#of course I can’t talk like I’m much better trying to squeeze lore out of literally any scrap of info

[quibbs126]

You ever think people go too far when analyzing aspects of a story

Like, I’m not sure how much dolphin sonograms relate to the aspects of Buddy Bolden’s life and music. He’s (sorry, my World Literature teacher) been talking about a squawk (at least I think that’s what he said, sometimes his accent is hard to understand) representing some sort of singularity that Bolden’s music is

Like my dude, you think you might be reaching a bit?

[ponds-of-ink]

And now, for something completely different: A (Mostly?) Original Haunted House One-Shot

TL;DR: Listened to a couple of hours of extra Haunted Mansion lore and now I’m here wanting to try my own spin. Enjoy the much shorter-than-expected piece?

–

Hey, you.

Yeah, you. The kids straggling through my neck of the woods.

You want a good place to get a scare?

Try the old Heartland house up on that hill over there. That place’ll send chills which could rattle your spine like a xylophone.

..I’d ask if you don’t believe me, but I can’t see your faces that well. Pretty dark here, even with your fancy flashlights.

Welp, may as well tell you my own story anyway. You kids look like you’re about to join those ghosts up there the moment you fall asleep. Sit down. Rest a while. Ol’ Jebediah will make sure you stay awake.

It was back in the days when cars were sharp and music swelled with passion. Maybe a bit too much passion, at times, but nobody really cared.

One night near Halloween, I was walking down this very same path. With the very same thoughts you were thinking, as a matter of fact. “Boy, I wish I could get a good ghost story to tell my friends during Trick or Treating,” I said to myself. “Then maybe I’ll be the talk of the neighborhood. Maybe I’ll even be called the bravest boy in all of Westerfield!”

’Course, my bones were shaking from the idea of ever setting foot in that house. I could take a strange fella in an old hat and cloak whisking me away or some pumpkin-head jumping out in front of me. But ghosts in a mansion that was just a few miles out from my own home? Phew. Poor lil’ Jeb couldn’t handle the thought.

But I tried to keep going. I pressed on through the brush, praying that some other monster tried to snatch me before the ghosts did. Even Mr. Hyde was a better option than the fiends occupying my mind.

After a few more minutes of fumbling around, I wandered into something. Something I’m not entirely sure is still there, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it still stands to this day.

A pair of two stone pillars with the name of “Harlan” scrawled in iron between them.

Since the name didn’t really ring any bells, I squeezed past the half-open gates and just waltzed on in. Overgrown rose bushes gave a bit of color, but it was all dark and foggy in that place. No storms, though, if you were thinking it was one of those nights.

Things got stranger as soon as I entered the place where the fountain stood. The water in that thing was a bright blue-green. Like a working neon sign with no lightbulb in sight. I was going to ponder about how this could be, but something else caught my eye: A statue of a rabbit, curly-haired and floppy-eared, sitting beside a plaque. I thought it was a little pet memorial at first, but then I read the sign– Though some of the words were scratched out.

“For Will ––

19–– to 1983

You made us laugh ‘til grief took hold...

...May this bunny set you free”

I knew that this little poem must’ve had more to it, but that last line made me uneasy all the same. I sat down on the fountain’s edge to think it over. “There’s no way that this little fella’s got some clown’s ghost inside,” I told myself. “How would it even make people laugh if it’s just standing still?”

Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw Ol’ Will’s statue move.

It was slow at first. A little wiggle to the left here. A little shift to the right there.

But as soon as I sprang up from my spot? Boy, was he hopping like a real rabbit. He got closer and closer while I ran faster and faster. Heh, I would’ve crashed into the house’s side windows if they didn’t look like big, black voids!

...Right. You’re here for the scares. Gotta get that drilled into my noggin.

Well, Will wasn’t the only scare I had that night. In fact, as soon as I stumbled into that house, I was greeted with my second spook of the evening: A music box being wound by a pale woman dressed in white. We stared at each other for a good minute or two. I tried to sputter out something, but the dame just stared like a deer. Can’t really blame her, since I barged in on her music recital of sorts.

“S-Sorry, Miss Polly,” I finally squeaked out, remembering a local tall tale about her. “I, uh, don’t mean to interrupt your song and dance, but I just got away from a really creepy rabbit. Do you know a way out that doesn’t involve messing with that thing?”

Polly tilted her head and kept it there. I shook at the change, but tried to stay brave. “You don’t know any other way out?” I asked her.

She just leaned her head to one side even more. It was cocked to the side so much that I could even see the stitching ‘round her neck.

I looked away from the awful sight, but I noticed an open doorway. “Thanks,” I said as I backed away into the next room. “You have a nice night.”

Polly just kept on playing her music, which was good enough for me. She sure was pretty (and her story sure was sad), but boy she was unsettling.

The foyer of the house was decayed and all sorts of grimy. It’s a miracle I didn’t fall through the floorboards while I struggled to open the door– And I mean struggled. I had to wander around that house for an hour just to find the key after that. The dining room had floating silverware that looked like it was going to poke you if you made one wrong move. The kitchen wasn’t much better, with all the food that glowed much like the fountain out back. I even tried to take a bite just to see what it tasted like, but it turned into mist right before my eyes. And the attic...

...Hang on now. I just thought of something. The rest of my story won’t make sense to you not-Westerfield folks. Pretty Polly and the rest of the Harlans are local legends. Legends that you gotta dive into almost two centuries of stories for. And, truth be told, y’all don’t seem like you’re in for that kinda story. Especially since I’m supposed to be telling it like I understood it back then.

So I’ll make sure an hour of my time isn’t an hour of your time. All you need to know is that Lil’ Jeb found the key up there and booked it back to the foyer. Sure, there was the entire Harlan family tree following close behind, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t quite get the reason back then either. All I could catch was something about “never leaving their manor alive” above all the other angry goings-on. To be honest, I was just happy to be back outside and free to run back home.

...Oh, and Ol’ Will? Well, he wasn’t related to the Harlans at all. Turns out he was a favorite guest of the last real owners of the house. Guess the Harlans decided to turn that last phrase into a challenge. Thinking back now, I guess the little fella was actually the tamest out of all of ‘em. Maybe I should go back up there and apologize sometime..

But not tonight. It’s too foggy, even for me. Y’all can take this old rambler’s word for it, or y’all can go find something a bit more thrilling. Either way, I’ll be here warming up by the fire.

Happy travels..

[thehallstara]

fran beans + krod 11

11. calling them nicknames

(i feel like i need to do a little tl;dr on some lore here lol so: the wings (brock watson and burke specifically) stole the dead sun to feed to the malevolent one the wings have under their stadium, and it killed krod for a little bit bc he was partially made out of it. that's what they're referencing here. ask me about sun heist if you want to know more ahaha)

It has to be well after midnight when a knock on the workshop door draws him out of the machinery he’s working on. Turning, he sees Fran peeking out from behind the door, a small smile on her face.

“What are you working on?”

“Oh, new arm.” He looks back at table, where it’s half built. “The tarot reading helped a little, but it’s still not how I want it.”

She shakes her head. “Just can’t stop trying until you get it right, can you? Feels like old times.”

He gives what he tries to make a shrug. “You know me. Do you need something? Not that it isn’t lovely to see you, but it is late.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see your face, Kenny, you ever thought about that?” She holds strong for a second, before breaking into a grin. “Nah, though. My arm’s acting up, I was hoping you could take a look?”

“Of course.” He rolls out the little desk he keeps under the workshop table just for times like this.

(It’s the same one José used to use to fix up Ken’s arm whenever it was acting up, and they both know that, but Fran doesn’t say anything, and he loves her for it.)

It takes a solid three minutes of him tinkering with the wires in silence before she pipes up.

“You didn’t come home over siesta.”

“I’m assuming Brock told you why.”

“Brock? Kenny, I’m on the legal team, do you really think I didn’t know about the heist myself? Of course I know why.”

He puts down the screwdriver, trying not to let his annoyance show in his voice. “Justice found me on the floor, Fran. I was dead for a full hour and a half. Did you really expect me to come visit after that?”

“Okay, but for a full decade? You’ve never held a grudge that long in the whole time I’ve known you.”

“I was hurt, Fran. And really angry, and Burke was the closest thing I had to someone to blame. We’re only talking again because–“

And he stops himself, but they both know what he was going to say. Because your spouse is dead. Because my captain is too. Because Steph is in a shell and neither of us can change that.

They just look at each other for a second before Ken picks up the screwdriver again and gets back to work.

“José was better at this than me.”

“You’ve been doing it longer.”

Both of those statements are true; José had the steadiest hand out of all of them, and Ken fixed up her arm for the first time some 60-odd years ago, after a shift at factory they were working at back then.

“It’s weird, you know. It’s like I can feel him in here, kinda. Maybe it’s just the window.” She nods at the stained glass portrait inset above his window.

“José?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “You think I’ll ever feel that way with Case?”

“Maybe. You gotta know when to let go, though. It’ll eat you up, otherwise.”

She quirks a brow. “That happened to you?”

“Took me dying not to. Try now?”

She reaches for the wrench on the table, squeezing it with ease she hasn’t felt in months.

“Much better, thank you.” As he walks her to the door, she turns to him. “I love you so much, Kenny. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do, Beans. Just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean that you’re not my best friend.”

“Good.”

And if he could smile, a big proper type of smile, he would.

[paintalyx]

Top 5/10 genshin impact characters and ships, please and thank you ;3c ~🐞

dude are you trying to cancel me?? i regret telling you that i was doing this. you suck. i hope you're happy. this is why our marriage is falling apart. anyways—

top 5 characters, playstyle be damned:

bennett (love at first sight. i saw this boy before my sister downloaded the game and i instantly pulled out adoption papers. he can support, he can attacc, but, most importantly, he got your bacc. i would be willing to throw hands over him. he's precious. i screamed when i saw that he was among people taking venti's poem class! bennefischl canon??)

diluc (i love batman and i love batfam and i want that dynamic in my party. he's edgy, he's needlessly extra and cool. i can feel in every cell of my body that he's a sweet and caring guy, but in this very awkward, roundabout way. my friends all know i that show love for my faves by constantly bullying them and diluc is a prime example of that. i also really want him and kaeya to talk things out at some point)

venti (a broke, homeless, gremlin drunkard of a god with a knack for mischief and a love for storytelling? yes please!! i can't help but smile whenever he pops up in the story!! i wish the fandom stopped kinda infantilizing him since he's literally the second oldest character in the game and there's so much more to him than just his venti persona. i could probably write a character dissection or something if i got bored enough)

chongyun (i just think he's neat. look at his blue eyelashes! listen to his voice lines! i just want to squeeze his cheeks and ruffle his hair! he's a party staple purely for the aesthetics and emotional support. my sister calls him "the minecraft child" since he's the only claymore user in her team)

noelle (my beautiful daughter!! criminally underrated!! she's my favourite healer!! i would also throw hands over her. it just sucks that she doesn't have more presence in the story. every time i make her do the spinny thing with her claymore, i can't help but sing beyblade intros)

top 5 ships because my friend hates me:

diluven (i saw fanart of them once and i was sold immidiately! you know what's better than two of my favourite characters? two of my favourite characters but *together*! and their interactions in prologue were super cute and it has a lot of potential! they have a height difference, reincarnation!au angst potential, and i happen to be weak to the dynamic of a tiny gremlin who pesters a tall stoic dude who's secretly fond. they've both suffered loss and both deserve someone to confide in and someone who would care for them, agh i can go about this all day! sucks that so many fans seem to stick to nsfw tho)

dainslumi (preferably when aether is the traveler and lumi is the abyss princess because i love drama. think of the yearning, the betrayal, the angst— think of how good they look standing next to each other and how lumine would probably kiss dains only if she puches him in the sternum first. bonus points since my man dains gives off big simp vibes and we gotta stick together. i hope that we'll learn more about them in the future and that the ship will gain some traction)

kaebedo (i didn't ship this at all at first, but then i read a couple of fanfics that hit all the good spots and now i am unable to deny that they are among my faves. both have mysterious origin tied to khaenri'ah and i'm a fan of khaenria'an royalty!kaeya and homunculus!albedo theories. they would be such a good influence on each other, just think about it for a moment— albedo gets more in touch with humanity, and kaeya finally gets someone to rely on. bonus points if klee wingmans, whether intentionally or not)

zhongven (what's better than months of slowburn buildup? hundreds of years of slowburn buildup, of course! they are the oldest archons, so i like to think that they know and understand each other well regardless of romantic involvement. i especially enjoy lore-heavy fanfics and headcanons about them. there's an abundance of things to explore and ways to interpret them. bonus points if xiao involuntarily gets adopted)

bennefischl (it's one of the first ships i got into before plummeting into the abyss that is multishipping, but i still hold it dear. i like to think that bennett is aware of fischl's uh... vivid imagination and he simply chooses to indulge her. i just love the idea of this goth child who info dumps obscure, sometimes worrisome trivia and a hyperactive puppy who's so lovesick that he just listens without understanding half of it, they're so precious!)

[bytheangell]

If you are still taking prompts, what would you think about writing something(s) based off of this, either/both, the Professor/TA, or the Writer/Editor?

Dedication (modern AU, Herongraystairs, check the link in the ask for full writer/editor prompt, a wonderful plot idea by @high-warlock-of-brooklyn!) (Read on AO3)

This is the first book Will and Tessa are collaborating on. They’ve written plenty of books individually and Jem’s worked with each of them in turn. But this is the first time they’ve co-authored, an experience that’s proving unique and challenging for all of them.

Being with Will and Tessa while they work on a new project is always a blessing and a curse. They’re two of the best writers of their generation and when they work on their own they’re brilliant, but when they work together - well, they’re also brilliant, but that brilliance is coupled with the occasional near-catastrophic clash of opinions and emotions.

Which is where Jem comes in.

Where Will and Tessa are so driven by passion and feelings, Jem finds it much easier to distance himself from their project (and from the writers themselves) enough to see the bigger picture and find solutions before the issues build up. Like many things about the three of them, it’s a perfect balance - they just work, better than anyone (including Will, Tessa, and Jem) ever imagined possible when they first got together.

It’d been a messy start, with Will and Jem already together but both developing serious feelings for Tessa after they met during a book event. The three of them quickly became very close. There were whispers of which of them would end up leaving, then confusion when the answer was none: instead of two of them growing closer and shutting the third out, they all seemed to adjust and adapt naturally around the three of them coexisting. They aren’t perfect, but they are perfect for each other, at least as far as Jem’s concerned.

Jem knows that what they have is special, which he reminds himself of over and over as Will and Tessa sit on opposite sides of the sofa, voices quickly elevating to nearly shouting over an issue with one of the characters Will is in charge of writing: one he’s chosen to give a pretty damning curse from a trickster faerie in this land of magic their current collaboration is set in.

“Tell him he needs to make the changes, Jem,” Tessa insists, the third time she’s repeated the demand now.

“Tell her that this plot adds depth, and without it, he’s boring,” Will counters. “Sometimes people - characters - need to be brutally honest about their own faults and issues. Sometimes people are disappointing.”

That’s how Jem can tell things are spiraling: when Will and Tessa - who have effectively communicated and collaborated on half a dozen bestsellers and who love each other more than Jem’s ever seen two people experience love - refuse to speak directly to one another. The moment they start talking around each other and at Jem instead is when he knows he has to step in and diffuse.

Usually, it’s a matter of taking a break, getting some fresh air, and coming back with clear minds. Jem normally isn’t one to pick sides, but this is different. He isn’t worried about the direction of the book… but after reading the latest draft from Will, which Will wrote while refusing to speak to either of them for a full week, he’s worried about Will. And he knows Tessa is, too.

“Perhaps a good starting point would be admitting this isn’t really about the character at all,” Jem says softly, gazing closely between Will and Tessa. Will looks a bit guilty and Tessa looks away entirely, which tells Jem that he’s right in guessing their concerns are also less plot-based.

“...what else would it be about?” Will asks defensively. But they can all sense how he’s been pushing them away lately, much like the cursed character undeserving of love he’s written in. It’s obvious that Tessa isn’t sure how to bring it up or else she would’ve already. Or maybe she already had and it hadn’t gone well.

“Tessa, would you mind making some tea?” Jem asks, waiting until she’s out of the room to turn back to Will.

“Will… you know this is about you. You barely talk to anyone for a week then come back with this character in such a self-deprecating mindset…”

“That’s ridiculous. He’s just a character,” Will says, but Jem can tell he’s entirely unconvinced of his own words.

“So if Tess came back having written Evangeline that way?” Jem counters, and there’s that look of subtle guilt, right back on Will’s face as he frowns and pieces together why Tessa’s so upset with him.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” Will sighs.

“We’re not mad at you,” Jem’s quick to point out. “We’re just worried. It’s been a while since you tried to push us away like this, I just want to make sure you’re okay. We both do. Take it out in the writing if you want, but talk with us, too. Alright, my love?”

Jem’s tense as he waits. This has one of two options: Will relents and listens to him and they all have tea and talk this out, or Will storms out and they don’t see him again for another day or two.

Will stays. “I’m just letting the pressure get to me,” he admits. “I’m sure that’s all it is... But yeah. Okay. Tea.”

Tea, meaning ‘I’ll stay. I’ll talk. I’ll try.’ Jem leans over and places a barely-there kiss on Will’s lips before he relaxes back in his seat. Reaching out a hand that Will readily takes, Jem gives it a tight squeeze as they both wait for Tessa to return.

They talk.

In the end, the character arc stays. With a few redeeming modifications at Tessa and Jem’s entirely unbiased suggestion, of course.

---

A little over halfway through the first draft things seem to stall out. They have a progress deadline that week with the publisher and they’re cutting it close - mostly because Tessa keeps tossing everything she writes without giving Jem the chance to look it over. Recently she’s let her curiosity get the best of her, delving into research she should be allowing Jem to help with.

...and when he says ‘delving’, what he really means is stubbornly obsessing over, nitpicking bits of lore to streamline, and doing hours and hours of research for single-line references.

