagon... ouch).

-I have mixed feelings on Crowley. On his own, I fell absolutely in love with the guy on his first appearance. A demon that DOUBTS Lucifer and doesn’t kiss his ass?? That wants to get rid of him and do his own thing?? And clearly enjoys ~earthly pleasures to the fullest (his complains about how the other demons ate his tailor had me rolling laksjdfa)? The way he turned the tables on Brady? OFC I love him. OTOH boy, does it annoy me knowing that fandom GLADLY embraced him when they condemned characters like Bela or Ruby for similar things. It’s not his fault so I still like him (he’s like Gabriel in that sense), but it’s annoying!

It also annoys me how Dean Must Be Right All The Time syndrome interacts with him lol. This season Dean decides they can trust Crowley (despite Crowley killing two humans in front of him and getting him beat up by Brady lol), so they can. Next season he decides they can’t, so Castiel will be WrongTM because Dean Says So. Ugggggh xD

-To be fair, however, this season has my fave Dean so far LOL. In the love/hate scale, this one has been almost solely in camp love, barring some of those moments of irksome hypocrisy that he’s so prone to xD.

But there was something about how this season’s plot chipped away at him, you know? For all the traits he has that drive me up the wall or unsettle me, I appreciate a lot of his personality because it makes him a unique and interesting character driving the narrative -his irreverence, his ability to think on the fly and get out of shitty situations, his disbelief. Seeing all of those things under siege this season made me hurt for him in a way I hadn’t anticipated LOL. By the time he was ready to give in to Michael (and I love that what made him step away from that choice was Sam showing a trust in him he patently didn’t deserve lbr), sometimes I felt terribly for the guy.

I also wonder if this season kind of marked like... the beginning of the end for him, narrative-wise? Making him Michael’s vessel (his angel condom) is the kind of thing that turns him from subject into object, and that can doom characters ime. The fact that he ~resigns himself to Sam’s death when his identity as a character came with being His Brother’s Keeper is another slight.

-I continue having mixed feelings about Destiel too LMAO. I’ve decided I’m just going to try to enjoy the good and interesting parts while I can, while trying not to think of future developments that’ll likely sour the ship for me lol.

Because in truth, yeah, I enjoy their interactions a lot here! The Endverse was particularly enjoyable for me (back to that in a moment), but the entire season had a lot of gems. That moment in the finale, when Dean is wounded on his knees after Sam sacrifices himself, and Castiel resurrects and heals him with a touch? And Dean is staring in awe and asks him if he’s become God?? Like wtf am I supposed to do with that. WHO SAYS THAT. XDD

-The Endverse. Omgggggggg. The Endverse. I doubt I can say anything about it that hasn’t been said a thousand times, but seriously. I loooove it, all of it. My favourite was endverse!Castiel, ofc. The way he was in No Man’s Land, not an angel and not quite a human, his ways of trying to cope with that, how burned he was... I uncomfortably related to some of it too lmfao, but let’s not get into that xD.

Seeing both Deans interact was gr10 too. They really couldn’t stand each other lmfao (do you understand me now Dean?? They actually reminded me of two OCs in an original WIP of mine that are in a similar situation -in this case it’s the future version purposefully traveling to the past though-, which made me even fonder of the AU). And the Destiel? *chef’s kiss*. The bitterness, like when Castiel laughs when present!Dean berates endverse!Dean about the tortures and then purposefully says “I like past you” to hurt him asñldkfjasf. Or those looks when Dean returns to the past and tells Castiel to “never change” d’aw.

I loved Lucifer!Sam in this episode too (and personally, I think in the finale Lucifer -and Michael- should’ve changed his outfit too. Sam’s clothes just don’t get to The Devil’s levels, but that white suit was perfect). He was terrifying xD.

BTW: I’ve decided that, since we never see endverse!Castiel die, well. He didn’t xD. I could see Lucifer keeping him alive and captive out of a sense of nostalgia, as Castiel is the only other thing close to a fellow angel left. Might even decide to return his powers with time, or to ~entice him with such an offer lol. And ofc I headcanon Sam is still inside, occasionally trying to fight. Cue in all the Castiel/Lucifer and Castiel/Sam fic ideas too (I have waaaaay too many of those for this mini-verse. It’s very inspiring).

-I’m still on the fence at Lucifer’s motivations but I can’t question how the family issues fit so, so well into this ‘verse. “Family is hell” is the show’s thesis, after all xD. IMO the angels in general don’t feel like a family, they’re a military body/cult lol, but the Archangels are another matter. I guess is the whole “only four angels have seen God-slash-Dad” thing, the rest were... well, the help, apparently.

But Lucifer, Michael, and Gabriel do feel like brothers when they interact (I’m guessing here Gabriel is the Adam: discarded by the other two like nothing :)))). Raphael too, but since he doesn’t interact with them... does he get to later? Or is he the odd one out? Did the others avoid him because he kept quoting Nietzsche at dinner?? LOL.

-There are no words to explain how terribly I feel for Adam. JFC that poor KID. Who was kind and helpful and intuitive, and only wanted his mother back and to help stop the end of the world. And that Sam and Dean will leave rotting in Hell for a millennia :))). It’s kiiiiiiiiind of hard to do for your show’s “heroes” when they do shit like that lmfao. It’d be different if they never tried to make him feel he’s family, but Sam tried to convince him with the bs “because we’re blood” and they did a half-baked attempt at saving him from Zacharias, and then... yeah. At least he had Michael in the cage, but still.

-I was already spoiled of this, but the reveal that cupids made John and Mary fall in love is so chilling (good on Dean for punching that cupid asshole, btw). It puts what Mary says about John in flashbacks, about how much she loves him and how perfect he is, in such a terrifying light. And I’m under the impression that the show didn’t bother to deal with this properly when they resurrected Mary and just... I hate that tbh. It’s a narrative choice that should have a huuuge impact, dammit.

-I kind of loved how bitter and angry Bobby was about (temporarily, thanks to Crowley, his new demon bf -watch out Rufus) ending up in a wheelchair. That there were no platitudes or false sentimentality and it just... was.

-The Harvelles’ had a good send off. I can respect Kripke for wanting his faves to go on his terms lol. Having Jo refuse Dean’s offer of a fuck on their possible last night on Earth with “I rather spent it with a little thing I have self-respect”? Not because she doesn’t have feelings for him, but because she thinks she deserves better from him? I love it. This guy knows his pettiness xD

-The fact that this fandom seems to have ignored Gabriel x Kali is one of the reasons I’m never going to vibe with it, sns. Immortal exes? Check. She tricked him and killed him... but then it turns out HE tricked and he’s alive? Check. BUT THEN HE STILL GOES BACK AND SAVES HER, DYING BY HIS BROTHER’S HAND?? CHECK CHECK CHECK. Ugh, why can’t they come back to me. I know, I know, Kali is a WoC and those are only allowed one (1) appearance before they’re killed off, apparently. So it might be a good thing that she doesn’t return xD. But gosh, they were gr10.

