#probably blesses her with the ability to not be frozen in time like the others

[luckyluckyluckyluckymutty]

Idea floating in my head....the rabbids kidnap the dark teensys (some kind of bullfuckery to make that possible) and use their magic to control time - the last one to get captured makes a raygirl (simohne) right before then, in the hopes that she'd be able to do something about it, similar to rayman and his adventures

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  Artificial Lullabye

Series: Supernatural B-Sides

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  Supernatural

Rating:  Teen

Pairing:  John Winchester/Mary Winchester

Synopsis:  We all know Hey Jude is what Mary sang to her babies as a lullabye. It's a good choice, you can na-na forever until the kid calms down. John, being half a macho bastard and with different tastes in music, would probably sing something a little bit different.

Tags:  John Winchester, Mary Winchester, Baby Dean, Songfic, Teething Babies Are Evil, John's Not A Complete Bastard

AN:  Song is "Hootchie Cootchie Man," written by Willie Dixon and covered by Steppenwolf on their self-titled album. Before anybody says anything, Mildred Winchester's Universal Teething Cure isn't recommened because alcohol is poison-- use whatever gum medicine your pediatrician recommends. All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any copyrights or trademarks. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and protected by Fair Use.

---

Asleep on his feet, John shuffled down the hall towards the shrieking of all the damned souls of Hell.  Funny, he reflected, of all the times Mary had threatened to run away and join the circus since having the baby, it was only after the little fiend started teething that he'd started to worry she might actually do it.  Funny too, of all the skills bashed into his head in Basic the ability to function while effectively dead was proving most useful in life as a husband and father.

Making shushing noises, John crossed the nursery to the crib under the window, where his firstborn son wailed in agony to the heavens above.  If angels really were watching, poor bastards must be getting an earful.  "C'mere, Deano," John said, lifting Dean and settling him on his chest.  Did the little rat calm down in the protective circle of his father's arms, lulled by the steady beat of a heart under his tiny pink ear?  Hell no.  Assured of a captive audience, Dean screamed straight into John's ear.  "Thanks kiddo, I can still hear out of that side," he muttered dryly.  "Let's go downstairs before your mother wakes up and bitches me out.  Again."

Down in the kitchen, John held Dean in one arm and used the other to assemble Mildred Winchester's Universal Teething Cure-- a glass of Four Roses on the rocks.  He dipped his finger into the chilled bourbon and slipped the finger into Dean's tiny mouth.  He winced as Dean bit down with his sharp new teeth.  Three on top and two on the bottom so far.  The demon spawn that had replaced his placid infant son had already drawn blood with the damned things.  God help him, John had come close to slapping Mary when she smacked Dean's nose while feeding him the other day.  He hadn't gotten it until she'd shown him the tiny tooth cuts on her nipple.

"Lesson number one," John said, massaging his cold whiskey-moist finger against Dean's feverish gums, "is real men never hurt girls.  Especially not that one."  Another dip and thank all the heavenly blessings Dean's howling tapered to sniffles.  A frozen waffle for gnawing and a quick wipe with John's handkerchief, Dean looked almost himself again, peering out at the world with his huge green eyes.  His paternal grandmother's eyes, and didn't Mom just love that?  Not like his own dark brown eyes -- a gift from Grandpa Solomon -- or Deanna Campbell's aquamarine.

He frowned.  For some reason, when he tried to think of meeting and talking with his in-laws, the memories felt strange in his head.  Like he'd been high at the time.

Hah.  Show up to the Campbell house bombed equals fancy way to scrag yourself.  Samuel Campbell had detested John on sight and John knew full well he'd never wavered from that judgement.

Dean started to fuss.  "Sorry Deano," John said, bringing his attention back to the present.  "Just me thinks."

John drank off the whiskey and stuck the glass in the sink.  Upstairs, he changed Dean and started to put Dean down in the crib.  Dean let out a little whine and John sighed.  On top of everything else, the boy was a slow sleeper.  Putting him straight down was just asking for a repeat performance.  "Can't never make things easy on your old man," he sighed, blissfully unaware of the coming years in which the scrap in his arms would become his only barricade between sanity and madness.  John settled Dean with his son's little face in the crook of his neck and shoulder and started pacing.  The Impala would put him under in a New York Minute, but he'd exchange a crabby baby for a crabby wife, and given a choice--

Well it wasn't like Mary was the only one of them who could run away and join the circus.  Maybe they could drop Dean off at Mom's and make it a mutual thing.  Goodbye son, hello sequined tights.  See ya when he hits college.

"Gypsy woman told my mother . . . 'fore I was born . . . you gotta boychild comin' . . . gonna be a real sonofagun . . ." John sang under his breath, keeping his steps short and gently bouncing to the blues riff.  "Gonna make the pretty womens . . . jump and shout," God it was a fucking miracle, Dean lay quiet in John's arms, waffle forgotten in his mouth, wide eyes turned up to John.  John grinned.

"Cuz you know I'm him . . ." he did a little reverse-step.  "EVER-ry body knows I'm him . . ." remembering Mary feather-light in his arms as they danced at that old honky-tonk outside Jackson, Steppenwolf blaring from the jukebox and realizing he'd fallen like a sack of mail.  "I'm your hootchie-coochie man . . ." God, Dean's little baby smile looked a lot like Mary's, sweet but with that edge, the one that told the world screw around with me at your own risk, "everybody knows I'm here."

He stuck to humming the next verse, and if he threw in a few dancing twirls nobody but God had to know.  If it got Dean to Dreamland he'd drop trou and do the funky chicken.

Yeah, John thought to himself, holding his son a little tighter.  No tinny music box tinkling out a cheap dime replica of a lullaby for his kids.  No disappearing into thin fucking air out of fucking nowhere, leaving Dean alone to be the man of the house.  It still blew John's mind that one day the tiny thing cuddled into him will be a man someday.

Just love him, Johnny, Mildred had told him, the first time she held her grandson in her arms.  Start with that and the rest will follow.

"Yes ma'am," John muttered.  "On the seventh hours . . . on the seventh day . . . the seventh month . . . seven doctors say . . ."

Mary cleared her throat from the doorway and John looked over his shoulder, meeting her tired smile with his own and holding a finger in front of his lips.  "He was born for good luck . . . and that you will see . . ."  Gentle as though he were disabling a landmine, John laid a snorting Dean down in the crib.  "I got seven hundred dollars, so don't you mess with me."   Dean let out a couple sleepy squirms and settled, his mouth curved in a tiny baby smile.  John chuckled a little.  Put it next to his Vietnam Service Medal-- I made my kid smile.

Turning to his wife, John pitched his voice low.  Suggestive.  "But," he pointed at Mary, "you know I'm him," Mary smothered a laugh with one hand, "everybody knows," John jerked a thumb back at himself, "I'm him.  I'm your hootchie-cootchie man," his arm went around Mary.  John kissed her neck where it made her giggle, breathing in her scent of clean hair and soft perfume and just a hint of milk, "Everybody knows, I'm him."

Mary checked on Dean.  She gave John a thumbs-up and tiptoed out.

"Should we ever tell him why you're singing that to him?" Mary asked.

John grinned.  "Sure.  When he's old enough to learn how to drive it."  Maybe they should make a pilgrimage to the bridge they'd been parked underneath that night.  He kissed Mary and pulled her close.

Mary melted under his touch for a few delicious minutes, then gently urged John still.  She yawned.  "Down boy."

"Yes ma'am."  Hand in hand, they went back up the hallway.

One whole step.  Then from behind they heard the tattletale tiny whines and snorts.  John shut his eyes and said something he picked up from the Island.  Mary rolled her eyes heavenword and said something she got from her sailor uncle.  Dean made up in volume what he lacked in vocabulary.

Mary looked at John.  John looked at Mary.  Together, they weighed their love for one another and their love for their son.

John threw Paper, Mary threw Rock.  Groaning, Mary turned on her heel and went to confront the Beast.  John stood and just listened for a long moment.  A corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile.  Up to his neck in picket fence wholesomeness and it felt good.

I'm a high school dropout who doesn't amount to much, John said to himself.  And I'm going to have to make it up as I go.  But I swear my son will grow up knowing what a man should be, because I'm going to be right there to show him.  Dean I promise-- you'll never doubt how much your daddy loves you.  Not ever.

---

Four years later, John will sit on a cot in a fire station with a howling infant and a silent little boy, the last of his wife leaving him as the smell of smoke fades from his clothes.  Dean still has Sammy in his arms and is pacing and bouncing, the way he's seen Mary do when Sammy fusses but of course he's pacing too fast and bouncing too hard.  He's too young to know babies need finesse.  The John Winchester that would've picked up both his boys and held them close is disappearing too and somehow Dean knows it.  John doesn't do anything but stare at nothing as the fire department's secretary coaxes Dean into slowing down.  She reshapes Dean's arms to cradle Sammy properly and shows him how to sway in that special soothing way.  John can't do anything but be distantly grateful.  At least Sammy's calming down.

Both of his sons will say later that for all intents and purposes John died when he found Mary burning alive over Sam's crib.  The reality is, John died when the secretary turned the radio on Low and his children spent their first night without their mother falling asleep to an artificial lullabye.

---

AN2: Wow, this went to an angsty place. I just re-watched S8E12, 'As Time Goes By,' and it explains a lot about John-- why he made the choices he did, why he absolutely refused to home-base the boys with Pastor Jim or Bobby, and why he never really acknowledged the damage he was doing to his sons. It's the question people raised by troubled parents have to grapple with all their lives; John did the best he could, but how much does that justify? Or excuse?

[mad-raptorzzz]

Another WOF AU for something I like. This time the Avatar animated series. Because it’s one of my all time faves.

basic outline: many dragons across both continents have a low underlying form of animus magic that was gifted to them by the spirits (sun, moon, air, and earth). These dragons can manipulate the elements of fire, water, air, or earth. One dragon is blessed with the ability to use all elements and keep balance between the spirit and physical worlds. They are reincarnated each time they pass away. Any dragon from any tribe can be a bender of each of the four elements. Though certain dragons have more of a propensity for one or the other. For example: a SeaWing can be an earth bending dragon, but it is much more common for them to be a water bending dragon. The general vibe is: fire benders are SkyWings, SilkWings, and NightWings; earth benders are MudWings and SandWings; water benders are IceWings, SeaWings, and LeafWings; and air benders are RainWings and HiveWings. However, there are factions in the dragon world that believe one type of bending is superior: fire, as that was the first element dragons were blessed with. More than this, there are dragons that believe only certain dragons should bend certain elements. These beliefs have gotten stronger over the last hundred years and resulted in the SkyWing monarchy of fire benders launching an all out attack. They virtually wiped out all the bending RainWings and HiveWings in search of the avatar. For that reason, there are many non bending Rain and Hive dragons in the fire bending controlled territory.

Aang: pure RainWing, an air bender. But also the avatar. Frozen in an iceberg for 100 years. A fun loving dragonet who was not ready to embrace his destiny as the avatar. I figured air nomads would align well with the happy go lucky RainWing tribe pretty well.

Katara: An IceWing/SeaWing hybrid. The last water bender in the South Pole. Naturally gifted but no one to teach her.

Sokka: non bending IceWing/SeaWing. A goofball. But super smart, HiveWings would kill to have him be on their side. A bit misogynistic at first, but he shows *character development* and eventually respects women as great warriors.

Toph: A blind Mudwing earth bender. Probably the best earth bender in her generation and maybe even ever. She senses vibrations in the ground to navigate the world. She also low key invents metal bending.

Zuko: SkyWing/NightWing hybrid. Burned by his father the king of the fire benders and banished to find the avatar. Redemption arc of a lifetime award winner. His mom is the NightWing.

Azula: a fire scales SkyWing/NightWing. The last fire scales in the royal family was the one who started the war, so she sees herself as the one to finish it. Wields blue fire and deadly lightning.

Suki: SandWing/HiveWing non bending dragon. A wicked fighter. I feel like

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

God bless you too! Happy Halloween to you too! :)

1: on Halloween in the past, have they ever wear matching outfits?

2: I know that they are scared of horror movies, but what about games? I can see them playing fnaf and maybe poppy’s playtime. Also, been playing the new Alan Wake 2 that just came out and it’s really scary, I can see the duo wearing their pants playing this game.

3: how did they get their teddy bears? Super bear for Chris and batbear for Jake.

4: would they ever get tattoos?

5: is Jake in a sports league at school or outside of school? I can see him in basketball making the winning score by slam dunking the ball last second or throwing it Across the court.

6: what’s Chris relationship with your version of “the flamebird owner?” (Forgot her name)

Thanks so much friend @gothicghost2000 It’s very appreciated :-D

1. Well, actually they have. Primarily once upon a time, they were both blue Crewmates from Among Us that had Mini Crewmates besides them. They won that year’s Costume Contest, barely beating out Lian who was Anna from Frozen

2. It really depends on what type of horror game they’re playing at that moment. While they’re relatively sensitive to jump scares, Chris and Jake own nearly every single FNAF game and on some occasions, tried out the 20/20/20/20 setting on each of them. Key word being ‘tried’ as they haven’t reached Night 5 on that setting. Another game that makes their spines chill but they’ll play nonetheless would be Dead Space I and II as it offers plenty of atmosphere and action to keep them going. As for Alan Wake, that scenario would seem likely but thankfully the two are able still play it (probably the fact the Duo hold it in until the pause button is pressed and then they rush to the bathroom helps)

3. Chris was given SuperBear during his first Birthday after being adopted by the Kents, stitched up together by Grandma Martha. Originally she had in mind that Chris and Jon would share SuperBear together but Jon was okay with Chris having the plushie to himself as he’s got over toys to more than make up for it. As for BatBear, that was made by Alfred originally as a present for Mar’i on e her first birthday, to compliment with her other plushie which was previously owned by Dick before he gave it to her, Peanut the Elephant. Once Jake was born, Mar’i felt it was only right that he can have BatBear while she can keep Peanut in her own then-new Big Sister sort of way. Thus are SuperBear and BatBear with their respective owners ever since then.

4. Nope. Absolutely not, Under NO Circumstances. Chris and Jake even at their most rebellious moments as teenagers have it perfectly down not to do so, less than they face the wraths of Lois and Dick. Lol

5. Jake is no doubt enrolled in Bludhaven Academy’s resident Little League team, the Nighthawks, having been already promoted to second in command of the team, only behind said team’s on court captain and of course the Coach. He’s mainly the team’s best Shooting Guard as his rather uncanny abilities to intercept the ball and score many points for his team are vital assets on the court. Already by the time he enters 5th grade, he has helped the Nighthawks make it to the Regional Championships about two times. The first time they won second place, only due to Jake breaking his ankle mid game and needing to be removed. The second time though was a solid victory, the first one in Bludhaven Academy’s history.

6. Thara and Chris are a pair of very close friends that for reasons even they can’t firmly explain to each other, they have this budding and passionate feeling from inside of them whenever they’re close. They both come to each other’s help in case of any local troublemakers and pranksters targeting them and they’re commonly placed into groups during class projects. These interactions, in sprite of themselves, have brought Chris and Thara closer together and find common grounds with each other on many things from the mundane like their thoughts on their teachers to the interpersonal including Chris being emotionally supportive to Thara during moments of her family history prior to moving to Earth getting to her. The fact the two are also apprentices of Dick and Bette Kane respectively further solidifies it.

