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miekasa · 3 years ago

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AOT characters x their partner on social media is something I love thinking about omg. Eren is the number 1 menace, I swear, he likes keeping an aesthetic and he wants your face on his profile, and he wants to be in yours, and he will brainstorm for cool captions for you both 😭 Jean acts all shy, but that tall mf also lowkey feels the same way as Eren 😭. Mikasa is very relaxed and cute about it, she’s so effortless when it comes posting you on her feed, same with Sasha probably. Connie would post your funny faces 100% while Armin….blonde coconut I feel would be shy at first but is a fan of couple-y posts. Same with Erwin, and Erwin would add the cheesiest suburban dad captions like “my better half” or shit like “forever yours” 😭🥴😭 Hange is just all over, like they’ll be super unpredictable, from wildly funny to very touching stuff. Pick is just sweetness!! All around sweetness that can make you melt. Porco would be…actually I’m not sure, he seems like he’s in line with Eren and Jean 😭 Meanwhile, Levi would not care at all about social media announcements and “instagram official” and people outside his close circles find out about his partner on their tenth-year anniversary because they bumped into you both while you were out on a date 😭😭

No because you hit the nail on the head here anon!!

Eren and Connie are fiends and almost shameless in how much they want to be on your socials. If you do the thing where you record your food when you’re out to eat with Eren, he’ll interject into your video—“And me! She’s with me!! Show me!!” After some time—or if you tease him by purposefully leaving him out of the frame—he’ll just snatch your phone when you’re recording or taking pictures and makes sure to get himself with the front camera 😭😭 oh and you will be on his, it comes with the price of dating him, he loves posting videos that gradually zoom in on your face before you notice he’s recording.

Connie just photobombs everything. Even if just his eyebrows make in the frame, you better post it. He’s watching you. He loves taking funny selfies and posting them with absolutely no context, and videos too!! He reminds me of that TikTok of the guy who pans the camera to his gf laying in the grass is like, “We had a beach date, and, yeah I love her,” and pans the camera to his face, “I’m faster than her tho. We raced. But yeah, love her.”

Jean pretends like he doesn’t care if you don’t post him, but he cares 😭😭 he’s always willing to take a photo for you, but he wants to take them with you too!! He’ll not so subtly be like, “Hey, did you post those pics from the other day?” as a gentle “reminder,” and he’s honestly so cute you gotta give into him. He likes posting pics with you too, and claims he’s gotta keep it updated so he’s got something to show his mom—“She’ll think I’m making you up if I don’t have proof, babe.”

Armin gets nervous about posting you at first—the whole being publicly affectionate thing, plus the internet is forever, you know. But once he sees that he doesn’t necessarily have to post you guys holding hands or kissing all the time, he relaxes. Just a picture together, or a picture of you from one of your dates every once in a while is cool with him. He takes good candids and they’re his favorite to edit and make all pretty. He gets surprised whenever you post him, and he’s honestly not checking for it/on social media all that often, so he finds out through a friend like Sasha who’s bubbling, “Armin you guys are gonna make me jealous!! Your beach dates look so cute!!” And Armin’s a little confused, until she adds, “I saw the pictures on Insta!!” And now he’s slightly pink in the face.

Porco is… more likely than not recording you innocently vibing or minding your own business before he comes to bother you bye. He thinks your surprised face is so fucking funny and needs several video evidences of it. He gets grumpy when you get an off-guard of him, but just show it to him after and suddenly he’s like, “I look pretty good there, actually,” like yeah, dumbass, that was the point 🙄🙄 he posts his shit on Twitter tho, and is always acting like he doesn’t know you—“Girlfriend for sale, willing to trade for Breath of the Wild. At least $30 cash otherwise,” and thinks it’s funny when you threaten to block him. Or he’s subtweeting you when you CLEARLY follow him: “Anybody else know someone who falls asleep 30 mins into a drive?? No?? Just me??”

Erwin and his captions anon please I’m hollering. You know he uses the filters embedded into Instagram, too, and it makes some pics come out grainy/more dull. He comes questioning Hange with genuine curiosity, “How come your photos look so… bright? How do I do that?” Sir, open up VSCO and free yourself from the shackles of Sepia.

Levi could not care less about what and how much you post of him on social media, and his own is so scarcely updated; he really just has it so he’s not a complete ghost to the world, and to occasionally cure a fit of boredom. The pictures he posts are always nice tho, simple, cleanly edited and shot, and sometimes he’s not even in them. He doesn’t mind if you post him or not, but every once in a while he’ll stop by with a simple heart emoji in the comments. (To which Hange absolutely loses their shit every time and loves to joke about, “omgggggg are you and @leviackerman official???? 🤪🤪🤪)

Hange is the undisputed champion of photodumps and you cannot prove me wrong. Above all, they love posting a series of chaotic photos that tell a story—three slides dedicated to photos that caught you falling down; several photos back to back of you stuffing your face with food; frames of the both of you posing for a photo with the front timer but of course something made them topple over you. Their captions don’t help either, almost always unrelated from the disaster that just unfolded. Could have posted a photo dump of you two skipping (and falling) at the park and the caption is like “fun fact: a cockroach can survive up to five weeks with its head cut off!!” (The disconnect between the pics and captions always confuses Erwin. @e.smith: Very cool! But, what do roaches have to do with you guys looking like you broke your ankles? PS—is everybody okay?)

Mikasa is relaxed about posting you, and she lowkey really likes to be posted on your socials. She doesn’t say much about it, but she likes going back through your profile and looking and what you posted, and the comments from your guys’ friends being supportive. The pictures don’t necessarily spell out that you guys are Together, but that’s okay with her; she doesn’t need four pics of you guys kissing on her timeline to make her happy. She has lots of pictures she doesn’t post tho and you’d be shocked to find them, you gotta hype her up a bit to post them, “Mika you look hot here!!! The people need to see!!! Feed them!!!”

It comes naturally to Sasha, too. She likes documenting your dates with pictures and videos and has a blast editing them afterwards, too. Just AirDrop her the pictures you took and she’ll fix them up for both of you to post later. She’s a fan of silly matching captions and is always in your comments with a million emojis.

Pieck absolutely the sweetest girl. Her whole feed manages to naturally come out in soft filters and pastel colors. She always tells you she doesn’t have to edit a thing when you’re in the picture. Definitely posts photo dumps that include pics of food, sunrises, her cats, and a few off-guards of you thrown in there. Abuses the bugs and sparkly emojis in the captions.

Annie literally posts one pic a few months (by a few months, I mean like 11 months) into your relationship with the simple and upfront caption: “This is my girlfriend” and everyone is in the comments immediately bye. Berty is acting super surprised even tho he basically set you guys up, somehow Reiner genuinely didn’t know, and Sasha is clowning him for not catching on, and then he’s like “wait since when????? i thought they were just really good friends????” Mikasa comments a singular scissor emoji and it sends everyone into orbit, even Annie likes the comment.

#anonymous #annie and mikasa having this weird friendly but teasing but blunt dynamic on social media is the reason i’m still here #every once in a while annie comments on mikasa photos wirh something obvious like ‘your hair is getting longer.’#and mika is like ‘yeah i know i’m growing it myself thanks annie’#they’re so fucking funny bye #aot x reader #minicanons

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salcreus · 3 years ago

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*SHAKES YOU* what’s that AU please talk more‼️‼️

I'm sorry in advance to you and the other people that went to ask in hopes that I actually produce something of quality hgdnfg So 💃The overgreat AU (which is the name that I have going on right now, I might change it but it's just an awful pun for now that only makes sense to me and me alone) Is basically "What if I took whatever Mumbo has going on right now, but I made it everybody's problem". Mostly because I am biased about characters going fucked up and evil through corruption side effects of their world. There are already a couple of fanart pieces under the overgreat au tag if anyone wants out of context content <3

The premise is that, during Season 5, when the NHO entered a temple in their first episodes, they accidentally released a type of weird plant based parasite, slash curse slash being into the world, whose objective was to go from host to host, until it was able to be on top of the food chain. What is the “top”? That’s to be defined later, if I ever do end up writing or drawing this.

Also when I speak of It (It purposefully does not have a name, I promise for a good reason) as a parasite, or plant, etc, It can cause effects or grow things that do fit the definitions, but It’s something intangible, odorless, etc. It’s not *actually* a parasite, nor a plant, yada yada, It just Is. It’s It. The Thing, if you will. Bug mentions that people do not need to know about but I’m including it out of curiosity: (It has some design/characteristics based on the Leucochloridium paradoxum, which is a parasite that affects snails, in a gross way that I won't explain here nor do I suggest googling it if you don't like bugs, but the little guy does it to call attention and take advantage of the bigger hunter, birds, to- do whatever it does and multiply. Rinse and repeat) Point is, that very same “Curse” uses one’s ambitions and wishes against them, twisting whatever their desire is, to better fit the needs of this being, making people that would otherwise be completely rational and wonderful functioning members of society into thinking and doing… Weirder, more questionable stuff. Think of it as a cocktail of impulsive thoughts but you actually go through with them. It does have more side effects and it does have logic drowned into it, but again, I won’t explain now just in case I DO end up writing something with this. It affected several of the Hermitcraft seasons, from the Bdubs’ Vine situation during season 5, to the Mycelium resistance in s7, and now some of the people during season 8, jumping from person to person as It sees fit (or, at least, if it’s strong enough to actually do something. Think of it as cross riding the player’s data) but it lingered on this edge of being strong enough to change someone’s personality and behaviour, without being fully able to take over onto bigger prey, thus laying in this limbo of no one being aware that these events were interconnected, and by what, even though they were all pretty worrisome scenarios. Like yes, this thing sure just happened, but the blame was always placed upon another external factor. However, what changed this season, is that it’s host, the “Infected” person, is a) Not that strong, both in a physical and mental sense (sorry Mumbo, sweetie, but your Minecraft persona looks like a Don’t Starve character fused with a toothpick) and b) already had an ambitious goal going on, which was to make sure not to murder anything. Like, don’t get me wrong, as much as I take advantage of the fact that Mumbo this season is anything but eco friendly, he still was extremely “nice and pure” at the start of the season, and that is to be commended. So- Why not take advantage of this person that doesn’t show much resistance to your influence, but also someone that already has an affinity to plants, which is your domain, but ALSO has a goal that he’s dead set on fulfilling. It’s peachy and nice. And that- Is the resume of the “backstory” of this hngdfngdfg. As resumed as I can make it, at least, which is mostly the boring “this is why x is x and why y is y”. The idea would be to go onwards from that basic idea into exploring and explaining each detail of S8, and how It affects the hermits, from Impulse’s love for amethyst, into Zedaph’s Lab experiments, or whatever the Gem has cooking in her gardens. (Which trust me, that's a whole thing in itself) Which is hilarious because I do have all of these plot points that are actually important and interesting, but I can't say any of them without giving this introduction, or because they would spoil the resolution/major plot points that I don't want to fully explain just yet. But hgndfg yeah!! premises!! backstory!! cool!!! Will I ever actually write this??? Who knows!! I sure don't!!!

#Me: says that people can ask about my AU if they would like #People: ask #me: pikachu face #shakes the hermits these bad boys can hold so much miscommunication and internal conflict #thank you for all the peeps that asked though I am. Not used to something like that oooh boy #sequoia-in-the-box #asks #overgreat au #also hi?????????? hello what are you doing here wtf your art is amazing ???????????????????'#what #mcyt #hermitcraft au

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theimmaterialplace · 3 years ago

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i’ll give you all you want if you just ask | spencer reid x f!reader | ch. 1 of 2: all i need

Summary: It doesn’t take a profiler to notice that Spencer Reid is nervous around you. Half of the team finds it funny and the other half just ignores it. What you don’t know is why. Well, you have an idea but you’d rather not be wrong in your deduction and make a fool of yourself and make him just avoid you completely.

See, it’s not that you just make him nervous, it’s that you make him excited. He perks up every time you enter a room and shoots you a shy smile, never making eye contact. He shivers any time you accidentally, or purposefully because you can’t help yourself, brush against him. He follows your lead eagerly and without complaint, able to connect the pieces you’ve put together. Perhaps the most damning piece of evidence is the way he reacts to your praise.

Oh, how his reactions always excite you.

Contains: hints of light dom/sub undertones, teasing, praise kink. no actual smut yet, just a bit of kissing and allusions to sex. enabler!hotch.

Word Count: 1.7k

Comments: hello im back this very self indulgent fic! i just love sub!spencer to pieces and there aren't enough fics with him featuring that so i'm here to remedy that! also just assume rossi had a date or something and couldn't make it! i'd say this takes place before a bit before the reaper arc! also i fucking adore hotch and HAD to make him an enabler because he just wants his team to be happy!! he cares for them!! if you’d rather read this on ao3, here’s the link! finally, leave a comment/review so ik how yall feel! reblogs are also highly appreciated! :)

It doesn’t take a profiler to notice that Spencer Reid is nervous around you. Half of the team finds it funny and the other half just ignores it. What you don’t know is why . Well, you have an idea but you’d rather not be wrong in your deduction and make a fool of yourself and make him just avoid you completely.

See, it’s not that you just make him nervous, it’s that you make him excited . He perks up every time you enter a room and shoots you a shy smile, never making eye contact. He shivers any time you accidentally, or purposefully because you can’t help yourself, brush against him. He follows your lead eagerly and without complaint, able to connect the pieces you’ve put together. Perhaps the most damning piece of evidence is the way he reacts to your praise.

Oh, how his reactions always excite you.

You’d conducted an experiment over the past few months. At first, you had given him compliments such as “I like your outfit today” or “good work on today’s case”, harmless things. He had reacted as well as you expected, blushing the tiniest bit and muttering a thank you in response.

Next, you decided to take a page out of Morgan’s book and call him pretty boy which eventually turned into a whole slew of nicknames revolving around praising him. The first time you had called him pretty boy, he had burned his mouth because he gulped his coffee too quickly. His face was a bright red and he was incapable of meeting your eyes for the rest of the day. As it was, that was a great reaction but your favorite had to be the time you called him a good boy. He had looked up at you with wide eyes and his pupils had dilated so much that you barely saw his original eye color. Now that should’ve been enough to confirm your beliefs but you decided to take it a step farther.

The most recent trial had you calling him your boy, a possessive indicator. There was no hiding your intentions with this one so you made sure to only call him that in private; no need for the team to know. It seemed like no matter how many times you called him yours, one way or another, it still had the same effect on him.