-Death the Horseman’s intro cleared my skin. I love him. I love how utterly terrifying he is and how chilling his and Dean’s scene was. And I yearn to find a picture of the guy a little younger and with a goatee, because he’s the most perfect Discworld’s Vetinari fancast I’ve ever found xDD

-I’ve seen tons of commentary over the years, and especially lately for obvious reasons, about how this season finale would’ve been a much better ending for the show. I’m not there yet, and it does sound like the finale was a mess and this one’s was a very well constructed episode (and, ofc, the Final Love Interest was NOT blurry!!). But even if by the end I come to loathe the finale, there’s one reason I already know won’t let me agree on the s5 ending being perfect: God xDD

The episode makes Chuck come across as a ~benevolent figure and no, fuck that, do NOT want, take it away from me!! Give me God as the Big Bad Wolf, the last evil to conquer any day. It’s like Dumbledore all over again: I enjoy the character a lot more if I feel canon and I are on the same page wrt his shadiness xDD

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beachytablecloth · 3 years ago

Text

@zukkadads ♥ tagged me to post some wip's, so here are some snippets :))))

i'm tagging anyone who'd like to do it !!!

from a heart's a heavy burden which hasn't been updated since november bc i suck:

*warning for referenced canonical child abuse in this first one*

“Stop it!” He almost screamed, and a terrible part of Zuko wanted to break down the bars and grab his father’s face the same way Ozai had done to him all those years ago. Wanted to take that smug, condescending smile and burn it away. Wanted him for once to feel the way he had made Zuko feel, and was continuing, even now, to make him feel--so small, so insignificant--like a stone caught in a thunderous tidal wave. Like a rod waiting to catch lightning.

“Stop pretending you care about her!”

Because that was the truth. Ozai did not care, not even about Azula. He held no remorse for the ways he ruined his children, nor for the atrocities he inflicted upon the world. He would rot in prison for the rest of his life firmly believing he’d been right to burn his son, to sharpen his daughter into a vicious weapon, to stop at nothing to gain the power he felt he deserved.

There was something so horribly unfair and unjust about that, and something in Zuko broke--because hadn’t there always been a small part of him that still dared to hope for the opposite? Hadn’t he told Ozai, when the war had just ended, that his time in prison might make him regret all the wrong he had done?

Hadn’t he hoped, for one tiny moment, at thirteen, that the hand coming to meet his face would be one of comfort, not pain? Hadn’t he hoped, for three long years, that if he could just be better, his father would care? That Ozai would… love him?

from my fic for the siblings prompt of gen week late to my own event lmao:

He’s not sure he really believes Azula belongs in a prison. Not after the way she’d been during their Agni Kai. He’d never seen her like that—out of control, out of her mind.

He’s angry. He’s hurt. Azula’s lied to him and manipulated him and tried to kill him, Spirits, and yet, the most overwhelming emotion he seems to have when he considers Azula these days is sadness.

A deep, aching sadness that has him constantly comparing the girl, shrieking and sobbing and chained to a grate, to the one he’d chase, giggling down the beach on Ember Island.

from a modern au childhood friends to lovers yuetara fic that i just need to finish already:

“I like your hair,” Katara says, smiling between bites of cupcake.

“Thanks,” Yue says, licking chocolate icing from her thumb. “My dad let me get it bleached. Mom says he’s just trying to be the cool parent now that they’re divorced.”

Katara giggles into her cupcake, a little embarrassed at Yue’s bluntness. Zuko’s the only other person she knows whose parents are divorced, but he never talks about it.

“Anyway, I wanted my hair to be like moonlight. Or snow. Something to remind me of home.”

and from a zukka apocalypse au that is turning out waaaay sadder than i thought it would:

They’re all inevitably doomed, and yet, as Sokka clicks the TV off and sits in silence in his small living room, the last rays of sunlight fading behind him, something like relief begins to bloom between his lungs. The feeling should be concerning, should stir some vestige of self-preservation from deep within Sokka’s being.

The truth is: this is the lightest he’s felt in years.

He doesn’t call him, won’t have to.

For once, Zuko will call first.

#thank u beck <33333333333 #tag games #writing #brooke writes

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leagueofidiots · 5 years ago

Note

People keep referencing the one chapter of you're NNWM, what happened??

Shigadabi, but my subconcious was shipping Spinnerdabi on main in retrospect/ Magnetmagic briefly

Song fic for Billie Eillish's Listen Before I Go

Last two chapters, needs a little context, but all the important stuff is explained

I'll also include the chapter after because I'd feel bad if I didn't

WARNING!! I'M VERY SERIOUS!! THERE IS A SUICIDE ATTEMPT HERE!! I EVEN TRIGGERED MYSELF WHILE WRITING THIS, AND THAT IS VERY RARE!! BE SMARTER THAN ME, AND MAKE SURE YOU'RE NOT SITTING ALONE IN A DARK HOUSE AFTER SKIPPING TWO MEALS!! HUG A PILLOW!! GET SOME WATER!! BE CAREFUL!! 💜

•Take me to the rooftop•

Tomura's asleep next to me, face still turned up to the stars. We've been up here for about two hours, but he finally fell asleep.

The promised celebration was nice. We had it as soon as I was well enough to be close to normal as I could, which only took about a week. They learned how to make a few things from what Hawks gave us before the battle, which I ended up eating some of to make them happy.

They did end up having to take me to Ujiko. My burns spread, now uneven again. He says he'll bring my aesthetic back next time I go in to get my staples fixed. I agreed. There will be no next time, after all.

•I wanna see the world when I stop breathing, turning blue•

After Tomura brought me up here, we simply talked. No unnecessary emotional dumps. No tears. No drama. Just simple things.

And now he lies next to me, a bandage he tied around his pinkie allowing him to grasp my hand in his own. It's nice, I'll admit. Breathing in the cool air as I sense his every small movement.

The stars are beautiful tonight. We snuffed the flame of our lantern, though that was nice too, just to see them better. The city lights make it so there aren't many, but it's still a good night for the sky.

•Tell me love is endless, don't be so pretentious•

Careful not to wake him, I carefully pry my hand from my boyfriend's. I'll do what I need to do, but I'd rather him not be awake for this. It's my time, no matter what.

I'm ready for the end, and apparently whoever it is that decides my fate agrees. All I can hope for is that Tomura doesn't blame himself when they find me dead on the sidewalk tomorrow.

What will they do? At least I'm not their leader, but I do still have an influence on the league. Even as useless as I am now, surely they'll still react.

Standing at the edge. It's coming. The end of it all. I'll never have to think about any of it ever again. The brutal training my father put me through. My mother going insane. Burning. Ujiko's experiments. The streets practically eating me alive. Giran's guidance into crime. Killing my father only a week ago.

•Leave me like you do•

The news has been all over the case. Endeavor and Hawks found dead. Witnesses say it was Dabi that killed them. Both burnt to a crisp, Hawks with half-grown-in wings.

Dabi's body hasn't been found, not even a trace. They think he might have burned too, that the black and purple flames seen from outside the wall of blue may have consumed him entirely, taking even his ashes with him.

•If you need me, wanna see me•

And they're right. Dabi's dead. Lost in the flames. Dabi carried rage and purpose, and all he stood for was taken with my piercings and my skin.

Touya died with his innocence, along with his weakness. And now Dabi has followed with all of his anger. Everything that fuelled him, that kept him going, is gone now. So now I am nameless.

•Better hurry 'cause I'm leaving soon•

I wonder what they'll do when I'm really dead. Will the news care? Or will it just pass by like anything else?

They certainly care about the rest of the Todorokis. The thoughts of my mother and siblings make more sense to me than my own at this point.

Rei Todoroki. Wife of Enji Todoroki. Recently released from the mental asylum. Deep in grief. She's planning the funeral for a month from the day of his death. Their deaths. She's set up a shrine for her late husband next to the front door, though reports say it's more for his identity as a hero than the shrine for her son.