[moodymisty]

I love your writing so much! Can you do some headcanons on how the bad batch would react when the reader, their new medic, is actually a girl but they never new because she always wore her armor and helmet all the time? Maybe they walk in on her changing or when she’s getting out of the shower

Authors note: I'm so glad you like my stuff! And ask and ye shall receive, I hope it's what you wanted

Relationships: Hunter/Fem!Reader, Tech/Fem!Reader, Echo/Fem!Reader, Wrecker/Fem!Reader, Crosshair/Fem!Reader

✦ Tech ✦

Tech ends up accidently stumbling in on you when you're finished taking a quick shower and putting your body glove back on, towel still partly around you. He instantly becomes the embodiment of 'frozen in time'.

He wants to walk away but, would that be rude? But it's rude to stare; Should he apologize or just pretend he saw nothing?

It's a good few seconds of silence before he awkwardly coughs and apologizes, and shuffles out of there like his feet were on fire.

But now he has a moral dilemma; You had clearly kept the armor on around them for a reason, but this isn't something exactly he can forget now.

He has trouble forgetting anything honestly, but it certainly doesn't help that on first impression he thought you were quite attractive, and he can barely keep his head on straight now.

Help this man, he's having like three different moral dilemmas at once.

✦ Hunter ✦

Hunter knew right away; The differences in scent between male and female are too obvious for someone like him not to instantly notice.

However it didn't really register, until he saw you buckling on your armor in the far back of the Marauder out of sight.

It was the first real moment of him seeing there's a woman under there, and not another clone. Which to him was such a dumb thing to think but at the same time it just didn't, click.

But now that it has Hunter finds himself second guessing himself when he speaks to you. He's obviously confident in your ability, it's just that he doesn't want to seem like an ass.

He's just not... used to being around pretty ladies.

✦ Wrecker ✦

For Wrecker, this is the shock of a lifetime for about a three days at most. You'd been in the middle of taking your armor off to shower when he'd barged in just demanding to show you something he found, and in the heat of the moment forgot you were in here to do something private. It didn't help that you'd forgotten to lock the door, and so he barges right in, only to see you in the process of taking off your underwear.

His face quickly goes hot and he shuffles out of there, before realizing what he'd just seen. Had he missed a memo?

Because last he'd checked, no one else had told him their medic was actually a cute lady.

The next day is a little awkward because bless him he doesn't know how to act, but things end up quickly going back to just how they were.

Wrecker's the king of just rolling with it, so he's a blessing, in all honesty.

✦ Crosshair ✦

Crosshair is the one who’s most likely to say something stupid, before trying to backtrack. The man can't really help but be snarky, even when he probably shouldn't because you’re still soaking wet from your shower.

It's a bit of a shield because now his mind is whirlpooling over the fact that the medic that's been so close to them, treating their wounds and working with them is apparently some beautiful woman and he was never disclosed-

Most of the others will try and drop it or forget, but Crosshair is the one who will bring it up every now and again, trying to get a rise out of you. He'll stop if you really demand him, but if you don’t mind; Expect a few snarky jokes every now and again when you get on each other's nerves.

Which not only isn't hard to do, but is also very fun for you.

✦ Echo ✦

Echo has always tried to be respectable to the few women he’s met, so when he spots you trying to change into a new body glove in private, he quickly ducks outta there, then realizes just who has had such a detailed look at his body, more so than anyone else.

Of course it’s you; Because Echo has the worst and best luck out of any clone.

He admittedly is a little bit more awkward now for a short while after, because he's not really sure how to be.

It's just; How is he supposed to watch someone working on his cybernetics so close to his body, knowing what you look like?

He gets over it, and never serves to be anything less than respectful, but he can't help if his face gets a little hot sometimes.

[willyoulovemeinthemorning]

The Cold Never Bothered Me Anyway (1/?)

Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Summary: You are a mutant with the powers of ice and cold and you have never been able to be touched or touch anyone without making them uncomfortable, or worse, hurting them. You’ve always desperately wished for physical affection, and it isn't until a new silver tongued Asgardian moves into the Avengers tower and takes an interest in you that anyone really dares to try to be physical with you.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: This part is pure fluff, but future chapters will be... more. 

Warnings: None for this chapter besides maybe a few cavities!

It had been like this since you’d been a child. You couldn’t remember a life without your ailment. You’d always seen it as a curse more than a blessing- but as you grew up and learned to control it to the best of your abilities, your mind started to change a little bit. Being adopted into Xaviers Academy had been the best thing that could have happened to you. You’d been homeless at the young age of 5 after your third foster family had thrown you out, and Charles had found you sleeping in the snow. It was lucky for you that you didn’t mind the cold at all- your powers were the cold. You could freeze anything, alive or not- and at first that was the problem. You’d frozen your mother’s heart whilst in the middle of a tantrum, and your father met the same fate after he tried to hurt you for doing it. The police found a crying child within hours, surrounded by dead parents and a house full of ice and snow. No one could prove what happened, and no one knew what to do with you from then on. After a life of constant abuse, Charles took you into a world of safety and understanding, and thankfully, that world was really the only world you knew in your conscious mind today.

The trauma was still there, but it was rooted deep in your subconscious mind. Now, as an adult, you’d been taken in to your new chosen family- The Avengers. And your home was no longer at the Academy, it was Avengers Tower. You still taught there every once in a while, whenever Charles called you, but your days were filled with world saving and working out with the worlds mightiest superheroes.

Your best friends in the complex were easily Natasha and Wanda, seeing as you all came from similar lonely backgrounds. It was a quick friendship built on trust, sarcasm, and constant blatant flirting and fucking with eachother. You loved the whole team differently, but Nat and Wanda were definitely special.

Besides them, you were definitely a little… taken with a new member of the household. When Loki was taken in by the Avengers to try and “change” him for the sake of Thor, life definitely got a little… uncomfortable. He was just so attractive, and so sassy and his smart mouth was probably the hottest thing about him. That silver tongue as you’d heard it been called constantly got your mind whirling. The girls mocked you ruthlessly for your crush, but they never pushed it to be more- they both knew your fear of relationships, friendship or otherwise.

Loki, on the other hand, was equally as enamored with you as you were him. He never stopped watching you, trying to learn every facet of your soul as he could from far away. There was something about you, and he looked at you as a puzzle that he desperately wanted to solve.

He loved watching you with your friends- the way you all so effortlessly joked and laughed with eachother- you had what he’d always wanted. An ease with earning love from others with no effort whatsoever. But something that plagued him was the juxtaposition that was your physical affection. You were so jovial and happy with everyone in the house- but you never let anyone touch you. You never touched anyone else either.

At first, he put it to what he knew was your background- abuse and loneliness. Maybe you’d been hurt more than you let on, so you didn’t let people touch you. But he threw out that hypothesis when he spent more time watching you. You always leaned in towards everyone close to you- and they leaned more away as if trying to retreat from your proximity. When with Natasha and Wanda, they always went to touch you, and you just stopped them with a look. It was such a sad look, and Loki longed to understand the pain behind your eyes. The women would pause, sigh, and take their hands back, pull their bodies back, put more distance between you and them, seemingly hurt at having to.

Today was no different. Loki was sitting on a chair in the library by the window with it open, pretending to read a book but actually watching you, while you were lazing on the couch actually reading a book. Something you had both grown very fond of in your time together. Neither of you said much, but you just enjoyed the company of one another with the chill wind coming in from outside. That’s when Natasha came to sit with you. You moved your legs and curled them up into yourself, but something new happened. Natasha, who threw something at you- ah, it was a cookie- to get your attention, and you laughed and ate it while looking at her curiously. She covered herself with a big, thick blanket, and then patted her lap for you to put your legs on top of her. You thought about it, looking pained and unsure, before slowly giving in, your eyes weary with doubt. But… nothing happened. Natasha smiled like the cat who got the cream as she pulled her phone out, and you went back to reading your book with the loveliest look of surprised warmth Loki had ever seen gracing your beautiful features.

After a little while, your eyes started fluttering shut, and you moved yourself so your head was on the red heads lap instead of your legs, and you fell asleep faster than you ever had in your life- a few happy tears falling down your cheeks.

Loki watched you sleep and forgot to put on the facade of reading, which caught the attention of Natasha, who didn’t even look up from her phone. “Whatcha staring at, Loki?” She asked, continuing to scroll.

Loki looked up at her surprise etched into his eyebrows. “Oh, nothing. I just- She’s never let anyone that close to her- how did you do that?” He asked her, eyes falling back to you.

“Y/N doesn’t let anyone touch her because she’s watched them flinch away from how cold she is her whole life. If they’re not flinching away, she hurts them by accident because most of the touches of her life have been dangerous or abusive, and she’s had to protect herself. Her powers don’t ever really turn off, they just… quiet. As long as we’ve been friends, this is the closest I’ve ever gotten to her letting me touch her.” She said, eyes on him now, watching his expressions. “Why do you care to notice?”

His eyes flew back to hers, trying to guard his expression from her knowing gaze. “I was just curious. Trying to figure you all out- she’s been the hardest to understand.” But his eyes falling back to your face gave him away, and when he looked back at Natasha, he knew she knew. She had the decency not to say anything, but the look on her face was enough to make Loki look back to his book and actually try to read this time to avoid any more speculation.

Days passed, and all he could think about was the look on your face when you were able to get some kind of physical affection- and he wanted to see it again. So this time, when he found you in the library like he always did- he didn’t choose the chair by the window. He sat down next to you. You looked up at him, and he could feel your surprise.

You eyed him up and down, and he just smiled that little smile that seemed to be only reserved for you, and started to read. The window was open, as it always was- this was your favorite room, because almost no one came in here besides Loki, and he never seemed to mind your proclivity towards keeping this room cold.

You two were like that for a while, but you started to notice him leaning more towards you- you were already at the end of the couch, so there wasn’t really anywhere for you to go, so you tried to will yourself to calm down and just focus on reading. His presence always calmed you down, he was so charming and kind- well, he was kind to you. You loved watching him read, as his tongue poked out as he was really involved with the words on the page.

Unable to focus on your page in front of you, you instead focused on the way he felt beside you. Normally, when someone was near you, you could feel their warmth radiating off of them- especially Thor and Steve. They seemed to have very naturally high body temperatures, and it made you feel itchy, like there was fire licking at your skin. Vision was one of your favorites to be near- his presence felt like nothing. No warm or cold coming off of him, so completely neutral and it made it very easy to be around him. Loki… well, Loki had never been close enough for you to be able to tell. You expected him to feel like Thor did, seeing as they were both Gods and all, and came from the same place; Asgard. But… Loki felt different. He was… normal? Well, normal for her, that was. He didn’t feel warm, he didn’t feel like anything? He kind of felt like Vision, and that surprised her.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you scootched a little closer to him, your feet brushing his thigh on the couch next to you. You watched out of the corner of your eye for a reaction- but there was nothing negative. If that had happened with Peter, he would have shivered a little and pulled away from the touch because of how cold you were. Tony would have made a joke like, “Just because the cold doesn’t bother you, Elsa, doesn’t mean the rest of us are like that,” and you’d pull away embarrassed at the reminder of how different you are.

Loki moved again, tucking his feet under himself, which repositioned his upper half to be a centimeter from being arm and arm with you. And considering his button up had the sleeves rolled up and you could see his arm hair- God, you wanted to play with it- you were almost skin to skin. Your hands started shaking and you were about to pull away to protect yourself from the inevitable pain that would come from seeing him flinch away in pain- but before you could, it happened. His skin was pressed up against you, and your heart sped up three times as fast… and nothing bad happened. He didn’t move, he didn’t flinch, his face looked… serene? He looked happy touching you.

Now the gates were open and you needed to know more- know why.

“Loki?” You asked, your head turned to face him.

When he turned to face you, you could feel his breath on your face. “Yes, darling?” You almost choked on your spit- he’d never spoken to you with that endearment before.

“Why- I mean… How? I… Loki-” You tried to get a reasonable sentence out, but the words got caught in your throat as tears started prickling your vision.

Loki put his book down and turned to face you, movements slow as if he was afraid to spook you away. “Can I try something?” He asked, hands in his lap, waiting for permission for something. You nodded dumbly, completely unsure what was about to happen. All you knew was that a door had been opened to something, and you knew there was no going back now. Loki’s hands moved, and your instincts were to pull away from him, but you fought them. You wanted to see what was going to happen here. His hands found yours, and he covered them with his own. His skin was so soft, and you looked down and noticed that his skin started to turn a different color- so you pulled away, worried you were hurting him. But you hadn’t felt a surge of your own power?

You were about to ask him, but he beat you to it with the answer. “Did you know I was adopted? Odin stole me from my home when I was a baby- whether to hurt my people or to use me as a peace making tool, I still haven’t figured out, but I am not really Loki Odinson. I am a Frost Giant from birth, raised as an Asgardian. My birth name is Loki Laufeyson. The blue you just saw was… a piece of my real form, coming out at your touch, not because you were in any way hurting or negatively affecting me… so please, let me-” He reached out again, but this time, one hand found your face, his thumb running over your cheek bone, while the other hand ran over your arm softly. Your eyes fluttered closed- his touch was like nothing you’d ever experienced. He somehow felt the same temperature as you did to yourself. He wasn’t cold or hot, he was just… perfect. The tears that were threatening to spill before finally did, and Loki raised his other hand to cup both sides of your face and wipe away the tears as they fell.

“I’ve finally figured you out. It took longer than it ever has for me, but I’ve done it. I’ve never been so taken with figuring someone out before, not like this. You don’t pull away from people because you don’t want physical affection- you pull away because you’ve never had anyone who could physically handle you. No one’s temperature matched you. You’ve never been able to be touched gently. You’ve never been able to let yourself. You are so strong, my popsicle, but you don’t have to be anymore. I was made to be able to touch you, and be touched by you.” You opened your eyes and took him in in his base form- he was the most beautiful shade of icy turquoise, his eyes red as rubies, and he was touching you. He was touching you so lovingly and so sweetly, you couldn’t stop crying. In all your years, you had never been touched like this. No one ever could. Without a beat, you clambered up into his lap and wrapped your arms around him, sighing when his arms wound their way around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m not hurting you?” You asked, your voice shaking.

“Not in the way you mean, darling, but you are hugging me a little tight.” You felt his chuckle vibrate in your chest, which made you laugh too. “Don’t stop, though.” He whispered into your hair.

“You’re so beautiful, you know. Why don’t you let people see your real self?” You asked, burrowing your face in his neck, pressing your nose into the column of his throat.

“I’ve spent my whole life using my magic to make myself look a certain way- it’s more or less unconscious at this point. And I’m… a little insecure about this form. Very few people have seen me look like this. And it’s never been for a good, healthy reason like this.”

“Well, I’m honored. Thank you for this. No one… no one has ever been able to touch me without it hurting them. Thank you so much, Loki.” After a few more minutes of you straddling him on the couch, wrapped around him, you came to your senses enough to know that this was probably not completely appropriate- so you got off of him as a blush crept from your cheeks to your neck to your chest, smiling shyly and biting your lip.

Loki thought you were beautiful before, but you’d never looked more beautiful than you did right in that moment.