With this information, you had no doubt that Spencer was interested in you and seemed to lean on the sub side of things. It was cute. He was cute. He was just your type in men. You loved nothing more than a man who was intellectual and would let you take control, which you had no doubt Spencer would allow.

It’s on a Saturday night when everyone decides to get drinks, a rare occasion, that you decide to make a move. Well, you’re actually encouraged to by someone you would least expect.

“So, when do you plan on making a move on Spencer?” It takes everything in you not to choke on the fruity drink you were sipping on when Hotch speaks up. You turn your head to look at him and find him staring at you with a smug, knowing look on his face.

“I’d say I have no idea what you’re talking about, but that’d be a lie and also an insult to you.” A small grin creeps onto his face with your response. It’s nice to see him so relaxed because god only knows how much your boss deserves to let loose every once in a while.

“Hm, you’re avoiding the question. Don’t tell me that all those pet names and touches were for nothing.” It’s a good thing you’re lightly buzzed because otherwise you’d feel completely mortified over the revelation that your boss had picked up on your actions. As you are now though, you can only let out a laugh and smile sharply at his remark.

“Course not, Hotch. As for an answer to your question,” you pause and look across the bar to where he’s laughing at something Penelope said, “I think it won’t be too long now. He’s just so… receptive .” He only hums, taking another sip of what you think is whiskey.

“Well don’t take too long.” And perhaps it’s his encouragement or just the liquid courage but you decide that now is a good time to get your boy. You excuse yourself quietly and give Hotch a small wave which he returns with a small smirk on his face.

When you finally reach Spencer, it’s to him saying goodbye to the rest of the team.

“Come on, stay for a bit longer. We’ll have a fun time. We always do.” Derek might be able to convince him if he keeps going on like this so you decide to interrupt.

“Hey, guys!” Everyone turns to look at you and they all clammer to ask you how you’ve been, giving Spencer the out he needed.

“So, what were you talking about with the boss man? I saw some very interesting expressions over there, babe.” Penelope has a sly grin on her face as the rest of the team “oohs” at her statement.

“Oh, just a little bit of this, little bit of that. Don’t tell me you thought I was flirting with him…” at this, their shoulders drop a little, “Oh my god, come on, you guys! As if I’d flirt with Hotch. You guys though…. You’re all free real estate.” You wink at them in good fun.

“You’re almost as bad as Derek with your flirting, you know that?” Emily takes a sip of her drink and JJ nods, agreeing with her completely.

“Now, there’s no need to insult me like that, ladies. At least I take my flirting seriously. When was the last time you even got laid?” You can feel Spencer’s eyes on you so you decide not to answer.

“I plead the fifth!” This gets you a round of laughs and you decide now is a good time to tell them you’re leaving and start your plan.

“Well, I’m glad everyone is having a good time but I really gotta go,” this earns you a round of “boos”, “I know. I know. Sure it may be old lady behavior but I have plans tomorrow morning. You guys have fun for me though!”

JJ speaks up, “Oh, since you’re leaving right now, would you mind taking Spencer home? I was going to give him a ride since the metro is closed tonight but you’re already leaving so I figured why not?” You only nod while internally you can’t help but think this is going even more perfectly than you originally thought.

You look over to Spencer who’s already looking at you. “You okay with that, pretty boy?” He nods and even with the lighting of the club, you can recognize his cheeks flushing.

You turn back to the rest of them to address them,“Well, goodnight guys! Be safe and I’ll see you Monday if everything goes well! Love you!”

After receiving the mandatory goodbye hugs and kisses, you grab Spencer’s hand and lead him out of the club. It’s a good thing you parked far away because now you have time to set the mood.

“How many drinks have you had tonight? You look moderately red, Spence.” It’s a good starter because you need to know he’s not drunk and that this is fully consensual but also to call him out on his blushing.

“I didn’t drink tonight. Didn’t really feel like it so I just nursed a coke and I think the team thought it was a mixed drink.” His voice is heavenly and you personally can’t wait to hear what he sounds like moaning your name or any other name you both decide on.

You stop for a moment and place the back of your hand on his forehead before you announce, “Good news, you don’t have a fever! Bad news, I can’t place why else you’d be so red.” He splutters for a moment and your red only turns him more red.

“Yeah,” his voice cracks and you feel his palm become sweaty despite the cool temperature, “I don’t know why either.”

He’s so adorable if he thinks you’re gonna let him off the hook so easily. You lean in closer to him and whisper, “You know, my darling… I think I do know why you’re so red right now and it’s the same reason you’re always blushing around me,” you can hear him audibly gulp but he doesn't display any signals for you to stop so you continue, “The team used to think it was because I made you nervous and while that is partially correct, I think it’s because I made you excited, right?”

You stop in your tracks and you’re grateful you timed this correctly because you’re able to back him onto your car.

He’s looking down at you, eyes wide and pupils dilated, and you can’t help the smirk that graces your face. He looks so good like this but you think he’d look better looking up at you from his knees.

You reach up to cradle his face in your hands and say,“Tell me if you want this, Spencer. If you say no, I’ll stop and we’ll never have to speak of this again but… If you do want this, say please and I’ll take you home.”

He’s looking at you with something close to adoration and his admission is so quiet that if you hadn’t been staring so intently at him, you wouldn’t have heard him or read the plea that fell from his lips.

“Please.”

Oh, how that one little word sounded like music to your ears.

You take the last leap and lean forward to kiss him. His lips are exactly how you pictured and he tastes like the chapstick you gave him on that case to Alaska. This makes you feel unbearably smug because if he’s been using this chapstick rather than his usual one, it means you’ve affected even more than you thought.

When you finally pull away, Spencer looks confused and very rumpled.

“As much as I would love to continue this, I’d rather we didn’t do this in a parking lot for our first time.” He perks up at “first time” and you smile at him, “and there will be plenty of times to do this later. You’re not getting rid of me now that you’ve finally succumbed to my advances.”

“I agree.” He smiles at you and you take his hand into your own, giving it a light squeeze.

“Now, let’s get to my apartment so we can continue this."

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #my writing #if you just ask

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magicrowiswritingstuff · 4 years ago

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“Not so good News” - Gabriel x female!reader (1/3)

Part 1 (you’re here!) | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: After a successful solo hunt you are driving back to the bunker though you have to make a stop at a gas station. Everything seems normal until some men arrive with the intend to kill you.

(It’s a pre-established relationship and (L/N) means “last name”)

Warning: blood/injuries, panic attacks, heavy angst and violence

Category: 100% angst

Words: about 7000

Note: I only started season 13 a while ago so I know the timelines don't really match but I wanted the Winchesters to already be in the bunker with Gabriel present. Also, I added a living room in the library area again. Also please no spoilers, thanks!

Note 2: I have another fic about Gabriel. Click here if you want to read it. That one is more fluffy.

_________________________________

"Not so good News" - Gabriel x fem!reader

With a sigh you rubbed your eyes hastily before clutching the wheel of your car again in a tight grip, bringing it back in the lain you were supposed to be driving in. It was pretty late already, well after midnight and you were just returning from a solo hunt you had finished successfully only hours ago that had left you pretty exhausted.

On paper it had sounded like an easy one so you had decided to go alone. You enjoyed hunting with the Winchesters ever since you joined their little team but you had missed being independent and you felt like your skills had gotten a little rusty over time. You just didn't want to depend on someone intervening when you were unable to handle yourself, you wanted to challenge and improve your own skills again. And since the hunt seemed fairly simple, you found out that it was only a ghost, you had decided it was the perfect one to try on your own. Of course, Sam and Dean and especially Gabriel weren't all too pleased by it so you had to promise them that you would call them immediately if something was wrong. Only that you didn't do that even after the job had quickly turned out to be a little more complicated than you had initially thought. It wasn't a huge deal, really. You only had a problem finding the corpse of the ghost. But after teaming up with one of the locals who also had been the best friend of the ghost you were able to put the pieces together and find the corpse in the forest in which they had buried him in after an accident.

At least that was what you had told the boys over the phone after you had finished the hunt. You purposefully didn't tell them about the man -not ghost- trying to kill you and the local to hinder you from finding out the truth. The truth was him being the cause of the ghost's death. Anyway, after dealing with him the ghost was able to move on without the need of the corpse being burned. Maybe you would tell Gabriel the real story sometimes since the hunt was fairly interesting otherwise. But for that to happen you had to arrive at the bunker first which meant another good hour of driving. You yawned again. It was pretty late at night and you were still driving down the empty road with your eyes growing heavier by the second. The small inconveniences during the hunt only added up to your inability to sleep currently which was why your body was so exhausted now. Normally you would have searched for a motel now and slept there for the night but you really wanted to return to the bunker as fast as possible and since you were almost there you tried to force your body to carry on. Not that you could have slept if you had found a motel anyway. You just wanted to return to Gabriel and snuggle with him. Maybe then you would be able to sleep again. The archangel always had a soothing effect on you even though he was so full of energy himself. But whenever you needed a distraction or were just too stressed one hug from him was the only thing you needed to cheer you up.

Right now the mere thought of him improved your mindset and made you smile softly though it got interrupted by another yawn. Damn, you were really tired and your body ached and hurt. You cursed the psychotic man who had tried to kill you and you even cursed yourself under your breath. You just had to tackle him to the ground in a forest in which the ground was uneven. You could still feel every stone and branch stabbing in your back. Gripping your jaw you massaged the black bruise there. At least the man's punch had only left a bruise and not completely dislocated your jaw. Nevertheless it still hurt.

Groaning you blinked rapidly to avoid falling asleep while driving when you noticed a gas station coming up. Maybe they would have some coffee to go for you so your eyes wouldn't fall close all the time. You just needed to drive for one more hour but you feared your body would just collapse if you wouldn't get something to keep you awake.

You stepped out of your car after you had parked it in one of the lots and put your keys in a pocket of your jacket. With a sigh you breathed in the fresh night air and looked around. The road you had followed up until now was surrounded by trees which now creaked once in a while as they were moved by the harsh wind. It was dark, long shadows stretched from the woods towards you with the only light source being the lights from the gas station to shoo them away. They illuminated the front row of the trees, making them appear not as frightening or unpredictable as the darkness behind them. But all in all it was a beautiful, quiet night and for a few more moments you just stood there, leaning against the car door and enjoying the silence and harmony. Looking up you admired the night sky and the stars dancing above you. There weren't any clouds covering them up tonight so you could see every single one, sparkling brightly so full of life. However, they were only small lights in the dark, not illuminating anything near you but still brightening up your mind. Though you were used to the darkness of the night, used by it through many hunts that had dragged on till the sun would rise up again so the blackness of the sky and nature around you seemed comforting now. But that hasn't always been the case because when you had been little you had feared the darkness and the monsters lurking in it. Like every child you had feared the monster in your closet or under your bed but not like every child you had to experience the painful truth. You had to learn that those monsters were real and you had to learn how to survive them. And to be honest you had feared the darkness up until adulthood, even after becoming a hunter. There were times in which you hadn't been able to sleep because you had feared another monster would try to attack you. You never continued with a hunt when it got dark which was very limiting because many only appeared in the night. You only got better at handling your fear after meeting and teaming up with the Winchesters. And after a while you learned to work with the darkness and not fight against it. So even though there were shadows all around you, stretching towards you, you didn't care. Your heart didn't even skip a beat anymore, you were completely calm. So why were you unable to sleep properly currently?

Another sigh left your lips as you stretched your limps and broke away from your car. Rubbing your eyes and yawning loudly you walked to the shop which seemed like a little sun in the sea of darkness. Like a moth to a flame you got drawn towards it, or rather by the thought of a hot cup of coffee. But you continued to wonder about your nightly problems. You had never really been an insomniac before except for the time when you had been terrified by the dark so you really couldn't tell what your problem was all of the sudden. It seemed like you grew tired fairly easily but then when you would lie down you were unable to fall asleep and rest. It got very irritating and even caused some unpleasant outburst and mood swings which were often directed to Gabriel, Sam and Dean and sometimes even to Cas. You didn't want to get in their face and yell or growl at them all the time but without your much needed sleep you snapped very quickly. If another outburst had occurred you always made sure to apologize afterwards when your temper had cooled down but you felt awful about it nevertheless. However, you had noticed then when on a hunt you would snap more often which was also a hidden reason why you wanted to do one on your own.

You had reached the shop while lost in your thoughts so you shook your head to clear it and then entered the small building. Looking around you noticed that the cashier was nowhere to be found. You figured that they would be in the backroom for a quick nap and since you didn't want to impose right away you decided to look at the aisles first. You immediately found different types of chips and snacks though your eyes got stuck by the chocolate bars. You normally loved chocolate and would have bought some immediately without question, maybe even to share with Gabriel later on, but when you looked at them a nauseous wave struck you. Gulping you turned your gaze away from the sweets as you felt rather ill all of the sudden. This was another thing you experienced more frequently since a couple of days and again you had no clue as of why. You hadn't caught the flu or any other stomach bug so you had to continue wondering what was up with your body currently. Turning away from the aisles completely you wanted to walk up to the counter and ring for the cashier to ask for some coffee when you saw four men approaching the shop. There wouldn't be anything unusual about that if you hadn't noticed that there was no car parked in the parking lot except for yours. Immediately your body and mind froze. The only way to reach this station was by car since the last and next city were about two hours away. So how did they get here?

Your heart beat quickened as they reached the door. Your sleep-deprived mind screamed at you to move as your hunter instincts took over but your body wouldn't obey. The men had entered the shop and now stood directly in front of you. Your trained senses from being a hunter rang in alarm; they screamed at you that something wasn't right, that their intentions weren't good. An uneasy feeling washed down your back as you glanced between the four men, trying to find out what they had planned but you couldn't focus your mind on them. You crossed your arms before your chest in a defensive manner and stared at them, taking one step back. All of the four men were dressed in black suits with matching ties. Did you end up in the men in black? If it weren't so late at night and the air so full of tension you probably would have laughed at the silliness of their entrance and appearance. Maybe you even would have thought that this could be one of Gabriel's many pranks but by the way these men looked at you with so much disgust in their eyes you knew that this was not a game. The man closest to you took another step forward which made you back away against one of the shelves. You had walked into a trap without realizing it.