•Sorry can't save me now•

Fuyumi Todoroki. The daughter of Enji Todoroki. She says she can't grasp that her brother is dead. She says she feels it in her soul that he isn't. That it's freeing, her father's death.

•Sorry I don't know how•

Natsuo Todoroki. The son of Enji Todoroki. He's avoided all reporters. Hasn't left his room since getting the news. His family says that he and Touya Todoroki used to be close, and Natsuo was elated to hear he wasn't dead. All that is gone now. That his only consolation is that his family is safe from the pro hero.

•Sorry there's no way out•

Shoto Todoroki. Son of Enji Todoroki. He's been busy with school, so not a lot of reporters have been able to talk to him, but his grades are suffering. UA is considering making him take a year off to focus on his mental health.

•But down•

The family as a whole is in general agreement. It's a tragedy to them. Both deaths. And while Endeavor may have had a negative influence on them in life, and they feel safer with him gone, they still mourn his death.

And while it's a painful blow that Touya has died again as Dabi, it is also a good thing. He had turned villain after all. It's for the best.

Well, I guess they'll really get what they wanted. Touya, Dabi, and whoever I am now are about to be long gone.

•Down•

What were my last moments with each of them? I want to think of each of them before I go. I at least owe each of them a thought.

•Taste me, these salty tears on my cheeks•

Start easy. Eri and Butt. They were together on the couch, weren't they? Yeah.

Eri was tired. Once it hit around nine, she lay down on the couch, calling up the dog to curl up next to each other. There was almost a smile on her face as she drifted off, and Compress carried her in.

•That's what a year-long headache does to you•

Hawks. He had done things, after all. And it was my fault he was gone. Even if he was a traitor, he still did the best that a pro hero could do. It's not him I'm mad at. Was mad at.

His last moment was spent trying to get Endeavor to stop. For legal reasons, surely not because he cared at all. And then my father just had to burn him up, like everyone else in his way.

•I'm not okay, I feel so scattered•

Compress. Where had he been?

His date with Magne had been postponed once I ended up injured. He'd said I was more important. Like I had any importance. After he'd taken Eri to her room, he'd gone to bed, saying he wanted to rest for the date.

I wonder if they'll move it again when they find me? I hope not.

•Don't say I'm all that matters•

Kurogiri. Tomura was right, he really is good.

His last action towards me was pretty simple. Before he went to bed, he gave me a pack of beers that we'd ended up taking to the roof. Told me not to drink too much.

I probably should have respected that wish more. I'm on my fifth can. I don't regret it though.

•Leave me, déjà vu•

Spinner.

His last action hadn't been anything much. Just said good night. Still, before that he'd told me off to the side how proud he was of how much of their food I'd eaten.

•If you need me, wanna see me•

Magne. Bless her, I wish I'd said goodbye to them.

Tonight she was having problems with her stomach, so she spent her evening in her room. The last I saw of her was her smile as we did each others' eye liner.

She was very helpful during my healing process. Brought me the closest to normal out of anyone.

•You better hurry, I'm leaving soon•

Toga. What will Toga think of me when she sees? Will she hate me?

Toga spent most of her time singing karaoke with Jin. My final memory of her is the sound of her cheery voice as she spun around, nearly forcing her hairbrush down her throat as a makeshift microphone.

What was the song? I wasn't listening. I wish I had been so I could hum it to myself now.

•Sorry can't save me now•

Jin. I'm a terrible person.

After most people had gone to bed, he'd pulled me aside. Asked if I was okay. That it was okay if I wasn't. And you know what I did?

I lied.

And he'd smiled. Like I'd said something amazing. And he spent the next five minutes saying how happy he was that I was happy.

He'll definitely hate me when he finds me.

•Sorry I don't know how•

And Tomura.

Tomura.

Before he'd slept, he'd looked me straight in the eye, my hand closed gently in his, and he'd said he loved me. That he needed me.

I'm so selfish.

His red eyes shone beautifully as he'd said it, filling me with butterflies. They'd died as soon as he broke eye contact, but it was the first thing I'd felt since the attack.

I'd told him that I needed him too.

•Sorry there's no way out•

I'm glad I saw them all. That I can recall what our final words were. Their last smiles at me. That I can picture them all in my mind. It'll help me when it's time.

There's no way I'd be strong enough without it. Even now, a foot away from the ledge, I'm scared. The end.

•But down•

The end has always been a comfort. Something to look forward to. Whenever my head got dark, and I couldn't see a way out, I just reminded myself that there was an end that drew closer with every second.

•Down•

And here it is. Waiting for me a short drop and a few seconds away. Since getting up has already felt like an eternity, but the six steps from where I started aren't that far compared to the path of life I've been lost on for so long.

•Call my friends and tell them that I love them•

The league helped me find it. Find life. They showed me where I was, and they've led me to this point. I'll have to thank them when we all end up dead and I see them again. If I see them again.

•And I'll miss them•

Even before Shigaraki bribed us with those dumb gifts to stay in the bar and treat it like a home, I considered them a safe place. Safer anyway.

•But I'm not sorry•

And they kept me on the path I needed to be on. Kept me alive. For the most part, kept my additional burns to a minimum.

The streets never did that. They left me to defend those younger than me, even if only by a few years, at the cost of my life if need be.

•Call my friends and tell them that I love them•

If not for the league, if not for seeing that newscast when I did, Endeavor would still be alive and active as a hero. Life would still be a spiral with no clear end in sight.

•And I'll miss them•

I step onto the edge of the roof, looking down at the end. Like in storybooks. The villain dies, and they all lived happily ever after.

The End.

•Sorry•

I drape one leg over, closing my eyes. I'm ready for it. My ending. I lean forward.

And just as my eyes snap open and a feeling of paralyzing panic fills me with regret, it happens.

A hand, one finger bandaged, reaches out and grabs my wrist, leaving me dangling by a foot and an arm off the roof of the bar.

Shigaraki's arms feel strong. So strong compared to me. After he caught me, he didn't waste a second getting me down from the roof. I can't say I wanted to stay up there.

My whole life led up to that moment. Everything I went through was just to end it all. And then I didn't want to. Right at the last second. Is that weakness?

Shigaraki's heavy breathing of panic and sobs managed to wake somebody up, and eventually they've all filed out to the scene of the two of us sitting on the floor, Tomura holding onto me tightly, my sight fixed firmly into the distance.

"Shiggy, what's wrong?" asks Magne, rubbing her eyes.

He doesn't answer, still clutching onto me, and I can't find it in myself to answer. "Be careful of Dabi's burns," warns Kurogiri.

I can't feel them. Even if I could, I don't think I'd care. He's anchoring me, and right now I desperately need that hold on reality. Still, he loosens his death grip.

"Did something happen?" asks Spinner, his hair cascading around his face.

"Well obviously something happened. No, they look peachy!" Jin plops down in front of us. "Dabi, did you…?"

I finally snap my gaze to him, staring at his masked face. "I'm sorry, Bubaigawara, I just---"

His arms wrap around me too, pressing my face into his shoulder. "You don't have to be sorry," he says in a broken voice. I wait for his contradiction, but it doesn't come.

I hear Compress kneel behind us, pressing his hand on Shigaraki's shoulder. "He's okay, Tomura. We'll look out for him."

My boyfriend's body shakes, his available fingernails digging into my chest through the front of my shirt. "Dabi, please don't, please, you said you loved me, please don't leave me," says his quiet voice.

I feel awful. I hurt him for nothing. And Jin. And I can feel in the air that the rest of the league is slowly figuring it out too. It didn't even come to anything but hurt.