“When was the last time she slept? Like, an actual night of sleep?” Jem asks Will one day after a quick touch-base meeting that went… not terribly, but not particularly great, either.

“You need to get her out of here. No books. No wifi. I tried to kick her out but… well, you can imagine how well that went,” Will admits, and Jem winces in sympathy.

“The Time Out Cottage?” Jem asks, referring to a small cottage they own for unplugged getaways, where the wifi signal is nonexistent and a landline exists for emergency calls. “That means we’ll both be out of easy reach, and with that Friday deadline-”

“I can handle it,” Will cuts him off. “She’s been getting in her own way for days now, but she refuses to listen to me.”

A few minutes later Jem tentatively knocks on the door to the small study that does, in fact, look more like a makeshift research library. He nearly doesn’t see Tessa behind the small mountain of books on the floor, but he hears her pen tapping rapidly against the hardwood. No, not just rapidly - anxiously. He knows that action all too well.

“Tessa, what number is that?” he asks, the question needing no further explanation past his accusatory tone and pointed look at a coffee mug, which is next to a second coffee mug, which is next to a cup of black tea.

“Four? No, wait… what time is it?” she glances around and seems surprised by the height of the sun in the sky. “It’s afternoon already?”

Jem sighs. “It’s nearly four o’clock, Tessa, and your blood is probably about 90% caffeine. Come on, get your things, we’re taking a trip.”

Tessa looks immediately horrified. “No! I can’t, we can’t! The deadline, and I still have to streamline the fae lore between the two-”

“Will has it handled for 24 hours. That’s all we’re asking. 24 hours without research.” “Jem, you know-”

“-that you’ll be twice as productive once we’re back and you’re refreshed instead of running on fumes and fever dreams?” Jem cuts her off, his tone kind but insistent. He bends over and picks up a piece of paper. “Tessa, my love, this is nearly incoherent.”

Tessa reaches up to take the page from him and frowns. “I… okay, I can make out some of this, but I’m pretty sure that bit talks about aliens which isn’t any more reassuring. Will did say I was writing myself in circles, but I thought he was just, well, being Will, so... Yeah. Okay. Maybe I need to step back for a bit.” Tessa sighs. “The Time Out Cottage?”

“I already packed you a bag,” Jem confirms with a soft smile, leaning down to kiss the middle of her forehead before reaching out a hand to help her up off the floor.

When they return exactly 24 hours later, Tessa gets back to work and the lore practically falls into place between the two of them.

They meet the Friday deadline without a problem.

---

Jem spends his free time playing violin while Will and Tessa go through the first draft and begin to brainstorm fixes for plotholes, new minor characters to add to scenes that feel a bit lacking, and other small improvements to really round out the story and the world they’re weaving. They both claim to think clearer with his music in the background so he stays, even if he doesn’t feel particularly useful for this stage of the process until they have a single, coherent draft to hand over to him.

These are the moments Jem’s own insecurities and flaws float to the surface. The moments he watches Will and Tessa, so alike, so perfect for each other, connect on a level he isn’t privy to. He knows it’s a silly thought, that he and Will have their own things, as do he and Tessa. But sometimes he wonders if they truly need him around, or if he’s simply just become too much a part of the routine to actively get rid of.

He watches them sit next to each other with shoulders touching, hunched over a small screen, whispering back and forth. There’s a small smile on his face, one that’s wistful and tinged with hints of longing that, much to his dismay, they pick up on.

“I know that look,” Tessa says, catching Jem’s gaze and drawing Will’s attention before Jem can wipe the expression from his face. “Get over here. I think we’ve done enough work for today.”

Will is the first to move over, making room for Jem in the middle of them. After placing his violin back in its case Jem heads over to join them on the sofa, embracing the way Will and Tessa immediately crowd into his space once he’s settled, both placing a comforting kiss to his temples simultaneously before resting their heads on each of his shoulders and a placing a hand in each of his own.

They talk a bit, not about the book, but about anything and everything else, and fall asleep there, still entwined together.

---

It’s rare for any part of one of their books to be a surprise to Jem upon publication. He sees all the drafts, talks them through the acknowledgments and dedications, double-checks the reference pages against the chaotic piles of books and notes around their home.

So he’s immediately (and rightfully) suspicious the moment they hand him the first advanced copy and tell him to open it, watching his every move with eager expressions. Excited, but anxious.

‘A dedication to the one most dedicated to us:

This book would not be what it is without the kind heart, encouraging words, and infinite patience of James Carstairs. Neither would we. Jem, you are a light in our darkest hours, and we don’t know where we’d be without you.

We hope we’ll never have to find out.

Jem, our love, will you marry us?’

Jem reads, then re-reads the dedication. He closes the book, then opens it again, reading it a third time for good measure.

“Well?” Will asks impatiently, earning himself a nudge in the ribs from Tessa. Will huffs.

“I see you’re as dramatic as always,” Jem says quietly, instead of answering the question posed in the book. He knows his answer. He’s known for a while now what his answer would be, should the topic ever present itself, but he gets a bit of joy from making Will wait in anticipation just a short while longer.

“He wanted to be even more dramatic and show you at the event tomorrow,” Tessa admits. “But we decided against it. We thought you deserved the chance to say no without two hundred sets of eyes on you.”

Jem raises an eyebrow. “You think I’ll say no?”

“You haven’t said ‘yes’ yet,” Will points out, but he doesn’t sound nervous about it. Nor should he be.

“Yes,” Jem says, smiling brightly. “Of course it’s yes.”

[thebest-medicine]

Distracted

Lore Olympus, Persephone / Hades, tickle fic/fluff, takes place during/directly after ep 112

A/N: I have fast pass and so I waited a million years to post this because I read ep 112 and HAD TO FCKING WRITE THIS OK impossible not to god I fucking love lore olympus AND I LOVE HOW MUCH HADES DRINKS RESPECTING WOMEN JUICE 🧃 GOD(S) DAMN. Also maybe it’s the fact that I color coded the dialogue so I had to edit this more thoroughly but this is one of my favorite things I’ve written in a long time and I just really fucking love this web comic and this pairing and this feels like it’d be on vibe and that makes me really happy ok? ok.

Summary: coda to ep 112, Persephone and Hades chat about what has happened in the past day or two and Hades comes up with a cute (i.e. ticklish) way to help distract Persephone when she is tired of feeling glum and worrying

Words: 2,495

(so... spoilers for 112, also 110 spoilers mentioned)

...

An hour ago, Hades wouldn’t have believed who was about to summon him. Had he known Persephone would have wanted his company, perhaps he’d have worn something other than sweatpants. But now, laying next to her in her own bed, he was happy to have comfortable clothes. At least something was comfortable. They needed to talk about what happened between them. He didn’t want to pressure her, she said she wasn’t feeling good, maybe it was because of him..?

“Can we.. talk about the kiss?”

“Y-Yeah...”

“Did you...not like it?”

“The kiss?”

“Yeah.”

He felt a tightness in his chest evaporate when he heard her words. “...I loved the kiss.”

Suddenly, he realized, everything was comfortable, how could it not be, around her. Hades nearly melted into the pillow. He told Persephone to tell him if she wanted him to leave, and of course he would respect her wishes, but he couldn’t think of anything more devastating than the thought of leaving where he was right now.

“Then.. why did you leave? What happened?”

“I guess I... really enjoyed the kiss and I... got.. excited...” She answered bashfully.

Relief - and he had to admit a bit of flattery too - washed over him. “Oooooh..”

“And then I.. felt scared of those feelings I was having. My body reacted in a way I didn’t expect.” She paused, turning to face him. “I’m sorry for leaving you...”

I wish you’d never leave me again. He caught himself thinking. Jesus, Hades, she’s her own person, relax. He chuckled to himself. God, she’s just so... sweet, and cute, and adorable, and gorgeous, and nice...

“And I’m sorry for being weird.”

He thought he might evaporate into an array of butterflies too when she turned herself fully toward him, letting her arm fall over his chest. When was the last time he just...cuddled?

“You’re not that weird...” Hades smiled. A black moth took shape above them in the bed. “See?”

Persephone’s smile softened the room as she giggled, bringing her fingers up to the moth where two small pink butterflies fluttered into existence next to Hades’ moth.

“Thank you.” Persephone sighed against his chest.

Hades tilted his chin towards her. “What for?”

“For coming..”

“You summoned me, to be fair.” He snorted, then taking her hand. “But you know, I’d- I’d come whenever you ask.”

Persephone gazed up at him, and he could see the smile in her eyes. “I appreciate it.. a lot. And thanks for... for listening. For staying. For being here. With me.” She wiggled closer to him, pressing herself against his side.

Hades realized he was holding his breath after she moved even closer. How could this be so- so nerve-wracking? She likes you too, you idiot, why are you so nervous? He counted to ten in his head and tried to stuff down the butterflies in his own chest, regain his composure, confidence..

“You said before that you.. didn’t feel good and were having trouble sleeping. Do you... want to talk about what else is bothering you?” Hades offered.

Persephone shrunk in on herself a bit, holding him tighter. “Not- not really.”

Hades couldn’t stop his face from falling a bit. He pulled her close. “That’s alright. If you ever do... I’m here to listen, Kore.”

An idea popped into his head. “If you don’t want to talk about it.. Would you rather be... distracted? Comforted? Held? Or... Want me to just shut up?” He grinned at her. “What do you need?” He squeezed her hand tighter.

“Um..” Persephone thought aloud. “Hmm.. actually.. Distracted...sounds pretty good! I’m not exactly sleepy.” She stifled a yawn into her palm.

“I actually have something in mind that might help you with that.” Hades smirked at her.

Persephone’s eyes widened a little at him. “Um-” She hesitated.

“Oh not- not like-”Hades smacked his own forehead, a blue blush rising to his cheeks. “I’m not- that’s not what I meant! I swear I’m trying to bring my scoundrel level down!” He laughed. “What am I at now by the way?”

“Hmm, well I would have said maybe...15%, but- but that number depends on whatever you say next!” Persephone raised an eyebrow at him.

“15%? Nice, I’ve gone down!” Hades grinned joyfully. “My number might go up after this but..... only a little bit.” He paused sheepishly. “I hope!”

Persephone propped herself onto her elbows on his chest. “Well, now I’m curious, what’s your big idea?”

“I just want to ask you a question.” Hades started, shrugging innocently. “I think it’ll be pretty distracting.”

“... Okay.” Persephone agreed.

“Are you ticklish?” Hades couldn’t keep the smirk out of his voice.

Persephone stiffened up in his arms. “N-” She started to make a noise but stopped when he looked down at her.

She was blushing even more pink than usual, a goofy, nervous smile on her face. “I- I-” She couldn’t make eye contact with him

She had been in many a tickle fight with the flower nymphs she played with back home in the mortal realm. Was there any answer, though, that wouldn’t end with the same result? He’s gonna test it out...

She felt him slowly shifting himself into a better position to do just that, one of his hands was crawling slowly toward her side.

When words finally came to her, just as Hades was about to find out regardless of what she said, all she answered was, “Are you?”

She always fucking surprises me. Hades thought to himself as a blush grew on his cheeks. How does she do that? I was in control a second ago, wasn’t I? He chuckled. “Well, I’m.. not, I- I don’t think..” That definitely didn’t sound convincing.

“!! YOU DON’T THINK?” Persephone practically shouted, a bright smile on her face as she stared at him with giddy disbelief. “YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW?” She was almost embarrassed by how excited she knew she sounded.

Hades rolled his eyes. “I mean... who exactly do you think is going to be tickling the King of the Underworld?” Hades laughed at the thought.

“ME!” Persephone couldn’t help herself.

Hades could think of a few times as a child that he’d been tickled by Rhea or the other gods because of how serious he always was, and they figured somebody needed to put a smile on his face, right? Maybe a handful of teasing pokes from Hera or an accidental brush or two of fingers from Minthe that surprised him by how sensitive it was, but none of that was ANYTHING like what Persephone’s fingers were doing to his side.

She was leaning over him, five fingers digging into each side of him, her thumbs pressing between the muscles on the sides of his abdomen while her fingers squeezed around the back of his sides sporadically. She wiggled her fingers up toward his ribs and used her nails to dig in a bit between the bones.

Hades already had a hard time keeping any kind of guard up with her, so it was only a matter of seconds before she had him laughing. “Ohmygods- Kore st-stahahahop!”

“YOU ARE TICKLISH!!” She nearly had stars in her eyes. He was more adorable in that moment than any of his dogs (but she would never tell them that) even Pomelia.

Hades hadn’t laughed like that in.... he didn’t know if ever. Somehow in 2 weeks, she brought out things - feelings, situations... that he never in thousands of years even dreamed of finding himself in.

“Persephoneheheehhehehehe-” Hades giggled helplessly as he squirmed on her bed. His arms wrapped around her but he didn’t actively stop her. He didn’t want to push her away, and he ESPECIALLY didn’t want to hurt her. Hades would probably rip the head off of anyone else who made him feel so... vulnerable and silly, but with Kore it felt right. Even if she might be torturing him a little bit. This kind of torture was far better than the torture he felt trying to be away from her.

“I- I can’t believe...” Persephone squealed. “You’re...You’re...so cute!!!!!” She stopped tickling him with one hand to cover her face. Both of them had fire in their cheeks.

Hades took advantage of her slowing down her tickle attack and grabbed her tickling hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. “Okay, okay- Stahahop- I- nobody has ever- I’ve never been tickled like that-” Hades calmed himself through his residual giggles as he pulled the Goddess of Spring against his chest, wrapping his other arm around her.

“Hehehehehe.” Persephone snickered, twirling her free hand’s fingers against his neck and under his chin. He flinched away. “You’re ticklish.”

“You’re lucky.”

“You’re ticklish.”

“Anyone else who tried that would be dead.”

“And you’re ticklish.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re very ticklish.”

Hades rolled his eyes. “Okay fine... maybe.”

“Where else are you ticklish? Your feet? Your knees? I didn’t even get to try under your arms...” Persephone noted.

“I don’t like where this is going...” Or maybe I do? Hades laughed hesitantly. “Anyway... weren’t we- weren’t we supposed to be talking about where you are ticklish?”

Persephone, a sudden bolt of confidence shooting through her, declared. “I’m not. I never said I was.”

Hades, almost disappointed for a moment, narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t buy that shit for a second.”

Persephone’s confident smile faltered.

“So let’s just see about that!” Hades continued, suddenly using the hand that was already holding hers to try to also grab her other wrist. She squirmed enough that he could only keep her one arm pinned, so he just started anyway. His free hand, instead of holding her to his chest, started pinching just above her hip on her side. “Are you ticklish here?”

“Nohohohoho-” Persephone cackled.

“No? You sound kinda ticklish..”

“I’M NAHAHAHHA-NOT!” Persephone insisted, squirming wildly and trying to somehow smack his hand away.

That only encouraged Hades to keep trying more places. “Okay, then..let’s see where else you’re not ticklish.”

Persephone practically screamed.

“You do realize Artemis is here, right?” Hades teased. “How much trouble do you think you’d get in...” He latched onto the side of her rib cage and squeezed mercilessly, making Kore wriggle madly in the bed, rolling around and practically falling off trying to get away. “If you laughed, or you screamed, so loud you woke her up?”

Persephone turned her face into the pillow, rolling herself face down on the bed. Hades let go of her hand and rolled up onto his knees, hovering over her as he continued teasing her.

“Artemis would charge in here, arrows notched, ready to help poor, sweet Kore who screamed for help.”

Hades, caught up in the moment, climbed over her, straddling the back of her hips. He was so concerned with properly tickling her that he didn’t even have time to appreciate that he was sitting directly behind her butt. His two hands wiggled their fingers under the edges of her sides and began to tickle, first in the same spots, then slowly down toward her hips and up toward her ribs.

“And then she’d see this, the Goddess of Spring, giggling helplessly underneath a King, in her bed, in her room, in the middle of the night.” Hades laughed at the scene.

“I mean, what would she think of us?”

Persephone grabbed at his wrists uselessly as Hades tickled along her midsection. She definitely did not see the night going this way. “H-Hades ohmygohaahhaHAHAHAHAHA- plehehehease!” Persephone’s laughter got even more desperate when he started pinching her lower ribs.

Hades leaned down, practically next to her ear. “You’d better be quiet...” He warned as she cackled into the pillow.

“Though.. I don’t know, you’re already in a lot of trouble.” He winked, not that she could even see it, laughing her head off face down. Two fingers on each side latched onto the space just in front of her hip bones and started squeezing.

“100! HAHAHA- 100% SCOUNDREL!! HAAHHA PLEASE BASHSHAHA HADEHEHEHEES- st-stoppit!” Persephone wheezed, pounding her fists against the bed.

The way she giggled out his name.. he was the one in trouble.

“Calling me a scoundrel, while you might be right, given the situation, still doesn’t seem like the best way to get yourself out of it, now does it?” Hades teased.

As he kept going, tickling upward, he noticed Persephone wouldn’t move her arms from her upper sides/ribs so he decided to try her underarms out another time. There would definitely have to be more of this. A lot more.

“I wanna try one more spot, and then I’ll stop, alright?” Hades offered, slowing down his tickling a bit to just lightly scribbling his fingers over her back, shoulder blades, and sides.

“OMG! I ahahahaha - I was nice to you! I- I stopped!” Persephone tried.

“That’s ‘cause I stopped you.” Hades corrected her. He slowed down his tickling on her sides and ribs, shifting himself so he was facing her legs now. “And Kore, here’s the other thing..”

Persephone grabbed the pillow she was laughing into, wrapping her arms around it.

“I think you.. also could, very easily, stop me right now.” Hades grabbed ahold of her ankles and pulled them up close to his chest. “If you wanted to.”

Persephone was grateful the laughter and the pillow were there to hide her blush. Alright well, maybe he’s right, maybe this was a great distraction... and.... maybe she was having fun.

They both noted how she didn’t answer.