"(Y/N) (L/N)" the man spoke and looked down at you like you were only an insect to him. Taken aback you furrowed your brows and bit your tongue. Who were those men and why did they know you? They didn't seem familiar to you at all. Your breath hitched and you grabbed the shelf in a tight grip, trying to maintain a level head and not lose yourself in panic. You were a skilled hunter, no doubt in that but in your sleep-deprived state you definitely wouldn't be able to take on four men on your own. And this realization scared you more than you would like to admit. You knew that if this would escalate into a fight you wouldn't stand a chance especially cornered like that. Reluctantly you had to acknowledge that you weren't only very scared right now but also in a seemingly hopeless situation. Gulping you opened your mouth to speak: "What do you want?"

The men didn't answer you with words but by drawing their blades. However, they weren't normal blades. Your eyes widen in fear as you realized that they were angel blades. These men were angels.

You opened your mouth again but before a single word could escape over your lips the man closest to you swung the blade towards your chest. Immediately your adrenaline kicked in and all traces of sleepiness were gone as sheer terror took over your mind and body. You managed to dodge the attack and kick the man's arm away from your chest only barely. The tip still grazed your shoulder, making you hiss as you spun around and tried to run to the exit only to see that the three other men had blocked the door. Your body froze again as your mind spun in panic. You stood there like a deer caught in the headlights with no idea how to escape. The three men came towards you which made you even more anxious. How should you fight three people in front of you while also watching out for the one behind you … wait. You spun around to face the fourth man just as he rammed the blade into your side. You looked down, you knew that something had hit you but you didn't feel it yet. But luckily it only slashed your side. If you hadn't turned around he probably would have stabbed you right through the middle of your back. Your eyes snapped back up to meet his in the same moment as he grabbed your hurt shoulder with his free arm and rammed you against another shelf. He had pinned you against it with his arm presses against your throat. He let you struggle for breath. Instinctively you dug your fingernails in his arm and tore at the flesh, trying to pry him off. But he wouldn't butch. So you decided to kick him against both shins instead. His vessel moved a bit, allowing you enough wriggle room to push the arm away. Now able to breathe again you instantly clawed at the other arm which was holding the blade that was still scraping your side. Before even your mind could catch up you had already brought it down against your knee. Since they were angels you knew you couldn't hurt them much, however his vessel still reacted to the blow and his fingers let go of the blade. You caught it before it could hit the ground and then pushed the man away from you. Catching your breath you held the blade out towards the four men in a threatening manner.

"What-" you huffed. The adrenaline in your veins made your heart beat uncontrollably fast and your breath choppy. "What do you want from me?"

Again you didn't get a verbal answer. Instead they began to walk towards you again. Struck with fear you ran. You pushed the man without a blade out of your way and ran towards the door. You had to get to your car, had to get away. Your breathing was livid as you ran but you didn't seem to be able to get any air inside your lungs. Your mind screamed at you. You couldn't believe angels wanted to kill you. Angels were out to kill you. Why? What had you done? Your grip around the blade tightened as you tried to ground yourself in reality. It didn't matter. You just had to get away. You could continue thinking about the reason later. But you saw it. You saw their duty to kill you in their eyes. And they were willing to.

You had almost reached the car when a fifth man walked out from behind it, his blade already drawn and angled towards you. Unable to stop you just duck under his blow and continued running. You ran into the woods. It got very dark pretty quickly but your mind screamed at you to not stop. So you ran further until you were unable to see any light from the gas station anymore. Then you took a sharp turn to the right and hid behind a tree. You clutched the blade against your shaking chest; you grabbed it tightly like it was a lifeline. Your breath stuttered over your lips, the air left you faster than the blood flowing out of your wound. The wound. Only then you remembered your bleeding side. And only then the pain finally hit you, it crushed brutally over you like a wave. Gasping for air you patted down your left side and hissed when you touched the open wound. You couldn't see any blood in the darkness but you felt the substance coating your fingers. You saw the bright red color through your inner eye.

You pressed the hand against the wound and bit your lip, drawing more blood as you tried to not scream out in pain. The angels would be searching for you so you had to stay quiet, no matter how difficult that was right now because you could already hear their footsteps, the crunching noise of leaves breaking under their feet. And it was coming closer. You attached the blade on your belt to push yourself up with your now free hand pressed against the tree, your right hand still pressed against the wound. A low groan left your lips before you were able to suppress it. Cursing under your breath you began to walk away from the crunching noises. You had to make a loop around them to get back to your car. You had to keep going. Another sound left your lips that resemble a high-pitched yelp more than a low groan. "I can't" you wheezed and collapsed to the ground as another wave of pain hit you. Your breathing was shallow; you didn't even seem to get any air inside your lungs anymore. They burned as much as the stab wound on your side. What should you do? What were you supposed to do? Oh God you couldn't fight five angels normally on your own let alone in your current condition. You felt tears streaming down your face before the first sob cut through your body. Clutching your chest you bend over, heaving though nothing came out apart from shallow breathing. But the nauseous feeling stayed. You couldn't stop gaging.

"Gabe" you stammered out between irregular breaths while crying even harder. "Gabe, oh God please help me." You wished he would appear in front of you, safe you, get you out of there. But he didn't show up. And through your in panic scattered mind you were able to grab one clear thought. You wondered if the angels had blocked you from reaching any other angel.

You had to find a way out of here on your own. You had to fight. You had to get away. So you pulled yourself up again.

"Don't think about the pain. The blood on my hand. My blood."

You cried out as another wave of pain burned through you. But you carried on, you had to, you had to continue walking back towards the car. You clenched your teeth and pulled through, pushed forward. After a while you noticed that you couldn't hear any footsteps anymore. But that revelation didn't calm you down. The silence of the forest, the silence of the darkness freaked you out even more. You felt like a kid again, you felt how you had when you had feared the dark and the monsters in it as a hunter. You saw shadows move around you, stretching towards you, trying to grab you. You saw your bedroom in front of your inner eye, your closet encased in the darkness and the shadows dancing in front of your window. You grabbed your blanket from your bed; put it over your head in a desperate attempt to hide from the monsters. You whimpered, not believing that this was real. It wasn't real. You weren't a kid anymore. Shaking your head you tried to escape from the pictures in your mind. And as your vision cleared your breathing hitched and you broke out in a cold sweat. You were surrounded by trees. You had run into the forest, remember. Long shadows. Was there someone behind you? You jumped as you heard something break. Just a branch. Who was there? Fearful your eyes darted around, trying to catch a glimpse of the monsters that were after you. But they weren't monsters, they were angels. Groaning in pain you shook your head and began to walk again.

"Don't think about it. It's only shadows, only the darkness of the night. It's comforting not frightening" you whispered, trying to convince yourself. "You work in the dark. It's comforting not frightening."

You yelped as you stepped into a tiny hole, stretching your injured side painfully. Holding yourself upright by leaning on a tree you tried to catch your breath. By now your whole side seemed to be engulfed in flames. You felt like you were burning alive. Cursing under your heavy breathing you dug your nails over the flesh of your wound. It hurt but this pain distracted you from the greater pain which pulsed through you like fire.

Gritting your teeth again you pushed yourself forward. You could already see the lights from the gas station again. You almost made it. Only a couple more steps. The hope to get away filled you with determination. You could do it. You groaned.

"I can do it."

Huffing you stopped behind another tree to observe the parking lot of the gas station. You didn't see anything suspicious at first but just when you decided to leave the protective shadows you saw the fifth man circling your car. Your heart beat painfully fast as you stopped your movement and stepped back into the darkness. What were you supposed to do now? What to do? You clutched the wound on your side as panic was flooding over you, pushed you down like a wave in the ocean. Your breathing hitched even though you seemed to not get any air in your lungs. You couldn't breathe, you felt like you were trapped underwater. Your head spun in dizziness.

Shaking your head you looked down at your wound. For the first time you could make it out in the dim light of the gas station. Taking off your jacket, which had a hole ripped in by the blade, you checked the injury. It was a deep gash you knew so much but by all the blood covering your shirt and body your side could as well be ripped open completely. As you palpated the wound you hissed. Definitely deep. You looked at your freshly blood covered fingers. And still bleeding. You needed to stop the bleeding even if it was only for a short while. So you removed your shirt and ripped it apart to wrap it around your torso like a bandage. It wouldn't do much, you knew that, but maybe it would slow down the bleeding so you wouldn't pass out because of blood loss. After you had secured it tightly you put on your jacket again, zipping it up to the very top. You had to focus.

"Focus! You can handle one angel."

You grabbed the angel blade and detached it from your belt, weighting it in your blood covered hand.

"My blood."

Shaking your head you turned to the gas station, looking at your car which was still circled by the man. He had his blade drawn, too and watchful eyes that scanned the whole ground. You would have to sneak up on him. Looking down at your blood covered side you nodded to yourself. You wouldn't be able to win a frontal confrontation with him in your state. So you began to move forward, still engulfed by the shadows of the trees. He was watching the part of the woods you had escaped into earlier the most, the part which was closest to your car. You had to move to the side and sneak up on the angel from further away, hoping he wouldn't turn to you. It wasn't much of a plan but you had no other option. Your pulse was racing, making your body shiver and your skin tingle.

"Concentration" you reminded yourself. You waited for the angel to finish his round to look at the specific part of the woods again. The man stopped and turned to the trees. Now was your chance. So you began to speed-walk towards him as silently as you could muster, blade drawn. You were only a few steps away from the man when he turned around, his eyes widening in realization. Without thinking you jumped forward and tackled him to the ground, pinning his hand which held the blade down with your knee. Raising the blade above your head you hesitated to bring it down into the angel's chest. They wanted to kill you and you didn't even know why but you still hesitated. And of course the man saw his chance and exploited your weakness. With his free hand he punched you in the face. With disoriented view and mind your grip on him loosened which led to him kneeing into your already injured side. Screaming out in pain you felt the blade leave your hands as you clutched your wound instead. Your eyesight got hazy, black dots dancing in front of you, laughing at you. What was happening? Before your sight could clear again or before you knew it the angel had knocked you down and was now the one leaning above you. Groaning you blinked rapidly until your sight got better. Just to face the man grabbing his blade and bringing it down towards you. With your eyes wide in horror you put your hands protectively out in front of you. You grabbed his arms as the blade only barely hovered over your throat, desperately trying to push him further away. But you were in a poor position with your strength leaving your body quickly. The blade hovered dangerously close over your throat, taunting you. Your arms were shaking, your breathing irregular and heart stuttering. Grunting you channeled the last drops of your strength and pushed his hands to the side with a cry. The blade pierced through your shoulder that had been nicked by the blade earlier which was now lying on the ground beside you. A high-pitched scream left your trembling lips as tears exploded from your eyes, streaming down your dirt covered face. You searched for your blade blindly, scanning the ground with your hands until the tips of your fingers touched its cold, smooth handle. With a loud battle cry you grabbed the blade as the angel pulled his out of your shoulder. Sitting up you rammed the blade inside the angel's chest and watched as he screamed and got illuminated by a bright light which made you squint your eyes. Then the man's body went limp and fell to the ground beside you. Groaning and wheezing you pushed yourself up only to fall back to the ground. With shaking hands you reached out towards your right shoulder, stretching your injured side in the progress which made you hiss. As you touched the wound you immediately gasped for air, trying to hold back the tears that already filled your eyes again. This was bad. Turning around you pushed yourself up on your knees and looked at your hands. Your hands were red, deep red. A red sea, blood sea. Blood. You were losing too much blood. Your body ached. It hurt so badly. You gaged. God, you felt so nauseous. And so tired. You felt the adrenaline slowly leave your body, leaving you exhausted. You wouldn't survive very long in your state with four more angels on the hunt for you and without any help.

"Gabriel" you tried again. "Gabe, please help me. I need you here, please."

But he didn't show up. You were still blocked, unable to reach him. You had to get away from the other angels. You had to get into your car.

Panting you grabbed the keys from your pocket and heaved yourself up right. You stumbled to your car, unlocked it and fell onto the driver's seat with a suppressed scream. Get away. Flee now. You closed the door and started the motor with a grunt. As you put the car into reverse, moving your injured shoulder to do so, you cried out again. Grabbing the wheel you saw the blood now sticking on the leathery material. Blood everywhere. Your body screamed and ached. It hurt so badly. Your eyes darted around in the inside of the car. Blood was flowing out of your shoulder and side, seeping through the temporary bandage and covering your car, painting it red. You shook your head.

"Concentration!" you hissed. You pulled out of the parking spot just as one angel left the forest. You saw the hatred in his eyes, the fury and disgust glistening in the inhuman eyes. You had to get away. Now! You stepped on the gas immediately. You wouldn't hesitate anymore. Get away! Your mind was blank. The only thought on your mind was to escape. You wanted to see Gabriel again. You had to. You had to get away.

You didn't see back, didn't turn around or look if they were following you. They weren't. Your fingers were wrapped around the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles stood out white and prominent and your nails dug into your palms. Nevertheless you weren't able to suppress the shaking of your body, no matter how much you tensed up. You heaved again, felt like throwing up again but like before nothing came out as your body continued to tremble. You didn't even see the road anymore; it was hidden behind a curtain of tears. Were you even still driving or standing still? You sharply sucked in the air. Focus. You need to focus. But the control was slipping away from you like the surface when thrown underwater. The wave was pressing you down again and you sunk deeper and deeper. The pressure of the water above you pinned you down; it sat on your chest and made you unable to breathe. Gasping and groaning you tried to claw at the surface, tried to reach it but you couldn't. You were sinking. You were drowning.

And then you opened your eyes and you were back in your childhood bedroom. It was dark. The only light illuminating some of the room was creeping from under the door. It made the button eyes of your stuffed animals which had always protected you before glister viciously. It made them scary. They terrified you. You wanted to call for your parents but your mouth was too dry and your tongue seemed to be tied into a knot. So you turned away instead only to see thin arms scratching on the glass of your window, begging you to let them in. The darkness was suffocating, it was cold and hot and scary and you were helpless. You were only a child. What were you supposed to do? You couldn't fight. You couldn't fight the darkness, the fear and panic. Hot tears were streaming down you face as you tried to fill your lungs with air. The shadows were looming over you, eating away the light and leaving you behind in complete empty darkness.