You went back to reading together, enjoying the chill air fill the room from the window, pressed up against one another on the couch- comfortable for the first time in your life.

Part 2

[lanawinters-ily]

The Irony of Life (And of Death)

You & Billie Dean Howard are in a happy relationship despite the strange circumstances. Can anything else really go wrong, this close to being together forever?

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Reader

Word count: 1700

Warnings: mentions of death & suicide

You & Billie were in love. It was a strange, unrequited love to the naked eye, but she was Billie Dean Howard, Medium to the Stars after all; bridging the gap between life & death. In a way, she helped the living feel connected to the dead, but also the dead to live their lives again, a whole other lifetime or even experiencing one they had never been able to have in the first place.

Your relationship did the same thing – split down the halves of humanity, life & the afterlife. You had no limits, & changed the course of this order to mould it to your desires. A love or union between a spirit & a human was a literal portal to hell, creating the Antichrist in the only time the bridge of procreation had been built – a disaster for the whole world from the very thing that had created the population in the first place. But it could be debated that it was the violence of the act itself: Tate, or the house. How could an act of hate create a true life? Surely it was destined to create a monster anyways?

So really, there was no recorded love between these two departed beings of the circle of life, but you were the closest it had gotten. You had been dead for 20 years before she came, stuck in frozen time, the Murder House the centre of the clock in which no years seemed to pass. To some, it was a blessing, to others, a curse – imagine being stuck in the same place for eternity – the same body, similar people, the weeks rolling round in an orderly fashion so neat that you prayed for a pinch of change.

You didn’t believe in Gods or Devils, even less after having concrete proof that not all who die actually go anywhere, but some part of the universe granted your manifestation. Billie Dean Howard was more than a pinch, she was a bucket of life – bright & shiny, with a light that people just couldn’t place their finger on. The moment she stepped through those doors to the world for the first time, your jaw dropped to the floor in pure shock, like an angel had just floated down from heaven. If you had known of her abilities at this time, you would have tried to be more covert with your reactions, but you thought you were hidden under the cloak of invisibility that death had shrouded you in. This meant you assumed that between you & Billie there was a wall, you had the power to see though but she was left in mystery. Of course, within a few seconds, you realised that Billie was looing right at you, & before you could call it a coincidence, she let out a musical chuckle at your antics before introducing herself.

Billie Dean Howard, Medium to the Stars.

Only a woman with such grandeur, such charisma could hold such a title. She was human, but she was also a higher being; both in your eyes, & in a more realistic sense. Billie was a medium, so she could feel & communicate with spirits as if they were a typical person, giving her an access to both sides of life (& not-life of course), & also granting you a chapter of afterlife entirely unexpected, & wholly human in experience. This was probably why you found it so hard to grasp the reality – that she had a whole life outside of the house that you were chained to, but she wanted you.

It seemed that the tether of soulmates is not only limited to the living.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you stared down at the weight in your arms, & there was the very woman that occupied your mind; all day, every day. She even looked positively radiant when she was snoring, blonde hair forming a messy halo around her rosy face, calling for you to kiss her with the ties of your affection. You spent almost all your time with her, & would for eternity, as she planned to stay with you for life, & for her eventual death.

You wanted Billie to go out, to live her life. Since you had died at the young age of 22, you hadn’t escaped education, hadn’t travelled the world, hadn’t even done half of the things you wanted to experience. You didn’t want to hold Billie Dean back from her plans, but she had assured you time & time again that you were her plan, & that was that.

Today was the day that it would all change, but that it would also stay the same, forever. The both of you had come to an agreement that Billie was to end her life today, you holding her, to ensure that you would be together forever. The perfect death to start her perfect second life, as she described. You felt unbearably guilty over the whole affair, feeling as if you were cornering Billie into a decision, but her life was this house – her friends, her family; she needed it to survive so to do this, she would have to die.

A strange twist of irony, but then, when did life really make sense? What is sense, really?

“Darling?” a sweet voice rasped, making you look down. Billie was awake, & looking right at you with a bleary confusion in her chocolate eyes. She looked so innocent, so content as she snuggled into you, ironic as she was to die today. You supposed that many people were this content & clueless on the morning of their deaths as fate plans them, except for the fact that Billie Dean didn’t share either the oblivious sense or fates plans. This was her own accord, all planned, no reliance on anyone but herself. Her death, in her hands.

But first, Billie had to go get the supplies.  So, you both got ready off the makeshift bed in a deserted room in the Murder House, soon to be your shared home permanently. The pair of you pottered & dressed as if it was a normal day: no haste & just enjoying the company as if you weren’t about to live forever for eternity. Every moment together, every kiss, every caress would always be like a first for the two of you; you both shared a childish excitement at the thought of forever exchanging these special moments, no limit to the days you could spend in each other’s arms.

You saw her off at the door, embracing gently in a short goodbye.

“Sweetheart, babydoll,” Billie chuckled as she usually did whilst you littered her face with kisses; “I’ll be back before you know it. Just wait 10 mins for our eternity to begin, ok?”

The words would have set you racing, if your heart was still beating. Every sentence Billie Dean spoke was always close to restarting your dormant heart. She was the life in your after, a life in her own - that would not change with death. You knew that she would still light up the room, still send you feelings of warmth even if her skin was to become cold with death.

You were torn out of your Billie daydreams by a strange smell in the air. At first you brushed it off, instead longingly staring out of the window to see if your girlfriend was at the top of the road. But soon the aroma was stronger, choking & undeniable - you didn’t need to breathe but you could still feel, so the impending smoke still filled your throat, your lungs. Your eyes were watering, burning like the source of the fire. You didn’t know where it had come from but it spread quickly since much of the house was wood. It wasn’t surprising that the house was capable of burning that quickly - it was its own worst enemy in this way. The fire could’ve been started by Satan himself, unleashing his fury at the growing love that had spawned within the house that he had used to contact the earth. Love is the Devil’s enemy, so you had to be stopped.

Your instincts were alarming, the doorways blocked by flames so you threw open the window & fresh air knocked you in the face. Escape. But as you tried to put your legs through the frame to jump out, an invisible force tugged you back into the room. Try as you may, the shield was unbreakable & had no means of smashing. The spell was cast & Billie was too late.

As you slowly gave up & the orange glow consumed the room, you stuck your head out the window to gulp on useless air for the last time. You heard screaming & turned sharply to the side, wondering where the noise was from if all the ghosts were already dead, & saw her. The love of your afterlife, running down the pavement frantically. She was stuck, her confident persona shattered by terror as she watched her angel slowly fade away.

Billie simply stood by the inferno, looking up at you like Rapunzel in her tower. She wished that you would let down your hair & let her up, because Billie Dean Howard knew that whatever was next, a black endless hole was better than a consciousness without you.

It was ironic how you were stood desperately wanting to live, yet your girlfriend wanted to die. Polar opposites united by love, soon to be broken.

Your vision was fading as you saw your limbs starting to disappear; the body of your spirit leaving as the hold of the House lost its magic. You locked eyes with Billie as she tearfully fumbled in her handbag for a velvet box, pulling it out & opening with trembling hands.

“Marry me?”, she cried with a simple pearl & diamond encrusted ring in her hand, outstretched to you.

So beautiful, so Billie.

You nodded with all the strength you had left, before you disappeared into the air - travelling to your next destination, whatever that would be. Your last thought was that you hoped you would see Billie there one day, as you watched her collapse to the ground in anguish. It wouldn’t be long before she was gone too.

What is next?

Who really knows until it’s too late to tell.

Taglist: @ka-s @ninaahs @stayevildarling @babypocahontas @winters-witch-bitch @basicasshole @bottom4delia @forevercountess @violentwavesofem0tion @sporadicsupercorpquotesmonger @liberosisaspire @mellowalieneggsknight @supremeinlilac @thecasualgeek1 @lucykilljoy @mrsdeanhoward

[acerace]

What magic would each duo have in your au? :o

This concept has spiraled into a full blown au now anon look what you’ve done /j

Cleo is the queen of the undead. Bdubs is human, and scared of the dark. Every day he's asleep by sundown to will the monsters away. After an encounter with a dark and mangled mass of green deep within a jungle years ago, Bdubs wants nothing to do with the supernatural, full stop. One night he stays up building and is chased by monsters into a thick and twisted forest, stumbles across a dead and rotting woman with fiery red hair and a crown of bones and flowers. They talk. Time passes. Cleo, one day, promises Bdubs a way to keep the monsters away, to drive off the dark and the things that lurk within it. It will cost him, and change him, and probably not for the better, but he'll be safe. Bdubs agrees.

Bdubs no longer sleeps. His phantom membrane wings give him flight, his wide and piercing eyes able to see perfectly in the dark. Cleo is the queen of the undead, and they are charmed by her voice, follow her commands, an unending army constantly replenished with every battle. When Bdubs and Cleo bound their souls together, their mutual magic flourished as flowers, as twisting tangling thorny vines erupting from the ground, as wither roses blooming from their fingertips. Water turned turned to wine turned to poison.

The Red King is a creature of the night, grey skinned and red eyed. A howling snarling beast with a crown dripping eternal blood, sword clutched in clawed fingers, a crimson cloak around his shoulders. Martyn is human, with no ties to land or kin or purpose. A wanderer. One night there is a hunt, a chilling howl echoing across the mountains. Martyn is alone. Martyn is chased. Wolf jaws close around his arm, another set snaps for his throat, death a hair's breath away when the Red King calls them off. Later, Martyn will say the Red King is kind, and he'll be scoffed at, dismissed, but he'll be thinking of this moment. The Red King tells Martyn in a gruff voice that he had not realized his dogs had scented human, apologizes for the misunderstanding, leaves with his pack of wolves milling around his legs in search of actual game. Martyn is terrified. Martyn is enamoured.

When they meet the second time, Martyn is walking into the court of the Red King with his head raised high and defiant. It had taken some ingenuity to find this place, but he's done it, and he swears fealty to the Red King, who accepts his loyalty, impressed by his boldness and determination despite himself. To join the Red King’s court, you must leave your humanity behind, and Martyn does, shedding mortal coils like snakeskin, newly pointed ears the most obvious sign of his new allegiance, new abilities. The persuasion in his voice is a coincidence, he swears, and his perfect mimicry of mobs nothing more than a party trick. He is lying. Time passes. Martyn and the Red King talk, and often. When Martyn swears his soul to Ren and when Ren gifts his in return, their mutual magic is cold. Winter bites, as does their magic, snapping and frozen and tinged red. It surprises them both, but the warmth they feel when they look at each other more than makes up for it. 

Jimmy is human, a farmer, in search of his missing cow. He is not very wealthy, and he can’t afford to lose even one of his herd, and besides, Daisy is his favourite and he can’t just abandon her. Jimmy finds Daisy on the other side of one of many magic barriers in the world, the kind that keep humans and beings separate, the kind easily crossed by mobs and monsters alike. A line that cannot be uncrossed, should he choose to go in. He hesitates, and enters the land of the nature spirits. The flower kingdom is isolationist, borders closed year round, even to other beings. The king of the meadow is said to be cold and aloof, distant as the stars, but when Jimmy stumbles across him with Daisy happily following on her lead some days later, he finds Scott is nothing like the rumours. He finds he doesn’t want to leave. Time passes. Jimmy has found a home among the nature spirits, a home hidden in the side of a hill for him and Daisy both. And he’s found a friendship with Scott deeper than anything he’s experienced before. Scott’s magic is elemental, powerful, visible in the way poppies bloom at his touch, in the way water purifies in cupped hands, in the way he makes ice sparkle like chips of stars and in the way the wind tousles Jimmy’s hair like a gentle caress. Scott swears the breeze isn’t him, but Jimmy simply smiles, tells Scott that if he wants to play with his hair all he has to do is ask. When Jimmy and Scott tie their souls together, they do it with a bouquet of poppies and with iron rings. Their mutual magic makes a lightshow- fireworks and constellations and conflagrations. Sparks fly from their fingertips, green and yellow and red, float around them like burning harmless wisps. Their magic is light and energy, rainbows in reflections. 

Grian and Scar are lying to each other. They’re still lying when Scar puts his soul in Grian’s hands, when Grian drops it, when Grian gives his to Scar in exchange. Grian is a being, brightly coloured wings at his back, but nothing- no one- special, he swears, poker face far better than Scar’s. Scar is human, all charisma and business deals, and that’s all, he says, with fingers crossed behind his back. They do not talk about the purple in Grian’s eyes or in his feathers, about the shattered halo half visible around his head. They do not talk about how Scar’s eyes glint blue or the jagged wings half visible at his back, and neither brings up their masks, one white and eyeless and the other grey and smirking. They’re lying and they both know it. Beings are not supposed to be able to make soul bonds, so Grian and Scar are very surprised to find their mutual magic exists at all, let alone how it scorches them. It’s fire and flame, controlled explosions and smoke in their lungs. It’s molten rock and sand blasted into glass and obsidian, cut into daggers. Their mutual magic is combustion, air and fire partners in crime, and there is nothing more fitting. 

Or, there is a distant land blessed by a myriad of magic, and there is a curse settling into its soil, and very soon it will make itself known, and when it does blood will reign. What happens when you rip a soul in two? 

[unbridgeabledistances]

i love ur new fic! only a couple of requests - more parts to it! and...more softness between the two of them 🥺 we hardly get given any in the show </3

:)) ty so so much, anon!!! as requested, here’s another installment of the alternate POV fic (this time from tami’s perspective) and a whooole lot of domestic gallavich softness (featuring very sappy kitchen slow dancing)

--

Tami knew that the pandemic had taken a toll on its fair share of relationships— hell, hers and Lip’s included. But as much as she and Lip bickered and miscommunicated and regularly put up solid walls of lies between each other, at least, the very least—

At least they weren’t like Ian and Mickey.

At some point between being head-over-heels, fuck-all-night crazy for each other and getting married, something between Lip’s brother and his stellar choice of a Southside boyfriend had definitely changed. Tami wasn’t really close to either of them, other than Ian’s borderline obsession with Fred and her gratefulness for the cooing baby voice that came over him every time Tami thrust her tired arms out for him to take the screaming toddler in her arms, and she barely crossed paths with Mickey in a situation that wasn’t coordinating frozen waffles for breakfast or sitting across from him in the living room during Gallagher family movie nights that always inevitably turned into a passionate thirty minute screaming match about which movie to pick— but ever since the first time she set foot into the slumped and sagging Gallagher house, Tami knew that Ian and his choice of a prison-break boyfriend were something special, at least at the beginning.

She’d seen it the first time she met the two of them, when these two grown men were willingly crashing in that shitty single bed in the boys’ room while she and Lip were slumming it in the ever-so-spacious privacy of the cramped room with the accordion door, back when the halls were crawling with strangers making tamales and Fred was barely weeks old and Tami was inches away from losing her shit; Tami couldn’t imagine being in a smaller and more confined space than the one that she was in, locking herself in the bathroom behind an actual fucking door every chance for some peace and quiet, distancing herself from Lip every chance she got— and then there was Ian and Mickey down the hall, sleeping pressed together on a concave mattress meant for a single teenager, pouring each other coffee and trading glances as they sat next to each other at the breakfast table, and pulling each other closer every second they had the chance despite the fact that they’d just gotten out of a months-long prison stay together. There was something so earnest, and so weirdly romantic, about seeing a hardass like Mickey Milkovich, someone with “Fuck U Up” tattoos on his knuckles and more of a sailor’s vocabulary than Tami had, turn to putty whenever he was in proximity to Lip’s little brother. Tami had to be honest—she was kind of impressed. These guys clearly had the teenager, puppy-dog kind of love for each other that hadn’t really gone away, something that she didn’t think that she and Lip ever really had, or ever really would— so as much as she felt like her life and her relationship with Lip was spiraling towards a series of cascading failures, it was nice to know that at least someone in the Gallagher house had a sturdy, stable relationship.