Hades kept a tight grip on her ankles with one hand while the other’s fingers spidered and wriggled all over her soles, between her toes, over the tops of her feet even. It didn’t last more than probably 45 seconds, but Hades was actually beginning to worry a little about waking Artemis up with all this giggling.

When he finally did stop, he noticed pink petals strewn around the room.

He slid off of her, swallowing down the nervous feeling that gripped him when he remembered he had just been literally straddling her. He inched back to his side of the bed.

He glanced away sheepishly, a palm to his neck. “Uh- s-sorry if I got a little carried away..”

Persephone pulled her face out of the pillow, a giggly, warm, almost teary-eyed smile upon it. “Don’t worry about it.” She assured him. “I- you- uh, I didn’t mind.” She giggled.

“Well good because, that was really cute.” The words somehow pushed through his brain and out of his mouth and he admitted, laying down once again and pulling her back toward his chest. “Next time, don’t lie to me though.”

“Lie?” Persephone gave him a weird look for a moment.

“You said you weren’t ticklish.” Hades laughed.

Persephone snorted and rolled her eyes. “So did you.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Touché.” Hades kissed her forehead.

Kore kissed his cheek, wrapping her arms around his chest and pulling herself even closer. “Thanks for distracting me.”

“Anytime.”

[trashcatsnark]

Questions For An Author

Tagged by the always lovely @shallow-gravy

Tagging: @enchantedbythebidders @tender-wounds @rosyibby

Name: Mariah

Top 5 Fandoms Written: Far Cry 5, Kissed By The Baddest Bidder, Cyberpunk 2077, Boyfriend To Death, uhhhh Mystic Messenger? That feels like a cheat.

Top 5 Fandoms You Want To Write For/More: Mystic Messenger, I really loved that otome, and wrote for it but never finished anyting for some reason. Fallout 4, I fell in love with Danse but struggled to fall in love with the lore (i hate the 50’s aesthetic shit ngl, but thats just me) so nothing ever took off. Supernatural, ironically most popular fic on AO3 is for Supernatural but I never sunk my teeth into writing for it like I thought I would. Boyfriend to Death, I actually have like lots of my one shots and some series ideas for BtD, but never really have found the time or energy to write them. Stardew Valley is a big one too, I adore Shane, but for some reason that fic has yet to catch it’s vibe.

Stories You Wish More People Knew About: Granted, Can You Feel The Sun? My cyberpunk 2077 fic is still very much in it’s infancy, so it’s understandable but I still sometimes am like wahhh i wish it was doing better. But, I know its just a time thing, i mean, it took about a year for This Is Love to do as well as it is rn.

Ship(s) Written The Most: Dahlia x Polyseed, Tsuneko x hinted with all bidders, Aidan x Johnny. Im an oc simp, what do you want from me.

Character(s) Written The Most: Dahlia at this point. As far as canon characters, maybe Pratt since he’s her shit head sidekick.

How Many OCs Do You Have: An amount. Dahlia for FC5, Tsuneko for KBTBB, Aidan or CP2077, Regan for SPN, Scout for FO4, Haejin for Mystic Messenger, Jude for SDV. Unnamed ocs for BtD and Monster Prom. And if you go far enough back i had like a billion shitty ocs for OHSHC, Fruits Basket, Naruto, YYH, One Piece, Digimon, Pokemon, etc etc.

How Many Series Do You Have: Publicly; I have 3. This Is Love (FC5), Black Market Wonderland (KBTBB), and Can You Feel The Sun? (CP2077). Though, unfinished, I did have Blossoming which was gonna be my Mystic Messenger fic and Mad To Live which was gonna be my supernatural fic. And I never named them but I was gonna do one for SDV and FO4, maybe someday, or not at all.

What Do You Do With Fics You’re No Longer Interested In?: I don’t really like to like abandon fics, but like it is a struggle especially when I lose interest in the fandom it’s for. Black Market Wonderland has been on a very long hiatus, but I definitely do wanna come back to it whenever my love for KBTBB is back and Im less frustrated with Voltage as well as some shit that went down in the fandom. I know drama and personal shit shoudn’t impact feelings on a game, but its hard for it not to for me.And what happened in voltage stuff was like, the most personal I’ve ever been involved in stuff so, its hard. But i still love the characters, so hopefully I’ll rekindle that flame. So, i guess I just wait and pray for my energy to return.

Coming Soon: The next update I do, that I have planned for next month is chapter 11 for This Is Love.

Line From A WIP: From Can You Feel The Sun? Chapter 2. (accidentally wrote can you feel the love, smashing fic titles together omg) Also, spoilers for Jackie's backstory in Cyberpunk 2077, so skip over if you don't want.

“I meant what I said before, Night City ain’t the kind of place to let you get by without family, but…” He trails off and chews his lip as he considers his next words. Then they seem to die in his throat.

“But…?” She prompts, trying to encourage him to finish his thought. Jackie then grabs a belt from his nightstand table, stretching worn leather over his fingers.

“Do you know what this is?”

It’s clear it has some significant value to him, but she has no way of knowing what, to her it’s just a belt. So, she merely shakes her head no, deciding not to be a smartass and allow him the chance to get the weight off his chest.

“This belt belonged to my dad, if you can call him that, Raul Welles. He, uh, use it to beat on us.. Go to school overed in welts, have to watch like a coward when he’d go after my ma.”

“You weren’t a coward,” V signs and gets up from her chair, sitting next to him, touching his shoulders, “you were a child.”

“Yeah…well, one day I ripped the belt right out of his hand and showed him what it felt like, turns out he couldn’t take his own medicine. Haven’t seen him since, but keep it on hand, just in case.”

V squeezes his shoulder, not sure what to say or do, how to comfort someone after that. The pains of a shitty dad is one she knows all too well, even when her own wasn’t trying to kill her, he was fixated on making her and her sister strong; training them. She knows all too well that you can’t take away the memories or the pain, but she hopes, being here can be enough. That the comfort of touch can act as a temporary salve for the heart, even if it’s all she can offer.

“Look, chica,” he takes a deep breath, “I don’t know your story, when and if you tell it is up to you. But, my point is. You need a family to get along in Night City, but family don’t end or start with blood. My old man will never be family to me. But, I got…people… who don’t share a drop of blood of with me and I’d take a bullet for ‘em”

“I think…I get what you mean, family you choose is what matters most.”

She agrees, but choosing her family is it’s own beast. Letting people in, breaking down walls, finding a family that chooses her as much as she chooses them. It’s all a terrifying prospect, being alone is easier, more convenient, less effort… Though it has a cost too, of course.

“So, make a choice.”

“What?”

“Work with me, V.”

Do You Accept Prompts?: I accept questions and ideas; I’m always open to talking about my oc’s and their bullsit. But as far as prompts go, if I'm in a mood which is rare and don’t really take requests. I just personally have always found that if I accept requests or prompts; writing because a duty/obligation and not a hobby which drains a lot of the fun for me.

How Do You Feel About Kudos?: They’re nice and I really appreciate them. Comments and bookmarks will make me the happiest!~ That being said I’m really bad about doing that myself so I get it.

Do You Read Fic As Well?: Not that much actually, I’m very particular with what I read regularly and even then, maybe once a week I go on a reading binge. I love fanfic, greatly, but I’m someone who’s like I need to write

[kyber-kisses]

Calling Out

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon like violence, cursing, angst

Summary: Dean waits impatiently for a call from Y/N when things take an unexpected turn and he suddenly fears the worse.

A/n: fun story, I posted this yesterday and it randomly disappeared so I had to rewrite the whole thing. I’m bitter. I had tears in my eyes because I had to write this whole thing again. Enjoy. (Throws it over shoulder)

“Dean, would you stop looking over at your phone for one damn minute? She said she would call later to update us. Calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down?! Y/N left without so much as a word! Forgive me if I’m a little bitter.” Dean growled, pacing across the floor of the war room.

“She went to help Charlie with a case in Colorado. She should be back tomorrow.”

Sam sighed, leaning forward in his seat, no liner paying attention to the article on his laptop. His brother had been acting off ever since you had left. He was a bundle of tightly wound nerves.

“She could have at least told me she was with Charlie. . .”

Eyebrows now knitted together, Sam sucked in a breath. “What is up with you lately? You never act this way. Charlie and Y/N are a perfect team.”

“I’m fine, Sam.”

That was a lie if Sam ever heard one. The way Dean was anxiously looking back at his screen was a dead give away.

“Wait? Are you jealous?”

That got Dean to stop. His step faltering as he looked over his shoulder at his brother. “What? No! I’m not jealous. Pff.” He shrugged, trying to mask his expression. “Me, Jealous? No.”

“Oh my god, you are!” Sam mused, shoving his laptop away from him and giving his brother his full attention. “You do know Charlie and Y/N are just friends, right?”

“Okay, we are ending this conversation now.” Dean warned, giving him another glare before letting his shoulders drop. “And it’s not that. . . At least I don’t think it is. It’s just, she dropped everything to go help, and I mean, I get it. . . But she never just works cases with me. Makes me think she doesn’t like me.”

“Okay. Wow. You are totally overthinking this. Y/N is constantly talking about how great you are. You're practically her favorite person-“

“Okay now that’s an exaggeration-“ Dean began, only to be cut off by the shrill ring of his phone. The older Winchester practically vaulting towards the device and the table at lightning speed and pressing it to his ear.

“Y/N! Thank god, I was be-“

“Dean? It’s- it’s Charlie.”

Deans face fell almost immediately, along with his stomach. Why was Charlie calling from your phone? Why weren’t you on the other end?

“Charlie? What’s going on?”

Her voice was shaky as he pressed the phone closer to his ear, leaning against the table. “Something- something happened. And I knew I should call you and Sam.” She breathed, the fear in her voice clear as day.

Dean swallowed down his own, jaw clenching like a shock absorb-er for his emotions. He had to keep it reined in. This was just another job. “It’s alright kiddo, just- just put Y/N on the phone.”

“I-I cant. Dean, it went wrong.”

At this point Sam was up and out of his seat, leaning in close to listen as Charlie spoke. His own expression now filled with worry.

“Charlie, what do you mean; you can’t?” His tone now rising as he took a step forward, suddenly itching to move and grab the keys to the impala.

“Y/N. We were hunting Djinn- and” the red heads voice fading as she choked on her words, only making Deans concern rise.

“Charlie, you better tell me what the hell is going on right now.” He warned, stalking across the room and grabbing his coat of the chair, along with his keys. Sam right on his heels.

“There were so many of them- and one of them-“ her words coming out fractured due to her own fear. “She’s en-route to the nearest hospital. I had to call an ambulance. Her wounds I couldn’t patch up-. Dean, it’s really bad.”

If Sam has been looking at his brothers face as they moved towards the garage, he would have seen his face quickly drain of all color. His iron like grip on his phone enough to crack the screen.

“Okay- okay. It’s alright kid. Sam and I are on our way. Just send us an address.” He breathed, trying to collect his thoughts. Keep his mentions in check.

“Okay. And, Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Please hurry.”

*. *. *. *. *. *.

As the impala tore down the asphalt of route 36, Sam swore he could smell the scent of burning rubber. Dean had kept the vehicle moving at least fifty over the speed limit the entire time. How they hadn’t been pulled over yet was beyond him.

“Dean, she’ll probably be fine-“Sam tried, eyeing the white knuckles grip his brother had on the steering wheel, his gaze locking on the horizon.

“But what if she isn’t, Sam? What’s if- what if they can’t save her? That’ll mean I never got to tell her-“ Deans voice was shaky as he flexed his fingers over the wheel. Ever since he hung up with Charlie it felt like gasoline had been thrown on the spark of fear slowly growing inside him.

God, if anything happened to you. . .

Even though he had cut the travel time in half, the minute the headlights flashed across the dimly lit parking lot, he felt like it had been days. His skin was itching to get to you. Check to see if you were okay. That you were alive.

That you were breathing.

He had to keep himself from launching himself out of the car and running full speed through the sliding glass doors. Instead he slid out of the impala, pocketed his keys, and briskly walked with Sam towards the front doors.

Up ahead he could see a certain redhead pacing the length of the entrance, chewing on her nails and paying no attention to the doors sliding open repeatedly each time she passed the motion detector.

“Charlie, where is she? Is Y/N okay?” The words falling off of Deans tongue a she walked up to her, making her slightly jump in surprise.

“Oh thank god. I didn’t know how to handle this alone.” She breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders sagging.

“What the hell happened? I thought you said this hunt was a milk run?” Sam questioned, giving her a worried glance as the trip moved through the doors, the brothers flanking the redhead on either side.

“That’s what we thought too. And then one Djinn became three and—“ she paused, sucking in another breath as they worked their way down the hallway. “Oh god. This is all my fault. I should have been watching her back more.”

As desperate as he was to get to you, Dean slowed down, putting a hand on the young woman’s shoulder, “woah, hey. This is not your fault. Y/N knew what she was signing up for. She’s been a hunter for most of her life. Mistakes happen.”

As the words left his mouth he still wasn’t sure if he was trying to calm himself or Charlie. He didn’t have words to properly describe the fear he was feeling. As a hunter, it’s a universal rule that you only play the hospital card if it’s really bad. . . And apparently it was.

Dean almost slammed into the young hunter when she abruptly stopped, pausing in front of what had to be your room. Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened the door, ushering the brothers inside.

It took all of three steps before Dean froze.

His swore he could feel his heart drop in his chest at the sight of your unconscious form. His eyes glazing over with hot, unshed tears. How could this have happened? How could things have possibly gone that wrong? You were one of the best hunters he had ever seen. This didn’t make sense.

It was Sams voice that broke the silence and muffled the sound of the heart monitor. “Oh my god-“

If Dean did have anything to say, it was now caught in his throat, his eyes locked into your still form as he slowly stepped across the dimly lit room towards your bed.

It looked like you had picked a fight with a block of cement. You had a busted lower lip along with a cut on your upper one, a nasty black eye, and a rather large welt covering almost the entirety of your right cheek. You had several stitches above your brow, sealing a massive cut. . . And those were just the wounds he could see.

“Oh Y/N.” He breathed, hand delicately wrapping around yours and squeezing. He had hoped it might bring you back into consciousness, but he knew better. That’s not how those things work.

“We killed them. The Djinn. But not before one of them got their hands on her, knocking her out.” Charlie tried to explain, standing idle at the foot of your bed.

Not daring to take his eyes off of you, Dean tried to pick his words carefully. “That doesn’t explain why she looks like this- Djinn knock you out with a touch.”

“She- she was protecting me. They had us tied up, and she-“ she choked on the words, unable to speak much more.

“Hey, hey it okay.” Sam nodded, patting her shoulder.

If Dean had the energy he would have probably faintly smiled at what she had said. Of course you were protecting her. Y/N Y/L/N. Ever the hero. You valued saving lives above everything else. That was one of the reasons why he got feelings for you in the first place. You found a cause and you served it.

“She hasn’t woken up since.”

At that Dean looked over his shoulder, eyebrows knitting together. “You killed them right? All of them?”

“Yeah. I made sure of it. That’s why it doesn’t make sense.” Charlie echoed, going back to chewing on her nails, eyes fixed on you.

Sam knew that the last thing Dean was going to do was leave your side. With you in such a state Dean would probably be glued to the chair next to your bed.

“I’ll tell you what, Charlie and I will grab our laptops and try to see if we can’t figure this out. There has to be something in the lore that can help-“

“Help what?!” Dean snapped, eyes suddenly blazing, “her busted face?! And god knows what else?!”

“Two fractured ribs and a broken leg-“ Charlie mumbled, eyes now firmly locked on the linoleum tiles beneath her feet.

At that, Dean let out another shaky breath, his hand rubbing against his jaw. He hated this. He hated that this was one of those times where he couldn’t just fix everything.

“Okay, I’ll try calling Cas. See if he can’t help us.”

“Alright. I’ll go grab my stuff from the car.” Sam sighed, casting you one more solemn look before retreating out the door with Charlie in tow.

Sinking down slowly into the chair besides you, Dean slipped his hand back into your own. He needed to feel that you were still alive. He needed something to help keep him tethered.

“Y/N if you don’t wake up I swear-“ he swallowed, finding the words catching in his throat again. “God, I don’t know what I would do. I need you to wake up. I need you to hear me.”

Taglist still open!

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[laurawritesandgames]

For Beetlelands Week 2020

Title: Write Like the Wind

Fandom: Beetlejuice (Musical)

Rating: T

Ships: Beetlejuice/Adam/Barbara

Prompt: One Bed

Summary: Adam wants to do something for nerd-kind now that he has ghostly powers. Beetlejuice and Barbara help out. Spoilers for The Winds of Winter.

When Beetlejuice returned from the Netherworld, he came back powerful. Barbara wasn’t exactly sure how—the story changed with each telling. 

But he returned with enough power to teleport her and Adam pretty much anywhere he could visualize. Thanks to Google Street View, he could visualize quite a few things.

Being able to teleport was very helpful when Adam had a specific request.

The ghosts and demon appeared inside a very fancy home, with sunlight streaming in the windows. Beetlejuice was hovering between Barbara and Adam, holding their hands. Barbara suspected this wasn’t strictly part of his teleportation ability, but it was a nice excuse to hold hands.

The demon shimmered in and out briefly, wincing.

“Everything okay?” Barbara asked.

“Teleporting all the way to New Mexico is a lot. We’re definitely gonna need to stop by a bolt-hole on the way back.” According to Beetlejuice, undead travellers could recharge in places with a lot of “death energy”—graveyards, usually, or famous battlefields.

The clicking of a keyboard drew the three of them to an office where a large, grey-haired man sat in front of his computer.

Adam sucked in a breath. “There he is,” he whispered.

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes. “Sexy, you’re dead. He can’t hear you.” Sure enough, the writer hadn’t turned around at the sound of Beetlejuice’s voice.

“Oh.” Adam looked a bit disappointed. “I guess I just assumed that he’d be attuned to the supernatural. He’s a master of the sci-fi/fantasy genre! Anyway, let’s go see what he’s working on.” He crossed his fingers as the three of them huddled around the author’s computer screen.