Another scream left your lips as the pain in your shoulder seemed to explode. Brought back into reality you step on the breaks so suddenly that your body was almost thrown forward. You howled, clutched your shoulder and threw your head back. There were still tears clouding your eyes and hazy thoughts clouding your mind but you knew where you were again. You were in your car. Gasping. You could only gasp. But breathing was hard. Really hard. Another cry left your lips. Air. You clawed at your throat. You needed air. What was only happened? Why- angels wanted to kill you. What was happening here? You head pounded painfully. Your breathing hitched again and your thoughts got mushy. It was as if you could only see them through a thick fog, as if they were obscured from yourself. Angels wanted to kill you. You felt so sick. You were losing blood quickly. But what... what were you supposed to do? Bandage. You had none. A scream spilled over your lips and then another one. It hurt so badly and you were so weak. Weak and getting even weaker by the second. Shaking your head you tried to sort your thoughts. You had to concentrate. But there was nothing that could hold you in reality. Until your phone rang. Grabbing it with shaking fingers you saw that it was Gabriel calling you. Gabriel. Your Gabriel. You accepted the call. You wanted to say something but nothing came out. It was like your throat was laced up tight. You were still gasping for air. You felt like fish on dry land, surrounded by air, by oxygen but unable to breathe it in.

"(Y/N)?" Gabriel asked with worry in his voice after you hadn't said anything for many seconds. You immediately sobbed, not able to suppress it and the screech of pain afterwards.

"(Y/N)!" the archangel yelled. You sucked in the air, preparing yourself to answer him. But your body shook so much you feared your voice would too.

"Gabe" you finally hiccupped while wailing in pain. Clutching your side you hissed. "Gabe, help me."

You sounded pathetic. You were a hunter you should have been used to dangerous situations like this one. But the revelation that angels were after you shook you more than you would like to admit. So you sounded like a desperate child and you felt like a helpless child. You were injured. Baldy injured. And you needed help.

"Where are you? What happened?" he asked but you didn't even seem to register it. Your mind was so cloudy. You felt like you were spacing out and in constantly. You felt like throwing up again. But you managed to push one clear thought through as you prayed to him: "I'm here, Gabriel." You hoped that he would find you this time; that you could reach him this time. You groaned and let your phone fall onto the floor of the car. Your arm was too weak to hold it to your ear any longer. Your breath stuttered over your lips as a tingling sensation took control over your shaking body. You only faintly noticed your car door opening and the voice yelling your name. Only when he touched you, you looked to your left and saw Gabriel standing on the street. His eyes were filled with worry and shock as he saw the state you were in. He grabbed you, picked you up onto his arms and before you knew it you suddenly were in the bunker.

"(Y/N)?" you could hear Sam's cry of worry but we're unable to answer him.

"Gabriel, what happened?" Dean asked the archangel who still held you in his arms. You were probably bleeding all over him. Bleeding. Your wounds. You groaned again, gasping for air and clutched at Gabriel's shirt. You couldn't tell if your disoriented vision was sat on his face or if you were staring at the ceiling.

"Why is she still in pain? Haven't you healed her?" Dean accused the archangel with his voice filled with distrust.

"Of course, I healed her" Gabriel snapped back and began walking to the couch on the side of the library. "But she has lost a lot of blood so she will still feel tired and in pain for some time." the archangel laid you down on the cushions which made you groan again.

"Gabe" you gasped and reached out to him even though you still weren't really able to see clearly. But Gabriel grabbed your hand and sat down beside you. He held your hand close to him in both of his hands and waited for your breathing to calm down, whispering soothing words you weren't even able to really understand. Blinking away the tears you finally were able to make out his face.

"Ga-" you started but clenched your teeth as another wave of pain, phantom pain burned through you.

"Angels" you panted. Sam and Dean joined the two of you, standing behind Gabriel and looking down at you, worried. "They tried..." you gasped, your body tensed up again. "..to kill me."

To your surprise the three men standing over you didn't seem surprised.

"We know" Gabriel said and the Winchesters nodded. Confused you furrowed your brows and tried to sit up with your back pressed against the arm rest. Slowly the pain seemed to wash away, though your body was still sore and tired.

"What? Wh-why?" you asked and freed your hand from Gabriel's grasp. You pressed that one against your skull. The headache was still pounding against it but at least your breathing seemed to regulate itself again. You saw up to them, waited for an answer, an explanation. But they stayed silent, looked at each other before turning their focus back to you.

"Gabe?" you addressed him directly.

"It's because..." he started but you could see the conflict in his eyes, the fear and worry dulling his usually bright honey eyes. You braced yourself, or at least tried to because what he said next ... you would have never expected that.

"It's because you're pregnant."

You blinked rapidly and opened your mouth but no sound stepped over your lips. Suddenly you felt very nauseous again and clutched your stomach out of instinct.

"Wha-what?" Was that a joke? Another one of his pranks?

"You're joking..." you stammered and shook your head. This couldn't be real. You glanced at Sam and Dean but they seemed very serious. You looked back at Gabriel. "This can't be real. Is this a joke?"

"I'm serious" the archangel said and reached out to you but you flinched back instinctively. Hurt flashed over his face. But you couldn't react to it as another wave of panic threatened to crash over you again. You were pregnant. You were pregnant with Gabriel's child. A Nephilim. You began to gag and heave again, bending over as new tears spilled out of your eyes. Grasping your throat instinctively you tried to pry the invisible hands off. You were shivering and shaking like a leave again. This couldn't be real. Your body heated up only to cool down immediately afterwards. Or maybe you just imagined it. Or you were just going crazy. You gaged again as dizziness closed its claws around you: The darkness closed its claws around you again. You felt as helpless as a kid. You felt as helpless as you were when you had been only a kid. You felt so sick. So weak. So overwhelmed. Your breathing hitched, got more rapid. Pregnant. Not a joke. You were...

"Pregnant." Was that a question, an observation? The reflex to gag stopped and suddenly you felt very tired as the adrenaline left your system.

Nephilim. They were forbidden. You would be killed because you were pregnant with one.

"How do you...?" you asked and straightened up again. Your gaze was flickering around as panic slowly closed its claws around you again.

"Angel radio" Gabriel replied. "Every angel knows."

You stayed silent. You didn't know what to say.

"Did you know?" the archangel asked. You only shook your head, unable to reply with words. You felt so nauseous.

"What am I supposed to do now?" you asked not directed to anyone specifically.

"We will protect you" Dean said. "And the baby."

Sam agreed as well as Gabriel. They began to talk but you didn't even hear them.

You were pregnant. This was the only thought spinning in your mind. Pregnant. What were you supposed to do now? What should you do? This can't be happening. Your breathing got shallow again. This wasn't real. You were still in that small town, occupied with that ghost hunt. You were, only dreaming. This had to be a dream. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real. This wasn't happening. Your wounds began to burn again. But they were healed. They couldn't burn. You only imagined the pain. This wasn't real. All of this couldn't be real.

"Hey." You snapped back into reality. Looking up you met Gabriel's soft eyes. He tried to appear calm and collected, tried to sooth you but you knew that behind his honey colored eyes a storm like the one inside of you was raging. He was panicking as well but he managed to look at you with so much love you almost forgot all those worrying thoughts that were screaming inside your mind.

"Everything will be alright" Gabriel said and squeezed your hand before continuing to draw circles on the back of it. You nodded and smiled at him. Or at least you tried because you knew that only one of you would survive this pregnancy: You or the child. And you wouldn't let you be the one to end up alive.

To be continued: Part 2 is here

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I purposefully didn’t state that the reader is pregnant in the beginning so it would be as surprising as it is in the story. Did I succeed?🤔

160 notes · View notes

nightowlfandom · 5 years ago

Text

Kim Namjoon Imagine- Oblivious

REQUESTS ARE TEMPORARILY CLOSED.

OMG AUTHOR-CHAN WHERE DA FUQ YOU BEEN.

Places....my internet decided to die on me and be a bitch soooooooo ya. i how you doin?

Leggo!

...

"I refuse!" you spat, glaring at your father. "You can't make me do anything. I am old enough to make my own decisions!" You were a legal adult, you couldn't be controlled or manipulated into doing anything.

"Y/N this deal was set before you were born." you mother argued. " Plus, he is a very nice young man."

"Okay but what does that have to do with me?!" you stared at your mom. "You two sold out your own daughter! For what? To fuse the family companies together?" you crossed your arms.

"Y/N, please watch your tone." your dad sighed, getting up from his desk. "It isn't like that."

"Then what is? Telling me I can't date who I want. That I'm essentially being subjected to baby maker housewife to some guy who has to be told what he wants?" you rebutted. "That's not fair."

"And you spending so much time with that boy is?!." you mother spat. "Spending a mere second around that delinquent could tarnish your reputation!"

You mother was referring to Namjoon, someone who you've had more than several encounters with. He wasn't like you. Translation he was the embodiment of a stereotypical fanfiction bad boy. (Minus the smoking and motorcycle, he was a car type of guy.) Long story short, you became a little more than friendly and your parents didn't like that, to your delight.

"What you mean the only boy on this planet who cares about what I have to say?!" you spat. "Because you two sure don't seem to enjoy listening to me!"

“That’s enough! Go to you room and get ready!” your mother glared at you, which prompted you to storm off, purposefully knocking a vase over hearing it crash, but not break onto the floor. “

....

The dinner was a complete bust. COMPLETE. You hoped you never had to deal with such a travesty ever again. But these were your parents you were talking about. You’d always be in some stupid situation.

“Hey babe.” fingers snapped in your face and you looked up to see Namjoon smirking at you. “Lost you for a second.”

“Sorry, I was thinking.” You smiled straightening up. “What were you saying?” You were at his house because fuck your parents and them trying to tell you how to spend your free time. Namjoon knew who your parents were and his feelings towards them were less than pleasant.

"Well I wrote a few more verses I want you to look at.." he gave you a notepad. "Before I record them I want your opinion."

"I don't know why you enjoy hearing my opinions. Your lyrics are amazing regardless.” You replied, smiling. “I know nothing about rapping anyways.”

“Is it a crime to want to hear my girl’s opinion?” He asked, making you heat up in embarrassment. He saw you looking down and chuckled, pecking you on the lips.

“S-shush, just give me the notepad.” you pouted, taking the notebook from him. I stared down , my eyes skimming over the page. Namjoon’s lyrics were always good to you, so your opinions were kind of one and the same, not that he minded.

“Well?”

“It’s better than Expensive Girl.” You joked, causing his eye to narrow into a mock glare. “Just saying, ya shoulda kept that one fore a...rainy day.” You kept reading. “Is this about me?” You had noticed keywords that had sort of felt like they described you.

“Yeah, I gotta include my source in inspiration.” he said like it was obvious.

“You’re silly.” you giggled.

“Maybe you don’t like Expensive Girl because you’re just an innocent little girl.” he shrugged,

“I’m not-”

“Yes you are.” he poked your nose.

“Well we can’t have tons of girls all over us just for being good looking.”

“I’m not that type of guy Y/N.” Namjoon frowned a little. When you had first met him, you thought the worst of him, THE VERY WORST.

“I know you aren’t, but they way you talk leads me to believe otherwise.” you nudged him. “And the way you act too, sir.” you poked his nose referring to how he used his charm to sweet talk his way out of every little situation. “Geez you have the mouth of a sailor.”

“Okay I only said ‘If at first you don’t succeed, fix your ponytail then try again’ and it was at my friend’s wedding, so it’s not that bad. “ he laughed.

“I don’t get it?” You tilted your head to the side. Namjoon cocked a brow up at your confused face. “Where did that come from?”

“You don’t get the joke?” he asked. “You’re serious”

“Not really? What does a ponytail have to do with-” you were genuinely confused. Fix your ponytail then try agai-

Before you knew it, he had burst out laughing, holding his stomach.

“YOU ARE SO INNOCENT! Don’t tell me you’ve never had sex either!” he said, still laughing.

“Wait a second! When did this topic even come up?!” You looked up, absolutely mortified.

“Face it baby, you’re so boring, haven’t you ever been wild? And playing tennis with the rich neighbors doesn’t count.” he chuckled.

“I HAVE BEFORE!” You crossed your arms. “A long time ago.”

“A long time ago.” he repeated. “Babe, I’m sorry but you have never had fun a day in your life.”

“I mean I haven’t had time to since my parents are overbearing assholes. You’re the first real guy who has ever....”

(Flashback)...

“You haven’t flipped that page for 30 minutes.” A voice made you look up from your book. A boy with dark hair and clothes to match was smirking at you.

You had known Namjoon from the other side of town. He usually hung out at underground clubs and bars. From what your other friends told you, he was dangerously charming. You never talked to him though.

“Y-you were watching me?” you asked.

“You aren’t that hard to miss.” he chuckled. “You’re the only one dressed so proper here.”

You glanced around. He was right. Everyone else looked so cool and you?...eh

“What are ya doing here anyways?”

You were hiding from your parents who had wanted you to meet some other wealthy weirdos. Anything for status and new friends. “You’d think my reason was stupid.”

“Ha. Try me.”

“...Trying to live without my parents breathing down my neck.” I put my book down on the table.

“Hm. You’re parents some kind of-”

“Business people.” you cut him off. “Even being seen here might freak them out and then I’d get a lecture about status and upbringing.” You replied.

“Sounds tough...but that doesn’t explain why you’ve been reading off the same page for the past thirty minutes.”

“...Have you been watching me?”

“....Good point, I’m Namjoon.”

“Y/N”

(End Flashback)

That was a long time ago, and after weeks and weeks of trying to convince you, you finally went out on a date with him (which involved you having to sneak out) but still.

“I didn’t really have a life before you, y’know.” You mused, smiling a little. “Sure you got me into some things that made me wanna kill you, but...”

“But I was too handsome to say no to?” He joked, which made you smack him with his own notepad.

“No!” you rolled your eyes. “Ah you ruined the moment you jerk!” you crossed your arms.

“Oh come here.” Namjoon throw his arms around you, pulling you close. “ I’m glad I met you.” Namjoon finally said. “At first I thought you were a stick in the mud but-”

“Yeah yeah.” you mumbled. You knew where this speech was going. “But you grew to love it.” you thought he was gonna say.

“Actually I was gonna say that you actually ended up being the only girl who stayed with me, who liked me for who I was and stuck around long enough for me to show you who Kim Namjoon was...even if I got you into a bit of trouble.” he chuckled. “I love you Y/N. Not just that dumb ass I like you and you like me shit either. I love you so much that I would do everything for you, and if I couldn’t I would make it happen. I want to take care of you and give you everything you want in life...”

You looked up in shock, Namjoon had told you he loved you before but he never said it that way. Before you knew it, that same smirk returned to his face. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Ugh you really know how to ruin the moment.” you poked his cheek.