"Dabi, I swear, you need to stop being so blind," says Toga, sitting behind Twice. "You know that we love you, right?"

"I know," I whisper. "I know. I'm sorry."

Kurogiri sits to the side of me Tomura doesn't take up. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know. You just wanted the easy way out of your suffering. There's nothing so terrible about wanting it to stop. I just hope you'll learn someday that we can help you end it in a way that will let you keep going after that."

I nod, reaching up one of my hands to place over Tomura's. Geez, I'm crying. Again.

"And even if it's selfish of us," says Magne, sitting herself next to Shigaraki. "You're good to have around. And not just for your quirk, either, so don't start that nonsense again."

Tomura grabs my straying hand. "Don't you ever pull that crap again."

I squeeze his hand. "I won't. I swear. Thank you for catching me." And I mean it. There's something in me now that I think I've been stuffing down.

I love these people. And while it does scare me because of all that's happened with those I've loved and trusted before, I don't think it'll end like that this time. I love them. And I want to keep going, even if for a while it's only because I have them, that's okay.

I love them enough that I want to keep living. To keep trying. Past all the pain.

"I wish you'd told us before now," says Spinner, tying his hair back to keep it out of his eyes. "Maybe we could have helped before it got to this."

"No, I knew," says Twice, face still pressed into my shirt, dampening it with his hot tears. "I knew, and all I did was give him a little slap on the wrist. You people are just blind!"

"No," I say, bringing my other hand to his back. "It's not any of your faults. If anything, you guys already helped a lot. Please don't blame yourselves for this."

Magne ruffles my hair gently. "It's nobody's fault. Sometimes things are just like that. What's important is that you're still here with us, and nobody got hurt."

"Did you want to talk about it?" asks Kurogiri.

I shake my head. "Nothing new. I just had it set in my mind as the only option. It got to be too much a while ago, and that's what I decided, so then once Endeavor was dead...I just sort of went on auto-pilot."

Toga smiles at me faintly. "Well, don't worry about it. Just a week ago I killed a guy on a whim; we all do weird stuff sometimes. That was a bad example, huh?"

Shigaraki grunts. "It kind of was. I'm in a weird mood though, so I'll allow it."

The next hour is spent in silence as Tomura cries the rest of his feelings out and we simply sit in the bar. It's not the same, but it's good. I feel lighter.

The next day brings awkwardness and hangovers, but it really doesn't matter. We're all just sort of happy to be around each other. Grateful.

Magne and Compress do end up going on that date, and they end up having a lot of fun apparently. Whatever Sako did must have been very impressive, with the amount of blushing Kenji was doing when they came back.

Tomura and I go on an official date too, a few days later. It's very nice. I really do love him.

And now, it doesn't really matter what we're doing as a group, or where or next mission will take us, because regardless of whatever it is, we're doing it together. And really, that's all I've ever wanted in a family.

#nanowrimo #writing

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wanderingcas · 7 years ago

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This week: Destiel, Enemies to Lovers!

[Thank you, everyone, for your wonderful submissions to kick off Week 1 of Spn Fanfic Submission Thursday!! If you want to participate in next week’s fic submissions, check out the schedule!]

Your Enemies Closer by @angvlicmish

Dean Winchester is Castiel Novak’s enemy. It’s been that way since Dean rocked up at Castiel’s high school a few years ago. Now they’re in college and it still remains that way. It will always remain that way. Even if they start having sex. Then it would just be enemies with benefits. Nothing more. Right?

Explicit. 127k words. (WIP)

Tags: College, Angst, Fluff, Bullying, Explicit Sexual Content

Dean Hates Castiel’s Cock by @spearywritesstuff

Dean Smith’s move to a little gated community on the edge of town was meant to bring him a little peace, an apple pie life. His peace is disrupted though by the noisy crowing of his sinfully attractive neighbor’s numerous roosters. And everyone else is absolutely done hearing him complain about the noisiest cocks that ever lived.

Explicit. 9k words. (WIP)

Tags: Dean Smith, It’s a Terrible Life Verse, Endverse!Cas, Farmer Cas

Slow Fall Home by @ellis-park

A story of Cas and Dean and meeting in barns.

Teen Rating. 2k words (Complete).

Tags: Canon compliant, 12x23 coda, temporary character death

For This Night and All Nights to Come by @thursdays-fallen-angel

Back in the southern castle Castiel once called home, cold was used to describe a bath that had sat too long and was no longer steaming, or a room with a draft. It was cold if one had to put on a tunic with sleeves to go riding.

North of the Wall, cold takes on a whole new meaning. Here, cold means frozen rations and endless snow, frostbitten limbs and stolen breaths. Cold is steel biting at your throat in a wordless threat. Cold is when the dead rise again.

Explicit. 14.5k words. (complete)

Tags: AU - Game of Thrones Fusion, Night’s Watch!Castiel, Wildling!Dean

Best Laid Plans by @ibelieveinthelittletreetopper

Things are going well for Dean: he’s landed the biggest design job of his architectural career and is about to get final approval on the project despite how difficult the development company, personified by Castiel Novak, has made it. It’s not bad for a moody omega…except things are also going terribly for Dean because he has to get in a plane and fly to a meeting, and course ends up in heat a few hours before. Luckily, Castiel is there to help and both men discover the good that can come when nothing goes quite as intended.

Explicit. 73k words. (complete)

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Dean, Alpha Cas

Angels of the Sea by @envydean

The Archangel – a pirate ship run by young Captain Castiel Novak – is unknowingly boarded by two stowaways. Sam and Dean just needed to get away from their father’s killers and are found stashed away in the storage room of the ship. Raphael is adamant they are killed but Castiel’s heart is too big to dispose of them both. Lives spared, they join the crew, Dean taking up navigation and Sam to the galley and an adventure using Dean’s amulet to find a mysteriously hidden island begins.

Mature. 53.6k words. (complete)

Tags: Pirate AU, angst with a happy ending, elements of magic

Warning: graphic descriptions of violence, minorish character death

A Thousand Times by @saminzat

“A thousand times Castiel had killed Dean Winchester.” - a poem/re-telling of S08E17 “Goodbye Stranger”.

Teen and Up. 613 words. (complete)

Tags: Love Poem, Enemies to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending

The Chimera by @justrandomspnstuff

Demon!Cas and Dean have a dark history. What will happen when the past comes knocking at the door? Can they find a way out of their destructive past? (Set 300 years in the future)

Mature. 9k words. (WIP)

Tags: demon!cas, bottom!dean, abusive Cas, dark, slow burn, violence

Warning: Rape/Non Con

the light of falling stars by @procasdeanating

The war between mankind and the Seraphs has been raging for hundreds of years. In a vicious skirmish lieutenant Dean Winchester’s spaceship is shot down. He crashlands on an seemingly uninhabited planet, and soon realizes he is not alone…

Explicit. 5k words. (complete)

Tags: enemies to lovers, science fiction, wingfic, based on a movie

Shot Through The Heart by @all-i-need-is-destiel

In which Dean is a hunter and Castiel is a Man of Letters who are both forced to begrudgingly work together and Dean does absolutely not feel some very weird things when he’s close to the guy. He does not!

Teen and Up. 34.5k words. (WIP)

Tags: Slow Build, Humor, UST, Case Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

From Heights to Mountains by @hetaliankilljoy

Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester couldn’t be more different. One was a student in Eilat Mountains Boarding School since first grade, and the other was a new student, from the rival boarding school, Golan Heights Boarding School. With two completely different personalities and one room to share, what would happen to the two 16 year olds? And what the heck does American literature, German music band, and American alternative rock bands have to do with all of this?