And then, of course, the pandemic hit.

When all this COVID shit started, Tami had counted her infinite blessings that she and Lip had gotten a place of their own outside the Gallagher house before all the sprawling weeks of lockdowns; Tami couldn’t imagine the kind of unforgiving hell on earth it would be to quarantine in that tiny slumped house, in a tiny cramped room, for months on end until the U.S. tangentially got its shit together. So it made sense, really, that everything between Ian and Mickey had changed.

She’d noticed it that first morning, when she and Lip finally dropped by the house after weeks of hunkering down to have breakfast with everyone, carrying a box of cheap pastries they’d gotten on the walk over— and the first thing she’d noticed when she walked into the kitchen was how far apart Mickey and Ian were sitting, on opposite ends of the rickety kitchen table, any scarce dialogue between the two of them turned brittle and stale.

There were spats, now, and gentle shoves that turned less gentle; she and Lip weren’t around the house much anymore, thank fucking god, but what few conversations she did see between Ian and Mickey always ended with raised voices and them both practically having steam coming out of their ears, or with some stray bystander needing to plant themselves in the middle of the married couple to tell them to calm the fuck down. Tami would lock eyes with Lip as they scuffled in the kitchen, her eyebrows raised in a message that she knew Lip understood: “See, this is why I never want to get married.”

So that was pretty much the situation Tami expected to be walking into, late one afternoon when Lip was presumably off doing some shady shit with those stolen bikes and Tami was stuck at the Gallagher house waiting to meet up with him so they could keep working through “Operation Sell the Gallagher House to Gentrifiers.” Tami had expected Lip to be here a couple of hours ago, and was honestly debating just saying fuck it and going home— but Fred had passed out in Tami’s lap as they were sitting on the couch a couple of minutes ago and Tami was not going to wake this monster child up before he was ready and took another hour of crying and writhing to settle down again. Tami was leaning back, closing her eyes and enjoying a rare moment of peace in this godforsaken house… when she was snapped back into reality by the sound of a kitchen cupboard slamming shut.

Huh. Tami had apparently drifted off, but Freddie was still sound asleep in her lap, pinning her down. It was definitely the early evening by now— the sun had started to set, glowing purple from behind the thin curtains.

A clang came from the kitchen again, and Tami craned her neck as much as she could without stirring the sleeping toddler in her lap to peer into the kitchen from the open doorway to see if Lip was home— and instead, she saw Ian standing by the counter opening something with a can opener, and Mickey beside him.

It looked like they’d been in the kitchen a while—from the corner of her eye she could see Mickey perched on the countertop sipping a beer, his legs swinging while Ian milled around him pulling things from the cabinets and manning the stovetop. She knew both of the boys weren’t much of a cook, and from what she’d seen Ian’s culinary abilities didn’t exceed heating up canned soup or spreading butter on toast— but it looked like he was chopping onions and opening a can of black beans for something, which struck her by surprise. There was music playing low from a little portable speaker in the kitchen, presumably something Ian had brought down from the bedroom— right now there was some 80s hit playing that reminded Tami of the music her dad used to listen to while he was putzing around in the garage when she was little, if she was bring totally honest. But Mickey seemed to be enjoying it, his head bobbing slightly to the beat while he scrolled through what she recognized as Ian’s phone.

“Okay, the recipe website says you’ve gotta add cumin now. What the fuck is cumin?”

She could hear Ian’s dry laugh. “A spice? I think? We probably don’t even have it, I’ll just add a shit ton of chili powder and it’ll taste fine.”

“Whatever you say, Rachel Ray.”

Tami could see Ian lean to flip Mickey off, then turn to poke through the cabinets. Weird. Ian had flipped Mickey off, sure, but there wasn’t any malice in it; for the first time in a while, it seemed like the two of them were actually coexisting peacefully for once— which, thank god for that, at the very least because it meant Fred would stay sleeping on her lap for a while until Lip got home.

Now that she thought back on it, Ian and Mickey had seemed a bit more settled lately— she’d heard bits and pieces about all the stuff with Mickey’s abusive asshole of a dad moving in next door, and about the two of them starting a security business together in that random ambulance that was always parked in the street now (Tami wasn’t even going to ask)— she could imagine that running errands around Chicago together all day long in matching jumpsuits would bring anyone closer together. This was the first time she’d really seen them enjoy being in each other’s space since the pandemic started, just casually hanging out around the house without something fiery about to erupt between them, whether from anger or passion— and honestly, it was kind of nice to by in proximity to, just listening to their chatter floating back and forth and the sizzling of onions and chili flakes in a pan while the music drifted between them.

Tami sat there for a while, closing her eyes again as the shadows in the room grew deeper, listening to some Bon Jovi song play low in the background and feeling the solid weight of Fred breathing evenly pressed against her chest.

A couple minutes of minutes later, she heard the stove being turned off, and the clanking of plates being taken out of the cabinets as the song ended.

“Hey, can I pick a song?” Ian asked, over the sound of him putting the sizzling pan into the sink.

Mickey burped loudly, and Tami could see that he was still perched on the edge of the kitchen counter by the stovetop.

“Yeah, but put on something good, man. None of your techno bullshit.”

“Pass me my phone.”

Ian fidgeted with the phone for a moment—and then a familiar song, a lot softer than the cheerful drumbeats of the melodies before, came streaming through the speaker.

“I found a love, for me…”

Immediately, she heard Mickey chuckle loudly, like he was surprised.

“Fuuuucking softie,” Mickey groaned, but when Tami craned her neck again to slyly peer at the two of them in the kitchen she could see that he was grinning. At first Tami was confused, but then a memory started to stir— this was their wedding song, wasn’t it? She remembered hearing it waft through the front hallways of the dingy polka house while she and Lip were having their screaming match over Fred. Ah, good memories.

Ian stepped closer to Mickey, and Tami promptly heard the pad of Mickey’s feet hitting the ground as he slid off of the kitchen countertop.

“Dance with me?”

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Mickey breathed, and then they were silent. From where she was sitting, Tami could see Ian’s broad shoulders standing in front of where Mickey had been seated— his head was curled downward slightly, and Mickey was pinned close against him, his face pressed into the upper half of Ian’s shoulder.

Well, damn. Tami smirked to herself. I guess that security business has worked some magic after all.

Out of nowhere, Fred started to stir and wriggle in Tami’s lap.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath. She didn’t really want to break up the sappy moment, but Freddie was definitely due for a diaper change and was going to be a fussy mess in about five seconds if she didn’t scoop him up right now.

She quickly rose from the lumpy couch, cradling the back of Fred’s head in her hands and beelining through kitchen doorway.

Instantly, Mickey nearly jumped out his skin when he saw Tami— he immediately detached himself from Ian’s shoulder and detangled himself from Ian’s arms. Ian just grinned sheepishly and leaned against the counter, letting Mickey ever-so-slightly slump against him.

Tami paused, taking the scene in and trying to hold back a knowing smile as Freddie fussed on her shoulder.

“The fuck’re you looking at?”

Mickey’s neck turned blotchy and flushed, and he darted his eyes to Freddie and then back to Tami.

Tami knew she had a sloped, sappy smile on her face. “Nothing. Just good to see you guys not ripping each other’s throats out for once.”

Mickey let out a slight breath, slumping back towards Ian’s chest even more— then he rolled his eyes, but the gesture was light and fond.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said dismissively. Ian was still practically beaming, and draped a hand across Mickey’s waist— and Tami watched as he slowly, slowly pressed a kiss to Mickey’s temple and Mickey’s posture immediately softened, like the air was being let out of him.

Wow. Okay. Guess the old Ian and Mickey are back.

Tami raised Freddie slightly onto her shoulder, then pushed past the two of them towards the back stairs, where Tami could hopefully go up and change her son’s shitty diaper in peace— and as she started to climb the stairs, she heard one final quip from Mickey:

“Your brother can’t sell this house fast enough, man.”

[azazelsconfessional]

((Azazel's abilities(and some combat abilities for the other Missionaries as they continue to be side characters when this event ends)

Azazel is ridiculously powerful. He's easily the most powerful member of the Missionaries, after Nyarlathotep.

Shame about the chains that keep his power and true form locked away.

Rule of Revelation (Sacred Artifact: Bible "Eyes of the Fallen")

Azazel's Bible is always on his person. He does NOT put it down and does not give it to people except those he trusts. He's willing at times to show its contents to people but he won't let most anyone hold it.

If you do get a hold of it it will stop working/won't show you anything. It will just become a book with glowing symbols on/in it or a regular Bible with an eye on the front.

Eyes of the Fallen allows Azazel to view and proccess anything the pages see, including outside of Missionaries territory.

In order to use Eyes of the Fallen, Azazel needs to expose his chains, causing him to remove his cassock.

Azazel can move the pages wherever he pleases. They're magical so there's some resistance in them, however they are paper and thus easily destroyed or removed or displaced.

Large eyes made of light will appear in the sky over large areas he's searching.

Within Missionaries Territory Azazel can see anything without the aid of his Artifact.

Azazel can see anything there is to be seen and a bit more. Though he can't see "how" someone came to be who/what they are, he can see their current form and see them for what they really are(MC has 24+ souls and he can see and identify them all; Nomad is a human modified into a tiger and he can see his human soul; Shino is a Shadow/ghost/etc and he can see that he's no longer really alive/his original form; when Raphael made them all see zombies and the Fisher King he was able to confirm they weren't real zombies but the memories of a past occurrence; etc)

He can both see and hear things, however the other senses don't work.

There are little to no combat capabilities to Eyes of the Fallen.

Healing capabilities slightly described below.

Magic & Game Unit Skills

Azazel is insanely powerful to the point that his Summopedia page described him as being the most powerful of the Missionaries. However his chains prevent him from accessing his true form or power.

Azazel is able to use bursts of Aether(equivalent Light, Holy, etc) magic despite being a Fallen Angel.

They're not super strong, but they do have a decent range. He can use them more or less infinitely due to his huge power reserve that's otherwise restricted to him.

He's able to heal himself and others. In-game limits this to using Eyes of The Fallen/his Charge Skill and only to allies in his immediate vicinity, so I'll consider this healing happening through use of the pages of his Artifact over wounds.

Applies the effect 'Blessing' to his allies around himself(heals over time temporarily.)

Can remove a debuff of people he hits; weaken(defense) of people he hits; temporarily prevent use of skills of those he hits; heal allies after damaging opponents

Taking damage can strengthen allies(increase their charge points, which isn't really a concern in terms of writing since they can use their powers more or less instantly)

Misc

Azazel has wings he can magically produce/retract. He can use them to fly.

Azazel's pain tolerance is obscenely high. He responds to pain as though it's pleasure.

Azazel cannot be killed. Killing him will change him into his true form.

Breaking his chains(accessible only to beings with powers on level with a Supreme God/King of Gods; Archangel Raphael; and entities with Rules that can cut through/break/open things absolutely(MC's Rule of Rending, primarily) and a few others) will also change him into his true form and return to him his powers.

Eyes of the Fallen and some other things can make his tail turn from a goat tail into a snake tail. His scales are slightly keeled and more keeled when agitated/fighting, making them spiky like a spiny bush viper

Exists but is inaccessible--a spear with the Rule of Corruption inherit in his true body. Cannot access it unless chains are 'loosened' by an Archangel or are cut enough maybe????? I haven't decided how this headcanon works since he can't use it anyway

Under the cut a small rundown on side characters' powers

Arsalan:

Artifact is a shamshir that can spray an infinite amount of sacred oil

Oil is fired at a speed that can knock one off their feet or knock weapons out of one's hand

Oil is obviously slippery and heavy enough to prevent use of wings as well; holding things and maintaining footing is very difficult

Allies are adept at fighting through/with his oil and thus are uninhibited except if their wings get too oily

Always covered in oil himself, hard to hold on to

Oil has healing properties(Unction), hurts enemies after they've been hit by Arsalan(Unction Weakness)

Oil is flammable, Zabaniyya controls his flames and uses the oil to spread Hellfire if need be(see: Zabaniyya)

Sword is strong against demons in particular; sacred oil is all over his body and makes him strong against/resistant to demons as well

Rarely uses sword as weapon, sticks to oil and physical combat unless given permission by Jacob or in a desperate situation that requires it

Physically and mentally extremely strong and resilient, uninhibited by his own oils even when manhandling enemies via wrestling

Sword allows him to resist oil and temptation as well

Teeth and claws are very sharp

Incredible leader, almost all of Aoyama Guild will obey him without question

Maria

Artifact is thorns that can move pain to and from others and herself(including painful memories)

Thorns are able to grow just about anywhere, including inside, and cover spaces

Applies Stigma to herself and those she hits or is hit by(applies damage over time and reduces defense)

Heals self and allies, especially by transferring damage from them to enemies through thorns

Temporarily disable skills

Leader of the Aoyama Guild, obeyed by most of the current members

Gabriel

Rule/Sacred Artifact(undisclosed? May be a microphone?/magical girl wand?) allows her to drive others to madness through the power of moonlight. Dubiously part of her Rule is her ability to make others fall for/obey her simply by commanding them

Likely also has a sword Artifact, rarely uses it, similar circumstances as Arsalan

The latter usually is used to make people stop attacking(Charm)

Very support-based, strengthening, healing, and motivating self and allies through song and magic

Has wings, can fly quickly

Maddened people are probably controllable by her, or at least they adore her and will probably listen and attack allies that threaten her?

Zabaniyya

Role of the Torturer; Rule of Hellfire; Sacred Artifact is a fiery spear, however he doesn't use it, similar circumstances to Arsalan

Fights using martial arts, mastering the 'Fiery Spear Hand' in which he channels his weapon through his hands

Can also fight from a distance using fire, but rarely does

Inflicts internal and external burns through his Artifact. Rule of Hellfire under the Role of the Torturer causes eternal pain.

Internally burning all the time, high pain tolerance, considers pain a penance and doesn't shy away from it very much; probably essentially immune to fire? Basically a firey tank. V high defense.

Applies Stigma and deals additional damage to those afflicted with Stigma and Burn; also applies Stigma to those who hit him

Can harm others from a distance using a chain of cross-shaped flames if they're afflicted with Stigma; chains are probably homing?

Heals allies apparently???

Rule of Hellfire purges people of sin and evil through flames, thus likely more effective against demons

Can ignite flames of passion/love, although he refuses to do this

Has wings, can fly, rarely uses them

Will not fight unless ordered by appropriate parties or the enemy has broken divine law

Kimun/Wen Kamui

Rule allows him to strip others (of their growth). Artifact is the 'Mankiller Sword' which he uses on himself as Kimun and others as Wen.