“and you love it.” he winked, crawling over to you.

“Yeah you’re lucky I do.” you mumbled. “Otherwise we woulda had some problems buddy.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at you and kissed your lips again, gently caressing your cheek. You moved to sit on Namjoon’s on lap like he loved. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling his body heat against your skin. You felt his hands slip under your shirt. The feeling of his warm fingers made you jump. This made Namjoon’s movements cease.

“We don’t have do continue if you don’t want to.” he breathed heavily. “I’m sorry, I got carried away-”

“N-no,,,I want to.” you stammered. “You can keep going.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “If you say that to me, then I won’t be able to hold myself back.” he said, digging his head into your neck. “You know that, Y/N.”

“I’m sure...you can keep going..”

You were suddenly pinned down to the bed by Namjoon.

...

“FUCK” he grunted, his body rolled against yours. “Shhh, not so loud baby.” he chuckled. “Wouldn’t want to wake my neighbors.”

“N-namjoon...I’m...I’m gonna-”

“Not yet, wait for me. Please...” He brushed stray, sticky hairs from your face. “You look so cute,”

He sloppily crashed his mouth over yours, his member twitching inside of you.

“Baby, cum for me.” he whispered. Your arms had somewhat tightened around his neck, feeling him twitch even more.

It felt like things came crashing down on you as your orgasm shook and vibrated throughout your entire body.

"Run away with me." he breathed out, coming down from his high.

"What??" you looked up at him wide eyed. "Did you just ask me to-"

"Run away with me." he repeated, his breath evening out. "Come be with me...don't worry about this...this life, your family. Y/N...I love you."

You sat up in bed, looking down at him. "Namjoon-..I-"

"I want you to be happy, to be able to do what you want, when you want. I want to wake up to your face every day. I want to make you happy, I want to help you live your dreams and...not worry about being told what the fuck to do anymore."

He sat up as well.

"Yes." you cut him off. "Yes I'll run away with you."

“Yeah? For real?”

You could only nod as you felt your mouth be covered by Namjoon’s again.

“Fuck I love you so much.”

...

You could shove almost everything you owned into one large duffel bag despite the complaints of your mother.

“So you’re going to live with that gutter trash of a boy!” you mother stood by the door frame with a glare on her face. “Think of what this could do to our family’s reputation?!”

“Like basically selling your own daughter to some loser isn’t tarnishing enough!”?!?!” you scoffed. “I’m an adult, and I don’t need this, and I sure as hell don’t need you two!”

You had made sure to pack everything you had bought with your own money. Knowing them, they’d try to make you leave behind the little shit they bought you.

“Young Lady you are not to go anywhere near that boy and that is final! I’ll take away your allowance!” your father snapped.

“Go ahead, i know you and mom like to take from my bank account anyways to buy shit you don’t need.” you rolled your eyes. “Like that five hundred you guys used to buy a new vase when I needed it for my hospital bill when I broke my ankle?” you said flatly. Thank god you had your own account no one else knew about or else you’d be screwed.

“What about your marriage!”

“Call one of my cousins I’m sure they’d love to take my spot.” you began dragging the three duffels you owned. You didn’t have anything of value from your parents, anything actually useful like your laptop and other things were all purchased by other people. Just as you got to the front door, you saw Namjoon standing in front of a van.

“I bought some friends by to help.” he motioned to his friends who were getting out the car. Hoseok, Yoongi, Seokjin, and Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook.

“How did you guys all fit in that car?” you asked curiously!

“We took two cars!” Jungkook replied. “So are these the parents?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yep.” Namjoon scoffed. He grabbed two of the bags out of your hands. “I’ll take that.” He threw them in the back seat onto the car floor.

“If you leave with those delinquents, you are no longer part of this family!” your father threatened. “You will be outcast and everyone will know it!”

“...I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.” you replied. “Now are you guys gonna let me go or-”

Your father sudden took a walking start for you, as if he was about to grab you and drag you back inside.

“GET BACK!” Hoseok stomped menacingly to your parents who jumped in fear. “I’ll take that, Y/N.” Hoseok grabbed your last duffel as Namjoon wrapped an arm around you.

“You don’t want to try that again, I wouldn’t want your driveway to be covered in blood.” Yoongi threatened. Unlike Hoseok, Yoongi wasn’t hesitant about getting in your father’s face. Before anyone could say anything else, a black car pulled up. A man in a tuxedo got out, a cellphones practically glued to his ear.

“Whose that?”

“Ah Chairman!” you heard your father bark, sending a snide smirk your at. The stranger took the sunglasses off his face. You recognized him as some big shot CEO that your father loved to suck up to. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here on business. What do you want?”

“Well I’m afraid I’m no longer in need for that favor I asked of you. It appears that my daughter is NOT the one for the job to be your intern.” you heard him say. So to add to the hatred of your parents, he was now..taking away job opportunities?

Well, you would have cared more if you knew who he was.

“And who is your daughter, and most importantly why should I ca-” his eyes fell on you. “...You must be Y/N!”

But apparently he knew you.

“Namjoon my boy!” your boyfriend walked up to the man giving him one of those dude-hugs. “This must be the girlfriend you were telling me about?”

“You know him?” I asked in surprised.

“You know him!?!?” Your father asked just as appalled mixed with disgust.

“Of course, this is my favorite nephew!” the man laughed, his now serious demeanor turning friendly. “Ah, I’ve heard so much about you, Y/N. Namjoon here tells me nothing but good things.”

Your family look just as surprised as you. Namjoon returned to your side.

“Y/N, uncle here works for (Insert dream job company here). I emailed him your resume and he’s been waiting to meet you for a while!”

“So this is your family?” he nodded his head towards your mother and father.

‘Not anymore, i’ve been outcast.” I shrugged.

“Well that’s too bad.” he shook his head holding out a business card. “Now, if you’re as talented as Namjoon says, then your father setting you up as an intern is just insulting. I’m actually looking for a new vice president.” he got a car out his back pocket. “Give me a call.”

You wordlessly took the card. “T-thank you!”

“And if you ever need anything, you just call me. Anything for t elove of my nephew’s life!”

He put his shades on and turned away. “You’re fired.” he snapped at your father as he walked away.

“You ready to go?” Namjoon asked, gently grabbing your hand. You nodded, letting him lead you to his car.

“I call front seat!” you hopped in the car before Hoseok could even reach it.

You didn’t even look back at your parent as you all laughed at Hoseok’s sulking and mumbling “Geez, she’ll fit right in.”

(So did I make myself cry writing this, maybe. But that’s my business.)

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mxrlin-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Imagine Wanda living with the Bartons

warnings: very angsty, mentions of death, Wanda has a panic attack, self-deprecating language, happy ending though guys

I wrote this ages ago on my Wattpad and I genuinely cried whilst writing it. I love my little baby Wanda so so much. And before anyone comes at me for saying Loki’s a villain, I know he’s not haha he’s my other lil baby <3

- Clint takes Wanda home after the "incident" where she accidentally wiped out the office block.

- Fury clears it, and it was Clint's idea to ask in the first place. He wants her to feel loved again, and he's the designated dad friend. Steve was just as equally happy to offer up his flat, but it’s only got one room, so Clint stepped up in his place.

- At first, Wanda makes so many excuses as to why she can't come. It's not that she doesn't want to go, it's just that she thinks she's a danger. Clint has young children that she could hurt.

- Clint sees right through this, of course, he’s called Hawkeye for a reason. He wants Wanda to meet his family... after all, he's sort of taken her under his wing as his adopted daughter.

- He makes a compromise with Wanda, suggesting that she only stays a week, and she can go home at any time. Wanda agrees reluctantly, realising she isn’t going to win this fight.

- Imagine Wanda's heart beating so, so fast as Clint and her pull up to the driveway of his house. Clint gives her a nod of course, but she's terrified.

- And it's even worse when Cooper, Clint's eldest son, is the first person out of the door. He seems sweet, all grins and giggles, Wanda admires him, but she doesn't want to hurt him. After what happened with the office block, she's not sure if she can be trusted with people anymore.

- So Wanda panics and ignores him. Walks straight past him. Cooper's sad, Scarlet Witch is one of his favourite Avengers. His dad give him a hug, and explains that she needs some time.

- Wanda finds her room with no difficulty. She sits on the bed. Doesn't unpack. She wants to go home. She wants Pietro to be here. Pietro always made everything feel better. But now he's gone, and she doesn't have anyone she can call family.

- She stays in her room for ages. Eventually, it's half eight and dinner time for the Barton Family. Wanda eats quietly, and dinner is somewhat awkward.

- Imagine Clint sharing a knowing glance with his wife. This girl is terrified, and they both know it. But neither of them know how to help her. They don't want to overwhelm her, but they want her to feel welcome.

- Imagine it's the fourth day. Wanda is desperate to go back to the Avengers. Back to Vision. But she doesn't want to appear rude - Clint’s family have taken her in and all she’s done is be awkward. She wishes it was otherwise, but she can’t help but feel as if she’s a danger.

- Imagine her surprise when at seven pm, Cooper comes into her room. He's dressed in a Captain America hoodie, and Wanda likes it. She says as much, and then it's just silence.

- "You're Scarlet Witch, right?" he asks. Silence. "I have something to show you."

- The boy gives her a glance before leading her out. Wanda doesn't know what Cooper is trying to show her, but decides that there's no harm in seeing it.

- It's his bedroom. The walls are covered in drawings of the Avengers. Cooper, however, walks straight towards a draw at his desk, and retrieves some more drawings.

- They're of Wanda. And Pietro. They're the best he's done, he's proud of them. He babbles for ages about how he wanted to get everything perfect for his ‘favourite superheroes’.

- Imagine Wanda looking at them and feeling, for once in her life, as if she's truly an Avenger.

- "You're my favourite, ya know? You’re super cool," Cooper says, and Wanda smiles. She feels less like a monster now.

- "Can you show me your powers?". Silence. Wanda frowns, her hands shake, her heart beats quicker. "Only a small thing, please!" Cooper whines, seemingly unaware of the extent of Wanda’s panic.

- Wanda can feel the tears in her eyes. No, no, no. She can't steady herself, and stumbles out of Cooper's room, and into her own. And then she cries, so so much.

- Imagine Clint hearing the soft sounds of crying coming from Wanda's room while he's practicing archery in the yard. He stops what he's doing, rushes inside, tells Cooper to go and do some homework. The poor kid feels awful, like he’s done something wrong.

- Clint sits outside her door, and waits.

- "What's wrong, Wanda?"

- "I'm a monster, Clint."

- Clint's breath hitches in his throat. This girl is like a daughter to him and she's tearing out his heart. "You're not," he whispers to her quietly, hoping that she can still hear him through the door.

- "I am! I killed all of those people!" the tone in Wanda’s voice is one of depair.

- Again, Clint pauses. When he speaks, he’s gentle but firm. "You're not a monster. I don't think you have it in you to purposefully hurt someone who you thought was innocent."

- This time, it's Wanda that's silent. Clint takes this as a sign that he should continue to speak.

- "You're an Avenger. You made a pact to protect people, and that's what you do. You have saved so, so many people. Do you not think that Natasha is angry with what she's done in her past? She was a goddamn assassin, Wanda. Stark supplied weapons. What about me? I've hurt more people than I meant to."

- Clint exhales, and for one of the only times in his life, he feels like he's going to cry. He grits his teeth, however, tries to stay strong for Wanda.

- "You're not a monster. True monsters are people like Loki, Ultron. They've killed so many people. And you know what separates you from them? You. Feel. Remorse,” he jabs his index finger into the ground as he says this.

- It's a few seconds later that Clint hears the lock of the door click open and Wanda bursts out, throwing her arms around Clint's neck and sobbing into his shoulder. Clint hugs her, reassuring her and they stay like that for a few minutes until Clint's wife, unaware of the situation, calls them for dinner.

- Now Cooper is still feeling dreadful about this. He feels angry that he brought it up, and is waiting to apologise, awkwardly stood at the head of the table. Wanda enters the kitchen... she looks like she's been crying. She makes eye contact with Cooper.

- And she smiles. A big, broad grin that lights up the room. Cooper smiles back after a few seconds, he was initially taken aback.

- Imagine his awe when he asks Wanda to pass the salad, only to have it levitate towards him. Wanda winks. No one mentions it. Clint can’t stop grinning into his food.

- And for the first time, the Bartons have dinner with Wanda without it being a silent battle. And Wanda finds herself the happiest she’s ever been for months. She’s found her family now.

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clericbyers · 5 years ago

Note

Do you guys really believe Mike is being written as gay or is it a head cannon thing? You aren’t all going to cry queerbaiting when it doesn’t happen, are you? They’ve hinted strongly that Will is gay, but they’ve clearly established Mike as straight.

idk who “you guys” is, as I’m only familiar with a small subsection of the byler fandom on tumblr (as twitter has its own theories and whatnot going on) that happens to read Mike as not-straight, in particular as gay. I don’t know if “we all” are gonna “cry queerbaiting,” which is hilarious for you to say, and I cannot speak for anyone but myself so I will answer this with my opinion. If other ppl agree, cool, but this is me speaking for myself here.

I do believe Mike is being written as gay, as I have posted many a meta post abt it to point out how he’s been written as so (if anyone cares to read some of it, just click the “fic writer” link in my blog description). It’s equally a simple headcanon for me as much as it is also what I believe has been written in the story. I do question where exactly it’s clearly established that Mike is straight though, as having a girlfriend is not a “clear establishment”. I’ve had a boyfriend but I’m not straight. I liked him a lot at the time, no one can or will deny that, but just because that happened doesn’t mean I’m straight. Lucas is clearly established as straight if we wanna talk about what denotes an obvious representation of a straight kid. Mike is not. Again, this is my opinion and many others happen to agree but this is what I see/read from what has been told throughout Stranger Things.

That being said, I’m honestly laughing about “cry queerbaiting.” Like it’s something I’m planning to do, something I’ve purposefully signed up for by reading Mike as gay. As if I want to whine abt it, or play Peter and the Wolf. Uh, no. I don’t want to “cry queerbaiting” and I don’t particularly plan to either. It’s not like queerbaiting is something I enjoy or wait for when consuming media, but with ST in particular, they have already established this relationship between Mike and Will that is different from any other relationship the two characters have with others on the show. They have already highlighted the fact these two care about each other in a way different from how they care about anyone else.