Teen and Up. 252 words. (WIP)

Tags: AU - Boarding School, AU - high school, Alternative rock bands

You Shook Me by @braezenkitty

The Salty Demons are set to compete in a battle of the bands, but when their lead singer drops out at the last minute, they need someone to fill in. Bass guitarist Meg brings in her friend Cas to audition and Sam thinks he’s a good fit, but Dean is worried he’s too punk. With the competition looming though, they don’t have much choice, and Castiel is the best option they have. Dean has to come to terms with the new lead singer and the attraction he feels towards him before he ends up sabotaging the band’s chance at winning the competition.

Mature. 12.3k words. (complete)

Tags: Singer!Castiel, Singer!Dean, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Homophobia

Don’t Carry It All by @tactileintrovertedace

Dean meets human!Cas at a bar and shortly afterwards finds himself tied up in the back of a van with Cas who isn’t particularly pleased with his situation either. While Cas did orchestrate Dean’s abduction, his apprehension is in lieu of a surprise summons to the crime boss Lucifer himself.

Mature. 3k words. (WIP)

Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Angst, Abduction, Organized Crime

Warnings: Abduction, Date Rape Drugs/Roofies, eventual Torture, Graphic Depictions of Violence

#signal boost this guys!! let's get these fics rollin around the tumblr universe!!!#they're all so good #fanfic submission thursday #destiel fanfic #destiel #enemies to lovers

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marvelhead17 · 5 years ago

Text

Miracle (Original Female Character x Cable)

Chapter 25

Summary: “How did you fix it?” he asked. “Ask Ellen the Teenage Warhead,” Wade shrugged as he stood up, “As for baby Hitler he ended up having a diaper change, funny story I was actually going to call Cable since he was so keen on killing Russel, I thought this would be like taking candy from a baby, if that means replacing it with a bullet that is,”

Warnings to cover the whole fic: Graphic depictions of violence, use of weapons, mild to strong language, mentions of rape, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, referenced torture and psychological abuse/manipulation, nightmares and night terrors, sexual humour, sexual content.

Word count: 1.7k

One Month Later, Early Afternoon

“So we need to get pop tarts for Wade to shut his trap, Colossus needs a new sketchpad, again, since he’s been drawing like crazy, what we are we-” Hayden paused as they were walking and stopped as she eyed someone walking passed them.

“Hades?” Nathan turned raising a brow as he realised she was no longer next to him. “Hades?”

Her head had turned as far as it could naturally so she turned on her heels and started walking in the direction that the person was going in. She weaved her way through the crowded walkway and kept her eyes focused on the man as his pace quickened, and she noted his sudden notion of ducking into the nearest alleyway between two buildings.

As she turned the corner sharply after the man, her arms had been grabbed and she was forcibly pinned against the brick wall, her wrists being held down against her backside by cold metal while the other human hand pressed firmly against the back of her hand and made her face squash against the wall.

“Why are you following me?” he questioned aggressively, “Who sent you?”

Hayden twitched her left arm and loosened the man’s grip on her wrists which surprised him and then she grabbed his metal wrist before pinning him to the wall the same way he had done to her just moments before.

“Nobody,” she then let him go, “Don’t you recognise me?” he turned around quickly to face her, his icy eyes scanned her before he shook his head.

“No, should I?”

Nathan rounded the corner and was relieved to find that she was not causing some kind of scene, they didn’t need the public attention after her incidents last month. He found her staring angrily at a man with dark shoulder length hair, he was roughly Hayden’s age and slightly taller than her.

A metal arm?

He glanced at his own arm briefly and shook his head.

“You’re telling me you don’t remember anything?” Hayden asked him.

“What is it you want me to remember? I’ve never seen you before in my life,”

“Do you remember Hydra?”

“I- yes, they… brainwashed me and controlled me for some time, how do you know about Hydra?”

“Hades what’s going on?” Nathan asked as he stepped closer, seeing her getting angrier with every question she asked the man.

“You’re telling me you don’t remember what you did to me?”

“What I did to you?” the man frowned, “No, I- I really don’t know who you are, I’m sorry”

“Stop lying,” she hissed and grabbed his throat, lifting him from the ground and pinning him to the wall.

“Hades- he clearly doesn’t know you,” Nathan came to her side and touched her arm cautiously, it relaxed slightly but she still stared the man down with hatred in her eyes. “Put him down and let him go,” he silently thanked whoever was looking out for him that the others weren’t around to hear him say this to her for a second time, “Please,”

She stared at him in disbelief; Nathan gave a brief and simple nod and then brushed his hand down to her wrist, encouraging her to lower the man down to the ground. She gave in to his wishes begrudgingly and released her grip as well.

“Ya ran'she byla tvoyey myshka,” she suddenly spoke in Russian, the man only frowned at her.

“I’m sorry; I don’t know what you’re telling me.”

“I should have known,” she sighed, “Sorry, this was a waste of time,” she walked out the alleyway hurriedly.

“Hades!” Nathan called before turning to look at the man, “Well- whatever you did I’m sure karma will come to get your ass, if not then I will,” he warned before running after Hades, leaving the man confused and alone in the alleyway.

He finally caught up with her as she stood in front of the Walmart where they had been heading to in the first place, seemingly waiting for him as if what she had just done had never happened, and he frowned and lifted his hands in the air.

“What the hell was that all about, huh? You want to end up in jail again?” he asked angrily.

“It’s- I’ll explain later, it’s not something you talk about out in the open,” she said calmly, the opposite of what she had just been moments earlier, “I’m sorry I just couldn’t… contain myself.”

“But it involved Hydra again; those bastards really fucked you up huh?”

“Your choice of words is impeccable,” she chucked slightly as he frowned and turned his head, and then she turned to him, “Now let’s get this shit over with, I hate shopping,” she walked through the automatic doors and Nathan followed behind closely.

“Even if it’s for food?” he asked, hoping changing the subject might ease the tension that still hung in the air.

“It’s only worth it if it’s for food, otherwise hell no,”

He smirked at that, he had caught her on occasion binge eating after days of fasting, he didn’t think it was very healthy but she insisted her body needed only a bit of fuel to last for days at a time and that it wouldn’t be harmful unless she didn’t eat for longer than a week.

One of the things he learned was that she could practically thrive for days on just eating a jar of sugar and yet she still remained healthy, admittedly still quite curvy in some areas. He shook his head, his thoughts were derailing in the middle of a department store, and he was now aware of the fact that he had been staring at her backside as she walked ahead of him.

* * *

Late Afternoon

They returned to the mansion and gave everyone their requested goods before settling down on separate couches, nothing had been said during their travelling back and the questions that were burning through Nathan’s mind had finally annoyed him enough that they all came tumbling out at once.

“Who was that guy? What’s with the metal arm? What does ‘mush-kah’ mean? And what did Hydra have to do with either of you?”

“That’s already too many questions, do you have to know right now?” she sighed as she connected her earphones to her phone.

“Yes, the curiosity is killing me,”

“Ugh, fine.” She threw her phone to the side and crossed her legs on the couch, “That man’s name is Bucky Barnes, the metal arm is because he lost his during a mission way before I knew him - myshka is a Russian term of endearment, which you said terribly wrong by the way, and Hydra- I’m not going to explain that right now, I’m getting flashbacks that I didn’t want to begin with already,”

“Did I just hear you say Bucky Barnes?” Wade asked carrying a box of poptarts and plonked himself next to Hayden, chewing on an uncooked pop tart happily, “That piece of shit dickhead who raped you in Hydra?”