Barbara felt a bit awkward reading over someone’s shoulder, and looked politely aside. She’d never gotten into sci-fi and fantasy the way Adam had; he’d know better than she would what they were looking at.

Her husband’s face fell. “Wild Cards?!” he spluttered. “Wild freaking Cards! I know he only edits the anthologies, but they’re a distraction!” He ran his hands through his hair. “Just write the books, George!”

“I can take over his computer and threaten to start deleting files until the books are done!” Beetlejuice crowed. “Make it seem like he’s got a computer virus!”

Adam’s gaze flicked between Beetlejuice and the author’s computer a few times.

Barbara cleared her throat.

“No, of course not,” Adam said quickly. “Thanks for saving me from myself, sweetie.” He kissed her cheek. He focused on the author, holding out his hand. “Sorry about this.”

The author stopped what he was doing. He saved then exited out of the document. Adam searched through the computer files for a moment then made the author open up a document titled The Winds of Winter.

The document opened after a few moments. ‘Want to pick up where you left off?’ Word asked helpfully, and the author clicked on it. There were a bunch of unfamiliar words and names on the page that showed up.

No sense in me reading this. Barbara decided to look around a famous author’s office. She’d expected him to have a bunch of memorabilia from the TV show, but the furnishings were really quite ordinary. Unsurprisingly, there were a lot of bookshelves filled with books.

There was silence from the author, whose fingers were poised over the keyboard.

“C’mon, Sexy, get writing.” Beetlejuice hovered in mid-air, bobbing slightly. He was also eyeing the author’s office, but he was probably wondering where to put spiders.

“Er, there’s no way I can give him partial control, can I? I can’t write the next book!”

“Not how it works, newb.”

Adam sighed. “Okay. Um, my thoughts definitely won’t be his, but maybe I can make a start. Barbara, you took that course in creative writing in college, right? Do you have any tips?” Adam was an amazing man with many good qualities, but pure creativity wasn’t one of them.

“I can try, but I wasn’t writing award-winning fantasy novels back in college.” Barbara dredged up some memories of the TV show. “Maybe you should make the White Walkers show up! You know, inject some tension.”

“It’s an Arianne Martel chapter.”

Barbara had no idea what that meant. “Um…have a dragon show up?”

“I appreciate the thought, but Arianne is going to treat with Young Griff, and the entire point is that he’s a supposed Targaryen that doesn’t have dragons.”

Beetlejuice spoke up. “Have some brothers and sisters bone. Shove a little smut in there.”

“Not only does that not work in this chapter, I’m also not comfortable with that.”

“Or skip to a Dany chapter,” Barbara suggested. “I just want good things for her. How’s she doing, anyway?”

“Not well.” Adam made the author pull up a Dany chapter. He watched the blinking cursor for a few moments, frowning in thought.

Beetlejuice added, “You could write a bunch of dialogue in what’s basically a white room and see where it takes you. That’s an A-plus writing strategy, right there.”

Adam sighed, rubbing his forehead. After a few more moments of intense concentration, he looked away from the computer screen.

The author shook his head, blinking a few times.

“Maybe just having the document open will prompt him to write?” Adam asked hopefully.

The author closed out of The Winds of Winter and went back to a document called Wild Cards_edits.

Adam’s shoulders slumped.

Beetlejuice hovered closer. “Just casually mentioning that we can take out the phone, snap some pics of these new chapters, and threaten to leak them if he doesn’t write the books.”

“Photos of chapters over his shoulder?” Barbara said. “That’s pretty terrifying.”

The demon chuckled darkly.

“Ah. And that was exactly the point.” Beetlejuice might have changed a lot since his return from the Netherworld, but his love of fear and chaos that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“No, Beetlejuice,” Adam said. “It wouldn’t work anyway. What kind of writing would you get if someone was bullied into it?”

“Bleh, you’re no fun. Where to next, Sexy? That Rothfuss guy?”

“Let’s just go home.”

“Have to make a quick stop first, but okay.” Beetlejuice grabbed their hands and teleported them away.

They landed in someplace pitch black. Beetlejuice lit a match of neon green fire, revealing a small underground crypt barely large enough for the three of them. Every surface was draped with dust and cobwebs. A half-open coffin showed patchy, stained velvet. If there was a door to this crypt, the match didn’t reveal it.

Beetlejuice tilted his head. “Ahhh, that’s better.” He frowned slightly, as if listening to something. Barbara couldn’t hear anything. “Yep, think it’s still sandworm free! Lemme just recharge for a while.”

“You’ve been here before?” she asked.

“Nah, but I saw drawings from some ghost hunters back in the Netherworld. Ghost hunters can go topside to bring ghosts back, and they need places to rest, too.”

“So, ghost hunters are ghosts who hunt other ghosts?”

“Yeah, and they’re the worst. The Bureau of the Dead won’t let anyone go topside unless they’re a boot-licker. But it was good to know a few of their tricks when I got banished up here.”

Barbara glanced at Adam, who normally would’ve loved Netherworld lore. It wasn’t every day that Beetlejuice opened up about a place that was, in his words, “total Meh-ville.” But Adam wasn’t even listening. The gloomy atmosphere of the crypt fit his gloomy expression perfectly.

“Hey,” Barbara said softly. When Adam turned her way, she squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way you wanted it to.”

“I guess art just has to happen at its own pace. You can’t force it. I just feel bad for all the other dead readers who’ll never get to read the end of the series. All they’ll have is the TV show’s ending.” He snorted in disgust.

“Maybe you planted a seed. Who knows? Inspiration is a funny thing.”

“And there’s always fanfic,” Beetlejuice added.

“It’s not the same,” Adam said with a sigh.

“Heh, speaking of fanfic….” Beetlejuice hopped into the coffin. “Oh noooo. There’s only one bed!”

Barbara and Adam stared at him. She had no idea what he was talking about.

Beetlejuice huffed. “Oh, come on. None of you ever read a romance fic? Hell, a romance novel?”

“No,” Adam said.

“Not really my thing,” Barbara added. She was a fan of biographies and autobiographies of famous people, personally. “And, also? Not a bed. It’s a coffin. And sleeping in a coffin is also not my thing.”

“Jesus, so picky.” Beetlejuice snapped his fingers, and the coffin became their bed at home. “Get over here.” He hesitated then said, “Please.” Barbara and Adam had had conversations with him about asking instead of demanding; happily, it looked like those conversations were sticking.

Beetlejuice had just done them a huge favour, and a little cuddling might cheer Adam up. Barbara went to join Beetlejuice, shooting a questioning glance at Adam. He followed them, though he was still brooding.

She and Beetlejuice let Adam slide between them as the three sorted themselves out. (Sometimes, Beetlejuice would throw in extra limbs or a few clones just for the added challenge.) After some scooching and wriggling, Barbara’s cheek rested on Adam’s shoulder as she stroked his chest gently and held his left hand. Beetlejuice had one arm over the two of them and was, for some reason, nibbling on Adam’s hair, which sometimes became kissing the top of his head. After a while, you got used to a certain amount of weirdness.

Gradually, Adam began to relax. First, the tension left his shoulders. Then, he cracked his neck and his jaw untightened. (He’d needed to wear a mouthguard when he slept when he was alive. He was always grinding his teeth.)

“Maybe…” he murmured. “Maybe I could write the ending to the books. It’ll be fanfic, but it’ll be something, at least. I can work on that project while the Deetzes are asleep. I’ve never written fic before, but I could try. It’s not like I need to eat or sleep. And I’ve been looking for a new project ever since I finished the model.” His model of the town had a place of pride in the attic, which the Maitlands had cleaned out and repurposed into an arts and crafts room. They still kept up with their hobbies, but they had fewer now that they were busy rehabilitating Beetlejuice and parenting Lydia.

“I’m sure it’ll be great, hon.” Barbara kissed his cheek. “I’ll help however I can.”

“And I can tell you all about what fic tropes you can put in!” Beetlejuice said. “Or what fic tropes we can do ourselves.” He must’ve been thinking about some sexual ones, for he chortled and squeezed Adam’s butt. “Gotta keep the rating PG-13 for Beetlelands Week, but…you know which ones.” He winked at no one in particular, it seemed. Sometimes, he pretended he had an audience; Barbara and Adam just ignored it.

Beetlejuice moved to nuzzling Adam’s throat. After a few moments, he began patting Barbara’s hair.

Barbara giggled. “Aren’t you supposed to be recharging?”

“It’s called multitasking, baby.” Idly, he commented, “Shit, fluff is hard to end. How do you even end something that by its nature has low stakes and minimal conflict?”

What was he talking about? Barbara shrugged.

Adam thoughtfully said, “Maybe with a kiss?”

“Hah!” Barbara couldn’t help but grin when Beetlejuice laughed like that. This wasn’t an evil cackle or a dark chuckle, but an open, cheerful sound that she’d been hearing more and more since they’d started dating. “Perfect! You’re so ready to be a fic writer, Sexy!”

Beetlejuice kissed Adam on the lips, and the cuddling in a false bed in an underground crypt continued.

Not for the first time, Barbara reflected, My afterlife is so weird.

But it did have its perks.

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Black Lives Matter, @travellingriverside donated $52, and requested Sam/Dean mommy!kink. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

One of Sam’s earliest memories is of Dean washing his hair. Most of his early memories circle around Dean, one way or another--reading together, wrestling for blankets in their shared bed, playing Space Invaders at the arcade with Sam standing on a crate to reach--but that one feels different. In his less self-forgiving moments, he thinks that’s where the trouble started.

In the memory he’s really small--four maybe, though he’s never had a good way of tracking that kind of thing. The houses and apartments and motels changed too much and every old flash of time feels like it’s from a different life. Wherever they were, the bathroom was yellow, and he had a chipped Superman action figure who was swimming in the bath with him, and Dean was kneeling right next to the tub and he was wearing a purple t-shirt that Sam had soaked wet to black. Dean was teasing like he usually did, but Sam doesn’t remember it being mean-spirited like sometimes it could get later. Dean massaged the shampoo into his hair and it smelled like chemical peach, and he said tip your head back, kiddo when it was time to rinse, and Sam did and laughed when the water splashed all over. When the bubbles were gone Dean had him stand up and wrapped him up in a towel, and it felt--safe. He was happy.

Things weren’t as happy, later. He learned things he’d desperately wanted to know, and regretted it when he did. It got worse, between him and Dad. Between him and Dean sometimes, too, and that was way more gutting. Sometimes Dean would be gone, and it’d just be Sam and Dad, and that was miserable--silent car rides, mechanical conversation. Dinner would be whatever takeout Dad could manage and at bedtime Sam would lay curled up all alone and wish desperately that Dean was there so that even if they kicked at each other and wrestled and Dean called him a dumb squirt, when it was time to actually sleep he could lay his head on Dean’s chest or curl up against his back, and it’d feel safe again, like it never did when Dean was gone.

Thirteen and Sam was all torn-up inside. Dean teased him for not flirting with girls but girls weren’t what Sam wanted. Sure, he liked the stuff he saw sometimes, when a skinmag got left out or when Dean thought he was sneaking a porno when Sam was asleep--tits and pussy, soft skin, pretty lips, pretty faces. There was one Playboy that he about rubbed himself raw over--he got it. But it wasn’t--enough. It wasn’t what he thought about, in the middle of the night, and what he had to creep out of their bed and shut himself into the bathroom and freak out about. Soft skin, and pretty lips, and even--even tits, sure, because--at seventeen Dean was the prettiest thing Sam had ever seen, and even if Dean hit a growth spurt and was getting shoulders like a man and he was all tall, he was still--soft, in their bed, and his body was--was Sam’s, the way all the random pornstars and actresses and girls at school weren’t, and never would be. Dean would make dinner, mac & cheese & hamburger just like Sam liked it, and he’d ruffle Sam’s hair and smile at him, and Sam would chub up right there at the formica table, and he’d eat all strangled-up while Dean yessir nosirred Dad, and he’d use the excuse of reading for school to sneak off to bed early, and lay there in the dark with his face buried in Dean’s pillow, hand crammed down his shorts, thinking--what the hell? what the hell?

Later--it got worse. He left. He met a girl. He tried his best. It didn’t escape his notice that she had soft skin and green eyes and fair hair and that when she wanted to make him dinner for a date night he asked completely unthinking for mac & cheese & hamburger, and she laughed and said, “Really?” but she made it, and it was--higher quality, more skill put in, and wasn’t nearly as good. In bed she didn’t mind if he lay with his head on her chest and felt the rise of her tits, and she liked getting fucked with him spooned up behind her, so that was--okay. He could make it. He--he was almost sure he could make it.

Later--worse again. Better, because there was Dean, but Dean didn’t cook anymore and he didn’t share Sam’s bed, and he wore a big square leather jacket that made him look like he was trying to be Dad. They were brothers, of course, and Dean teased and got mad, but it wasn’t--it wasn’t the same as it had been. It was harder. Some days when it was the worst it could be Sam went and hid in the bathroom and everything in him wanted to just curl up, get taken care of. Wanted those old days, of baths and food, of Dean touching his hair like he did, of warmth, of softness. They weren’t on the table though, and he didn’t think they ever would be again. It wasn’t worth pining for, though, because there was work to be done, so: he squared his shoulders, and washed his face, and went out and faced the world.

Later--Dean kissed him. He kissed Dean, and then they did rather more than kissing. The world they’d saved didn’t end. They really were the days of miracles. Finally getting to touch Dean like he’d always dreamed about didn’t fix things, but it sure didn’t make them worse, and the world still rattled on ridiculously and had to be saved over and over again, but--

They end up living in a bunker. Ridiculous, but it could be worse. Dean picks a room, says, “This is going to be awesome,” and he’s happy in a way he hasn’t been in months and so Sam smiles at him, and fucks him right there on the ancient creaking bed, and Dean gasps and eggs him on and then afterward, when they’re laying next to each other and panting, he says, “Man, this mattress sucks,” and he goes shopping.

They have some downtime. No worlds ending, right away. Dean throws himself into the bunker the same way Sam throws himself into the bunker’s records, and while Sam categorizes knowledge and history and lore Dean nests like Sam never knew he could. New soft mattress, new clothes. He cooks again and it’s--amazing. Sam moans, with that first bite of friggin’ perfect hamburger, and Dean grins at him and squeezes his shoulder, and it--oh. Something swirls warm in Sam’s stomach and he swallows, wonders. Remembering.

“I gotta learn to make pie,” Dean says, in bed that night, and Sam kisses the back of his shoulder, doesn’t think much of it, until the next day Dean comes back home from the store with a box of fresh peaches, and Sam comes over to investigate just as Dean bites into one and the ripe smell of the sunwarm skin drifts over Dean’s shoulder, and Sam’s--hard, instantly, his whole body turning on all at once like someone found his levers and threw every one to max.

“Whoa,” Dean says, when Sam grabs him, but he grins and revs up right away because Dean always does. He kisses back, easy, tasting like peach, and Sam groans and drags him to the table, settles him on his ass and starts stripping him, right there. Dean laughs, letting Sam tug off his boots. “We haven’t fucked in here yet, this is awesome,” he says, but Sam’s thinking of--god, his ass, and he goes to his knees on the concrete floor, spreads him wide, licks in. Dean groans wild, up above, gets his hand in Sam’s hair, and--and Sam can’t wait, he can’t wait, but he eats at Dean sloppy and pushes in his fingers and makes him as soft as he can, as open, knowing at least that Dean wants it as much as he does. When Dean’s moaning he stands up, undoes his jeans--spits wet for his dick, fists himself and pushes in--and Dean flinches up into it but moans, wraps his legs around Sam’s hips and his arms around Sam’s shoulders, and Sam shudders and buries his face down by Dean’s throat and crams himself in, overcome.

God, god--Dean still smells like peach, his fingers juicy-sticky as he touches Sam’s cheek, his hair. “Fuck,” Sam says, digging in deeper, and Dean hiccups almost as Sam starts grinding in, not enough wet to make it easy but god, he’s tight and warm, letting Sam in. “That good? God, you feel--”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean pants back, digging a heel into Sam’s ass, and Sam spits more wet down between them and then starts really giving it to Dean, shoving in, wild--and he starts talking too, because he never can seem to help himself and Dean loves it, anyway, goes bright red and laughs and comes faster when Sam’s telling him all the ridiculous nasty things he’s thinking, and Sam’s going hard, holding Dean’s ass up with one hand and bracing himself with the other and talking soft into Dean’s ear and smelling it, everywhere, like the whole kitchen’s full of that ancient memory, and he babbles you feel so good, you’re incredible, I want to fuck you like this all the time, god, Dean, your pussy’s perfect and Dean gasps, grabs Sam’s hair, because they’ve played with that a little before but it always drives Dean absolutely nuts--and Sam groans and leans into it, slamming him, feeling his gut curl up tight and Dean’s breath come faster, and he says yeah, yeah you like that, me talking about your pussy, god--I’m gonna come in there, cream you up, and you want it, don’t you? you want it like that, up inside, want me to get you all knocked up, get you pregnant--

“Sammy,” Dean says, clawing at Sam’s shoulder, arching up, and Sam presses his face down into Dean’s throat and hitches his ass into just the right place and the words come like from the pit of his gut, no passing his brain, no hesitation--he says, “You’re gonna be so good, Mom--” and he comes then--hard, brutal--curling forward, gasping, and Dean’s tight around him and his hands are in Sam’s hair and he’s holding him deep, warm, safe, and Sam comes back to normal brain function only slowly, and only when Dean’s stroking his shoulders, slow and soft, does Sam realize what he said.

“Jesus,” he blurts out, jerking, and Dean makes a soft ah sound as Sam twitches, still buried inside. “Jesus--sorry, I--”

“Wondered how long it’d take,” Dean says, dry, but he’s still all wrapped up around Sam and still, oh, hard--Sam didn’t take care of him, god--and Sam starts to shift up, away, but Dean holds him, keeps his head down tight against his shoulder. Sam braces, curled over, awkward now that he’s not wound up with his dick doing the thinking. “Sammy.”