I won’t bother repeating everything I’ve already stated previously to point thingd out but time and time again I’ll always state that ST cannot happen without the absolute fact that Mike loves Will. Romantic or not doesn’t matter, it is Mike’s love and care to find Will that makes him grab Lucas and Dustin and disobey Hopper to go into the forest looking for Will and consequently find El. It is Mike’s love and care to keep Will safe and continue protecting him as best he can that keeps him at Will’s side throughout ST2. It is Mike’s love and care to salvage the friendship he has with Will in ST3, the one thing he doesn’t want to lose given the quickness he has with rushing to apologize let alone the way he asks questions and tries to temper the argument before he messed up and made it worse. Mike was practically forced by Dustin to apologize to Lucas in ST1, he never apologized to Max for his behavior in ST2 or ST3, he wasn’t gonna talk to El in ST3 until Lucas pushed him to do so. But Mike is very proactive with Will and that shouldn’t be ignored. And yeah, you can sit back and lounge about saying “it’s just because he’s known Will most of his life, that’s his best friend”, but please . explain “crazy together” and “the best thing I’ve ever done” and Mike keeping Will’s drawings from when they were preteens despite his persistence about growing up and Mike’s smile when Will filtered with him and Karen’s words to Mike in 1x02 about him opening up to her about Will (because she doesn’t know he’s hiding El) or her words in 1x04 about letting Mike open up to them when he’s ready and the camera immediately showing Mike caressing Will’s drawings. Or explain how Mike believed Will was still alive bc of the sound of his voice and pursued him quickly once he thought he had evidence once more yet did nothing to find El in the 350+ days he called her despite actually seeing her and just sat around moping until Will’s “True Sight” became a bigger issue.

Anyway point is: homie ain’t straight . Bi, maybe, gay, I believe so. But he’s not just interested in El. Mike has a very strong friendship with Lucas if you want an example of how he is around a boy he doesn’t have interest in. Sadly we don’t get much Mike and Dustin interactions after ST1, but again another friendship that showcases Mike caring for a friend in a way that is pretty established I’d say about him not having interest there.

tl;dr yes I believe Mike is written as gay yet it is also a headcanon for me as much as I believe it is straightup canon. No, I’m not planning to “cry queerbaiting” if it’s not clearly stated otherwise, but I would be disappointed in a dropped storyline / ignored sideplot if it’s not addressed. I think it’s more clearly established he’s not straight than he is, but again, Mike is a character up for interpretation in that front. You can believe what you like about him from what the story has told us so far and it just so happens that I believe his behavior and actions lean toward someone repressing their same-sex attraction/orientation. As much as I want ST to show us Will being attracted to another boy that’s not Mike, I want ST to show us Mike being attracted to another boy that’s not Will to hammer in the point. Mike showed no interest in girls until El, and he’s shown no interest afterwards either. El seems more like an obsession to be straight than “clear establishment” of actually being straight. And El deserves better than that, but most of all, Mike deserves the chance to know better too, and understand himself as he’s spent the past three seasons clinging onto other people.

#anon #yams answers #tw: q slur

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hitchell-mope · 5 years ago

Text

(First film. Auradon prep library. 11:00 at night)

Evie: need some help?

Ben: yes please

(She uses magic to get Ben and the four books he’s got under his arms down from the ladder)

Ben: thank you.

Evie: anytime. Now. These are the ones you think can help

Ben: the ones I’ve read. Magic lore of the past century. Four volumes. 25 years each.

Evie: this could work. Still can’t believe fairy godmother let use the magic section. Thought it was off limits.

Ben (not entirely paying attention): it is.

Evie: Benjamin you shady little bastard

Ben (now kind of flat ignoring her): yes I thought so

(Evie looks momentarily annoyed. But then she sees he’s staring at jay)

Evie: you will not get far with jay

Ben: hm?

Evie: well. You don’t have freckles. You’re hair’s not curly. And you weren’t effectively raised by Mal from the age of six. Sorry. (Now fully entering the role of sibling). Now Mal on the other hand. I think she would love to date you.

Ben: I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair. I don’t even know if

Evie: she does. Trust me. She does.

Ben: ok.

Evie: does anyone else know or...

Ben: no. Just Doug Lonnie and Jane. Please don’t tell anyone else. Please. Especially my parents

Evie: hey hey. I won’t tell. I promise. I won’t tell

Ben: thank you

——————————————————————————————

Doug (sitting down next to Mal): hey.

Mal: hey bud. Sorry about the rat man

Doug: eh. It’s ok. I’m used to it

Mal: if it helps I’m rooting for ya

Doug: not really cause Evie’s made up her mind.

Mal: yeah well she’s wrong. You’re much better than that fake ass bastard. Soon she’ll see. She will see

Doug: you kinda sound like a super villain at the start of his origin story

Mal: I’m not super Doug my friend. Just a villain.

Doug: you know he likes you right

Mal: huh?

Doug: my best friend.

Mal: ah...yeah

Doug: and?

Mal: I like him too.

Doug: but

Mal: he’s him. I’m. Me

Doug: if it helps I’m rooting for ya

Mal (chuckling): it does actually

——————————————————————————————

Lonnie: whatcha drawing

Carlos: Jay

Lonnie: ahhh. May I?

Carlos: yeah sure

Lonnie: wow that’s really good

Carlos: I learned at Mal’s knee

Lonnie: cool.

Carlos: you’re scared of me aren’t you?

Lonnie: no. No. Yes. Yes. A little

Carlos: eh I don’t blame you. I grew up being protected by a dark fairy and a genie. So people know not to mess with me

Lonnie: ah. Question

Carlos: yeah?

Lonnie (pointing Mal then Evie): what’s their damage? They say their friends but they don’t act like it. What happened?

Carlos: I happened

Lonnie: heh?

Carlos: long story involving a heart rip, shrimp, Evie saving my life and Mal punting her into the barrier when they were thirteen

Lonnie: wow. That um

Carlos: sounds absolutely cockamamie and insane

Lonnie: yah

Carlos: buuuut every word of it is true

Lonnie: and you’re

Carlos: family. Mal’s essentially my mother. And Evie’s the sister she wants to throw in a sack and dump in a river. But she keeps her around cause otherwise I’d be upset. They don’t think I know but I do.

Lonnie: and you don’t blame Evie?

Carlos (scoffing): god no. You try denying your parents when they can control you through your literal heart. I don’t blame Evie. But Mal does. And that’s something she’s gotta work through herself

——————————————————————————————

Jay (plopping down next to Jane): god I hate reading. Do you hate reading?

Jane (looking terrified): uuuuhhhhmmmm....

Jay: wow. You really are scared of us aren’t you?

Jane (tiny little voice): yes

Jay: why?

Jane: because you’re

Jay: vks?

(She nods shamefully)

Jay: ohhhh. You don’t have to be.

Jane: I know. But

Jay: it’s difficult to look past the stories. You think I’m gonna turn into a snake and trap you in an hourglass.

Jane: well I do now!

Jay: I won’t though. Even though it would be really, incredibly, ridiculously easy. Just a snap of my fingers to be honest and the venomous fangs come out to play full force

(He hisses. Jane squeaks in terror. And Jay let’s out an enormous belly laugh)

Jay (still laughing): oh I’m sorry. Ahem. I’m sorry.

Jane: that was mean

Jay (feeling a little guilty): I know

Jane: could you teach me magic?

Jay (cracking his 1000 watt smile): certainly

——————————————————————————————

(Midnight. They’re all packing to go back to their dorms)

Carlos (feeling tired and whiny): jaaaaaaaaaay?

Jay: yeah?

Carlos (throwing his arms up): carry me?

Jay: do you even have to ask?

(He hoists Carlos up in his arms, Carlos buries his head in jay’s neck and they leave)

Lonnie: how long have they been together

Evie: oh they’re not

Mal: not yet anyway

Lonnie: why?

Evie: Carlos is waiting for jay to make the first move

Mal: and Jay is completely oblivious

Lonnie (looking at Jane): oh I’ve been there.

Doug: night guys

Mal and Lonnie: night bud

Evie (purposefully ignoring him): yeah night

(Doug leaves but not before he looks longingly at Evie)

Lonnie: hey uh Evie can I talk to you?

Evie: sure

Lonnie: So you and Chad

Evie (smiling happily): I know. He’s so handsome. And funny. And

Lonnie: a user. And a cad. And a cheater

Evie (smile faltering): what?

Lonnie: chad. he cheats on his girlfriends. Then moves on when he gets bored or they find out. He’s ghosted at leat two we know about. He may have “Charming” as a last name but that’s it essentially

Evie: oh my god. I don’t believe it.

Lonnie: I’m sorry

Evie: I don’t believe that Doug put you up to this

Lonnie: what? No! Nononononononononono! He didn’t

Evie (venomously): Chad is a prince. I am a princess no matter what that taffeta wearing pink bitch says! I deserve this

Lonnie: you don’t deserve someone who won’t treat you right

Evie (voice breaking): if not him then who

Lonnie: literally any other boy

Evie: it has to be a prince. It HAS to be. Anything else is not an option. It has to be him

Lonnie (“mom” mode activated): no. It doesn’t. Oh honey

(She goes to hug her but Evie rebukes her)

Evie (absolutely incensed): you don’t know me. You have NO IDEA WHATS GOING ON IN MY HEAD! I need this. I have no choice I need this. And I’m not going to let you or anybody else take it from me. So keep your pathetic after school special bullshit to yourself and don’t you DARE interre with my love life

(She poofs away in sapphire blue smoke)

Lonnie: I. I’m sorry

Mal: I’m not. She needed to hear it. He’s a dick. Doug isn’t. She should pick Doug

Jane: why?

Mal: because Doug’s my friend. And if she’s with him. Then I don’t have to deal with her

Lonnie: I knew your reason would be altruistic

Mal: ohhhh I’ve never been one for altruism. Back home it’s eat or be eaten sometimes literally

Lonnie: hey funny question. Has Evie ever...

Mal: been interested in girls? Don’t make me cackle kid. Quinlan tried to get her to join her gang sometime last year. But queenie caught wind of it and this is Sparta’d the poor girl. (Fake simpering voice) a prince is only good enough you see

Lonnie: poor girl

Mal: then Antony came along. But Grayson Clayton caught his eye and they joined together. Evie still doesn’t know.

Ben: I’m sorry. That you had to live like that

Lonnie and Jane: I’m sorry too

Mal (smiling in spite of herself): well. My friends and I are here now. And if the plan works. Then me and Jay never have to constantly look over our shoulders to protect Carlos again. I know he knows by the way

Lonnie (aghast): I’m sorry. I swear I tried to

Mal: honey. Relax. I can read minds. Part of my magic. By the way. The compliments very much appreciated but I don’t deserve it Lonnie. The only thing I know of that can repel my magic is iron Jane. And Ben. Think of the arctic. That should help

(Jane looks like she wants the ground to swallow her up. Ben looks guilty. Lonnie looks curious)

Mal: it’s easier to use telepathy here then back home. Nobody’s on constant guard here

Lonnie: the island sounds awful

Ben: QUEEN OF HEARTS!

Jane: huh?

Ben: I uh. I made a notary list. Keeps track of all the children on the isle of the lost

Mal (cocking an eyebrow): impressive. But there’s no use in fetching Quinlan. Once you get sent to Bald Mountain you never return

(An awkward silence follows until Jane looks at the clock and squeals)

Jane: half past pumpkin time!

(She leaves hurriedly)

Mal: pumpkin time

Ben: curfew. Jane’s gotta be back at fairy godmothers suite by midnight

Mal: what’s a curfew?

Ben: oh um. Uh. It’s the time when you have to be in. If not

Lonnie: you get your phone taken away for a couple of days

Mal: what about you guys

Ben: we all have them. Ours were extended for today

Lonnie: it only takes ten minutes to walk back to my room. Hopefully sleeping bitchy’s out cold

Ben: that’s not very nice Lon

Lonnie: you know she’s your ex now. You can badmouth her if you want

Ben: only if I were the dumpee. I’m not. She is. So she can say whatever she wants about me.

Lonnie (not at all buying it): well. Alright. G’night

Ben and Mal: night

(Lonnie leaves)

Mal: and then there were two

Ben: yeah. Heh heh. I liked today

Mal: I liked today as well. Ah

Ben: yes?

Mal: your bloods black. You look like you got attacked by a doctor who monster

Ben (overjoyed): you watch Doctor Who?

Mal: black blood

Ben: right uhhhh. Oh yeah! I chew pens. The ink cartridge must’ve burst and leaked. Can’t believe I didn’t notice it.

Mal: it looks lit it dried about an hour ago. What were you doing then?

Ben: uhhhh (flashback to 11:32 pm when he was chewing on his pen and tuning out Evie waxing poetic about chad in favour of watching Mal talk with Doug). I...don’t...remember

Mal (reading his mind but deciding not to embarrass him): ok. (She takes out a handkerchief) there you go (She starts wiping at the corners of Ben’s mouth. Then pulls away abruptly) here (She hands him the handkerchief and gets up)

Ben: thank you (he finishes cleaning his mouth). Are you ok?

Mal: yea ahem yeah. Always. No. Actually. I’m not.

Ben: why?

Mal: I really don’t wanna say

Ben (realising): oh. Oh god. I’m so sorry. If I’ve ever made you feel uncomfortable I wasn’t my intention

Mal (going up to him and hold his face in her hands): Ben. Listen to me. You did nothing wrong. It’s me. You can safely assume that whenever I’m gloomy. It’s my fault

Ben: why are you gloomy

Mal: because I want something that’s contraband. To me specifically

Ben: not everything’s off limits.

Mal: I’m not here to have fun. Or be happy. I have to. You know what I have to do. And you being here all...we can’t. No matter how much either of us want to.

Ben: ok.

Mal: I’m sorry. But. It’s not your fault. Just remember that it’s never your fault

Ben: but it’s not yours either. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something for yourself. You are allowed that.

Mal: I’m not. That’s just the thing. I’m not allowed anything. That could interfere with her... (practically spitting) plans

Ben: oh.

Mal: you know what I think of you. You know how much I. You know. And that’s all it can be

(This is when “Rewrite the stars” happens)

#disney descendants #mal bertha #ben florian #evie grimhilde #jay son of jafar #carlos de vil #doug son of dopey #li lonnie #jane daughter of fairy godmother #zendaya!mal #bal #devie #jaylos #janelonnie #all heavily implied

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sandflakedraws · 7 years ago

Note

Hey so I've been considering checking out abot for a while now. But before I do, I wanna know what the draw is for you. What do you like so much about it ?