Her eyes widened as she stared at Wade.

“What? Oh shit, I didn’t think I said that part out loud-” he stood up quickly.

“I’m going to fucking end you!” she yelled as she rolled her sleeve up and got up from the couch after him.

“Wait,” Nathan grabbed her wrist as she was about to make contact with Wade’s jaw. She turned to him with a mix of expressions on her face that included anger, shame and fear. “He raped you?”

She yanked her hand back from him and looked away.

“I wouldn’t have stopped you from killing him if I had known-”

“I didn’t want to kill him! I just-” she breathed out a little shakily, “I just wanted to get answers from him, and then maybe torture him if I really needed to,”

“Answers, like what?”

“Oh no,” she stretched out the last part, “I think I’ve shared enough for today, I’m going to my room,” she grabbed her phone and ran upstairs before the men could say anything more.

“She was raped?” Nathan sat down, his mind racing, thinking back to the bar where she completely wrecked that man who tried to make a pass at her, “How long ago?” he swallowed hard, uncertain if he actually wanted to know the answer to that.

“I- maybe she is the one who should answer that,” Wade mumbled awkwardly.

“I don’t think she’s going to talk about it at least a month, I can’t wait that long,”

Wade sighed, “It was thirteen years ago, going on fourteen soon,”

“Wait, she’s twenty-eight-years-old, you’re telling me she was fifteen when that bastard-” he couldn’t bring himself to say the words, to think the words he wanted to say.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Holy fuck,” Nathan breathed out.

* * *

Evening

Nathan watched as she sat by the kitchen counter and spooned another mouthful of Nutella into her mouth, letting the chocolate linger and melt before swallowing and spooning another load in.

“You’re staring,” she suddenly spoke making him jump, “Wade told you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” he paused and he took the seat next to her, “You were so young,” his eyes softened and he focused his attention on the jar so that she would relax a little.

She glanced at him, “I know, but it was my fault,”

“How in the hell was it your fault?” Nathan asked in disbelief.

“I was in love with him,” she drew her hands over her face and sighed, “Stupidly in love with him.”

“That doesn’t mean he could ju-”

“I let him,” she said irritably, “I consented, but then it went too far, multiple times. I thought that’s what love was,” she stared down at the jar in front of her and played with the spoon.

“Because your father had told you that love is hard, and the more it hurts the stronger it is,” Nathan recalled from seeing her memories.

“Yes,” she swallowed, “So I didn’t understand that it was wrong, not at the time. Anyway, that’s enough outta me tonight thanks, see ya in the morning.” She got up from her seat and took the jar with her as she walked out the room.

“Yeah, see ya,” Nathan said quietly.

He felt guilty for the fact that he had pressed such a sensitive topic for her, but he was glad she opened up more to him, it only made his feelings to protect her even stronger. And he swore to himself that the next time he saw that Barnes character he’d make him sorry for ever laying a finger on her. That was a promise.

________________________________________________________________

Translations in order:

“Ya ran'she byla tvoyey myshka,” - I used to be your myshka

>> Chapter 26 <<

#cable #nathan summers #deadpool #deadpool 2 #wade wilson #piotr rasputin #colossus #russell collins #fire fist #marvel fanfiction #marvel #fanfiction #writing #fanfic #original character #hayden jones #hope summers

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alexeiadrae · 7 years ago

Text

Notes 2017

I have my prolific years, I have my stagnant ones. After just how much I wrote in 2016 I figured this year would be stagnant, and yeah, it was about what I was expecting. A look back at 2017 and notes on what I wrote.

Royal Pains: The idea of telling the events of Slayers Expecting from Zel and Amelia’s POV had been at the back of my mind for a while, and it grew more and more persistent until I finally started writing it. It gave me some avenues to explore some of the things I wanted to with the characters, such as Amelia’s rather black and white view of the world and how she makes sense of her mother’s murder with such a mindset. That said I did lose interest towards the end. Zel/Amelia just doesn’t do it for me.

While I did not set out to do this, somewhere along the way I realized my depiction of their marriage resembled the model laid out by Dr David Schnarch in Passionate Marriage. It’s been awhile since I read it, but basically issues arise in a marriage, fights emerge, and the marriage can either end, the fights continue, or one person can change something within their control that the other person has to adjust to. The example he used in the book was him and his wife fighting over whether to have a baby. His wife wanted one, he didn’t. Eventually she decided she was going to stop taking birth control. He could either wear a condom or go without sex. He says he was mad initially but it forced him to confront his anxieties and they agreed to have a baby. My own example would be telling my husband (then boyfriend) that I’m simply not a Catholic and would not be going to mass with him anymore. He was free to go without me, but I have better things to do with my time.

Therapeutically, I’m a Gottman and Gottman girl when working with couples. I found Schnarch’s concepts intriguing and accurate but not for much practical use, though, I guess they stuck in my mind because I do see so much truth in it with how relationships grow through the years. At anyrate, once I realized it was creeping in I built on it a bit.

Rosalinda Franks was a subtle illusion to Rosalyn Franklin, whose contributions to the discovery of DNA went unacknowledged until recently.

While doing my practicum I worked at a children’s hospital and saw too much about what happens to children who are adopted and seen the result of custody battles, which influenced how I handled the situation with Bennie.

The idea of Gourry having an infertile uncle was thanks to the musical, Hamilton. I started reading up more about the people surrounding the American Revolution, and learned that George Washington was likely infertile. Martha Washington had children from a previous marriage and was still young enough to have more, but never did with George Washington, and while he had a few “adopted” children, he never did have children of his own even though he wanted them. I was going to name Gourry’s great uncle George, but I have some weird associations with that name stemming from childhood and I just couldn’t do it (and not even in a someone named George was mean to me way, just ways that make the name a complete joke but people who weren’t there wouldn’t understand type way).

The Storm: I had the idea for the prologue shortly after I finished Beneath the Portrait, but I did not want to follow through and write it. For one thing I knew it would be long, for another Beneath the Portrait wasn’t terribly popular, and its prequel, Jealousy, even less so. So I was surprised by the amount of positive reaction I got from this one when, for lack of any better ideas, I went ahead and started to write it, and it goes to show I’m not as impervious to feedback as I like to think I am.

The other things that surprised me was that everyone who commented with the exception of one (who didn’t say anything either way) expressed support for Zel and Attie getting together. I was honestly going to have them go their separate ways, mainly because I didn’t want a pairing Zel with an OC trope. However, since most people commented in favor of it I went ahead and developed it. Not sure if it’s a sign of how the fandom has matured, just understanding that people who we are with when we are young aren’t necessarily who we are going to be with when we are old, or if the idea of Zel becoming involved with one of Lina and Gourry’s daughters and having Lina as an MIL amused people. But there you have it.

In the final Slayers novel, I was struck by how forcefully Lina drew a comparison between Luke and Rubia, with Luke being someone who gets stuck in his rage and is described as having a shard of hatred in him, and Rubia described as having a shard of sadness but that she moves on. In the novels, it is also worthy to note that Luke and Rubia are two of three characters described as having red hair. Of course, Rezo doesn’t, but something about the parallels being drawn made me wonder if Rubia also had a shard of Shabranigdu.