He closes his eyes. “Sorry.”

Dean flicks the back of his head. “Quit it.” Sam licks his lips. Dean pets his hair back, gentle like he still is, sometimes. “You been thinking about that, huh? New level of freaky, even for us, you know.” It’s surprisingly quiet and nonjudgmental, considering. Sam shifts, his dick still half-hard. “What’ve you been coming up with in that massive noggin? What--me all barefoot in the kitchen? Your little wife?”

“Not exactly,” Sam says, mortified, and Dean hums thoughtfully and then squeezes Sam’s hips between his thighs, and then he picks up Sam’s head from his shoulder and presses a kiss against his forehead, soft, and that’s--

“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean says, easy, and his face is bright red but he--he gets it, all the way, because Dean always knows what Sam wants when it comes to this even if Sam’s too fucked-up about it to say it, has known ever since that first time when Sam was torn up with wanting him and Dean said fuck this and dragged Sam’s head down to kiss him, the night unfurling with possibility around them. Dean smiles at him, soft, and tucks Sam’s hair behind his ears, and he says, impossibly he says: “I’ve got you, baby. Let’s finish up and I’ll make you some dinner, okay? Whatever you want.”

Sam’s mouth feels dry. “Mac and cheese,” he says, brainless, hardening up again, and Dean half-laughs, nods, says, “Sure thing,” and Sam pushes up and kisses him, grateful, and Dean holds him, safe.

[balthazarxreader]

“Cereal Thief” Balthazar x Reader

Request: Hi there! Could I request “You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.” with an annoyed, sleep deprived reader? Thank you if you can write it! I hope you have a lovely day! -& 

A/N: This was originally supposed to be short and funny but then I just kept writing and some other stuff developed along the way. Hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2.8K

Prompt 5: “You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.”

The Impala pulled to an abrupt stop, sending you falling off the back seat where you had been trying to get some sleep. You hadn’t been particularly successful, thanks to Dean’s loud music. It was currently very late, or very early, depending on how you looked at it. You, Dean, and Sam had just finished a hunt in Tennessee and Dean had decided that you weren’t staying another night in the small, run-down motel you’d been operating out of for the past couple of days, insisting that his driving was better than the possibility of bed-bugs.

“We’re home,” Dean grumbled, not even noticing your crumpled form on the Impala’s floor.

You moaned from your position on the floor, “I may just sleep here, boys. At this point, your crappy backseat is probably as comfortable as my bed.”

Sam snorted, pushing himself out of the passenger-side door. “Your back will regret it in the morning, Y/N.”

“And my backseat is not crappy,” Dean mumbled, attempting to be angry, but his tiredness leached into his voice, making it sound more like a pout.

Sighing, you pulled yourself up and practically rolled out of the door Sam was holding open for you. Surprisingly, you landed on your feet and even managed to grab your duffle bag before swaying a little bit on your feet. “Okayyyy,” you said drowsily, leaning back against the Impala, “time for bed.”

“You gonna wash the blood outta your hair first, kid?” Dean asked from where he’d opened the trunk to grab his bag.

You squeaked, pulling out your ponytail and moving your hair in front of your face. “How the hell did I miss that? I thought I got it all when we stopped at that truck stop.”

“Well,” Sam started, grabbing his bag from Dean, “at least you can take a shower and not be afraid you’re gonna catch some sort of parasite from the water.”

Scrunching up your nose, you headed towards the bunker door. “The one positive for the night, I suppose,” you muttered to yourself, swinging open the door with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. “Cassie! We’re home!”

“You should leave while you still can. He’s been threatening to lock the door and put up angel wards, so I’ll be forced to play some drinking game with him,” Castiel said, appearing in the kitchen doorway.

Sam looked over at you and Dean before making his way down the stairs. “Who’s here Cas?” You followed him, exhaustion suddenly overcome by caution. And by the look on Castiel’s face, you were starting to think you should take his advice and go back to your nice, not comfy spot in the Impala.

“You act as if I’m going to start another apocalypse, Castiel,” came a smooth, accented voice from the kitchen. Coming to stand beside Cas, Balthazar crossed his arms and leaned back against the doorway, eyes coming to rest on you coming down the stairs. “Hello boys, Y/N.”

Letting the tension release from your body, you finished making your way down the stairs, “Just don’t drink so much that I have to peel you off of the kitchen table when I wake up tomorrow morning.” You continued through the room, making for the hallway that led to your bedroom and your sweet, sweet bed. “If I wake up tomorrow morning.”

“It’s already tomorrow, darling,” Balthazar smirked and looked down at his watch. “In fact, it’s been tomorrow for about four hours.”

Dean groaned and pushed past you as you turned to send a glare at the angel, “You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.”

Eyebrows raising slightly, Balthazar pushed off the doorway and walked a little further into the room, “I was merely pointing out a fact, my dear. You have a watch on your wrist if you’d like to check yourself.”

Hands clenching into fists around your duffle bag, you narrowed your eyes and took one step forward.

“Okay!” Sam said, grabbing your shoulders and turning you back toward the hallway. “Time for bed! You can strangle him in the morning, I promise.”

Balthazar and Castiel watched as Sam guided you down the hallway and out of sight. Cas sighed and turned to head towards the library, “She would probably react better to your presence if you weren’t so sarcastic.”

Balthazar furrowed his brow and followed his brother, “What on earth are you talking about, Cassie?”

Sitting down at a table, Cas began looking through the research he’d been doing before Balthazar showed up, “You like Y/N,” he said simply.

“What?” Balthazar froze in his movement towards the chair opposite Castiel, eyes widened.

Sensing that he wouldn’t be able to get back to his research for a while, Castiel shut the lore book and met Balthazar’s shocked stare across the table, “You like Y/N,” he repeated as Balthazar sat down. “It’s not that hard to notice, brother. I am, as Dean likes to say when he’s trying to be nice, “socially inept” and even I can see how much you care for her.”

“And you came to this conclusion how, exactly?” Balthazar questioned, summoning a glass of wine, and taking a sip.

“You didn’t come here to get me to play a drinking game, Balthazar.” “Yes, I did.”

“No,” Cas sighed, folding his hands on the table, “you came to the bunker because you knew the Winchesters and Y/N were on their way back from a hunt. You arrived ten minutes before they did because you wanted to see Y/N.”

Taking another sip of his wine, Balthazar smirked, “You have no way of knowing that, Castiel.”

“Every other minute until they arrived, you were looking at the bunker door, like you were waiting for someone to come through. When Y/N announced that they were home, you smiled. And the others might not have noticed it, but you flinched when you saw the blood in her hair,” Castiel finished and ran a hand through his already messy hair. “Just stop lying to yourself, Balthazar.”

Balthazar’s smirk had slowly turned into a frown as he listened to Castiel. Swirling his wine glass, he looked down at the table, “I’m very good at it though, lying.”

Castiel frowned and tilted his head to the side, “You’re scared, aren’t you? That Y/N doesn’t care for you the same way you care for her.” When Balthazar lifted his eyes to meet Castiel’s but didn’t say anything, Cas continued, “You lose nothing, brother, if you talk to her, but you stand to gain quite a lot if she feels the same.”

“Well,” Balthazar said softly, “my plans for today didn’t exactly include confessing my love for the little huntress, but I suppose I could squeeze it into my schedule. One thing, Cassie,” Balthazar continued, downing the rest of his wine, “Could you get dumb and dumber out of the bunker for a couple of hours after Y/N wakes up? I’d prefer to do this without them in the picture.”

Cas smiled and reopened his book, satisfied with the end of this conversation, “Of course, Balthazar. I’ll contact you when I’ve come up with a plan. Now let me finish my research.”

Rolling his eyes, Balthazar stood up, “Fine, I’ll make myself scarce until this afternoon. I have a feeling Y/N won’t be up before noon.” With a whoosh of air and the sound of wings, he left the library.

***

You slowly blinked your eyes open, groaning as you stretched your legs out under the covers. Reaching out for your phone, you brought it to your face to check the time. 1:32. A solid nine hours of sleep. You yawned and pushed the covers off you and rolled out of bed. Looking in the mirror at your pajama-clad form, your gaze was drawn up to your face. Apparently, nine hours of sleep did nothing for the dark circles underneath your eyes. Throwing your hair up into a bun, you walked out of your room in search of food.

As you made your way down the hall, you heard voices drifting out of the kitchen. You slowed your pace, trying to stay quiet.

“What do you mean he took everything that was in our fridge?”

“How did he even know where to find my secret stash of beer?!”

“I’m gonna knock him into next week, the bastard.”

Confused, you rounded the corner in the kitchen and looked at the three men in front of you. Sam was holding open the door to the refrigerator to show empty shelves, while Dean was busy flinging open the cabinet doors, only to reveal more empty shelves. “Guys…what’s going on?”

Dean spun around, anger clear on his face, “That bastard that calls himself an angel, either took all of our food or ate all of our food and I’m gonna end him the next time he shows his smug little face around here.”

“Balthazar?” you questioned, moving to lean against the kitchen table next to Castiel.

“Who else,” Sam mumbled, closing the fridge.

Frowning, you crossed your arms and looked at the boys, “The only thing that got me out of bed today was the thought of eating the rest of my Lucky Charms and you’re telling me I can’t even do that?”

“I suggested going to the store,” Castiel stated, “just to get the necessities before I can convince Balthazar to return everything that he took, but Dean wants to hunt him down now.”

You glared over at Dean as you practically growled out, “Go get me some Lucky Charms, Dean. It could be days before he shows back up and I can’t go days without Lucky Charms.”

Gulping, Dean looked over at Sam, “Okay, Sammy and I will run to the store. Cas, you can – “

“I’ll come to the store with you,” Cas interrupted, pushing off of the table and heading towards the garage.

After exchanging confused looks, the boys shrugged and moved to follow Cas out of the kitchen.

“Think you can survive for a bit without your Lucky Charms, Y/N?” Sam asked as he walked by.

You frowned and hopped on top of the table, crossing your arms over your chest, “Just go get my fucking Lucky Charms. And be quick about it.”

Both laughing, the brothers left the kitchen and headed out to the garage. Sighing, you laid down on the table and turned your head to look at the empty cabinets. You laid there for a few minutes, think about your marshmallow cereal. As you stared at the empty shelves, you closed your eyes, hoping the boys would be fast, and when you opened them again, you practically fell off the table. The shelves were…full. And there, on the counter, was your box of Lucky Charms.

“The fuck?” you whispered, walking over to your cereal.

“Sorry about that, darling. Needed to get the wonder twins out of the bunker for a while.”

You spun around to see Balthazar leaning against the table you’d just been laying on. Narrowing your eyes, you thought about actually strangling the angel as Sam had suggested last night, but that thought was cut off as your stomach growled. Loudly. You huffed out a breath and turned back to your cereal, grabbing a bowl and pouring the Lucky Charms in, “I’ll be angry with you as soon as I finish my cereal.” Moving over to the fridge, you pulled out the milk and walked back over to the counter, adding it to your delicious breakfast. Grabbing a spoon and pushing the cereal down into the milk, you turned around and leaned against the counter, once again narrowing your eyes at the angel, “But you could start by telling me why exactly you stole all our food.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “I already told you, darling, I needed to get the Winchesters out the bunker. Castiel came up with this lovely little plan to take them shopping.”

You were practically shoveling cereal into your mouth at this point, but stopped when Balthazar mentioned Castiel, “Cas helped you? Why?”

“You see,” he said, “dear old Cassie and I had a very enlightening conversation last night and he may have convinced me to do something that I’ve been putting off for a while now.”

Suspicious, you turned and put your half-eaten bowl of cereal on the counter behind you. “Which was?” you questioned, turning back to Balthazar, only to find him directly in front of you.

“This,” he whispered before bringing his lips to yours. For a few seconds, you were too shocked to do anything before you finally relaxed and began moving your lips against his. Sighing into the kiss, you brought your hands to Balthazar’s chest before sliding them up to wrap your arms around his neck. Balthazar’s hands came to rest on your hips, softly pushing you back into the counter and bringing his body impossibly closer to yours.

You didn’t break away until your lungs were screaming for air. Pulling away slightly, you met Balthazar’s eyes, fingers playing with the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re still a cereal thief,” you breathed out, trying to keep a smile from your face but failing miserably.

Balthazar laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, “I did return it, didn’t I, darling?” One of his hands moved up to cup the side of your face, “Can you find it in yourself to forgive me?”

Rolling your eyes, you heard your stomach growling again. You reached behind and grabbed your bowl of Lucky Charms, “Let me finish my breakfast and might think about it,” you said as you began eating once more.

Scoffing and pulling his hands away, Balthazar brought a hand to his chest in mock indignation, “You’re choosing cereal over me? I don’t think I’ve ever been so offended.”

“Have you ever had Lucky Charms, Balthazar?” you questioned, keeping a straight face. “If they sit in the milk for too long that marshmallows get too soggy and dissolve. I can’t just leave it sitting around while you kiss me into the counter.”

Tilting his head to the side and reaching around you, Balthazar picked up the cereal box, found a bowl in a cupboard, poured some in, and finished it off with some of the milk that you’d left on the counter. He grabbed a spoon and turned to lean against the counter next to you, hip touching yours.

You looked over at him as he spooned some of the cereal into his mouth, “So?” you questioned.

He put the spoon back in the bowl and met your eyes, “It’s…edible. It would probably taste better if it were in whiskey instead of milk, though.”

Scrunching up your nose, you shook your head, “You can’t have whiskey for breakfast, Bal,” you said as you finished your cereal and set the bowl on the counter. “Breakfast is supposed to give you the energy to get through the day, not make you drunk and lazy.”

“Angel, darling,” Balthazar smirked and continued slowly eating the cereal. “It would take a lot more than a bowl of whiskey to make me “drunk and lazy” as you put it.”

“So that time I found you passed out in here means that…”

“I had quite a bit more than whiskey that night. But I can be quite fun,” Balthazar said bumping his hip against yours, “in the hours before I hit that point.”

You laughed as you grabbed his now-empty bowl and put it in the sink along with yours, “I don’t doubt that, but I think – “

“Y/N!” came Dean’s voice from outside of the stairway. “I got your damn Lucky Charms!”

Eyes going wide, you looked over at Balthazar, “You better leave if you don’t want Dean to murder you. I’ll just tell them that everything reappeared after they left.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Balthazar reached out and took your hand, “but let me take you out tonight. Somewhere without any Winchesters.”

You smiled softly, meeting his eyes, “Yeah, I’d like that.” Dean’s footsteps sounded in the hallway outside of the kitchen, bringing your attention back to the present. “Now go, I’d hate for Dean to kill you before you take me out.”

Balthazar smiled before bringing your knuckles to his lips and disappearing with a whoosh.

“Y/N? Did you hear – son of a bitch!”

You turned around to see Dean standing in the kitchen doorway, holding a box of Lucky Charms, and staring at the full cupboards that he had left open. He waived the box towards the full cupboards, “When did this happen?”

Shrugging, you walked over and took the box from his hand, setting it on a shelf along with your other box of cereal. “About ten minutes ago. I didn’t call cus I figured you were on your way back.”

Sam and Cas walked in holding grocery bags, with Cas’s eyes flicking over to you and then to the two bowls sitting in the sink before smiling and setting his grocery bag’s down. “Balthazar probably took pity on your need for Lucky Charms, Y/N,” Cas said, meeting your eyes, a small smirk playing on his face.

“It’s a good thing he did,” you replied, matching his smirk, “I was getting a little tired of waiting for him.”

Taglist:

@i-miss-balthazar

[legionofpotatoes]

Sci-fi anon here. Appreciate you taking the time to answer my question with such detail! I think you were right about the aesthetic, and the world building structure, but with DA specifically, I think you hit the nail on the head with the idea of the games not being a continuous story about the same character as they were in ME, creating a disconnect in my mind (though Assassin's Creed is one of my fave series, so that alone couldn't be it). I guess I've always thought of DA as just ME but fantasy, which led to me making unfair comparisons between the two.

If you don't mind talking about it more, what aspects about DA do you enjoy more than ME? World building, aesthetic, story, systems?

Hey again anon., no problem.

Honestly DA being ME in fantasy isn’t too unfair, and it def works vice-versa as well, with them being made by the same company and all. The fundamental ways those two series approach worldbuilding, gameplay pillar nesting, and char progression are very, very, very similar. I mean I went to DA Origins after completing the whole ME trilogy, and a few days with was what it took for everything to click and feel familiar. And double that for II.

As for saying what aspects of DA I personally prefer, well, I prefer Mass Effect, so :D I may not be the best to make those arguments. ME stands on a different level for me due to some parts nostalgia and some parts structure; lot of it has to do with the long-form Shepard story across three games, and the general Trekkie fantasy of a mobile mini-hub (read: ship) with all your friends taking you across the universe in search of adventures. That trumps the medieval stronghold skirmishes for me, even though functionally DA games end up doing the same exact thing. But like there’s no accounting for taste, and the texture of it matters to me.

Not what you asked, sorry. World building is just as great in DA, I genuinely think so. Like I said, they have a rich lore that is constructed with the specific aim for the player character to see the pointed moral quandaries peppered within and ultimately engage with them through character-driven story beats. And again on that, your mileage may vary on the quality of writing and authorial intent on said story beats. 

The aesthetic is incredibly well executed, especially I’d say with Inquisition, which paid a lot of attention to in-game art and visual identity of various races, architecture, and other cultural oddities like clothing or customs. On a technical level that really stood out compared to Mass Effect’s alien stuff, but again it was a newer game with a much larger scale than the OT.