Strap yourself in, we’re about to go through one longass hell of a ride. Fair warning that this gushy love letter has a good chunk of spoils for canon mp100 and abot alike, so do with that what you will. (though i keep most of the spoils to the earlier chapters so i can leave some firsthand experience left)

ABoT has 5 main (not all) attractions for me, most of which are incredibly personal :1. nuanced, actually mature depiction of abuse2. lack of a ‘perfect savior’3. plotting cause+effect4. scene setting (okay this one is more a taste thing that i happen to really love)5. incredible writing all around

Part 1. Nuanced, actually mature depiction of abuse.

I was an abused and neglected child. As such, it’s very easy to see where some of the appeal of this type of fanfic would come from. Course, I’d encourage a looksie regardless because it’s written with respect to the subject matter, and because fics like these have great potential to expand on human understanding and empathy.

THAT SAID ! In order to talk about the depiction of abuse in abot, I first need to talk about the abuse in mp100 canon.

To be frank, I think phantomrose96 handles it better than mp100. Especially the execution and aftermath of said topic.

For comparison I’m going to use the Mogami arc (an arc i do like, perhaps less than the majority of fandom, tho this’ll likely shed a light on why)

The depiction of abuse between abot and canon have some similarities. In both cases, Mob is uprooted from his foundations of support, and the strain goes on for a lengthy amount of time. Canon!Mob’s experiences are 6 months long, and abot!Mob is 4 years. The differences start hereafter, though.

For starters, with canon!Mob, we learn about his torture mainly through his own POV, with Mogami making commentary. His firsthand experience is bolded and put at the forefront, and functions as the end note of the scenes which feature them. Mob is isolated, ostracized, and bullied. He is beat up at several points. One such instance sees him lose a tooth. His bullies torture a cat to death, smash a brick on his head, and stab him with an exacto knife.The ‘maturity’ of canon!Mob’s abuse comes firstly from the severity and cruelty of it. And secondly, for how it could drive him into using his psychic powers against people willingly. It highlights that one can be as shaped by their surroundings as by their choices.It’s dark, and it’s weighty.

However, the abuse in the arc is used a mechanic, and is glossed over once its primary use is over with. No abuse in this vein crops up after this arc.

The point of it’s presence is to raise the stakes, to showcase “this is fucked up” and then move on when the lesson is learned. We only get 2 peaks that Mob even remembers it. Once is with Mob acting quite fearful when Mogami shows up again, and the other when Mob goes to help a cat off a pole.

Still, the fact remains that it’s never mentioned for the rest of mp100.

And thusly, Mob is presented with no means to process or deal with the trauma other than to, presumably, remain quiet about it. Or otherwise, for the reader to assume that the experience was relegated to subconsciousness. After all, we’re told expressly with Minori that the memory begins to fade as early as a day after.

This stance can be detrimental to those who experience abuse, as it can imply that no help exists for the survivor to seek. That it’s better to simply forget about it, and move on without guidance.

Which, y’know, could work fine if it was ONE’s intention to showcase that some people don’t deal with trauma outright, keeping it hidden.

But there is a difference between “purposefully writing someone to seem unaffected when they really are” and “purposefully writing a macguffin to clear the way of an old arc to make room for a new one"

I love ONE’s writing, I do, but it seems very clear to me that he was giving himself an out for having to write long reaching consequences of such a brutal arc going forward. Folks can get from the arc what they want, and that’s hella valid. I mean, shit, my trauma was never front and center either when I was Mob’s age.

However, there’s a clear delineation between coincidence and intentionality.

By having the abuse all happen in a dreamlike world, he gives himself an out. The characters are more or less able to skirt around the issue, or otherwise forget about it.ONE thereby dodges having to write further complications to the story he wants to tell.

Enter A Breach of Trust.

In Abot, the aftermath of being abused is a part of Mob’s day to day life, like actual trauma do. And here, the process of dealing and coping with said abuse is the main function of it’s appearance in the fanfic.

The four years Mob spends on his own are broadly covered in a punchy ~1k words at the beginning of chapter 4 (the fic is 133k words long, for comparison). They are to let you know the nature of Mob’s problems, without lingering unnecessarily on them, exploiting them, or making them voyeuristic. And in fact, Mob gets out of the Mogami house in chapter 8 (again, in a fic 24 chaps long).

The rest of the chapters where Mob makes an appearance are about addressing what he went through, and trying to help him.

As opposed to mp100 canon, we learn a lot of information as to the nature of what mob experienced through Reigen. He often has sad or horrified responses, as one could expect to have in his shoes. But his response is not the end note of the scenes which feature them. Instead, it’s the actions he and Mob take, in equal turns, to bring about change which gets the end note.

I’ll use the milk scene in chapter 11 as an example.

Reigen learns a piece of information about Mob’s life, namely that he was denied milk:

“You have milk?”

“Uh…yeah. Not even expired. I bought it like two days ago.”

“But Shishou said…” Mob swallowed the words. His breathing picked up, eyes flickering across the single carton of milk in Reigen’s fridge. Slowly, his voice almost choked, Mob answered, “Yes, yes please…”

Reigen’s response:

He couldn’t fathom what sort of world the kid had just escaped, but he knew now he didn’t want to. And he didn’t want to make Mob relive it, not if it was something so horrific that a single glass of warm milk could move him to tears.

The end note of the scene (literally the last line):

“Here,” Reigen said, sliding his mug across the oaken table. “Have mine too…”

Abot, unlike a good chunk of media, seeks not to use traumatic experiences as a throwaway mechanic for a separate, main focus. Or as a stand in for faux character depth or grittiness. I’m lookin at you Kaneki Ken. Or worse, as an inevitable reality. No.

The actual maturity of abot!Mob’s abuse, which I’ve been hootin about with the title card, comes from its application to Mob.

It will not be brushed off as a bad dream. It will not be relegated to subconscious, or forgotten. It is not a ‘shortcut to coolness’, or a ‘dark history’ to earn abot!mob some tragic backstory cred. Nor will it be “solved” with a single long talk, or hug, or even to just put Mob back in his house.

Abot seeks to offer a more layered, real world approach to it. That trauma, fictional or not, does not make you cooler. That it takes several, seemingly small steps to start on the path of recovery. And that there is no reaching your “before” status, but just changing the shape of your “after”.

For that matter! Mob also has agency of his own. It is not Reigen that springs Mob from the Mogami house, but rather Mob himself, taking matters into his own hands.

There was no plan to it. Mob moved. He raced to the door and the inky world beyond. His feet collided with cold stone. Stone became grass, which sheared away before each footfall, leaving wet pulp and mud beneath his beating steps. The vastness of the open sky and the world stretching off in all directions, even after four years, could not overwhelm him more than the image of his dead Shishou scorched behind his eyelids.

Mob will fight on matters he considers important, calling the cops, for example.

Mob’s jaw moved, his wide eyes steeled over, harder now, resolve tight in his face. He looked up to Reigen. “I…wouldn’t like that, Mr. Reigen.”

He’ll voice his own opinion, draw his own conclusions, set his own goals.

His hands twisted in his lap, eyes dropping to them for a moment before they flickered up with new, burning resolve. “…If you could teach me…”

“Teach you?”

Mob nodded vigorously. “How you’re getting rid of it.”

And Mob is not relegated to cowering at all times either. He’ll enjoy things he likes, build himself up, amongst other things.

The rain drenched him. Through the blues and pinks, water could pass. Water wasn’t living, so it wasn’t stopped, it wasn’t shredded. But it felt alive enough to Mob. It felt like something that wanted to reach him, and could.

Mob shut his eyes and smiled. Even if he couldn’t suppress the barrier now, that wasn’t reason enough to give up, not this time around. This time was different.

Rest assured that this journey is as much an active choice on Mob’s part, as it is Reigen’s. Reigen is simply a guide for Mob. And he’s meandering through his guidance half the time, which brings me to part deux.

Part 2. Lack of a perfect savior

I will be the first to admit that Reigen is hilariously flawed. Abot!Reigen likewise. And yes! This is another reason why I like Abot ^^

Preface in place before I talk about this, I am. a tough ass customer. We just had a whole previous section of analysis to illustrate that (which confession time, i cut that down by half), but to go more in depth - It is extremely easy to take me out of a story. And this is because, ironically, I love storytelling.

For better or worse, when I’m consuming media, I cannot turn off the storytelling part of my brain. Ergo, if I see something that can be improved, I’m launched back into a 4th person perspective, no longer engaging directly with the content. Sometimes it’s minor enough where I don’t mind any. But unfortunately, more often than not, it’s enough to get me to drop things when too many instances pile up.

And as one of those Hoity Toity Connoisseurs of the hurt/comfort genre, the human version of the Messianic Archetype™ is both a common occurrence, and a surefire way to get me to drop your story upon first sight.

I cannot engage with media that have regular ass people know exactly how to react, what to say, what to read into, on the first try, when the nature of human existence so chaotic and varied.

Maybe that kid is hiding under the table because you’re wearing fuchsia, maybe it’s because your voice sounds like someone they had a nightmare about, maybe its because the lights hurt their eyes, maybe it’s because they feel safer in cramped spaces, maybe they’re eating ants. You don’t know. They don’t know. Getting things wrong is as much a part of the process as getting things right.

SO!!! ONCE MORE WITH FEELING!!! ABOT!!!

Phantomrose makes it clear, as early as Reigen & Mob’s first meeting, that we’re dealing with a regular ass human fuckup, even in the midst of the rose filter from Mob’s POV.

In the scene, Reigen is presented as being undoubtedly ignorant as to the true nature of what the hell is going on. He, mistakenly, does not believe that the barrier is real. All he knows that is Mob has come from some Yikes and needs help. Oh, and in Reigen’s limited knowledge, he thinks there’s a confirmed Dead Man off somewhere too.

And yet, despite the pressing circumstances, or y’know, having a presumed corpse he should probably mention to somebody, Reigen does not call the cops.

“Okay. Okay… Do you—just—do you want to come to my house? Just for tonight. It’s…late. Don’t feel like dealing with any more police officers tonight anyway. Maybe we just…go sleep. Get you some clothes or, a shower probably. It’s…I’m tired. You’ve got to be tired too.”

We get an explanation for this later on, in chapter 14…

What if he ran off again, back to his dead Shishou’s basement…?

…but. Were the audience not clued into Mob’s circumstances, one would argue that though well intentioned, Reigen’s messing up. And despite the many things Reigen does to help Mob (which he does, he really does) this motif continues throughout the fic.

With Reigen sometimes saying insensitive things to Mob.

“No, I’m…” Mob paused. He hiccupped, voice still hitching, body still trembling. “I’m sorry Shishou is dead. I did something to make him kill himself. I know it.”

“Good, Mob. Good…”

Mob stared up, jaw slack, baffled.

With Reigen often acting as much as his own interest as in Mob’s.

“Toast, Mob, it’s going to be toast. And eggs. And yes. This is breakfast for both of us, and you’re going to help.” Reigen looked the boy over, and the feeling in his chest was almost manic. He was looking at something maybe he could fix.

Where Reigen will make logical assumptions, but false ones nonetheless.

“I’m going to grab just a handful of things from those aisles, okay? Not going far. I just want you to stay here, with the paper, and pick up our order when it’s ready. Okay? It’s another exercise. I’m still here. I’m still suppressing the barrier. I just think you’re strong enough to stand here for a moment by yourself. Can you do that?”

–carved things up, sliced them, killed them…

Mob’s mind filled with static.

He nodded. It was the only thing he could think to do.

Reigen smiled, and stood up from his crouched position. He turned on his heel, toward the left side of the store. He rounded the edge of the counter, and suddenly he was gone.

And yes ! As a survivor, this shit is important to me.

These scenes showcase that comfort does not have to be found gift wrapped, pure and untainted, and delivered by an angel spluttering down from the shiniest parts of heaven. No. It can be found in people who are flawed and sometimes selfish and who are just trying. It can be found in folks like abot!Reigen.

In folks who weren’t predestined by some holy undertaking, but rather who are just making the best of the circumstances they find themselves thrust into.

SPEAKING OF WHICH,

Part 3. Plotting cause + effect

I’ll be honest and say this is something I learned very recently from Phanrose.

From my creative perspective, as long as an action is in character for someone, I can find a way to make it happen. A good showcase for this is, ironically enough, Attic Au, and it’s many incarnations. I can adapt to circumstances to cause what I want to happen.

This is, again, a tie-in to the way I rationalize the chaotic nature of human existence. Sometimes shit can just do, and as long as you pull hard enough emotionally, you can get people on board. So I spend a lot of time on the “why”, with my “hows” remaining fairly lose and interchangeable.

Abot takes this in the opposite direction. She says ‘okay but what if I use the chaotic nature of human existence to cause everything to bump into eachother’.

And honestly I’m kinda tripping over it ?? Like it’s extremely fun ? Connecting all these dots? And it doesn’t feel convenient either. It feels like a logical progression.

To use early examples, as I have been for the most part:

Jun hires Reigen to investigate her husband Tetsuo disappearing at weird hours.

“That’s really all I want from this.” She looked up now, palms in her lap, eyes set to Reigen. “I want you to just figure out what’s going on because I can’t.”

Reigen then discovers that Tetsuo is being possessed.

A thousand memories assaulted him at once, tainted with the raw smell of incense, the grittiness of salt between his fingers and under his nails, dimmed lights and candles and incantations and that dread in the air, like pressure, that he felt whenever a Spirits and Such case turned out to be real.

Reigen decides to confront Mogami 2 different times. The first time he learns his identity, and the second time Reigen gets too close to hitting on Mob’s presence for Mogami’s comfort.

“Why did you buy cough syrup today?” Reigen blurted out. “You miss that taste too? Tetsuo doesn’t have a cold. It’s not for him. You got other puppets I don’t know about?!”

Mogami threatens to kill Tetsuo and take Reigen, so Reigen makes a bargain (with newly cut up hand to make his 1 sigil out of 1000 work).

Reigen thrust his hands down and out, body displayed unprotected. Sweat slid down his face, soaked through his suit, mixed with the blood in his palm. “Come possess me! Space for rent right here, y-yeah? Yeah! Not gonna resist. Not gonna fight. All I’m gonna do is slam you with these tags if you get too close!”

The tag works, banishing Mogami. Mob notices the lack of Mogami’s presence, and goes looking for him.