Mankiller Sword, if it's able to strip someone of their clothing, fur, hair, or flesh, is able to spawn a copy of the person's past self for them to fight--losing the fight against themself will cause them to lose their growth. If they win, the copy disappears.

Can spawn multiple copies if he cuts them multiple times

Can duplicate himself this way as well

Copies(of himself or enemies) might not cooperate with him although they mostly obey, depends on the person and their traumas/what they're struggling to grow or move on from/etc

Temporarily can't attack after doing this????/after using his Charge Skill

Can copy enemy buffs

Able to heal self and allies

Very high defense and pain tolerance due to his role/rule causing him to strip himself of his own skin/pelt/fur to give it to others

Hurts you even if he misses.

Unable to be frozen

Can apply freeze(lowers defense, damage over time) if he misses

Jacob

Sacred Artifact is a Pillar allowing him to remember all previous loops; connected to the Tree of Life in Eden; cannot be killed

Sacred Artifact is the Archangel Uriel's whirling sword of flame. Doesn't use it in flame form most of the time, only uses it to enhance his punches and kicks and movements; it also guides him around due to his blindness; also able to restore people's memories from previous loops(including people he doesn't know and he "can reach even those who have never appeared in this Tokyo with his Rule") and makes a pillar of holy light that leads to the Tree of Life in Eden, making him more effective against either angels or the undead(hard to tell because it was used against undead angels, possibly both)

Blind, thus unaffected by anything that requires sight

Leader of the Aoyama Guild, although a lot of people aren't aware of it due to his absence, thus obeyed by most of its members(if not all of them because the Admins obey him)

Can multihit/punch very fast. He's no Captain Falcon but his fists are Dangerous.

Relies mostly on sound for navigation but can also be guided by his Artifact. Can probably blind others with the massive pillar of light from it.

Cannot be forced to move backwards. Can pull people in a certain range towards him/get in people's personal space easily to fight since he fights with his fists

Weakens enemies, applies Blessing(healing over time) to himself

Artifact heals him, removes ALL debuffs, and makes him highly resistent to damage temporarily

Artifact also provides him a shield that keeps him from being exposed to life-threatening conditions(Korpokkur's blizzard is how we learned about this--also keeps him warm and guides him to people and things he should meet)

Takes less damage from other close range fighters using their bare hands/fists(and any enhancements like knuckles, claws, etc--basically if you're a Blow unit/hit in a singular space in front of you he takes less damage from you)

Can use his Artifact as a sword but generally refuses to. It's a big, spinning sword of flame and would apply burn but he avoids using it because he hates weapons

NPC Angels

Primarily attack in a group. Always guarding the Church and its activities and almost always accompany its admins. The church is rarely unattended.

Fight with spears which can be thrown. Some level of magic?

Apply stigma to hit enemies. Deal more damage to Stigmafied enemies.

Can heal surrounding allies.

Nyarlathotep

You just die. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[buckyownsmylife]

v e l o c i t y - chapter iii

The one where John’s your true mate, but he doesn’t want you to be his.

In a universe where fate grants you a new mate whenever you lose yours, John has lived quite comfortably for many years with the knowledge that he was alone after Mary. That all comes crumbling down the second that he meets you. How could the universe choose someone so young to be his omega?

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist. It’s being constantly updated  and if you’d like to be tagged on my following John Winchester stories, just fill out this form.

John’s P.O.V.

“Little princess is too good for a beer?” A week had passed since she joined us on the road and still, her effect on me was much too strong to deny it. In fact, it seemed to only grow stronger each day. But of course, I pushed through, kept pretending things weren’t different (even though that was ridiculous), like I wasn’t different.

At least, I’d figured out one way to deal with it - deal with her, and it was getting on her nerves just as much as she got on mine. But even I had to admit that in that game, she was much better than I could ever be.

“I actually prefer scotch.” My jaw dropped when the bartender - who usually didn’t leave his station to serve anyone - came all the way to our table to deposit her drink in front of her. When she realized my surprise, she just winked before taking a sip of the amber liquid.

“You are unbelievable,” I commented, shaking my head to make it sound more like a complaint and forcing myself to avert my eyes from her, so I wouldn’t be caught staring. It definitely wouldn’t help with anything.

“You bicker but you’d miss me if I went my separate way.” I sputtered and had to abandon my beer before I actually went through the humiliating ordeal of choking on the liquid because of her. I didn’t want to think about her leaving, and I definitely didn’t want to think about why it was so hard for me to think about that.

“You wish.” That was the best I could come up with, and still, it wasn’t enough, I knew, and she knew, and the boys knew, but no one said anything. I just had to stand there and accept the fact that she was wearing that smug fucking smile and it was all because of me.

I almost wasn’t mad about it. As much as I hated to admit it, it made her so fucking sexy, especially when paired with the little skirt she decided to wear to the bar tonight. I have no idea why Sam decided to pack that thing out of all the clothing she had, but damn if I wasn’t grateful for it.

I’d stopped giving myself a hard time over admitting that she was attractive. Yes, she was young, and no, I definitely was nowhere near giving in and claiming her, but a man can look. And I knew I wasn’t the only one doing that tonight.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” I whipped around fully prepared to launch onto the poor unfortunate soul that decided to test their luck tonight, but was taken by surprise by two things. First, the fact that instead of being disgusted or angry, Y/N opened up the biggest smile at the stranger, and then promptly threw herself on his arms. Second, he was almost as tall as me, and built like a fucking wall.

This was no ordinary Alpha, that much was easy to notice by his smell. And if that somehow escaped someone’s attention, the leather jacket with an emblem on the back spoke for itself.

He was the head of a gang. The Alpha of a pack.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“James!” I yelled over the bar’s noise, incredibly excited to see him after so long. It’d been… what? Three years since that faithfull summer that we spent together, and he still was able to provoke the same reactions in me.

But I guess it could be said for any omega who had the luck to catch his attention. He was top of the chain, after all - the Alpha anyone would want for them, be it as a mate or as a leader, and the last time we saw each other, he confessed the only one he wanted was me.

“James? Who the fuck is James?!” Of course, as another true and primal Alpha - and one from an older generation than the guy whose hands were still around me - John felt threatened by his presence close to us.

I insisted on not reading it as something about jealousy because it’d been over a week already and as much as he’d accepted and even countered some of my teasing, it was clear John Winchester had absolutely no intention to claim me. I doubt he even found me attractive at all.

“Probably the only person who can flirt with me like that and not get slapped on the face,” I answered John’s question, but kept my gaze on James. It’d been so long. I wondered if he still felt the same way…

“Your scent has changed.” The low murmur by my ear, paired with the way his thumbs rubbed my hips, told me everything. He knew I’d found my mate. He knew I could be claimed now.

“Is he an old boyfriend, Y/N?” Dean, bless his heart, tried to cut the tension in the room while I remained frozen from the words James had said, wondering if this was it, if he’d claim me and take me away from the Winchesters and the humiliating feeling of being rejected.

Despite all of the times we’d joked about it, all of the times he complained about me still needing to find my mate so he could finally have me, I never actually considered it would ever happen. I really thought I would be the one-in-a-million omega who actually ended up with their Alpha, their true mate. Who actually ends up with the guy they lose their virginity to? Princesses in fairytales, that’s who.

I’d also never pictured myself as part of a gang, something that would certainly become inevitable if I got married to the leader of one. Just thinking about it made me feel overwhelmed, and I suppose that wasn’t a good sign of the toughness necessary to be in a gang.

But just as all of those thoughts ran through my head, John Winchester had to say something to piss me off to the point of acting stupid. “As if. Look at him. She’d never go for someone like him.”

I flinched, mind racing as I thought of all the things I could to stop a fight from happening, but much to my surprise, the man behind me laughed, fully laughed, like there was something in John’s comment I couldn’t catch.

“She already has, pal.” A lot of things happened in the second after James nonchalantly announced our past to my new travel companions, hindering my ability to think in the already heavy situation.

First, John’s eyes immediately fell on me. I could feel the weight of his gaze on my body, just like I always did whenever he looked at me. I absentmindedly wondered if it would keep happening if I ended up going with James, if this… calling I felt towards him would suddenly disappear. As much as I wanted to believe it would, I also felt a slight sense of disappointment when I thought about not being in any way connected to him anymore, as stupid as that felt.

Second, James whispered in my ear that he couldn’t believe John thought of me as some goody-goody two shoes. “If only he knew…” He dragged out, the warmth of his breath eliciting shivers in my spine. And that’s when I realized, John didn’t think I’d go for James because he saw me as some type of virginal, innocent little girl.

Third, the guys that accompanied James - I recognized at least the blond one from when we met - called out to him to settle some discussion they were having on the other end of the bar. And so with a nod in John’s direction, my ex lover left, leaving me to decide what to do with the fallout of what had just happened.

And what I decided was that I needed some time to figure out how exactly I was feeling after all of that, so with my own nod towards the oldest Winchester, I shrugged and mocked, “Who says I like it gentle?”, because there was no way in hell I’d let John Winchester believe I was just some innocent little flower he had to protect from the claws of the entire world.

[writtenvisionary]

Do It Again - fanfic

Read on Ao3

He sighs, stealing a long glance at the beautiful girl standing by her locker. Her friends surround her, listening eagerly to her story. She talks with her hands — her small hands with nails painted pink \ and the smile on her face is contagious as she becomes increasingly more immersed in her tale by the minute.

His heart skips a beat when she laughs. He can hear it all the way from down the school hall and he has to look away. If he didn't, who knows how long he'd last.

She's breathtakingly gorgeous and adorable all wrapped in one petite human. He doesn't think there could be anyone more perfect.

He wants to hold her. He's not so sure why. But he wants her friends to go away. He wants to ask — right now.

It's taking forever. Good heavens, he can't wait any longer. And god knows that girl can ramble.

A grin forms on his face at the thought (and he's sure he looks ridiculous, but he can't bring himself to care).

Man, he's whipped.

Her friends are finally gone, he realizes.

He must have been lost in his own thoughts (about her) for so long that he never noticed their absence.

She turns back to face her locker, opening it with ease.

Shit. Now's my chance.

Swallowing his nerves, he takes a step forward.

Progress. Progress.

Another step. Then he stops.

I can't.

He watches as she pulls out a textbook and expertly opens her backpack with her other hand. He's mesmerized by her abilities. He's mesmerized by her.

Ah, shit. Focus!

He manages another step towards her.

Then suddenly her backpack is zipped closed and her locker is secured once again. Her dark locks flow so elegantly through the air as she whips around.

They meet eyes. She smiles. He nearly trips.

Shit, shit, fuck.

"Hey!"

Is she talking to me?

"Why aren't you moving?"

The melodious sound of her giggle blesses his ears once again. He tries not to smile like a complete idiot, but he fails.

Just his luck.

He forces himself out of his frozen state, pushing back his irrational fears (making their presence known only at this very moment) and takes those last. few. steps. to stand in front of the girl. The girl who will hopefully be his girl, very soon.

When he arrives to his mark, he exhales in relief.

He's pleasantly surprised that he didn't trip and fall on his way there.

—

"Hi," he mutters, nervously. Rolling his lips in, he waits.

"Hi," she giggles.

He takes a deep breath and just goes for it.

"Will you go out with me?"

Her eyes light up in pure excitement.

To say he's relieved at this immediate reaction would be an understatement.

But then her excited expression turns… playful?

Realistically, he shouldn't be worried.

For some reason, he is.

"That depends," she starts, with that beautiful voice which sounds very seductive and oh my god her hand is on my chest—

"What do you have planned?"

Gulp.

—

"I'll pick you up at eight…"

"Uh huh…"

"And we can drive around?" He suggests.

"Mm, sounds nice already."

He gains some confidence, "I'll take you to the beach and then we can head downtown?"

She seems to think about it for a moment.

"Hmm… can I hold your hand?"

He smiles.

"We'll walk around downtown while you hold my hand," he confirms.

Licking his lips, he takes a small step forward, pulling her closer to his chest.

"Then we'll park and lay down on the hood of my car…"

Her smile widens.

"…We can just listen to the airplanes while we count the stars."

This time, her heart picks up. She can nearly feel it beating out of her chest.

"Tonight," he finishes, "I'll be your man."

She wishes she could stop smiling.

"On one condition."

"Yes?"

The innocence in his voice strikes her in the right place. Her smile is still unwavering.

"Tomorrow, we can do it again."

—

He wishes he had more to give her. Somehow, the beach and downtown and airplanes and stars just weren't enough. She was his everything; his world. And he wishes he could give her the world right back.

Because a girl that shines as bright as she does; a girl that is rich in everything but money and fame; a girl that pays attention to him even when he doesn't deserve it…

A girl like her is too good to be true.

Too good for him.

As he snuggles the stuffed dolphin she gifted him for their one-week-aversary, he sighs.

She deserves better than him.

He wishes he had the world to give. He would give it in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

Maybe then, he would feel good enough for her. Maybe then, he would feel like he was rich in something, like her.

Maybe then, he'd be rich with love.

And he knows for a fucking fact that he would give her everything he had.

Every. Single. Thing.

—

She had one condition.

And he didn't follow it.

Obviously, she didn't mean tomorrow, tomorrow… right? Because it's been a little over a week.

A WEEK.

But he's not one to break his promises. Would that be considered a promise?

He thinks so.

His finger hovers over the little phone icon at the corner of her contact page. He wants to call her, he does. Her voice is the reason he wakes up in the morning. Hearing it would be amazing right now.

No, that's not the problem.

You see, he doesn't want to admit it, but he's nervous.

Will she be mad if I ask now?

The answer is no, for the record. He's pretty sure he knows that.

'I was kidding,' she'll reassure him.

Deep breaths. You got this.

"Hey, what's—"

"Do you want to go out with me?"

He face palms.

But her gorgeous laugh floats through the phone's speaker and into his ears. He pulls his hand away from his face.

"Silly goose, what are you talking about? We're already—"

"I promised you we'd do it again, so we're doing it again. It may not be tomorrow, like you said a week ago, but it can be tonight."

Her silence on the line gives him a moment to glance at the clock.

7:47.

"Look, I'll be there in 10 minutes. I've got it all planned."

—

That laugh keeps him going. Her smile helps him sleep at night. The feeling of her warm, small hand in his is a gentle reminder that she's there. With him, in this moment of time.

It's all he could ever ask for.

Cars past them as they walk along the strip of stores open downtown. Colorful lights flash on around the couple as it starts to get dark, and their feet guide them around the town, coming full circle.

The lights that were once off are now on, leaving no corner of the little city dimmed.

She stops in her tracks, staring in awe at twinkling lights, which hang from a small gazebo near the park. Her eyes sparkle in amazement, mouth agape.

"Surprise?"

"Oh my goodness, you—"

"I just put the lights on it," he chuckles, "The gazebo was already there."

She shakes her head, "How come I never noticed it before?"

"You were probably laughing at a really bad joke you had just told."

"I don't tell bad jokes!"

"Uh huh."

A giggle erupts out of her throat, to her dismay.

"So… no car rooftop star-gazing tonight?"

He gives a very prominent shake of his head before pulling his hand out of hers'.

"Oh no, we're still doing that. But right now I want to just look at you."

She tilts her head in confusion.

He clarifies, "I don't want to look at the stars or listen to planes or anything. I want to admire you. And your beauty."

A reddish tint overcomes both her cheeks.