I mentioned with the combat that it could be more fun in DA due to its classically structured melee and ranged RPG systems leveraging party makeup and power sets and tactical pause and what have you. That’s true, but the mechanics differ drastically from game to game; the combat framework of Origins may feel outdated much the same way ME1 does compared to the refined locomotion and gunplay of 3, but the moment you go to DAII it’s all immediately faster, more fluid and responsive, and sort-of fat trimmed (this also kinda leads into a ME2 analogy I see). To me Inquisition feels like a perfect marriage of the two - the tactical pause is back, powers have better synergy, but it’s totally playable gung-ho without too much chess pondering.

The story is a Big Topic. There is no unifying immediate overarching threat like the Reapers in DA, and the games don’t all take place within the span of 2 years, but there are similar unexplainable slower-moving world-ending events under threat of coming to pass due to various unstable political meddling or supervillain fuckery. And it always comes down to you and your friendship making skills to assemble the fantasy avengers and make tough choices and pull through. Interesting to note here though, that compared to its bookend games, the initial stakes in DAII are much much lower - it is a game about a refugee trying to survive in an oppressive city, and it pretty much squeezes an incredible amount of juice out of that premise. And yet it still ties intrinsically into the overarching state of the continent and franchise characters.

Similar to Mass Effect’s several trilogy-spanning crucial satellite dilemmas like the Genophage or the Geth, Dragon Age has its own few mega-parables shadowing the story and threading through the series, like the ongoing oppression of Mages who hold unpredictable power by the police force of knights who exist to control them. Bioware tries to do a lot with this premise across the games, pushing some uncomfortable IRL metaphors with varying degrees of success. So that part of the Bioware TouchTM is undoubtedly here if you enjoy it, and again, ties into my earlier argument about how most of the (even deep-seated) worldbuilding that gets introduced will eventually become something you engage with critically throughout the games, and that it’s not all salad dressing and Tolkienesque lore with no visible function - something that may understandably be a frightening prospect.

But again, to bring it all back. I’m more of a Mass Effect guy, but I think Dragon Age is great. If you engage with its story ethos critically it has BIG ole holes, and mechanically Origins is probably too dated to even estimate correctly, but that’s all par for the course with Bioware and nothing you’re looking to avoid I’d reckon. I can’t tell you there’s stuff in DA I enjoy more than in ME, but it’s definitely more of the same-ish stuff in an extremely well put-together package that is diametrically opposite in its aesthetic presentation, and that to me is an extremely alluring, interesting, and compelling deal, if not an outright great one.

[bnha-ra]

Lily of the Valley ||BNHA

A/N: HELLO LOVIES! IT’S YA GIRL, SKINNY PENIS- THE AUTHOR! If you guys are veterans of this account you know that this blog was birthed because I had a reader story on Quotev and guess what? IT’S GETTING A FUCKING COMEBACK! A REPRISE because I hated my writing on the original, oop not only a name change, but the lore has also (slightly) changed! So, I hope you enjoy!

Themes: Superheros (obviously), superpowers, fighting, romance, etc.

Summary: How it all began and then some

Warnings: Nothing in this chapter! Maybe some tension but that’s about it!

Tags: @prismaroyal​ @undead0relived​

It was the only thing ringing through her head as she curled deeper into herself, her face, earlier bruised and bloody but was now wet with fresh tears, was shoved into her knees and her shaking arms were wrapped weakly around her shaking legs. With each tremble of her already defeated body she seemed to only hug herself tighter, reducing what should have been ear piercing wails into silent sobs, way too spent to even scream about the atrocities she had seen and the things she had lost.

Life...wasn’t fair.

She understood that now. Those little words she had heard adults whisper under their breath with exhaustion or teens cry out in anger. Of course, she understood what the words meant, she was smart enough to realise much more than people bargained for, however, what she didn't understand was the meaning behind the phrase, why people would say it, why people thought it.

Well, until now.

Because they were right, life wasn’t fair.

It was much more crueler than anyone could ever imagine.

The shouting from earlier had stopped. Whoever was outside the hospital room had fallen silent a little bit ago. Either they were whispering now or they had just stopped altogether, it was finally quiet and she could finally suffer in peace, without the screams of adults promoting the painful squeeze of anguish from their choked cries or their weeping.

When the door opened she didn’t look up, no, she stayed in her position in the corner but withheld her crying as the person made it over to her side, sliding down the way to sit themselves next to her and sigh, their hand slowly winding into her hair to give it comforting strokes and tug her head to rest against them.

“Little Wildfire” The child flinched at the name, but raised her head, eyes catching the older man’s who held a incomprehensible grief but understanding sympathy to them “I have a question for you, sweetheart”

She nodded hesitantly.

The man cleared his throat, facing back to the closed door which she followed, finally spotting the other elderly woman who watched, eyes glossed in tears.

“Do you want to come with us-” He gave her a comforting squeeze when the girl sniffed, stuffing her head deeper into his side “-or, do you want to stay here?”

She glanced down at her lap “...will you be upset if I said I want to stay here?”

“No, mia bella bambina” The woman spoke this time, walking into the room and kneeling before her, taking the child’s hand in her own and kissing the skin of her palm “Never”

The lass glanced between the two adults, eyes slowly beginning to gloss over with no found tears as she let out a shaky sob, heart clenching “I don’t want to leave Mamma alone”

The two brought her into a hug, sharing heartbroken tears with the child while they sat on the hospital floor, filled with great grief in that moment. The people outside watched with a similar sadness, heads bowed in despair and chests aching at the scene. It was a painful moment, seeing a family so broken, seeing a child’s perfect life shattered so quickly as though it was glass.

Life really wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry, (Name)....”

---

“Yagi!”

(Name) jumped in her spot from the stands, face snapping up to meet the choir teacher’s while the other girls giggled, muttering amongst themselves or sending dirty looks her way. It wasn't her fault that their teacher was still droning on about regionals, to her, it had stopped being relevant when the woman started to, once again, go off about the schools rival; (Name) didn’t care, the others didn’t care so why did the damn teacher still go off about it? 

‘Talk about obsessed’ She thought as she continued, finally getting to the end of her big speech.

“I expect you to be here at the same time next week!” The witch spat, “Dismissed!”

‘Jesus Christ- FINALLY’

The teen practically sprinted towards her belongings, running out of the room despite her teacher’s call and pulled out her phone from her blazer pocket, scrolling through the contacts until a familiar name popped up.

“Izuku!” She screamed into the receiver when he answered, feeling a guilty pang at her volume before quickly shaking it off “I’m so sorry! I had choir practice! Are you home yet? If not, we can go to that new hero cafe that’s opened recently! I’ll pay-”

During her sprint, flowers began to sprout from the ground beneath her due to the excitement rushing through her. She had been waiting for ages to finally take him there, Midoriya Izuku, her Quirkless best friend and the most obsessed fanboy she had the luck of knowing. Childhood friends, you see, glued together by youth and fondness for one another, something that she was thought she was so lucky for.

There was something else there too. A hidden desire, one that festered when she was still young, the obligation to protect him, to keep him from any harm that may have fallen upon him.

Ah, she was getting ahead of herself.

The joyful smile faded from her face, her steps slowing to a halt as she listened to him talk; a familiar feeling of sympathy blooming in her chest when she spoke again, glancing around the street that she had found herself.

“Where are you?....” She nodded when he responded “Okay, I’m nearby. Wait. There. I’ll be there soon and I want you to tell me what happened, no buts”

(Name) didn’t even give him a chance to respond, only ended the call with a tap and once again began her sprint, though, faster than she had before.

---

“....He really said that?”

Midoirya nodded into his knees, glancing over to his best friend from the corner of his eyes and flinching at the sight of anger spreading over her face. (Name) let out a shrill cry, jumping to her feet from the spot next to him and pacing before the other teen, face scrunched up in rage with words spewing out of her mouth faster than he could comprehend, well, almost.

“I can’t believe him! How dare he say that! You can’t say stuff like that to your fans- you have to consider their fucking feelings! I don’t care if he thinks it’s realistic- show some damn decency to people who respect you! The bastard-”

“(Name), it’s okay” Midoriya shrugged his shoulders, standing back to full height with hers and his own bags in his hands “It doesn’t matter, he was right anyway-”

“Don’t you say that, Midoriya!” (Name)’s hand was pointed towards him in warning, “You can be a hero if you try, there are heroes with weak Quirks so why can’t someone with no Quirk be a hero? Huh? HUH?”

“Well-I-”

“I AM HERE”

The voice came suddenly and loudly from behind the girl, the two teens jumping in surprise causing (Name) to twist round, both watching as a blur skidded to a stop before them and posed, revealing just the person that the female had so desperately wanted to exchange a few words with.

“All Might, how-” Midoriya had barely gotten the words out when (Name) spoke, eyes narrowed dangerously with poison dripping from her lips.

“You”

All Might had the gall to look confused “Me?”

“How dare you!” Midoriya screamed when (Name) raced towards the hero, her leg flying to meet his shin with vigor, only to howl in pain when it connected, hand coming to hold her wounded toes before she began to send punches his way instead, not caring in any way that the man was not affected, only watching in slight amusement as she continued her barrage of blows in her rageful state. “My friend deserves to be a hero more than you could ever understand! You bastard! How dare you say he can’t-!”

“Please, calm down, (Name)” The hero laughed, placing his hand against the girl’s head and pushing her back, (Name) still continuing to swing.

Midoriya stood in shocked silence, watching the scene with growing confusion.

‘How could All Might know (Name)’s name!?’

“Calm down? Calm down!? No! You are such an arsehole, Toshi! I expected better from you-”

‘TOSHI!? WHAT!?’

The greenette stuttered, trying to find his words as he continued to watch the scene before him. All Might eventually deflated with a huff, coughing blood into his hand while (Name) continued to shout at him, too clouded by her anger to realise Midoriya was walking up to her until a hand was placed on her shoulder and she spun, her glare vanishing with a gulp at her best friend’s befuddled gaze on her.

“Crap” (Name) muttered.

All Might just laughed.

“I think we owe young Midoriya an explanation, don’t we, (Name)?”

“Is something wrong, (Name)? You seem occupied”

The girl jumped from her spot behind the receptionist's desk, eyes snapping up to meet Dr Nakamura’s before a bright smile grew, though her hand came to scratch the back of her neck in embarrassment from the scare.

“It’s nothing, sir! I’ve just been training a lot harder recently so I’m kinda tired, that’s all”

The older man nodded, his ears twitching in contemplation as he rifled through the chest of draws behind her, no doubt looking for a file.

It wasn’t a complete lie. While the U.A entrance exams were still ten months away, it didn’t mean she could slack off, no, she needed to get in as much training as she could before the trials, both going through physical exercise and mental. U.A was a school that only took the best of the best, just like Shiketsu and if she wanted even a chance at studying to become a great hero at any of the two she needed to up her game, because she was positive that if she wasn’t at her best, she would be beaten with no regarde.

However, that wasn’t what she was thinking about.

Dr Nakamura pulled one of the files, flipping through before turning back to the girl with a sharp toothed smile “Well, I wouldn’t expect less from one of our next future heroes”

(Name)’s face grew hot at the compliment and she laughed, “Thanks, sir”

“No problem, kid” His hand ruffled her locks playfully “Don’t overwork yourself, okay? If you need any breaks from work I’ll be sure to give them to you”

He walked away with a wave, entering into another room to leave her alone with her thoughts once again.

Truth be told, she was thinking back to a few days ago and the secret she had been swore to keep underwraps.

“Wait, so, just correct me if I’m wrong” Midoriya’s face was much calmer than (Name) expected, much much calmer. She honestly anticipated screaming, maybe faint if it were a worse kind of day, which from hearing about it, it sounded like it was, but instead, he was calm, eyes shining with curiosity and confusion.

“Ever since your mother was taken-....was comatosed…and your father….died” (Name) hugged herself at those words, trying to ignore the feeling of grief stabbing at her heart “You haven’t been living with relatives but...heroes…real life heroes?”

She nodded.

“That’s so cool!” (Name) looked at him with surprise plastered all over her face. Midoriya took her expression in a negative way, curling into himself with shame “I mean, you already lived with a pro hero before- b-but you’ve met some of the most powerful heroes in Japan! Counting All Might that means the world! Oh my Gosh, I mean- uh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like that-”

(Name)’s voice was meek when she spoke again, eyes shining with unshed tears “I thought you would be upset….”

“H-huh!? Why!?”

“Because I never told you…”

Confusion took over his face once again and he tilted his head to the side, “Why would I be upset over you protecting yourself?”

(Name) choked.

“I don’t mean to interrupt” All Might’s hand landed softly on (Name)’s back, moving in soothing circles as he continued, eyes centered on Midoriya “But young Midoriya, your answer?”

“Oh! Right! Uh…” The greenette glanced between the two, both sending him back encouraging looks in return before he released a breath, expression adopting one of determination.

“I accept your power, All Might!”

The hero smiled “I knew you would”

“Oi, (Last)” For a second time that day, (Name) jumped in her seat, looking up to see two familiar boys staring back at her. “What’s up with you?”

“Oh, Koji, Hitoshi, Hi!” (Name) began to type away at the computer before her, hoping to ignore the questioning stare from Koda and glare from Shinso when the purple haired boy rolled his eyes in exasperation “You guys finally catch those troublemakers running about?”

Shinso presented the box, (Name) standing to glance in from over the desk and smiling at the sight of the mother cat surrounded by her children before she gestured over to a room nearby.

“Ms Hamada came in a little earlier, why don’t you take them to her”

“Was planning to, but first we gotta show you something"

(Name) brows furrowed “What?”

Shinso nudged Koda softly, prompting the boy to set down his own box. His large hands disappeared into it before pulling back out with another small kitten in his hands who mewled softly towards (Name), pawing at the air.

“Guys, you’re not supposed to separate the young!” She chided, reaching out for the animal who was handed to her, (Name) rocking the animal gently in her grasp and staring pointedly at her friend who cowered back “You both should know better!”

“It’s not from the pack” Shinso responded, nodding to the other box “This was left outside and it’s a little….different”

“Different? How so-...” From her hands, a shifting sound caught her ears and she looked down, the kitten in her hands now replaced with an otter pup who cooed at her. 

“...huh”

---

U.A really was a wonder.

(Name) hadn’t really been there a lot, probably a handful of times as she aged, but she hadn’t properly experienced the feeling of excitement passing through the front gate, other examinees walking nearby, no doubt in the same boat as her, glancing around in amazement.

The school were the greatest pro heroes were born and trust her, she had proof of that in the contacts on her phone. She just hoped that all of her hard work during the months would work in her favour, that she would grab her place at this amazing school and she would begin her journey of becoming a great hero.

Just like her mother had been.

(Name) shook her head, hurrying her pace to the front steps of the school. The recommended students took their exams a month before the actual exam, she believed? Meaning she was alone, no Midoriya by her side to push her forward, to reassure her she was set. Although it was the same for him, if she did pass this exam of course, he would be alone too-

‘Ugh, get a hold on yourself-’ 

(Name) let out a yelp when she ran into someone’s back, apologies dropping from her mouth while the person turned, staring down at her.

He was a huge, mountain of a man with dark buzz cut hair and beady black eyes that seemed to glare straight back into her soul with a unyielding fire that made her gulp nervously and take a step back, her animal instincts clawing to kick in, screaming at her that she was no match for this predator, that she should run while she still could. Then he straightened up, his head flying downward until it smashed against the pavement, body bent over in a bow and practically screaming, gaining the attention of the other examinees.

“I’m so extremely sorry for getting in your way! I promise it won't happen again!”

“Hey, hey!” (Name) cried, hands flying up in a panic “You don’t need to apologise I bumped into you! I’m really sorry about that”

The boy snapped back up, his grin broad on his face and blood running from the small cut on his forehead.

“Oh, hey, you’re bleeding!” Without another though (Name) pulled out a packet of tissues she kept within her jacket, leaping up to tend to the wound, using the air to keep her stable just barely. She really needed more training on that. “Here you go, you should be more careful”

“Woah that’s amazing you’re floating! What’s your Quirk?! Is it like mine!?”

(Name) couldn’t help the laugh she let out “I don’t even know your Quirk, friend”

The boy beamed “It’s called Whirlwind! I can control wind currents and manipulate them however I want! Now you!”

(Name) dropped back down, hands landing on her hips with a smile “Well, my Quirk is called Nat-”

Remember, (Name), keep a low profile. No one can know who you really are, that means no using Nature outside of training.

“-I mean, Element! meaning I can control any kind of elements around me! So, kinda similar to yours”

“Wow, that’s so cool! I’m Yoarashi Inasa!” Yoarashi lent out his hand for her to take, which she did.

“Nice to meet you, Yoarashi, I’m Yagi (Name)”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Yagi!”

“Please, call me (Name)!”

“Okay, (Name)! Call me Inasa!”

Seems like this exam won’t seem so bad afterall.

---

It was better than imagined. Yoarashi was a ball of sunshine, standing tall and bright, encouraging those around him despite knowing absolutely nothing of who they were. It was nice, especially due to the fact she didn’t have a lot of friends, having someone by her side inspire her to do better than she thought she could do. He believed her even though he didn’t know who she really was, he thought she was strong only after about an hour of knowing each other and it was...nice.

She really hoped he got the spot here, he deserved it.

The written exam had been an hour and fifteen minutes, all decent material and she was positive that she had passed it with flying colours and now it was time for the physical part of the test, then finally, the interview.

Present Mic’s booming voice was actually soothing to her, probably because of the time he spent after the atta- accident, helping to pull her out of the dark she had buried herself in. The hero was a rock in her life for a long time and she admired him for just as long. He sent her an encouraging wink at the beginning of it all, throwing an extra thumbs up her way before it had all started and she was grateful for it. It was nice that he was giving her extra support, even if he wasn’t really supposed to at that moment.

“Good luck, Inasa!” The giant smiled, throwing a thanks over his shoulder as he got in position for the race.

A sudden coldness surrounded her and (Name) shivered, blinking in surprise when it suddenly got darker.

“You’re in my way, move”

Now usually, (Name) wasn’t one to talk back, actually, she was kind of scared of talking back to people because who knew what they were capable of! But in that moment, those words had just made her angry, so angry in fact that she turned around to face the culprit of such a rude demand, hand poised in a point motion to jab them in the shoulder “Excuse me? Why don’t you watch your fucking tone....”