My own parents are one of those golden couples, very well suited to each other and still passionate about each other even though they have been married for decades and they set that marriage bar unnervingly high. Once someone I was working with had started dating someone who had children and she was nervous about meeting them, and she asked me what I would think if my dad brought her home after a date, and I just gawked at the thought of my dad with anyone other than my mom. Which informed the scene where Min and Orion learned that Syphiel had feelings for their father.

All Apologies Not much to say, other than writing this fic gave me an excuse to thumb through the novels. I also don’t do this often, the only other time I can remember doing this is Desolation, but it allowed me to play around with the surrealness of dreams and the weird things people say in dreams (and I love surrealism. Vincent Van Gogh and Frida Kahlo are my two favorite painters). I kept referencing the Buffy episode Restless, really the best depiction of the strangeness of dreams by a long shot, as well as paying attention to how scenes morph and change in my own dreams.

Unrequited? Luke was a difficult character for me to write. Milina is easier for me to get a read on, even though we know the least about her of all the characters. But I finally got a hand hold when I thought of working with a men’s substance use group during my internship and finding a bunch of little boys who were real vulnerable and desperate for affection behind the scary prison ink tattoos, piercings, and sheer ridiculousness of their behavior at times, not to mention their criminal history. From what little we know of Luke you get the sense he had a hard life and was engaged in some shady dealings, like a lot of the men I worked with. But beneath hardened exteriors are vulnerable people describe for love and validation.

Naga’s Story I’ve noticed that women in their mid-30s reach a disillusionment point where they realize that they are tired of their niceness being taken advantage of and then used to steamroller them, and then a period of rage starts. Well, I’m 2 years into that rage, and an incident that happened while on vacation where I was more aggressive (not violent, but yelling, and I’m not a yeller) in response than I ever would have been in the past sparked this. Originally I had a sort of nice girl turns bad thing in mind, but it never really worked out well when I started writing it.

Part of it is I am not like Naga at all. So my work with people with substance use disorders really informed this. I had some people note that Naga’s alcoholism started before her mother’s assassination, and from getting the life history of addicts, usually they start experimenting with drugs and alcohol rather young and it’s very recreational, but then a trauma happens and they start using it to cope (unless it’s one of those extremely tragic cases where they trauma starts as a young child).

So what started as something to quell social anxiety spiraled out of control in the aftermath of trauma.

The other thing was deciding on whether to refer to her as Naga or Gracia. I’d thought about having her as Gracia until she changed into her outfit to signal the transition, but it felt too much like writing an original character when I did that, so I went with Naga because it was more familiar.

And while I never went out and stated it, I decided to portray Naga as asexual. Considering how sexualized she is I thought it would be interesting if she wasn’t interested in having sex.

This is also one where the explanations for why Naga’s mother was assassinated gave me headaches, because it doesn’t make sense. Supposedly Naga’s mother was mistaken for Naga and Naga was targeted because she was in line for the thrown, but since women in Seyruun can’t inherit the throne…

So I eventually decided to use it to make it muddy as to who did kill her mother and why. If you read enough true crime stuff, especially stuff before modern forensic techniques, it can be hard to say for sure who committed a murder and there’s often an uncomfortable amount of room for doubt. Hence why we have the Innocence Project in the US.

Figuring out the type of relationship everyone had with each other was an interesting challenge because we never see Naga interact with anyone from Seyruun, aside from her time as Nama, which leads to the impression that she wasn’t as close to her father as Amelia. Considering that after trauma people tend to cling to surroundings and people that are familiar, the fact that Naga left, it would indicate that she did not trust her family or feel safe around them. In the novels you get the sense that Amelia is real paranoid and guarded in Seyruun, not something that translates over to the anime so much, but I took those traits and developed them in Naga.

Slayers, Neverending For this one I’m just experimenting with an on going day to day in the happily ever after life of our heroes type thing. So when it says “neverending” in the title…

While reading the Slayers novels, there’s one that features a pair of sisters, the younger one went off in the world while the older one stayed home and got married, and the parallels made me wonder if Luna did choose a domestic life, as opposed to the spinster I typically portray her as. So I decided to give Luna a family of her own in this work, though I keep finding I like her better as a spinster, lol.

Considering how often Lina has saved the world and how she seems to get so little credit for it, I wanted to see her get some acknowledgement, add to the fact that I am mad as hell at how women have to work three times as hard and still get so little credit…So yeah. Lina gets her day in the sun. I loved writing that.

I also decided to torment her with a MIL from hell, because so often while dealing with my own in-laws I think about how wonderful it would be to not have to deal with them. That idea was kicking around for a while and went through several false starts. The trick was to make Lina’s MIL a different kind of difficult than my MIL (so no, Guloisa is not like my MIL) and to not worry about a tidy resolution because life does not always hand those out.

Anyway, I have some ideas for where this is going to go, though it’s often when I finish with one chapter that the next materializes in my brain. At anyrate, Neverending is the only for sure thing on the menu for 2018.

Speaking of 2018…I don’t know ya’ll. I know I go through this from time to time but I really think I’m running out of ideas and ways to keep things fresh and new. Given I have said this before and wells of creativity suddenly spring forth, I could be wrong. But I also think I’ve done about as much with this as I can and right now it looks like some new people are entering into this who are fresh and have some new ideas so it would be good to step back. I plan to keep going with Neverending though I’m not terribly inspired. I have two other ideas I’ve talked about a little bit I may pursue if I become inspired. I may also try to work on some original stuff again.

It’s also hard to separate whether I’m tired of writing because I am a do it all mom and am tired of everything or tired of writing for Slayers specifically. And when I mean do it all, I mean I take care of my kids, I work at home and I have evening office hours, and I homeschool, so I do it all. On the one hand writing keeps me sane, on the other I have very little time now. The bright spot is I may have finally found a school I trust with my son (he’s autistic, and finding a place that doesn’t treat him as an inconvenience has been aggravatingly difficult, and I have been let down so often here I’m worried it will go wrong again), but if it works that will help a lot. Especially when my daughter gets old enough for school. So hopefully it will work and that will free up a lot of my time and hopefully I won’t feel so stretched thin and exhausted and will feel excited about something I am writing again.

#notes #notes 2017 #fanfiction

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marvelhead17 · 5 years ago

Text

Miracle (Original Female Character x Cable)

Chapter 17

Summary:“How did you fix it?” he asked. “Ask Ellen the Teenage Warhead,” Wade shrugged as he stood up, “As for baby Hitler he ended up having a diaper change, funny story I was actually going to call Cable since he was so keen on killing Russel, I thought this would be like taking candy from a baby, if that means replacing it with a bullet that is,”

Word count: 1.7k

Evening

“Here’s to my little sister for catching the bad guy and for the sexy new outfit,” Wade raised his beer and clinked it with Hayden’s soda before he tapped it against Nathan’s beer.

“Hades, it’s uh, nice to see you again,” Weasel said as he walked up behind the bar that the three were seated at, nodding to Wade and avoiding eye contact with Nathan.

“Look I said I was sorry about kicking you in the balls alright?” she sighed and put the glass bottle down, “What more do you want?”

“I want the feeling I used to have down there back,”

“What did he do that you had to kick him in the balls?” Nathan raised an eyebrow and gave a hint of a smirk.

“I thought he was some creep that was stalking me,” she took a sip of her drink, “And I can tell you for certain I’m not half-wrong,”

“I can take being called creepy, but I definitely wasn’t stalking you,” Weasel objected.

“I still don’t see why you were following me in a dark alleyway in the middle of the night Weasel,”

“I- fine you wanna know why I was following you?”