"And your intelligence. And your—"

"Shut up," she mutters.

"Okay. For now."

The new couple is silent for a minute as he starts making his way under the gazebo. She follows. He turns to stares at her.

It's not weird. She doesn't know why it's not weird. Like, he's literally just STARING at her and that should creep her out but it doesn't.

Is that a problem?

No. Because when she looks into his deep, brown eyes, she is reminded of the kind-hearted person who carried her books on the first day of classes. When she looks at his blonde locks, she has the urge to run her fingers through it for hours on end. When she looks to his lips, she finds herself wanting to feel them. On hers'.

Now that's definitely weird.

He takes a step closer.

But is it?

He starts leaning in.

If she does too, she doesn't notice.

Suddenly, their lips collide. Melding in perfect harmony; moving in sync. Her fingers live out their dream, running through his hair. His hands rest on her hips, gently pulling her closer.

Lost in their own world, they imagine what it's like to live their lives together. Kids, birthdays, a house, and so much more. It all flashes right before them.

It's over too quick, they think (and it might be awkward to go back for more).

But the night isn't over yet.

—

The stars are beautiful, but not as beautiful as her eyes, in his opinion. Not as beautiful as her laugh, or smile, or personality.

Nobody is really traveling tonight. One airplane so far.

He's ready to book his own flight.

To his honeymoon.

Realistically, he's in way over his head. It's been a week.

His parents will say he's not ready for marriage; that he doesn't know what love is.

Pfft. Yeah, right.

This girl is love. He knows it when he sees it.

He bites his lip. It's too early. He doesn't want to ruin what they have.

But, "I love you."

FUCK. DID HE SAY THAT OUT LOUD?

He must have gotten extra lucky, because—

"I love you, too."

—

Being by her side is one thing, but being welcomed to glide his hands over her body makes him feel alive.

Her lips are fruity. She is beautiful. He wants her.

This is way different than she anticipated. Holding his hand was level one, and now she feels like she's on top of the world.

His lips are soft. He is dashing. She wants him.

Awkward as it was, their bodies moved in perfect harmony.

He couldn't deny it.

She couldn't deny it.

They were made for each other in every way possible.

Soulmates. They were soulmates.

And they only had half an hour before her parents came home.

Neither wanted to rush it, but it was their time.

"Let's just take this moment," he had whispered in her ear just minutes earlier. "It's ours, okay?"

His eyes flicker down to her lips, "You don't want to waste it, do you?"

—

'I'm not sure," she matches his whisper. "It-it's only been a few months and I—"

He breathed, "I love you."

It tickled her face, his breath, and she used every ounce of will not to lean just a millimeter closer.

Their lips were about to connect.

"I'm not ready."

"You'll never be ready, minou…"

She hesitated.

"Babe, I…" she sighed and shook her head. "I can't."

"You don't want to miss out on this. On us. Please."

All she could come up with was, "We'll regret it, A—"

"There is nothing to regret."

"There is a lot to regret."

He was silent for a moment.

But then he smirked.

"Like what?"

"Like… do we have protection?"

A teasing look was sent her way.

"I always keep it in my bag," he offered.

She pondered, then—

"It's too early. We're too young."

"It's not too early," he licked his lips, "And I'd rather experience this when I'm young.

"Before I fade away."

She gulped, searching his brown eyes in the darkness.

"Regrets don't fade away," she stated firmly.

He nodded.

"Exactly."

Her head tilted in confusion. He reiterated.

"If this… us… is something we regret, then we won't fade away."

—

On their one year anniversary, he couldn't think of anything more fitting.

"So," he smiles dopily. "I've got it planned."

He doesn't need to say anything else; this has become routine.

She scrunches up her nose cutely, giving him a smile.

"Perfect. Pick me up at eight?"

"Precisely."

—

He gazes at the girl lying next to him.

The moonlight shines on her face. She's gorgeous.

"Oooh," she exclaims quietly, pointing up above them.

He follows her finger, his eyes landing on the moon.

"That's—" he giggles, "That's the moon, silly goose."

She turns her head to look at him and smiles.

"You're my moon. And my goose," she chuckles.

He mimics her chuckle.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugs.

"If I could go anywhere…" she starts, in lieu of a response. "I wouldn't.

"I'm happy right here, with you right next to me, as we fall asleep under the stars just for our parents to call and wake us up."

He lets out a laugh at that, grabbing ahold of the small hand resting on her chest.

She continues, "You're mine. And I'm so glad that I can call you mine."

—

The blonde grins.

"Remember when I first asked you out?" He asks.

"How could I forget?"

His smile wavers as he turns serious, meeting her eyes.

"I said that I'll be your man."

"And you are."

"But I only said for that night."

She raises an eyebrow.

"Your point?"

He smiles again, "I'm really happy you agreed."

"Of course. You're amazing."

"And so are you," he pecks her nose.

They fall into a comfortable silence, watching the stars yet again.

And… just loud enough so she can hear, he speaks softly.

"I'll be your man tonight, and forever… and I'll give you everything I can. I promise."

She looks over at him again, admiring his side profile.

His skin shines in the moonlight so magnificently. It's almost royal.

She gulps.

The heaviness of the statement hit her hard.

Taking a deep breath, she responds.

"I promise, too."

- And tomorrow we can do it again -

[unlocktxt]

frostbite | c.sb

choi soobin

day 5 of 12 days of christmas

genre: fluff, soobin x reader

description: it’s been snowing a lot lately, but that’s a given with the weather. your december went on as usual until the lonely jack frost starts nipping at your nose.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: cracking ice, near death

your sweater wasn’t nearly enough to save you from the cold’s wrath. its chilling air had already invaded the front of your house and you had only opened the door just a second ago.

unlike your shivering self, your little brother tried darting out of the door without any appropriate clothing. he pushed past you and threw his tiny legs into the white snow while you stood in awe.

“junseo you’re going to catch a cold!” you holler, warning him of the days he’d have to spend bedridden. he didn’t listen though, continuing the pick up the snow with his bare red hands.

you sighed walking into the snow to drag him back into the house, just now realizing that you were snowed in.

“here... if you go get into your winter clothes then i’ll play in the snow with you.” you made sure you were eye level with the five-year-old, so you were able to see how his eyes lit up. this time he didn’t waste any time rushing out of the snow and back into the house.

you could only shake your head from behind him, taking note to teach this kid how to close the door. however, at this moment it probably didn’t matter because seconds later he came rushing out dressed. he even brought you a pair of gloves and a hat.

“okay what first?” you asked him while walking over to your garage.

“sledding! then skate!” he stood beside you while you opened the garage. he was so adorable, his nose red like rudolf- making it hard to resist pinching it.

it had been quite a walk to get to the hill leading to the pond. unlike previous years, there wasn’t really anybody around at this time. you didn’t mind though, your brother would occupy all of your time either way.

“okay hop in the sled.” junseo didn’t need any convincing. in fact, he was so eager that he ended up pushing off while getting on- having learned after repeatedly watching you and your parents from previous years. you hadn’t realized his departure though, having to take a call from your mom.

when you did look back at him, he was already halfway down the hill heading straight to the pond. your heart dropped as your legs moved before your mind could think.

you tried running as fast as you could to catch up to the sled, but your feet kept sinking into the snow- making it nearly impossible to get some speed.

your adrenaline was pumping as you watched hopelessly- only being able to pray to whoever could help that the pond was in fact frozen over.

even when you saw the sled slide across the ice you knew you couldn’t trust that it still wouldn’t break.

“junseo don’t move!” you screamed hoping he would hear. luckily he looked back at you and nodded before looking forward once more.

you were out of breath by the time you got to the pond. junseo was in the middle of the pond and you could see the cracks that had already formed, but when you carefully stepped onto the ice it was solid.

when you looked back at your brother there had been a man leaned down on his knees that was talking to your brother. you hadn’t seen him beforehand and it would’ve been hard to miss his blue hair.

“junseo! thank the world that you’re okay!” you hurriedly wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. he had pushed you away shaking his head.

“no! thank jack frost!” he looked back over to the man smiling at him.

“yes thank jack frost.” you exhale, going along with it just because you were relieved.

“you’re welcome, but you can call me soobin... that’s my real name.” you turned your head to look at the pale boy with blue hair covered in frost.

“oh right! sorry... my brother has a great imagination. thank you for making sure he was okay.” you had linked hands with your little brother who had just gotten out of the sled.

“well... he’s not wrong. i am technically jack frost.” he got up from his knees, finally revealing his height as he towered over you.

you chuckled, “how so?” you were expecting a joke... maybe even hoping for a flirtatious joke.

“i just am.” he shrugged. your brother was looking up at him with wide admiring eyes. great. this boy was insane.

soobin caught onto your nervous chuckle and not wanting to lose the only people that could actually see him... he decided to prove it.

“look i can prove it to you.” he opened his palm- showing you a small spiraling frost tornado. it amazed you. junseo went over to touch it, causing it to fall like snow.

soobin was smiling at junseo before sprinkling some snow onto him. it warmed your heart, but you also couldn’t help thinking that he was acting like a fairy from tinkerbell.

“wait... so jack frost is real?” you crossed your arms. it was pretty convincing, but it doesn’t really make any sense.

he was silent as his eyes glossed over. he looked up at the sky probably thinking of what to say. his eyes were a beautiful silver color and surprisingly they weren’t cold-looking, but they were kind eyes. kind sad eyes that told the world of their scars.

“i guess you could say i’m somewhat a spirit. i wasn’t jack frost all my life, but then one day...” he paused looking at junseo, “i was blessed with this cool ability. the two of you are the only ones who have actually noticed me around.” he explained to the best of his ability.

“why doesn’t anyone else notice you?” you were genuinely curious. someone as handsome as him is bound to be noticed.

“it’s almost like how you don’t remember a random stranger’s face days after. for me it’s just a little more intense.” you nodded trying to take everything in. that must be a pretty sad life.

you nodded, deciding to drop the subject. “i’m y/n and as you probably already know this is my brother junseo.” you smiled at him before grabbing the sleigh.

“okay then y/n... hopefully i’ll see you around and make sure to keep a good eye on junseo.” soobin held his hand in his sweatshirt while rocking back and forth on his heels. “i’ll be around.”

you nodded before turning around. you only took one step before you started to hesitate.

“would you like to stay at my house? at least until christmas.” you turned to look at him dead in the eye. when you made eye contact with him you started to get shy especially when he looked at you with those wide glistening eyes.

“no... i couldn’t do that, but i’ll make sure to stay around.”

you didn’t really know how things would turn out, but you wish that soobin wouldn’t be cold.

the next morning you couldn’t get soobin out of your head. you swear you even had a dream of him. his soft blue hair could never be forgotten and the silver eyes that stared into your soul. how could he already appear in your dreams?

the laughter from outside had turned your attention away from your dream. you walked downstairs in your pajamas to see your mom cooking some breakfast.

“good morning y/n. i have to go to work soon, so you will have to watch junseo again. he’s outside right now.” your mom smiled at you while nodding her head to the back door. you nodded, shuffling your feet over to the back door with your long pajama pants.

when you opened the door you could see junseo and the blue hair that seemed to follow you awake and asleep. you looked back at your mom before putting your boots on.

you closed the door slowly- not wanting the two boys to notice you. soobin had made ice walls to hide them from each others wrath. the two of them showed no mercy as they continued to throw snowballs. after junseo had continued to miss some shots soobin made sure to step out from his wall.

as soon as he got hit by the snow he’d fall over and jokingly act as though he was severely injured. you couldn’t help but snort when the snowball hit him dead in his face. this caused soobin to turn his head towards you as a lightbulb went off in his head.

“nurse! nurse, please help! i’ve been injured. i admit my defeat! this kid is no joke!” he wailed holding his chest.

you shook your head while rushing over to him. junseo stood proudly- celebrating his win.

“oh my... your injuries are severe.” you pretended to scan his injuries before pressing your cold hands against his cold forehead. the lack of warmth shocked you at first, but when his cold hand gently pressed your hand further on his forehead you nearly jumped.

“you’ve gotta fix me doc... i have a beautiful lady that i can’t leave.” you had to break eye contact because the intensity he held was making you blush. he didn’t stop looking at you though.

“r-right! junseo i need your scarf!” you acted as if you were in a hurry while trying to avoid soobin’s roaming eyes.

junseo had to resist his laugh as he ran over to you with his scarf. when the scarf was in your hands you had to pat soobin down.

you pretended to wipe the sweat from off your forehead, “that was a close one. no more roughhousing okay boys. we can’t have soobin dying can we?” you turned towards junseo who nodded. when you looked back at soobin he had a smile on his face, but nodded with junseo.

after playing the three of you had sat down on the snow... despite it causing you to become even colder.

“y/n you wanna know what soobin told me?” junseo looked at you while soobin looked at him- wondering what he told the little boy.

“what did he tell you?” you exaggerated your sentence while putting your hands in your lap.

“the reason that we can see him is because we believe in him.” junseo was smiling, but you only tilted your head in confusion. you looked at soobin for him to explain, but you were met with a smirk.

“despite not being as young as junseo... you still believe in jack frost. so y/n when we’re you going to stop pretending like you didn’t believe i was real in the first place?” he got closer to you while tilting his head to mimic you. at this point, you were blushing.

“i wouldn’t say i believ-” soobin cut you off by getting closer and placing a soft kiss on your nose. if that didn’t cause you to freak out then when he rubbed his nose against your to give you an eskimo kiss definitely did. you hopped up with your red cheeks and nose before rushing inside leaving soobin’s laughter behind.

your mom had just finished cooking breakfast when she looked at you.

“must be cold out because it looks like jack frost nipped at your nose.”

blood red. your face turned blood red.

[highonchocolate]

Take Two: The Guardian in Gotham Chapter 13

First   Previous   Next   Ao3

“Now that we know you do not intend to attack or harm us, the next order of business is testing and understanding your powers” Diana said, starting off down the hallway. “Batman and Superman will go over the details with you.” 

She led them to a training room where Batman and Superman were already waiting. The five of them filed in after her, looking around and taking in the room. The design was more on the minimalistic side; consisting of plain white walls, void of decoration, with lights embedded into the ceiling. Training mats spread out over half the floor, with more stacked on one side. There were no windows, or glass, and the ceiling rose high above them, at least twenty feet up.

Superman cleared his throat, and their eyes snapped from the walls to him. 

“As Diana most likely told you, we are going to be assessing your powers today. What that means is, you will explain where they come from, as well as demonstrate how they work, if possible, so that we can better understand your abilities.” 

“That all sounds good, but how, exactly, do you want us to demonstrate our powers to you?” Ladybug asked, tilting her head curiously.

“Whatever way feels the most comfortable, as long as you cause no injury to others. And yes, death is considered an injury.”

They looked horrified. 

“We aren't going to kill anyone to demonstrate our skills!” Chat Noir exclaimed, staring at them with wide eyes.

“Well, some of our members didn't realize that when they were assessed.” Superman said, eyes darting away for a second. 

“You can begin now,” Batman growled from where he stood beside Superman, his imposing black silhouette looming over them.

Ladybug blinked up at him. “Uh, alright.” She took a deep breath, before beginning. 