They stared back at each other in surprise, both sets of eyes wide with recognition.

“I don’t need your pity! Leave me alone!”

(Name) swallowed the heavy lump that was forming in her throat and blinked back the tears that dared try to blur her vision.

“S-Sorry Sho-...Todoroki” 

Then she walked back to her spot on the sidelines, wiping away the wetness from her face while Todoroki shook off the feelings that plagued him and took his spot in the race.

This was gonna be a long day.

---

Finally, finally, it was time for the interviews. 

Yoarashi had seemed tense after his race, eyes glaring pointedly towards Todoroki as though the smaller teen had stabbed him in the heart and left him for dead. It was kinda odd, especially with her new friend being a pillar of sunshine and greatness, like a giant puppy out to give everyone love, but he had ultimately relaxed when she appeared next to him, stroking his arm gently and asking if he was okay.

“Oh I’m fine!” He had replied, patting her on the head “You’re next right!? Come on, I know you’ll do great!”

(Name) ignored the stare on her back when he led her back to the other participants.

“Please enter”

A breath was released before the door was pushed open, a large office revealing itself to her with a familiar small rodent sitting behind a desk, smiling towards her and gesturing to shut the door. (Name) did, slowly of course, the chattering of other examinees disappearing along with the outside when she walked over, bowing politely in greeting.

“Principal Nedzu, it’s an honour to see you again, it’s been a while”

Nedzu bowed back in return.

“The pleasure is all mine, (Last). Please, take a seat”

(Name) did as she was told, feeling a wave of exhaustion settle over her body at the sinking plush of the cushioned chair. The animal rifled through the many ID forms before landing on the one he needed, her own, and settling it to the top of the pile and smiling kindly towards her.

“Well, Miss (Last)” Nedzu started “Tell me a bit about yourself”

(Name) caught herself before she could say anything, wringing her hands on her lap “I-....what is there to say? You already know a lot about me, Nedzu”

The principal nodded in agreement before leaning forward, smile still as kind as ever “It is true that I know who you really are, what your Quirk is and much about your younger life. However, what I really want to know is why are you here today? What made you take the recommended entrance exam? Why, after what you’ve seen first hand, would you want to experience the life of a hero?”

Trust (Name) to know that curiosity. She still asked herself that everyday. Why, after experiencing such a traumatic tragedy would she still want to become a hero and face something that horrible, that life shattering every single day of her life?

(Last) (Name), why did you want to torture yourself for the rest of life?

“Simple” The girl started, eyes shining with a light that Nedzu had only seen with a few heroes in his lifetime.

 “I don’t want anyone else to suffer like I did”

[minky-for-short]

An Unexpected Bond (chapter 2)

Thanks again to my wonderful betas @mollymauk-teafleak and @spiky-lesbian <33

A month later, Vex and Percy begin working together to fulfill her end of the deal.

---

Vex is lying on her bed, studying the mark on the back of her hand as her mind plays through the events of last month.

After she had stepped back through the tree that night, she immediately ran to his brother’s room to see for herself that Pike’s message was true. Sure enough, he was sitting up in his bed, plowing through a hearty meal of chicken and root vegetables, when he had barely enough appetite to make it through a few spoonfuls of broth a few days prior. Her twin never had much color to his skin to begin with, but he was far from the sickly pale that he had been for the past few weeks, and when he caught sight of her, he immediately leapt out of bed to throw his arms around her in a tight hug, practically lifting her off her feet. Honestly, if she hadn’t been spending two weeks caring for him, she never would’ve known he’d ever been sick in the first place.

They spent the rest of the evening celebrating the return to his good health with their friends, sharing a bottle of wine between them as she sat close to her brother, relieved that he was able to sit here to laugh and joke with him, and she said a silent thanks to her new fae friend under her breath for completing his end of the deal so beautifully.

And speaking of her fae…

..Vax was decidedly not thrilled when he found out what she’d exchanged for his health.

“Vax, I promise you” Vex tries to placate her brother as he paces around the room, “it is NOT as bad as it sounds.”

“You are going to let this fae, that you met in the woods, knock you up and then come back in nine months to whisk your baby away. Please tell me, Vex, how does that not sound bad?”

“...well when you say it like that..” Vax just groans as he bangs his head against the wall, “look, I’m not going to apologize for saving your life, Vax.”

“I know you’re not, of course I’m grateful, but-”

“- and this was going to be the price, no matter what. I at least made sure I had control over who the father will be. Better the child belongs to him by blood, than rip fatherhood away from some poor bastard who never agreed to this deal in the first place.”

Vax sighs, sitting on his bed as he looks up at his sister, “and what about you? Are you really going to be okay just handing away your child to this creature, probably never to see him, or your child, again?”

Vex flushes slightly as she sits in a chair across from him, her head falling in her hands, “I don’t know, I’m not letting myself think of it. I’m not even pregnant yet, but I just have to make sure I don’t get attached to the child.”

Vax sends a questioning look to his twin, “Now, I know I will never experience this myself, so my opinions can’t be taken too seriously, but it seems rather difficult /not/ to become attached to something that grows inside you for nine months..” He immediately clamps up as Vex sends a sharp look at him, “Sorry, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, or have doubts about your choice. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know!” Vex snaps, before collecting herself and continuing softly, “I know...look, I won’t lie, I can’t pretend I know what’s going to happen..” she bites her lip before she continues, “but I don’t think he would hurt me.” She is met by her brother’s doubtful gaze, “I can’t explain it, and I’ve only just met him but he just seems, I don’t know, different.” 

The whole time she’s talking, she’s unconsciously stroking the six-sided sun marked on the back of her hand, almost as though the motion comforted her.

Vax doesn’t miss it, his eyes flickering briefly towards the mark on his sister’s hand. His impulses urges him to track this fae down and hold one of his iron daggers to his throat until he agrees to free Vex of her half of the deal, his own health be damned. And as often as his tendency to listen to his impulses over his brain, he finds himself being able to silence them as he watches his sister’s thumb stroke softly over that mark, and he finds himself being swayed that, maybe, Vex is right.

And in their shared experiences, Vex usually tended to be. 

“Alright..” Vax sighs, looking back up at his sister to meet her gaze, “I still have my concerns, but I’ll follow your lead here. If you intend to fulfill your end of the deal with this fae, then I’ll support you.”

Vex looks at her twin with surprise, but smiles appreciatively, moving up from her chair to sit next to him on the bed. “Thank you,” she smiles, resting her hand on top of his, “I know this whole thing seems crazy, hell it IS crazy, but I really appreciate your support here.”

“After what you did for me? It’s the least I can do.” Vax says, smiling slightly as he gives her hand a squeeze, “Just promise you won’t make a habit out of banging faefolk in exchange for my health.”

That earns a laugh from his sister, “I’ll do my best, Scrawny.” 

----

Vex sighs as she looks up at the ceiling in her room. It’s been a month since that conversation with Vax, and even so, she hasn’t seen or heard from Percival in that time.

She briefly wondered if he’d forgotten about their deal, but she quickly dismissed that thought. In all the books she’s read about the fae, there was nothing but lore after lore about how they always collect on a deal they make, no matter how long ago it was struck.

Besides, it’s not like there wasn’t any proof that the fae wasn’t still present in her life; the glowing mark on her hand was proof of that. 

And yet there were other signs that her fae was still there. How, during her archery training, if she’d cut herself after her bowstring snapped, it would be healed before Pike even had a chance to look at it. And, during one of her clumsier moments, tripping over a lifted tree root while in the woods with Trinket, an invisible hand would catch her and help her regain her balance.

Vex felt as though she could explain those away as the fae protecting his “investment”. After all, it benefitted him to keep her safe until she fulfilled her end of the deal.

And yet…

There are some things she can’t seem to explain; such as why is it before she went to sleep at night, she could hear the soothing sounds of the forest ever so clearly in her ears?

Instead of lingering on these thoughts, Vex shakes her head and groans. “I’m overthinking..” she mumbles to herself, finally standing from her bed as she finally decides to undress for the evening.

“What are you overthinking?”

Acting on instinct, Vex grabs the dagger she keeps under her pillow and is ready to throw it towards the unfamiliar voice.

Until she realizes, it’s not unfamiliar at all.

She just hadn’t heard it for a month.

“Percival..” she sighs, turning as she sets the dagger down on her desk and is greeted by the familiar blue eyes and amused smirk of her fae, “You really need to find a better way to announce yourself.”

“Apologies, Vex’ahlia.” He chuckles lightly, “I’ll be sure to knock next time. It would be quite awkward for our arrangement if you stabbed me,” his eyes glance down to the knife, “though I do appreciate the fact that you don’t keep an iron dagger under your pillow.”

“I used to,” Vex responds, smirking lightly, “but I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea.” Silence passes between them for a few moments before she speaks up again, “So, the fact that you’re here must mean you’re ready?”

Percy nods, “I would’ve returned sooner, but I had other matters to attend to in the Feywild.”

Vex tilts her head curiously, “Is that so? Well I’d be fascinated to learn how you spend your time when you aren’t making deals with mortals.”

“In good time, my dear” Percy chuckles, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight as they glance at her bare shoulders, “but please, don’t let me interrupt what you were doing.”

Vex had only gotten to unbuttoning her top when Percy announced himself, and she has never been one to be shy about showing off her body in front of others, and she won’t be stopping that now. So she faces Percy fully, giving him a full view of her as her shirt, then her leggings and underclothes drop to the floor. She doesn’t blush or wait hesitantly for his approval, she knows damn well she looks incredible. 

And seeing the way his eyes darken as his gaze travels down her body, it’s clear he agrees.

“You, uh” Percy coughs, clearing his throat as he returns his gaze to Vex’s eyes, “You are quite lovely.”

“I know,” Vex grins confidently, sitting back on the bed, “at least we know our child will be inheriting some good genes.”

Percy can’t help but let out a chuckle, regaining his composure as he moves closer to the bed, “Your boldness is quite attractive as well,” he reaches out to undo her braid, watching as her long, thick hair falls in waves down her back, marvelling in her beauty like she was a work of art, “you truly are an exquisite woman.” 

“No need to use sweet words with me,” Vex hums, not allowing herself to be caught up in his words, not when this was nothing more than a business transaction, but she could still have fun with it.

“Perish the thought,” Percy responds, drawing his hand away from her curls as he begins undoing his own, finer garments. “We may be fulfilling a contract, but I don’t intend to use false words of love with you, you are far too clever to fall for them.” his jacket, vest and shirt are on the chair as he begins undoing his pants, “But I have no intention of not showering you with the praise and compliments you rightfully deserve, and I certainly don’t intend to leave you unsatisfied.”

Vex tries to keep her eyes from widening at the size of him as his pants drop. Well, it was certainly comforting to know that his cocky arrogance wasn’t compensating for anything, and the rest of him was quite nice as well. “You sound like you have some experience..” she breathes, watching, with quiet surprise as he falls to his knees in front of her, parting her legs on her own volition.

“I’ll leave that to your judgement” Percy grins as his eyes gleam up at her, before turning his focus on the area between her legs, already wet with anticipation. With his hands on her thighs, he pulls her closer, until the bottom half of her is nearly off the bed, as he presses his tongue against her. Vex gasps softly as she falls back on her elbows, watching intently as Percy laps at her, flushing softly as his eyes look up to meet hers.

“Percy..” she moans his name as he takes her clit between his lips and sucks, making her fall back against the bed as she grinds against his mouth, “fuck that’s good..” 

He keeps it up, pressing two fingers with relative ease inside her, curling them against the spot that makes her bite back the urge to scream out in ecstasy as he keeps swirling his tongue around her clit. One of her hands eventually finds it’s way to his hair, gripping the short, silky white locks in a tight grip as she reaches her peak. And he doesn’t stop until she makes a mess that drips down the inside of her thighs that he is more than eager to clean up himself.

“Oh gods..” Vex sighs breathlessly as she sits up on the bed, albeit a bit shakily, “you are off to a very strong start, Mr. Fae.” Percy grins as he wipes the mess off his face before finally climbing onto the bed himself.

“Like I said,” he hums as he reaches forward to brush her hair out of her face, “I want to make sure you get satisfaction out of this.”

Vex smiles as she takes his hand away from her face and guides him to lay against back against the bed before straddling his hips, “You’re certainly proving to be a man of your word,” she takes his cock in hand, relishing the soft gasp that comes out of his as she lowers herself down on him, “but now it’s my turn to take the lead.”

“You won’t hear any complaints from me,” Percy grins, though it soon turns into a satisfied groan as her tight heat surrounds him, his hands reaching out to hold her hips as she lowers herself down until she’s sitting on his lap. She takes a moment to adjust to the sensation of being filled, rocking her hips against his until the slight discomfort makes way for something far more pleasurable. Finding her rhythm, Vex leans forward to brace her hands against Percy’s chest, rocking her hips with more intent, gasping as each thrust presses against her g-spot. 

Percy can barely take his eyes off her as his blunt nails dig into her hips, rocking his hip up to meet her movements. The way the moonlight creeping in through the window gave her body an ethereal glow of her own, the light glow of her eyes that came from her dark vision, the way her hair fell in messy waves each time she rocked against him. Even the most beautiful of the faefolk couldn’t compare to her in this moment. 

“Percy..” she groans, her nails scraping against his chest, “I’m close..”

“Go ahead,” Percy moans, his hands trailing up to caress the curve of her breasts, brushing his thumb over her nipples, “You sounded so beautiful the first time, now I want to see for myself.”

It doesn’t take much longer after that before Vex is clenching around him as her second orgasm of the night spills around his cock, and the sudden tightness she provides makes Percy let out a low groan as his own release hits him hard and fast, spilling into her.

Vex gasps as she feels the heat of his release fill her, and her thighs grow shaky as she falls forward to rest against him, both of them taking a moment to collect themselves.

Silence passes over them for a few minutes, until Percy decides he’s had enough of it. “Well..” he starts, “that was quite nice.” 

Vex can’t help but snort out a giggle in response, and soon Percy can’t help but laugh with her. “Yes,” she chuckles, rolling off of him to lay down and stretch out beside him, “I certainly have to agree.”

“My apologies,” he smiles lightly, “I’m usually more eloquent than that. So..” he glances down at her stomach before meeting her eyes, “when should you know if it took?”

Vex shrugs, “Usually about a month or so..” she pauses, thinking for a moment before she continues, “but to be fair, for most people, it usually takes more than one try to make a baby.”

If Percy’s eyes light up with interest, he tries to hide with a polite nod of understanding, “I see...well, it would be in our best interest to not make assumptions then.”

Vex smirks lightly as she nods in agreement, “It certainly would be...just to be sure to let me know when I can expect you next time.”

Percy chuckles as he reaches out to take her hand, “Fair enough,” he smiles before pressing a kiss to her knuckles, “though just so you’re aware, you can also call on me whenever you please. One of the perks of knowing a fae’s true name.” Vex smiles with interest before letting out a small yawn.

“Good to know..” 

Her fae’s smile softens as he sets her hand down and strokes her hair out of her face, “I’ll see you soon, Vex.”

And when Vex blinks, he’s gone.

She sighs softly, comfortably blissful as she drifts back off to sleep, the sounds of the forest clear in her ears.

[vigilantesanonymous]

and the thing is, i’m not scared anymore (part 2)

In which you are a healer being held against your will by the First Order. There are legends swirling around the galaxy of a great Sith healer, one that can bring a man back to life, all without Jedi power. But to you, you’re just a girl stuck on a planet with nowhere to go, left to rot there for the rest of your life. That is, until a cocky and utterly charming Resistance pilot crashes in to save you. (So kinda like Tangled but make it Star Wars. Only kinda though.) 

Word count: 2418

In the safety of space, Chewbacca returned to pick up Poe and rather roughly dump him on one of the beds in the sleeping quarters. Poe groans as he clutches at his side, making my heart ache. 

I help him so that he’s leaning against the cold metal wall. “We’re going to have to take this off of you so I can see what we’re dealing with. Is that okay?” I ask, my fingers tracing along the hem of his shirt. 

“What? Oh, yeah.” If I didn’t know any better, I would say that Poe’s cheeks tinged pink. He sits up a little straighter so I can peel his shirt off, which allows me to really get a look at a very toned abdomen, I mean wow they don’t make Sith leaders as attractive as this guy- and of course, his blaster wound. 

“Think you can fix it?” he asks softly.

I nod confidently. “Oh, I can fix it. I’ve worked on a lot worse,” I reassure him.  “Just don’t… Y’know... Don’t freak out,” I say. 

“What a great thing to hear with a life threatening wound,” Poe jokes weakly. 

I give him a look and he shuts up. Very gently, I ease him back so he’s relaxing against the pillows, and cover the wound with my hand. I hear him inhale sharply- obviously it still hurts- but he doesn’t make any more jibes. I close my eyes, letting myself focus on healing him, feeling the flesh beneath my fingers sew itself back together just as if it had never been touched. After a moment I pull my hand away, revealing perfectly smooth skin beneath. 

I look up, and Poe is staring at me with huge eyes. “Don’t-” I start, but he shakes his head.

“This is me not freaking out,” he says quickly. He looks down to inspect where the wound was previously, running the tips of his fingers over it gently at first, and then firmly poking it. 

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, does it?”

He shakes his head no again, seemingly at a loss for words. “It feels great, actually. Like, like even better than before I got hit. Thank you.” He slips my hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I can’t believe I was just healed by the legendary Sith healer,” I hear Poe murmur to himself.

“I didn’t get to choose a side,” I correct him. “I was taken when I was young. I don’t know how they knew about my power, but they did. I’ve been stuck there for years Poe, and if I don’t help them, then they hurt what’s left of my family, or they kill me.” I sigh, rubbing at the bridge of my nose, right between my eyebrows. “You don’t understand. I was given the label of Sith- but I’m not. There’s no hope in the Sith. The only one out of all of the First Order that has ever given me any kindness was Kylo Ren. That’s it.”