“Yes, I just wondered exactly that- did your mom drop you on the head as a baby or something?”

“I’m gonna ignore that- I was actually trying to replay a scene from a movie I once saw, where the guy gets the girl because of a move where he kisses the girl in a dark alleyway,”

She frowned, “Was this so-called ‘movie’ porn by any chance?”

“I hereby banish you from Sister Margaret's,” Weasel said immediately.

“Your taste of friends is impeccable Wade,” Hayden rolled her eyes and downed her soda bottle, “Can I get another one?” she asked Weasel, he nodded and handed her another.

“Well sorry to piss on your parade but you happen to be one of my so-called friends,” Wade patted her shoulder before whispering, “Also I’ll be back, I gotta piss,”

She scrunched up her nose, “Did you have to whisper that? God you’re disgusting.”

“But you love me anyway!” he sang before going to the men’s room.

“Honestly, I still don’t understand the relationship here,” Nathan finally spoke up.

“The only thing you need to understand is that Wade helped me through some tough shit, I’ve helped him through some tough shit, now we face the tough shit together,” she shrugged taking a sip of her drink. “Nothing more to it.”

“Hey sweetheart,” a gruff voice spoke from behind them, she rolled her eyes not even bothering to face the man while Nathan eyed the man. “Now tell me, what’s a pretty little thing like you, hanging out with the Senior Citizen for?”

“Senior Citizen,” Nathan growled, he caught a glimpse of himself in one of the bar’s mirrors and realised how much older he actually looked next to her, the man ignored Nathan.

“Whatever your Sugar Daddy here is giving you, I guarantee I can give double, the pleasure and the money.” He offered as his large hand reached out and touched her ass, Nathan felt his blood boil under his skin but waited to see what she would do about the situation, her muscles had tensed up.

He noticed a familiar soft violet glowing from her eyes.

“I’m warning you this one time, if you don’t remove your hand and leave, it will be broken and you will be on the floor with your thick skull bleeding as a show to the others around here,” she said without even turning her head.

Nathan glanced behind the man and realised some of the other men in the bar were looking their way and all of them present had hungry lustful looks in their eyes for the few other woman that were present, Hayden included in the small handful.

The man chuckled, “Now sweetheart that warms my heart up real good that you put on such a good little tough girl act just for me,” he squeezes her ass before saying quieter, “Why don’t we take this back to my place?”

Her hand grabbed for his wrist and an audible snap echoed throughout the bar making the rowdy noises that had continued to stop in dead silence, the man’s scream was that of a damned one, Nathan was in awe as she smirked on hearing the pain.

The near empty soda bottle she was drinking from was taken with her free hand as she moved him away and turned up and out from her seat and then hit him with the bottle with great speed, it shattered all over the floor and the remaining drink spilled everywhere, the man fell to the floor unconscious and blood oozed from the wound on his head.

She kicked his body to the centre floor and as promised, she walked forward next to his body and eyed the men around the bar, her eyes their usual blue colour now.

“Does anybody else around here feel like touching me?” she asked through gritted teeth.

The men eyed the unnaturally crooked wrist of their large companion and the blood that was pooling around his head, they shook their heads in fear and carried on with their own tasks to avoid her gaze, she smiled triumphantly.

“And that’s how we do it Mother Russia,”

“I can’t believe he tried doing that, what an idiot,” Wade chuckled as he entered the room once again, and then he rested his hand on her ass.

She pulled out a pocket knife and stabbed him in the dick resulting in a high pitch scream on his part, the men turned to look in fear and she twisted the pocket knife without looking back, their eyes go wide and they nervously move their activities further away if possible.

Wade makes half-choking sounds at this point and she removes the pocket knife and places it back into its hiding place, they return to their seats at the bar, Wade needing to lean on Hayden and limp terribly slowly before squealing as he sat down.

“Thanks for that Wade, it really made the point of not messing with me clearer,” she smiled at him.

“I’m glad things worked out for you, but what about Wade Junior?” he looked down sorrowfully at his crotch, thankfully the black pants he was wearing hid the fact that he was bleeding. “Next time I need a heads-up if you’re just going to mutilate my penis, I mean for Christ sake I had really good masturbation planned out this evening and now it’s all ruined!” he threw his hands in the air.

“Well I’m sorry brother, tonight you’ll just have to abstain.” She patted his shoulder.

“Do you know how long it takes to regrow a penis? Well I’ll tell you-”

She covered his mouth, “I’d rather not know thanks.” She uncovered his mouth.

“Well lemme tell you- it’s disappointing how quick it actually is- considering that it’s an intimate sexual organ with so many complex elements and-”

She smacked the back of Wade’s head, “Didn’t I just say I’d rather not know?” she sighed. “And I’m sure if it were possible for every man to regrow his penis it would depend on how his genes intended it to be in the first place,”

“Are we seriously going to start having a conversation about regenerating dicks?” Nathan asked.

“Colour me intrigued,” Wade rested his chin in his hands and leaned forward eagerly.

“For instance, I’m pretty sure Cable’s dick would take longer to grow back because he’s larger,” she said, at this point Nathan choked on his drink and beer splattered onto the bar counter, Wade’s jaw dropped.

“What? I’m only saying this because I’m sure that all the guys here, Weasel included, have a bigger dick than you Wade.” Wade gasped at that. “And I’m pretty sure that Weasel has his goods damaged for life so you have to be pretty small-”

“You’re so saying this because you know I’m sensitive about Wade Junior,”

“At least you’re not lying to the ladies about your size with ‘Junior’ in the title,” she piled on, using his own words against him.

“Wow, see now this is the kind of bullshit I have to deal with Cable,” Wade feigns offense.

“‘But you love me anyway’,” she smiled and gave Wade a side hug before giving him a quick kiss on his head.

The rest of the night was spent in Sister Margaret’s with Wade making everyone suffer for a good hour as he used the karaoke machine, eventually he had had his fill of alcohol between songs that he was beginning to slur words and couldn’t even get himself to stand up properly.

Nathan had been hitting a few too many beers himself, Hayden was too busy keeping an eye on Wade to notice that a girl with blonde and pink dyed hair had walked up to Nathan, and she started conversation with him.

After managing to settle Wade onto a chair and telling him to stay put Hayden turned to see the woman in her short skirt and cropped top as she started to brush his arm then his shoulder as she spoke with him. The woman eyed him with her green orbs and fluttering fake eyelashes.

Hayden felt her blood boil but didn’t wish to get involved and create a scene, she sighed and bought a bottle of vodka in hopes that it would calm her agitation, it did the exact opposite as she downed the burning liquid within minutes.

She walked up to the pair, placing her hand on the counter to push her way between them and spoke to Nathan.

“You know she’s a hooker right?”

“What, a young woman can’t be interested in me because I might be older?” he said angrily.

“No because all the women in here are hookers, aside from me, that’s how Wade met Vanessa.”

“She’s just jealous sweetie,” the hooker moved around and wrapped her arms around Nathan’s neck and whispered something in his ear.

“Really now?” he asked with a smile.

“All you fucking men are the same, you think with your damn dicks,” Hayden threw her hands in the air angrily and walked away.

She helped Wade up under her arm, he whined about having to move despite him having to do very little at all, and they left the bar, leaving Nathan alone with the hooker.

________________________________________________________________

>> Chapter 18 <<

#cable #nathan summers #original character #hayden jones #fire fist #russell collins #piotr rasputin #colossus #marvel #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #writing #hope summers #deadpool #deadpool 2 #wade wilson

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