“So, we get our powers from our Miraculi. Our Miraculi takes the form of jewelry, but the shape can change. The jewels are what stay the same, and they have gods bound to them. When we transform, the god that is bound to our jewel will fuse with it, and give us powers. These gods are called Kwamis, and they represent abstract concepts, which is what our powers are based off of.” 

“What kind of abstract concepts?” Superman asked curiously.

“Um, well my Kwami represents Destruction, and there are also Kwamis that represent things like Intuition, Subjection, Evolution...stuff like that.” Chat Noir answered, ticking off his fingers as he listed the examples.

“How many Miraculi are there?” Batman inquired, still looming. “And what concepts do your Miraculi represent?”

Ryuko met his face unflinchingly.

“My Miraculous represents Perfection, Viperion’s represents Intuition, Queen Bee’s represents Subjection, Chat Noir’s as you already know represents Destruction, and its counterpart, the Ladybug Miraculous, represents Creation.”

“They're stored in Miracle Boxes, and it's worth saying there are many of those, actually,” Viperion added, “But the one we have had nineteen Miraculi,” 

Batman nodded once, accepting the answer.

“You said had, past tense,” Diana noted, “What do you mean?”

“Hawkmoth and Mayura stole two Miraculi from the box, the Butterfly brooch, which represents Transmission, and the Peacock brooch, which represents the power of Emotion. They're literally the supervillains we fight, like, daily.” Queen Bee crossed her arms, looking at them incredulously. “How do you not know this? It's literally all over Parisian news when Akuma Attacks occur.” 

“We had it handled Queenie, and my Cure fixes all the damage anyway, so they probably didn't see it as a problem,” Ladybug countered. “Besides,” She glanced at the three older heroes, “You have to deal with stuff like alien invasions, and plots for world domination, not some dude who wants to make a wish.” 

 Viperion frowned. “It's more dangerous than that and you know it.” 

She shrugged, looking away. 

“While you are correct that we are busy, that still doesn't excuse that we let this slip our attention,” Superman said.

“Well you're helping us now, so I guess that counts for something,” Chat Noir offered, “And uh, if there aren't any more questions, we can demonstrate our powers now.”

“Go ahead.” Diana indicated the training mats, “Just remember, no injuries!” 

“Okay, so Ryuko, you can go first,” Ladybug turned to Queen Bee, “I know you've been working on recalling your Venom, but for now, just stun her when it's your turn, since she'll already be done demonstrating.”

They nodded, and Ryuko stepped forward, facing the older heroes, and inclined her head in a small bow. 

“I have the Miraculous of the Dragon, and it represents Perfection. It allows me to transform into three elements, wind, water and lighting.” She breathed deeply, planting her feet firmly on the ground.

“Wind Dragon!” 

She shifted into a gust of wind that blew around the room once, before reappearing where she had originally stood.

“Water Dragon!”

She became a stream of water that seeped through the cracks in the training mat into a puddle on the floor, before reappearing on the floor in front of the training mat. 

“Lightning Dragon!”

She turned into a crackling ball of electricity, hovering in midair for a moment, before reverting back to human, panting slightly.

Ladybug grabbed her forearm gently, “You need to recharge, and then sit down. You have food for Longg, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t know where I’m going to detransform and recharge,” She whispered.

“Just ask Diana if there’s a closet or something where you can detransform.” 

Ryuko nodded and walked over to Diana. They spoke quite for a couple moments, before Diana pointed to a door they hadn't noticed when they had arrived. She nodded and walked into the room beyond, as Chat Noir walked forward.

“My Miraculous is the Black Cat, and it represents Destruction. I have two powers, one that allows me to destroy anything I touch, and one that allows me to create corruption in something. I also have enhanced senses.”

Queen Bee sidled up next to Viperion. “Was there a script? I don’t remember there being a script?”

“I think he’s just going off what Ryuko said because she sounded distinguished.” He whispered back.

Chat Noir’s ear twitched, and he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to hold in laughter.

“I’m not going to demonstrate my second power, though, it’s a bit more dangerous, in a way.” 

He raised one clawed hand before him, “Cataclysm!”

His hand began to seethe with a dark, black energy that had the older heroes falling into defensive positions.

“Can I use it on this?” He indicated a nearby metal bar with the other hand.

“Yes.” Batman nodded, observing intently. With the reassurance, he walked over to the beam and pressed a single claw to the shiny metal. Within seconds, it had corroded and rusted, disintegrating entirely. 

Superman raised his eyebrows. “Impressive.” 

“Heh. Thanks.” Chat Noir rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, stepping back and allowing Queen Bee to come forward. Ryuko walked over as well, standing a few feet away from the blonde heroine.

“I have the Bee Miraculous, which represents Subjection. It gives me the power to paralyze others. I’ll be demonstrating on Ryuko, since she has already demonstrated and recharged.”

Behind them, Chat Noir’s ring beeped once.

She reached down to the striped top, its cord looped around her waist, shouting “Venom!”

It began to pulse with magic in her hand, and she quickly flicked her wrist, sending it spinning at the dragon-themed heroine and catching her between the shoulder blades, leaving a small ring of black and gold. 

It's effects were instantaneous: she stiffened up, her limbs all locking in place. The only things moving were her eyes, and the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

“How long does the paralysis last?” Diana asked, studying Ryuko’s frozen form.

There were two beeps, one from Chat Noor and the other from Queen Bee.

“Until I detransform. But after we use our powers, we only have five minutes until our Kwamis are forced to drop our transformations,” Queen Bee explained. “That'll change once you become an adult, but for now the paralysis only lasts five minutes, max.”

“So after you use your power you have to end the fight within five minutes?” Superman clarified.

Viperion spoke up.

“Well, we can detransform, feed our Kwamis and transform again. And then we can use our powers again. It just takes a few minutes to do all that.”

“Hmm.” Batman’s face seemed thoughtful beneath his cowl.

Two more beeps echoed through the room..

Viperion stepped forward to the mat. Behind him, Ladybug was pushing Queen Bee and Chat Noir towards the door Ruyko had recharged behind, an insistent expression on her face.

“My Miraculous is the Snake, and it represents Intuition. It grants me the power to repeatedly go back a certain amount in time.” He paused as Ryuko unfroze and began to shake the stiffness out of her limbs. Queen Bee must have dropped her transformation. 

“I can't demonstrate it very well here, but in battle if things go wrong, I reset time and warn us before we make that mistake again.”

There was a flash of green and yellow light behind the door as they retransformed

“A useful power.” Batman commented, face unreadable. The other two heroes murmured in agreement, strange expressions on their faces.

He shrugged, faking nonchalance even as the memories of past Akumas turned disastrous flashed through his head. “It's a powerful blessing and a horrible curse.”

His bracelet beeped once, and he stepped away to recharge as Ladybug walked forward.

“I have the Ladybug Miraculous, which represents Creation. I have the power to summon a tool in battle that will help me win, and I can capture Akumas and repair any damage caused in a fight that Ladybug participated in with my Cure.”

“So if you are not part of the fight as Ladybug, you can’t fix the damage?” Diana asked.

“Yeah, basically.”  She frowned. “So even if I’m there as a civilian, if I can’t transform before the fight’s over, I can’t do anything to repair the damage.” 

There was a flash of blue, and Viperion walked back over to them, falling into line with the other members of his team behind her.

Shrugging, she gave the older heroes a small smile and grabbed the spotted crimson yoyo at her hip. “But I can now! Lucky Charm!” 

A ladybug-patterned keychain with ‘JL’ emblazoned on it fell into her outstretched palm. She threw it into the air, shouting “Miraculous Ladybug!”

With a whoosh of magic, pink glowing butterflies soared through the room, fixing the rusted beam, and even straightening things that had shifted slightly when Ryuko had called on Wind Dragon. The three older heroes' eyes widened at the display of power.

“That’s a very useful power.” Batman commented, eyeing them assessingly. “Now, we’d like to see your combat skills. Without your powers.” He turned on his heel and walked out the door. 

“Follow me.”

“Do you want us to detransform, or just not use our powers but keep our suits on?” Ryuko asked as they followed the three of them out of the room.

“What additional enhancements do your suits bring?” Batman countered, turning right and striding forward along another hallway.

“Uh, mine gives me night vision and they all give us better reflexes.” Chat Noir piped up from where he brought up the rear.

“Any weapons?” Diana asked.

“Well, I have a lyre.” Viperion offered.

“Do you hit people over the head with it when they get too close?” ” Superman asked as he walked beside them.

Viperion looked appalled. “Of course not! It’s a musical instrument! I would protect it with my life! You never damage your instrument!”

“Okay…” Superman said slowly, turning around and walking backwards so he could face all the Parisian heroes. “What about you all?”

“I have my yoyo, and it’s pretty much indestructible.” Ladybug pointed to the spotted weapon at her hip. “Actually, all our weapons are mainly indestructible. Perks of magic I guess.”

“Oh, and I have my baton!” Chat Noir lifted the weapon in question above his head enthusiastically.

“Spinning top for me.” Queen Bee shrugged and indicated the striped top at her waist.

“Do any of you have traditional weapons?” Diana asked, looking at them incredulously.

“I have my sabre.” Ryuko unsheathed the weapon in question, the light glinting off the unmarred metal.

“A sword.” Diana nodded, “I can work with that.”

“Alright, here we are.” Superman announced, throwing the door open. “Time for your combat skills to be tested!”

@laurcad123, @liquid-luck-00, @toodaloo-kangaroo, @stainedglassm

[spencer-reid-in-a-pool]

It Was You All Along (Part 6)

Author’s note: I want to thank @ayyyyitswednesdaymydoods for helping me and listening to me ramble constantly about this series. I know I am probably annoying, but she inspired much of this fic just through our conversations and I am so thankful every day that I met her and that she is my friend. This chapter is Jaskier’s POV, so hopefully you will learn more about that night that (Y/N) eavesdropped! Enjoy~

Tags: @ayyyyitswednesdaymydoods @blackjay04 @mxsmwndr��@bravelittlesunflower

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

If the gods could have blessed me with some other talent besides music, it should have been the ability to figure out where the hell I was in this forsaken forest. I wish I knew how to map out these routes in my head like Geralt seems to do, but I simply can’t. I guess you could say it was my own fault for running off after the attack, but I couldn’t risk getting punched again. Gods know that I am the one bringing in the most money, what with my music and all. Witchering be damned. 

I mean, what can I say? I’m irresistible. 

The trees in front of me seemed to stretch out infinitely, and I sighed as I came to a stop. I knew Geralt would be alright, of course. My thoughts were mainly focused on (Y/N) and where she might have ended up. I couldn’t help but think us getting separated was my fault. But I only did what I thought was right in the moment, and that was getting her as far away from the danger as possible.

She has been acting a bit strange lately, and that consumed my thoughts going forward. Was it... girl problems? Those happen monthly, right? Wait- what month is it?

A snapping sound drew me from my thoughts and brought me to another abrupt stop. It sounded far away, so I decided not being around to find out what made the noise was the best course of action. 

~

It was starting to drop dark now, and I had found a fallen log to sit on and rest. It was so quiet. I hated the quiet. My thoughts and fears were always loudest then, so I decided to pull out my lute and strum mindlessly to bring about some comfort. Without meaning to, I started playing the song I was writing for (Y/N). It just kind of happened. I thought she was onto me and knew about the song when we arrived at that town the other day, but luckily she didn’t seem to pay any mind to it. If only she didn’t make me so nervous and loose-lipped, maybe she wouldn’t have even realized the song was new and unfinished. 

My heart sped up the tiniest bit as I played, just like it always did when I thought about her. Which was quite often, to be honest. I simply couldn’t help it. She was my muse, even if she didn’t know. 

Of course, thinking about her made me think about the other night in the tavern with the other woman. A stab of guilt made my chest hurt, and I cursed myself for that night. (Y/N) didn’t seem to be catching on to anything I was doing, so I had wanted so badly to be distracted. How stupid was I to let that woman be my distraction? Incredibly. And I would regret it for the rest of my days.

Obviously, thinking about that night and that woman made me think of the conversation Geralt and I had after. I remembered the whole thing, surprisingly, considering how drunk I was. I think- no, I know- the cause of me remembering was how much I was thinking about (Y/N) then. How badly I had wanted that woman to be her, in my arms and safe and loved. 

I told Geralt everything. But I’m sure he already knew with his Witchery-ness...I swear he could read minds sometimes. 

I went to the woman’s room- I don’t even know her name, now that I think about it. I don’t think I asked. It didn’t really matter, because it wasn’t (Y/N). Instantly, I had regretted my actions. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want this woman on me, touching me. So as soon as I had come back to reality, I pushed her off, probably a bit too hard, and winced as I realized how purple my neck would be soon.  

Of course she was hurt, and I felt awful. But a second later, she smiled at me with what looked like understanding on her face. 

“It’s that girl down there, isn’t it? You’re thinking about her.”

I didn’t answer her, and she took my silence as a yes. And that was that. I spent the rest of the night getting drunk to try and drown away this feeling I had. It didn’t work, of course. I suppose karma was being her usual bitchy self. Although, I knew in my heart that I deserved it. 

As I strummed her song over and over, I replayed the conversation Geralt and I had that night in my head. 

~

“You couldn’t have been any quieter when coming in?”

I pulled out a chair and sat in it heavily, the drink and regret weighing me down. 

“Shut up, Geralt,” I groaned. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

I was silent for a moment, and decided to just come out with it. 

“You wouldn’t understand. I- I so desperately want (Y/N)...What do I do?”

If he expected something else from me, he made no mention of it. He simply stared at me with that same stupid expression he always had.

“You want advice? You need to grow a pair, Jaskier, and stop whining. Watching you be like this is incredibly exhausting.”

I sighed once more, like I had so many times previously tonight.

“That woman...seeing her was a bad idea. (Y/N) can’t know how I feel. At least, not yet. I don’t want her to know.”

He glanced at the wall for a split second, but I thought nothing of it. He was probably just tired of listening to me talk. 

“You truly are an idiot. Both of you are.”

And without another word, he left for the washroom. 

~

I played until it was pitch black outside, and even after for a little bit. I didn’t need light to see where the strings for her song were. I knew them by heart, even if it wasn’t quite finished yet. Only when my fingers started to ache did I stop, and I didn’t really want to. Playing her song made it feel as if she was right next to me. 

I sighed and placed my lute down gently before laying myself down next to it. There probably wasn’t a really comfortable spot around here, so I balled up my doublet and used it as a makeshift pillow. Before long, I fell asleep and dreamed of (Y/N) all night, as I so often had since meeting her for the first time. 

When I woke in the morning, it was just after dusk, and a bit cold out. I put my doublet back on quickly and grabbed my lute, ignoring the ache in my back and the growl coming from my stomach. There wasn’t really much else to do besides start walking and hope for the best. 

Eventually, I made it to a small, run-down cottage near a stream. It was as good a place as any to rest and catch my breath. There didn’t seem to be anyone home, but I knocked nonetheless. What can I say? I’m a gentleman. 

No one answered, so I let myself in. But what I didn’t realize was that the door was on its last limb, so as soon as I opened it, it collapsed onto the floor, sending up a cloud of dust and dirt directly into my lungs. 

“Melitele’s tits,” I croaked. 

After I recovered from my little ordeal, I dug around the place to see what it had to offer. Was it too much to hope for food?