“Well, I hope I can change that,” he says, and for once in my life, I feel like I can trust someone. “We need someone like you in the Resistance,” he adds. “Someone… Someone gentle. Calm. Everything is chaos all the time, with flying off here and there and having battles all the time. Every moment is so- so stressful. I wouldn’t have it any other way, don’t get me wrong. Everything I do is for the Resistance. But this,” he gestures to his side. “And you? Are incredible.”

I look down, my cheeks burning in the wake of his compliment. I never would have imagined in my wildest dreams that someone so kind and stupidly handsome would ever think I was incredible. But he treated me like a person instead of a tool. And for a lonely girl who was more often referred to as a thing instead of a person, that meant a lot. “Thank you,” I whisper.

He shifts forward, gently tilting my chin to meet his eyes. “Eyes on me, baby,” he says softly. “You don’t need to look down anymore. No one in the Resistance will treat you like they did, ever. I promise you that.”

He’s staring at me so intensely, and the air feels thick with tension. I just want to kiss his stupidly chiseled face, make him do that half smile thing where the side of his mouth quirks up on the side and-

A droid crashes into my leg. It’s different than the one I saw before, it’s smaller and orange and rolls around. “BB-8!” Poe cries happily, but I can’t help feeling a little sour that the moment is lost. “Don’t I look great? Our new healer here fixed me up good as new.”

BB-8 lets out a succession of excited beeps, its head swinging back and forth to look between the two of us. Whatever it said makes Poe laugh, that little flush coming back to his cheeks. 

“Droids,” Poe says to me with a chuckle. “I think I’m gonna head up to the cockpit and see how it’s going,” he says as he stands up, tugging his shirt on. “Care to join me? Or you can make yourself comfortable here. I would say explore the ship, but then again, Han stored weird shit all over the place in here, so that might not be the best idea.”

“I think I’ll come along. I’ve only seen space from all the drawings in the books I had,” I mention as I saunter down the hall behind him. BB-8 circles my feet, beeping and eyeing me up and down before twirling around and zooming back to where I assume the cockpit is. The ship is huge- or at least I assume it is, considering I have nothing else to compare it to. I take in the metal floors, the worn white walls, the hum of space- it’s all so new and overwhelming, but I can’t stop smiling. It’s all I’ve ever dreamed of. 

Poe leaves to go toward the cockpit, I’m assuming to take over piloting. He had only been there a minute before I hear him screaming, “What do you mean one of the engines is shot, Chewy?!” He storms back into the main hold of the ship, the Wookie following on his heels. “I heard you the first time, I know that jumping to lightspeed away from the planet saved our lives, but the engine!” He takes a deep breath and turns to the little huddle of droids and I. “Okay, change of plans. We’re gonna have to stop somewhere to get the engine fixed or we won’t be able to make the jump to hyperspace, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be stuck in this tin can for weeks while we slowly inch our way back. Tatooine is close enough; I’m thinking we lay low in a cantina, get the Falcon fixed, and get back as quickly as possible. Sound good to everyone?”

Chewy says something, looking between Poe and I and then laughing. I studied languages, but I’ve never actually heard a Wookie talk so it was hard for me to make out what he was saying. Judging by Poe’s face, he was making fun of him. 

Perplexed, C-3PO perked up. “Why would Master Poe be going on a date, Chewbacca? This is a mission, there is no time for romantic endeavors!” 

“Can it, 3PO!” 

I look between the Chewy and Poe, heat creeping up to my cheeks as I realization dawns on me. 

Poe, visibly flustered, shakes his head. “You know- I was gonna… I’m just gonna go back and pilot the ship,” he finishes before turning on his heel and beelines for the cockpit. 

“Master Poe is acting quite strangely,” 3PO remarks as I try to suppress my giggles. 

*

Tatooine is hot. Like really hot. I’m used to the sticky feeling of humidity, so the dry, unrelenting climate is uncharted territory for me. The sweltering heat makes the air shimmer, causing things in the distance to look wavy. It almost looks like they’re dancing. Everything is dry and dusty, and this planet has sand, which crunches under my feet and kind of tickles. I can taste it in my mouth, sand crunching every time I clench my teeth. Chewbacca insists on staying with the Falcon at the repair hangar with all of the droids, so it’s just Poe and I heading across the dunes to the town a few miles away. 

“I’ve never seen so much sand before,” I say as we trudge across it. The town is getting closer, everything being bathed in a bright orange glow as the suns begin to set. 

“I bet,” Poe chuckles. “That’s all this planet really has. That and Jawas.”

“Jawas?”

“Yeah, nasty little shits. They’re scavengers, and if you’re not careful they’ll strip your ship faster than you can blink. I’m sure we’ll see a few of ‘em in town. Oh, that and the dark lore creatures,” he says with a mischievous smirk. 

I give him a gentle shove, which makes him laugh. “Poe?” I ask hesitantly. 

“Yeah Sweetheart?”

I feel embarrassed, but unbeknown to Poe, I’m terrified. My mind swirls with stories I've overheard from Stormtroopers about the thugs and bounty hunters that hang out at bars on planets like these. “Will there be… Ruffians there?”

“What?” Poe laughs. “What do you mean?” “You know! Bounty hunters, thieves, crooks, people that would want to take me back to the First Order!” I huff. I feel foolish and regret even asking anything. I should have just kept my mouth shut. 

“You would have loved me back in the day then,” he chuckles to himself. “I was a spice runner. Lot’s of ruffians in that business,” he adds when he sees my confusion. “But don’t worry about it Sweetheart. Just stay with me, and nobody will bother you. I promise.” He gives me a warm grin, and my worries evaporate. 

Before we enter the bar, Poe slides an arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him. “Remember: just stick close to me, and don’t talk to anybody. We should only have to be here for a few hours.”

I nod in agreement, my heart thumping out of my chest. Poe holds onto my waist tighter as the doors open, his grip soft but firm. I try to hold in my shock at the scene in front of me: creatures beyond my wildest dreams are sitting around drinking some kind of blue liquid at the bar, while others are cleaning weapons and eyeing everyone shiftily in their booths. It’s loud, and two men near the entrance are shouting at each other over seemingly counterfeit Imperial credits. Trying not to bump into anyone, Poe weaves us through the crowd to the back where it’s a little bit quieter and more private. 

We smash ourselves into the small booth, Poe so close to me that I’m able to count the freckles that just barely stand out against his tanned face. “How are you doing, kid?” he asks, just barely audible over the din. 

“I’m okay,” I stammer. “Just- just taking everything in.” My eyes must be the size of moons; I know I’m not doing well at concealing how scared I am. 

Poe gives me a small smile, squeezing my hand. “It’s alright. Maybe just try to look a little less terrified. I’m starved, do you want anything?”

“You’re going to leave me?!” I squeak. 

“Just for a minute! If I don’t come back in 5 minutes, you have permission to scratch up my X-wing.” He starts sliding out, but I grab his hand. “5 minutes,” he repeats before disappearing into the crowd. 

Poe returns a few minutes later, his hands full with drinks and what looks like a warm stew. How anyone could want to eat something hot when it’s already scorching on this planet escapes me, but once I smell it I realize how hungry I am. “Dinner,” he says as he passes me my bowl. “I hope you like it,” he adds as he scooches close to me. 

“I’ve never had anything except Imperial rations, so I’m sure that anything will be better than those,” I say sincerely. Poe makes a face at the mention of Imperial rations; I’m glad to see that he isn’t a fan either. 

“Try it, see what you think.” Poe rests his head on his hand, his dark eyes sparkling in the dim light of the cantina as he watches me. 

I take a bite, more flavor than I thought was in the galaxy hitting my tongue. It’s warm and smokey and even a little spicy. “This is really good,” I say after I swallow. “Who knew that food was actually capable of having flavor?” I giggle. 

“You know there’s Jawa in that, right?” Poe says offhandedly as I start to take another bite. My face falls in shock, making him burst out into laughter. “I’m just kidding, no Jawa. I just had to, it was too easy.”

“Whatever, Dameron,” I huff, rolling my eyes. Poe just continues to giggle to himself, shooting me an ‘I’m sorry but not really’ kind of look. 

We stay in the cantina for a few hours, talking about anything and everything. I ask him what the Resistance is like, if Leia is nice and if she’ll like me, who this Rey person is that everyone in the First Order can’t shut up about, if she and Kylo Ren actually have a thing for each other or if it’s all just Stormtrooper gossip; he asks me about what it was like being stuck in the same place my whole life, if I’ve ever seen Kylo Ren with his mask off and if he can actually talk clearly, who the ugliest Sith is, if I remember where I came from. I feel like it’s just the two of us in that bar, the other patrons melting out of sight. The way Poe listens to me, the way he’s looking at me makes me feel like I’m the only person in the galaxy that exists. After another harrowing story about his bravery and excellent flight skills, Poe begrudgingly mentions that we should head back. And for as scared as I was, I think I like cantina’s now. 

Chewy looks like he knows that too, with the grin he gives us as we board the ship to head back to D’Qar. 

[moonflower-31]

Prank Wars - Gabriel x Reader

Warnings: None really. If you notice any, let me know.

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

Character(s): Gabriel, Dean, Castiel, Sam.

You and Gabe had been in a prank war. You didn't know why or how it started, but it did. All with one sentence. "I'll get you back for that. One day. Mark my words." And it was annoying everyone.

The farthest back prank you could remember was about four months ago, when you had replaced some of his candy with mints, and he had hollered your name at the top of his lungs.

Gabriel had retaliated by changjng your hair products to temporary dye and you had woken up the next morning with bright green hair. Oh it was on.

You had responded to that prank by putting his candy somewhere he couldn't find it, and he had to apologize and fix your hair to get it back. He had grumbled but apologized.

However he then played a similar prank to what he did to Sam, playing 'Everybody Loves Me' by OneRepublic everytime you walked into a room.

This had gone on for the past few months. And Dean and Sam were tired of it.

Now you were planning on doing the ultimate prank, at least in your mind. You were going to stick candy to his vessel as he slept. (Cause he slept now, especially with his low grace) and then blast the most annoying song from Dean's playlist in his ear. Of course, you had to get candy into the bunker first. And without Gabriel eating it all.

"This is stupid." Dean grumbled, stealing a sucker from the bag as he helped you haul the two large bags of candy into the kitchen and onto the highest shelf so that Gabriel couldn't reach it, or see it.

"No its not. He's done something similar to me! And besides! This is so much better than your idea!" You protested. Dean rolled his eyes as he shoved the bag into the cabinet.

"My idea would have been great. You, me, and a couple of rigged bags of garbage put into wrappers? And then eating actual candy ourselves? Ultimate revenge! And it would finally make him ask for a truce!" Dean grumbled, locking the cabinet shut so that no one else could get into it but him or you.

"Make who ask for a truce?" A voice entered the conversation. You jumped and looked behind you, seeing Gabriel with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

You didn't know what to say. Pranking Gabriel was one thing. But actually talking to him? You were destined to fail at that. He was so confident in himself! And you were... the opposite. He was a total flirt! Who had a type that most definitely wasn't you. Besides, you were human. And humans had short lives. Gabriel was an archangel. Something that was set to live forever. Unless they were killed. What good did it do you to try and tell Gabriel how you felt? It did nothing! And you knew it.

"Uh...no one! And why are you even eavesdropping? Its not your turn for a prank anyway!" You insist. Gabriel smirks.

"Oh come on, you love me~" he teased. You rolled your eyes.

"Fat chance." You taunted back, looking back at Dean who gave you a warning look.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Oh come on! Everybody loves me~!" He sing-songs, making you groan.

"Oh shove it Gabriel!" You taunt, stomping off to the other room.

Dean sighed, and went to follow you, giving Gabriel a side glance. "This has got to stop. Both of you." He grunts to Gabriel before he went off and found you with Sam and Castiel in the library.

"He's just like that. You'll get used to him." Castiel had said to you, making you groan and slam your head into the table. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Come on, we all can see it. Even Dean can and he's not even out of the closet yet!" Sam exclaimed, making Dean look at Sam in shock and confusion.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh don't deny it Dean! You and Cas? The staring? Just go and kiss already damn it!" He grunts. Castiel blushes and Dean clears his throat in embarrassment. You snicker a bit before Sam looks at you.

"You aren't off the hook either! I've seen how you look at him. Its not far off from how Cas and Dean look at each other. It's literally eye sex!" Sam groaned. You felt your face brighten as bright as Castiel's. You covered your face and sighed. They were right. You'd had a crush on Gabriel since you first met him and he had flirted with you, like he did everyone who had a vagina. And sometimes people with dicks.

You'd always told yourself that you'd never tell him. Because you knew he would never feel the same. But you supposedly weren't as subtle as you thought you were. Because almost everyone in the bunker knew. Except for Gabriel.

You sighed and ran a hand througy your hair. "I can't tell him Sam, I just can't..." you started. Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Why? Cause you're too scared to? Cause you're just 'not ready'? Y/N, you have been crushing on him, for 8 years! I think that's plenty of time to know you're in love with someone!" He exclaims.

"Who's in love with who? Dean and Cassie? Finally." Gabriel starts, walking into the library to join in on the conversation.

You immediately hid your bright red face and Sam glared at you, gesturing with his head for you to talk to him. You shook your head immediately. You weren't ready. You never would be.

Sam rolled his eyes again and then started to talk to Gabriel while you sat there, thinking of a way out.

~~~

It had been another two weeks of pranks and ignoring feelings. And Dean and Sam were tired of it. Cas was even starting to get annoyed.

It was Gabriel's turn to prank you next, so you were on edge. And Gabriel had been ignoring you for awhile. Ever since you had disappeared from the library after the 'You need to tell him how you feel' conversation. You hoped he hadn't heard you, but you never know.

So now, you were reading a lore book. Nothing special. Dean and Sam had a hunt planned for you all to go on that day, so you were just getting prepared.

It was about 2:30 in the morning, and you were flipping the page, when something crashed, and Dean called out for help. You immediately dropped your book and grabbed your knife, racing out to find Dean and help him.

You followed the sound of his voice and found him in the bunker's dungeon, waiting for you with a pair of handcufs. You didn't have time to react as Sam came up behind you and put one of your wrists into the handcuffs and then low and behold, Castiel dragged Gabriel into the room and put the other handcuff on his wrist. You looked up at the three, confused.

"Wh-what is this?" You ask, trying to take your wrist out of the handcuffs when you noticed they were warded. Not even Gabriel could undo them.

"An intervention. You, and Gabriel have been doing this prank war for long enough. And you need to tell him. You know what I'm talking about." Sam says, glaring at you. You huff at him, and avoid Gabriel's confused gaze that he turns to you.

"This isn't fair boys, come on. We were just having a bit of fun-" Gabriel started.

"Yeah, a bit of fun that has been drawing on for long enough." Dean says, glaring at Gabriel. "Now I don't approve of it, but she's got something to say. If I have to confess, so does she. You both aren't getting out of here until you call a truce, and she says what she needs to say." Dean says, grabbing Castiel's hand as they begin to close them in the dungeon.

"B-but what about the hunt?!" You ask. Dean rolled his eyes.

"We're good on hands! You two need to sort this out, we're sick of it!" Dean grumbled as they finally closed the entrance, and left the room.

Immediately you growled, and you felt like crying. You weren't ready. And if you told him how you felt and he didn't feel the same? You would have to end up standing here with him and face rejection until Dean and Sam came back.

Gabriel sighed, grumbling a bit to himself. "I don't understand how they can't take a joke. I mean come on, its not like you or I were hurt by any of the pranks, right?" Gabriel asks you.

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head, refusing to look at him. Gabriel frowned.

"Did... did I hurt you Sugar?" He asks. You let out a half sob at the nickname. It always made you feel good when he called you that. Always. You didn't want to ruin what you had.

"No... no you didn't..." you say, forcing back tears. Gabriel sighed again and turned you to face him, and lifted your chin up.

"Hey, I think I did. Can you look at me? Please?" He asks. You forced your eyes down, refusing to look at him. "Please?" He asks again, using his handcuffed hand to squeeze yours. You finally gave in and looked up at him. He gave you a half smile that soon faded as he realized what he was doing to you.

"Hey... truce, alright? We'll call a truce. We can just say that you told me if you really aren't ready, Sugar. Alright?" He says, giving you a genuine smile. You sniffled and wiped your eyes, sighing a bit.

"I...no... no I...I want to... before I decide not to again..." you say, a strange string of confidence filling your chest. Gabriel gave you his full attention, his hand on your chin moving to your shoulder in support. You smiled at the touch, and then looked him in the eyes, your heart pounding a mile a minute.

"Gabriel...I-I... I like you. No...I... I love you. I have for a long time... since I met you actually..." You trail, squeezing his hand as if he could leave your side. "It was so much easier to keep how I felt a secret, than to face rejection. Cause I'm just human. My lifetime is a blink to you... So don't feel bad if you don't feel the same..." you finally confess, letting his hand go. You feel like crying harder now, and you wish you weren't handcuffed so that you could curl up in the corner. But then he surprised you. He took your hand again and squeezed it tighter. You look up to him in shock.

He holds your chin again and smiles at you. "Sugar... you have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that. I thought you never would. Kept thinking it was me. That you just didn't want me to grieve over you. Or that I was too good of a friend. Y/N... I don't care that your life is short. I want to spend every moment of it I can with you. And only you. I love you too." He confesses. "Don't go telling the muttonheads I got all mushy though. They would never let me live it down." Gabriel says. You giggle and smile at him, happy tears straying down your face.

"I promise. Cause I guess a reputation is all you've got, being a man and all." You tease, using a Tangled line on him. He laughed.

"Oh yeah, definitely wouldn't want that." He responded, pulling you close with his handcuffed hand. "Cause now its the only thing I can afford to lose."

You were happy, entirely. You hadn't faced the rejection you thought you would've. And he loved you. And you loved him. That was all there needed to be.