I came across a plant potted in the corner. Underneath the cobwebs and dust, it almost looked edible. Almost. 

“Should I?” I thought out loud. 

I stared at it for a good while, heavily considering eating it, before realizing it was probably not a good idea.

“I should not.”

Defeated, I sat down on one of the rickety chairs, thanking the gods that it didn’t fall out from underneath me. Maybe I’ll eat my own arm off. Wait, then I can’t play the lute anymore...

“Bollocks...”

~

I hadn’t realized that I had fallen asleep in the chair until I heard rustling and voices outside, which startled me awake. It looked to be later in the day, probably the afternoon. So I couldn’t really take off running- they would definitely see me. 

The voices and footsteps got closer and closer. In a panic, I scanned the room looking for something- anything I could use to defend myself if need be. There really wasn’t much. The place has probably been ransacked more times than I can count. 

Unfortunately, all I had was my lute. How horribly tragic. 

I hunkered down in the corner farthest away from the door, and waited until they were right against the house before shouting, “I’ve got a very large- very hard sword! And I’m not afraid to use it. You had best leave- right now. Please.”

Idiot, why did you say please at the end? You sounded like an insufferable p-

“Jaskier!” 

I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t my name. And it definitely wasn’t (Y/N) stepping over the fallen door. 

Time felt frozen for a second. A bit annoying really, considering how all I wanted to do was run to her and hug her. But she made it to me first, and before she threw her arms around me, I looked at her like it was the first time. 

She was disheveled of course. Scratches and bruises decorating her skin. A particularly large bruise was right in the middle of her forehead. Wonder what caused that monstrosity. 

Twigs and leaves and grass were twisted into her messy hair, and for a split second all I could think about doing was getting it all out for her and washing her hair. She’d like that, I think. 

Even in her condition, I had never seen such a beautiful woman. And I realized that even looking at another for the rest of my days would simply be a sin. 

Her arms finally fell around my neck, bringing me closer to her and back to the present. I took a deep breath, telling myself that this was actually real. She was actually here and she was okay, and I wrapped my arms tightly around her waist. I simply could not have her close enough to me. 

I sighed her name, relaxing against her, and hoping against hope she couldn’t feel how hard my heart was beating right now. 

Geralt stood in the doorway, his arms crossed. But there was a gleam in his eye. 

“Shut up,” I mouthed silently to him, turning slightly with (Y/N) still in my arms as if I was hiding a sweet I refused to share. 

He simply shook his head, and stepped back through the doorway from where they came.

~

Geralt and I sat around the fire now. (Y/N) was asleep a few feet away, curled up on a ratty old blanket laid out on the forest floor. I couldn’t help but watch her sleep. She was so peaceful. So beautiful. There wasn’t a single thing I would not do for her.

I had spent the better part of an hour picking out all the offensive bits of nature in her hair, and combed it out as best as I could. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, darling,” I had said to her after finishing with her hair, “But what in the gods’  holy names happened to your forehead?”

Her expression fell instantly, and she grumbled something under her breath. I leaned in closer to hear what she had said, ignoring the weird expression on Geralt’s face. 

“I ran into a branch while I was escaping on Lily.”

If she hadn’t had such a pitiful look on her face, I would have lost my shit then and there, laughing until I felt sick. But I managed to stifle it, if only to laugh about it later. 

“What a special girl you are,” I said instead. 

She turned away from me for a moment before telling me to shut up. 

Geralt’s words startled me from my recounting of the events in my head. 

“If you don’t tell her, I will. You’re ridiculous.” 

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, and quickly turned away from (Y/N)’s sleeping form. 

“I’ll tell her. Just...not yet. When the time is right. She deserves to know, even if she doesn’t feel the same.” 

His only response was a sigh. Then he laid down on the other side of the fire, facing away from me. 

That was fine. I’ll be up a while, and I preferred it that way right now. Perhaps I’ll finish her song...

[herohotline]

It’s Gonna Be Okay (It Has To)

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

A/N: because apparently I can only write dark shit if Deku is involved

Request from Ao3:  Can I get an Izuku x Reader? Reader is another student with a weaker quirk(they can heal others, but in order to do so they must take on the wound themself, maybe?) Maybe kinda the “Are you crazy? You almost lost your life!” prompt.

Warnings: Descriptions of gore, trauma, angst. Also some dadzawa because I’m weak

Like many quirks, yours had an upside and a downside to it. Your parents called you blessed to have such a quirk; as if you were some sort of angel. You didn’t really agree with that phrasing- and you soon had to run away from your parent's eager hands so they stopped abusing your quirk. You took refuge in U.A- once you barely passed the exam you explained your situation to the teachers, they were quick to take you in. Aizawa had interestingly enough decided to house you- but he made it quite clear that even though you were in his class he wouldn’t be playing favorites and you would be graded fairly. 

Your quirk is simple enough. You have the ability to heal others completely, but it might cost you your own life. You take their pain and transfer it to yourself- sometimes it’s not a big deal, and sometimes it is. For instance, you are not allergic to peanuts, but if someone else is and starts to choke from the effects, you can easily snatch that away and save their life while having no real consequences yourself because your body is not allergic to peanuts. 

Your parents thought of you as a lifesaver; anytime they were presented with discomfort, they demanded their angel take it from them. Not only was this abusing your quirk, but it was abusing you in the process. You had since learned from Aizawa housing you that you are not required to heal anything and anyone- you have a choice in the matter. 

Today, you made a rather… drastic choice. 

It was a completely normal day. You, Midoriya, and Uraraka had been traveling Musutafu for fun when you had heard about a villain attack nearby. Of course, your blood boiled at the thought of another villainous attack, but you knew that you were still in training and going in to help was the last thing anyone needed right now. Convincing Midoriya was difficult- in the end, you weren’t even able to win- but you made a compromise. 

You’d go look at the damage, and once the villains were dealt with, you’d help with damage control and any civilians that needed a hand after the attack. That sounded fair enough. 

When you arrived at the scene, everything was pretty much taken care of, to your relief. There was some rubble and people needed help getting out from under them, so Izuku and Uraraka used their abilities to help while you observed from the background. Your quirk wasn’t exactly useful in this area, but you could help with any minor injuries people may have. 

As you look around the area, you notice something moving from underneath all the rubble. At first, you think it’s a civilian, but claws snatch out from the rocks and the nails make angry marks as the thing pushes itself up from the boulders. 

You freeze in shock. It’s a Nomu- of course it is, when is it not? 

“Deku!!” 

You scream, your vocal cords shredding as you do. It’s not enough time- you were too late with your warning as you watch Midoriya get pummeled into the ground by the Nomu. You can hear everything-

Midoriya and Uraraka’s screams, the heroes nearby telling everyone to evacuate, the vibrations in the ground as people run and scatter. 

You don’t even get a choice to run in and help- a hero scoops you up in his arms and runs away with you. He can't get very far until the Nomu has clawed his back- the whole thing looks like an insane, mutated bird. It has fierce wings, but the most threatening thing about it is its strong legs with talons that are sharp as knives and several inches long. He picks the hero up with the talons, flying him up into the air before swinging and dropping him onto the ground below. It all happens right in front of you- 

The blood. The limbs, the guts… flying everywhere- what used to be a man is scattered in several disgusting pieces- all over you, all over the concrete, all over all over all over- 

Your scream is bloodcurdling. 

Uraraka scoops you up as you scream, and you’re vaguely aware that she’s taking you somewhere, but you don’t know where. You don’t stop screaming, you don’t stop crying- you don’t stop because you can’t. All you can see is blood, blood, blood, and it makes you want to vomit. 

Uraraka keeps running. 

Eventually, the chaos ends, but you’re unsure exactly when. You don’t know how long it’s been, you don’t know if you’re even alive, really, but police cars and their sirens fill your senses as well as the ambulances. Your friend places you in one before quickly running off again, and you don’t even get to say anything. 

Can you say anything?

There’s doctors, nurses- people, they’re all just people in uniform- checking your vitals and asking you questions you can’t answer. You feel partially numb, partially scared and partially frozen. You sit there and let them do what they need to do, but they don’t do a good job. Nothing will help the white noise in your ears and the pictures in your head and how your body just won’t stop shaking. 

As you stare at all the damage the Nomu caused, there’s a stretcher being carried into another ambulance. You can barely see who it is from your spot, but there’s a glimpse of green hair. Your stomach flips when you think about who it could be.

You don’t ask the doctors for permission. You know that nothing is wrong with you, nothing but your head, so you tear out all the wires they put in you and jump out of the vehicle. You don’t listen to them calling out for you as you rush toward the stretcher, breaking your way through the several men in white that surround him- Midoriya. 

He’s covered in bruises, scrapes, and gashes. There are three gnarly, ugly tears on his side that look like the very definition of worrying. The voice you couldn’t find before suddenly comes back. “Will he make it?” You look at the doctors. 

“Please get out of the way!” 

“No!” You scream, holding onto Midoriya’s stretcher with all your strength. “Is he going to live?!” 

“We don’t know-”

Not good enough. 

“Okay, okay,” you breathe shakily, looking down at Midoriya. He’s barely lucid, you can tell- his eyes are open and unfocused, looking in several different directions in a haze. Tears run down your cheeks and snot down your nose as you grab his face with shaky hands. “Okay, Midoriya. Listen to me- okay? Listen. You’re gonna be okay, I swear- I swear you’re gonna be okay. Everything is going to be okay.” 

Your hand drifts down to the torn-up flesh on his side. You can do this- you know you can do this. It’s just as easy as taking a paper cut. 

Another shaky breath leaves you as you sob, preparing yourself for the pain- and then you activate your quirk. 

---

You hate the color white. 

It’s not even a color- it’s meaningless and void of anything real. It’s the beginning of color but isn’t a color itself. It is ugly and dark in your opinion. 

When you wake up, you’re surrounded by that non-color. It’s all white- the walls, the ceiling, the bedsheets, and your gown. You know where you are immediately. Only a hospital can bring you such dread. 

No one is in the room at the moment and you’re glad. It gives you a moment to think about what happened. There’s a burning sensation on your waist, something that hurts more than you think you’re processing at the moment- you’re probably drugged. Sloppy and heavy hands lift up your bedsheets and your gown, revealing the fresh, dark scar. It hugs your entire waist, curling around you as if it were a curse. 

But you think it’s a blessing. You saved Midoriya, right? God, please- he’s still alive, right? 

Alone in the hospital, you cry again. It’s silent, the tears leaving in streams but you don’t have the energy to sob. You lean back into the uncomfortable, stiff pillows on your bed and let yourself sink into the mattress. Tears fall into your ears and your hair, but that’s okay. 

You’re alive- Midoriya is alive. He has to be. 

---

The next time you wake up, you’re not alone. 

There’s a doctor on one side of your bed, her hands on you and doing something you don’t really know. On the other side, there’s a familiar shade of green sitting on a plastic chair. They’re both talking but it’s all muffled in your ears- you’re too drowsy to fully grasp what you’re seeing and what they’re saying. 

But the green- it makes your heart feel warm. 

“Deku,” you whisper. 

And then you fall unconscious again. 

--- 

You’re a lot more lucid when you wake up next. You’re once again alone in your little hospital room, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Soon, the door straight in front of you opens, several people walking in at once. They’re doing their best to be quiet as they walk around your bed and you can’t help but smile. 

“Hey, guys,” you croak- your throat more dry and hoarse than you realized.

Midoriya, Uraraka, Iida, Todoroki… and surprisingly, but maybe not so much, Aizawa. 

“___!” Uraraka speaks first, a hand slapping over her mouth as she gasps. “You’re-” her eyes are already watering, “you’re awake!” 

You give her a sad, broken smile- but before anyone else can say anything you watch as Aizawa makes his way over to the front of the bed. He stands right next to you, his eyes boring holes as he reaches forward and grabs at your forehead with his hand. 

Something that’s meant to be threatening, but he’s much too gentle for the message to really stick. 

“What were you thinking?” He asks.

“I wasn’t,” you tell him honestly, looking your teacher- your parental figure- in the eye as you speak. “I was scared. I was really, really scared, and I made a choice. But I’m not sorry.” Maybe you haven’t had a lot of time to fully process what happened- what consequences your choices might have- but this you are sure about. Your lip quivers slightly as you try to take a deep breath, holding Aizawa’s wrist gently and taking his hand off your head. “But I am sorry for worrying you.” 

It’s silent for a long moment- the tension was tight enough to wrap around your throat and it’s hard to breathe, but eventually, it loosens as Aizawa’s tense shoulders sag and he huffs. He turns on his heel, heading right for the door. “Come on. Let’s give them some privacy,” he says, a hand reaching out toward Uraraka’s back and gently pushing her toward the door. Iida silently waves as he leaves alongside Todoroki, and then the door shuts- silence once again coming in waves as you sit alone with Midoriya for the first time. 

“...You’re not sorry?” He asks, a hand grabbing the foot of the bed. You can see how it shakes. 

You know it might not be what he wants to hear, but it’s the truth. Your eyes fall to your lap as you tug on the scratchy blankets with your fingers. “I’m not.” You tell him. “...You were dying.”

“So were you!” He suddenly yells and his expression flashes to an angry one as he frowns. “You… you were dying! And it was my fault!” 

“It wasn’t!” You yell back at him. “It was my choice!” 

“Well, you shouldn’t have made it! You- you weren’t in the right mind to make a choice like that!” 

“But I did!” Your voice raises again- there’s a frantic pounding in your chest and you’re sure Midoriya can hear it through the heart monitor. 

You don’t want him to be angry at you- you don’t want to fight. You just wanted to make it better. 

“I made my choice, and I- I’m sorry it hurt you, Midoriya,” you keep fighting back your tears as you stutter along with your words. It’s hard- your eyes are stinging like crazy- but you don’t want to cry in front of him. You don’t want to make it worse. “I’m sorry I made you sad… I just… At that moment- I couldn't bear it. I couldn’t do it again- I couldn’t watch another person die. I didn’t want you to die!” 

Quickly you use your hands to cover your face as you start hyperventilating. The tears come in bursts, and you can’t help it, so you try to wipe them away and cover them up. The beeping from the monitor is driving you crazy. 

You feel something touch your wrist, and then fully grab it, pulling your hand away. Midoriya is by your side now, his eyes wet and his lips wobbly as he grabs your other wrist. He pulls them up to his lips, closing his eyes and placing your hands against his mouth as he stands there. You watch him with wide eyes, your breathing still coming out in funny waves, but it slowly starts to even out as Midoriya continues to calmly stand next to you. 

“___,” He finally speaks. It’s squeaky and quiet- he clears his throat to try again as he finally opens his eyes and looks at you. “___, thank you… Thank you for helping me… But you have to be more careful, alright?” Midoriya’s hand reaches out, cupping your cheek and wiping away the tears that lie there. “Cause… cause I don’t want you to die either, okay? So please- please be more careful.” 

“You too, okay?” You bite your lip. “No more going into fights. We… We don't do anything until we’re called in. If there’s an attack somewhere… you don’t do anything until we graduate. Okay?” 

Midoriya clicks his tongue, giving you a watery smile as he shakes his head. “I guess that’s fair, huh?” You smile back and nod, and as Midoriya lets go of your wrists you place a hand on top of the one on your cheek. 

You’re alive- Midoriya is alive. Things are okay.

Things will be okay.