Even when Mogami left the house, his aura only ever grew fainter, steadily diffused as Mogami established distance between himself and the house. It was an easy blip to detect at all times. It was a constant thrumming presence in Mob’s life for the last four years.

And it had vanished in an explosion that left Mob’s psychic core ringing.

“…Shishou?” Mob called through the door.

Upon finding Mogami’s corpse in the attic, Mob makes for the streets, thinking Mogami has freshly killed himself and that he can no longer stay there.

Mob shot down the hall, took the stairs two at a time with his hand skimming the banister. His mind wasn’t clearing. His thoughts weren’t forming. The reality of what he’d seen beat in heavier against him with each passing second. Mob let out another keening crying, finding no response in the black house.

Another brush of wind, Mob turned toward the foyer. He’d been right—the front door had been left open.

This makes for a wonderful storytelling device. Firstly, it makes the audience both wary and excited for the consequences of any actions in the future. If any action can seemingly build off one another, what’s to say a throwaway moment wont come back to haunt us?

Plus! Aside from making scenes engaging, it also subverts some tropes while it’s at it.

Reigen, despite literally being a PI, does not find Mob on a missing person’s case. And does not discover Mob either of the times he followed Tetsuo into the Mogami house. Instead he only finds Mob by the boy crashing into him. Which only happens again because of a set up in chapter 3.

This carries on and spills over into Ritsu’s plotline too! Which nbnmbxn, I haven’t touched on as much in order to leave a good chunk of story there to peruse as you will.

I’ve learned a lot just from watching pr96 chisel out a story. And you wanna know what else I’ve learned?

Part 4. Scene setting

OKAY I FESS UP THIS IS JUST ME HAVING A THING FOR SETTINGS BEING INCORPORATED INTO THE ATMOSPHERE OF THE SCENE OKAY, OKAY.

With that out of the way, she’s damn good at it yall.

Phantomrose96 likes to employ what I call mood scenery. Where the physical objects present in a setting take a backseat to how the characters feel about it, and therefore flesh it out all the better.

Compare how Reigen sees his apartment:

Reigen cringed a bit as he looked about, taking in, remembering the mess decorating the living room. The ashtray on the table overflowed with cigarette butts, staining the wood around it with sooty acrid residue. Three empty plates were pushed to the table’s edge, scraped of food and left to stagnate for…how many days, Reigen wasn’t sure. Empty beer cans gathered in a herd near them, a few on the floor, leaving sticky coagulated rings around their rim and smelling of staleness, of stagnant fermentation.

With how Mob sees it:

Mob��s apprehension eased off. The look was replaced entirely with something like confusion. He pulled out of his blanket cocoon, let his eyes rove over the apartment in full inspection. The confusion never left his face.

“It’s so much cleaner than Shishou’s house.”

Scenes like this are peppered and expertly handled throughout the entirety of abot.

As a comic illustrator, I often struggle with coming up with backgrounds that tell you a bit about the circumstances of the people who live there, and about the mood of someone viewing it. But Phananarosa does it.

And, like. every setting is like this. Instead of getting fatigue at scene changes, I eagerly dive in because what’s not to love !!! It captures just enough details that it can be fleshed out, without boring the audience with a surplus of inconsequential details.

Teruki walked past the rows of lockers. Further back were bathroom stalls. Three sinks lined up beneath a wall-length mirror. This area existed as its own pocket, seemingly separate from the rest of the lockers, and the light only scarcely touched it. The shadows grew heavy along a gradient, the farthest sink half shrouded in darkness. Even farther back, crowned by a single burnt-out hanging light, was a row of four showerheads, no curtains separating one from the next.

It is no coincidence that some of the backgrounds I consider to be some of my better ones, are ones I made for abot.

It’s very apparent that Phanro9 knows what she’s doing with the words she chooses to dress these with. And, you guessed it, TIME TO SEGUE INTO

Part 5. Incredible writing all around

Okay now I can just gush about some the extra little details that GhostFlower96 uses that just make her tale that much more fun to read.

Amazing dialogue. Especially in Reigen’s case.

“Gottaswirl the eggs to seal in the moisture. Gotta just…put extra butteron the toast, I guess, so you don’t taste the black part cuz that’sprobably bitter, so you—never mind I’ll make different toast thatisn’t burned, gimme your plate.”

You ever tire of reading fics where the characters sound the same ? Spectreblossom has got you covered!

He thrust a hand out, palm open to Ritsu. “My name is Teruki Hanazawa. I’m the esper who’s better than you.”

Ritsu stared at the offered hand. He fought the instinct to step back. “The spirits didn’t say anyone owned them.” He paused, and weighed his options. “And who says you’re stronger than I am?”

Say you wanna feel ur heartstrings tugged because god oh god he’s a mess but he’s still good for something. we got a fresh supply

Beside them, the rice pot boiled over, glutinous water dripping down the black pot’s side and charring against the newly cleaned grating. The sauce bowl sat stagnant and undissolved, a colloid of new and stale ingredients perhaps unsalvageable for the recipe. Broken spoons, filthy sponges, open containers of starch and sugar and soy sauce littered the counter tops, the smell of something burning lingering overtop.

And at the center of the mess, Mob sliced the knife clean through the red bell pepper.

You wanna be haunted by singular closing lines? Already on it.

Thebarrier swept back around Mob, like the curtain drawn at the close ofa play.

Kids ? Being written like kids ? In phantomroseyboboeybananafanafofoseyfiphimomoseyphantomrosey’s fanfic? It’s more likely than you think!

“After this, can we go back to the park?” Mob asked. He wobbled, tilting his head over his shoulder to ask Mogami directly.

“We go to the park every day.” Mogami answered. He walked the sidewalk, thin silver hair catching sunlight and twists of icy wind. The hollow pockets beneath his eyes were deep, but not unkind, intently watchful of Mob who dipped and wavered with each balance-beam step.

“Yeah, because I like it.”

You want some de-glorification of teenage violence? Boy have I just the thing.

He felt 9 again, scared, weak, unsafe, and he cried quietly while he watched the consciousness leave Teruki’s body.

Limp and loose, Teruki’s hands dropped from the tie around his neck.

You like metaflours and symbopolism ? WE GOT THAT TOO

Reigen looked over his shoulder. Mob shut the door behind them, turning to investigate the apartment with wide captive eyes. “…It’s warm,” he muttered, and stepped in line behind Reigen.

You wanna feel like you got punched in your chest ? Even on things you knew already ? Even things you had every tool in your belt to see coming?

Reigen stopped. He lost track of his own words as his focus fell entirely on the sight in front of him. The kid was standing halfway between the bathroom and the living room, his hair still a bit wet, and his borrowed clothes soft and loose. He stood a head shorter than Reigen, and his wide eyes stared back, lost, waiting for instruction. Waiting as though he needed permission to even get his sheets and go to bed.God, it really was just a kid…

fuck ing , d we . g o t tHat t o o goddammit

If you wanna read, you can start here ! Or here, on tumblr.

#anon #joey babbles #abot #long post #long long post #cw: blood #for canon mob #mp100 spoilers #abot spoilers #?#well i'll tag it anyways

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lucelockwood · 7 years ago

Text

They’ve been in the papers almost non-stop since the fall of Fittes House. Lockwood, well-suited as always for the spotlight, enjoys the prestige and publicity of it all. Lucy just enjoys how happy it makes him. And, when warranted, she also enjoys teasing him for it.

Today, for example. They’re on the sofa in the living room a little after noon. Lockwood’s got his head in Lucy’s lap as he reads a feature piece titled A.J. Lockwood: The Man Behind the Mystery. For her part, Lucy is supposed to be writing up last night’s case. Instead, she’s watching Lockwood read and running the fingers of one hand slowly through his hair. He’s all but glowing with satisfaction today, making it difficult for Lucy to focus on anything but him.

She suspects this was his plan all along.

“That is an excellent article,” he says eventually, folding the paper neatly before tossing it to the floor. He’s trying to hide it, but he is immensely pleased.

“You come off as quite the cool character,” Lucy agrees, unable to stop her growing smirk. “They’ve painted a very flattering picture of you, haven’t they?”

Lockwood winks up at her. “More of a photograph than a painting, Luce.”

“It just seems to me that if the point of it was to take a closer look at the real you, you might have at least mentioned how long it takes you to do your hair each morning.”

“It doesn’t take me that long—”

“Or how bad you are at card games.”

“No one is actually good at card games, it’s all luck.”

“Or how much you love all this attention.”

There’s a brief moment of silence in which Lockwood reaches up to where her left hand is resting against the back of the sofa. He pulls her hand down, his fingers gripping hers gently. For all her teasing, the smile he throws up at her is easy, content. “I can’t argue with you there, Luce. I do quite enjoy the attention.”

His smile is contagious; Lucy can’t help but return it. “I’m well aware.”

“But,” he continues, turning his gaze on their hands, “if I’m being honest, it’s not as satisfying as it once was.”

Lucy can’t help but scoff at that. “The sheer amount of satisfaction rolling off of you while you read that article would suggest otherwise.”

“Oh, it’s exhilarating in the moment, but it never lasts,” Lockwood says. “There’s not really any substance to it. You’re news for a day and then someone else steps up and you have to do something even more spectacular to climb back up to the top, and frankly, I don’t think we’re ever going to top setting off a cluster charge in Penelope Fittes’s apartment.”

“I guess it’s all downhill from here, then.”

They’re both quiet for a moment. Lucy’s still running her fingers through his hair, thoroughly destroying his carefully set hairdo, but Lockwood doesn’t seem to mind that at all. He usually doesn’t, she’s found. His eyes flutter shut and they sit together in silence, thinking on what he’s said.

“I used to think that I had to keep the world at arm’s length,” Lockwood says at last, right when Lucy starts thinking that he might have drifted off. “That Anthony Lockwood was energized by the interviews and the publicity. He could tell the world what he wanted them to know and leave it at that. And he didn’t only apply it to the press. He treated you and George and anyone else in his life exactly the same way. It was easy. More importantly, it was safe.”

She’s surprised by the sudden confession, but it isn’t unwelcome. Even now, after months of quiet conversations and other, more intimate moments, she can’t help the thrill she feels when he confides in her. But it’s tempered by the compassion she feels for the Lockwood she’d first met. “What happened to him?” she asks after a moment.

“Someone he cared about very much left him.”

The words pierce her, and even though this is ancient history now, she still feels the need to apologize to that poor, lonely boy.

Before she can, he’s pressing a kiss to the hand he’s still holding captive. “It was exactly the wake-up call I needed, Lucy. I’d like to think I’ve learned a thing or two about letting the people I care about get close to me, and if I have, it’s all thanks to you.”

She doesn’t quite have the words to answer him just then, so she settles for squeezing his hand, her face warm.

Lockwood opens his eyes at last, grinning up at her. “In any case, I’m finding I much prefer attention that’s a little more personal. One on one. Private.”

“You like spending time with George, do you?”

Lockwood laughs in surprise and Lucy, despite the reappearance of her sass, feels her face growing just that much warmer. “I love spending time with George, but he’s got far better things to do than pay attention to a needy soul like me. Anyway, we usually end up bickering when he does.”

“Holly, then, or maybe Kipps,” Lucy fires back. Then she snaps her fingers, careful not to catch his hair. “No, I’ve got it. The skull in the jar. You were buddying up to him, weren’t you?”

“Lucy.” Lockwood’s still laughing, but it’s quieter, his expression softer. He’s still holding her hand in one of his, but the other is traveling slowly up her arm to her elbow and back again. “We have the best team in London, and you’ll never hear me speaking a single word against that skull again, but I’m afraid there’s one thing they all have going against them.”

Despite her attempts to maintain her composure, there’s a tremor in her voice when she responds. “And that is?”

He fixes her with a look so open and honest that it takes her breath away. “They’re not you.”

“Ah. It’s my attention you like.”

“It is. It really, really is.” He kisses her hand one more time before letting it go and sitting up. Lucy half expects him to leap up from the sofa and stride purposefully from the room—as he has done in similar situations, more times than she can count—but instead he shifts around so he’s sitting with his back to the room, angled towards her. His hair is thoroughly mussed, but since he’s Lockwood, of course the look suits him.

“More than all of this?” Lucy nudges the folded paper with her toes.

Lockwood doesn’t even glance in the paper’s direction. “I’d choose you a hundred times over.”

Despite her racing heart and healthy blush, something clicks in Lucy’s head, a suspicion from just a few moments ago. “So, when you wandered in here with that paper and saw me trying to get some work done, you really did thump your head down in my lap in the hopes of getting some attention?”

He’s grinning now. “You can hardly blame me, Luce, I feel like we really haven’t had any quality time for ages.”

Lucy pokes him in the chest. “Literally yesterday, at this same time.”

“Like I said, ages.” He looks down at her hands, as if he’s contemplating reaching for them again. When he looks up at her from under his bangs, his expression is almost shy. “Besides, I happen to rather enjoy having your hands in my hair.”

She knows she’s scarlet, but he’s blushing too, and Lucy finds it extremely endearing. “Well,” she sighs after a moment, “if it matters that much to you, I suppose I could lavish attention on you from time to time.” Shifting so her legs are under her, Lucy goes up on her knees and places a slow kiss on his cheek.

Lockwood wraps an arm around her waist, keeping her close. “Do the chances of that increase if I lavish you with attention first?” he asks quietly, his breath stirring her hair.

Lucy grins up at him. “Oh, definitely.”

“Excellent.” Lockwood presses a quick, gentle kiss to her lips. “Because I’ve been wanting to do this for such a long time.”

He kisses her a second time, then a third, at which point Lucy stops bothering to keep track.

Her fingers do find their way into his hair again.

#inktober ficlet #day 15 #LOL OK #I AM BLUSHING #literally this entire time #i'm such a softie #i really like taking on bigger projects than I can reasonably expect of myself in one evening #but this is so stinking fun #I fic'd again #my writing #writing practice #lockwood and co #locklyle #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood

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simmancy · 7 years ago

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I was wondering how you first started your berry legacy? Did you make a new simblr for it? How did you first start posting and getting into a routine? I really want to make a legacy myself but i'm scared that it would look really mediocre and unorganized! Any tips on how to plan out the storyline and start posting? Thank you!! (asking this to a few different blogs so sorry if yo see this question somewhere else)

I’m honestly super honored that you’re asking me! I’m still a pretty small simblr compared to a lot of people.

I’m going to put this under a cut, just so it doesn’t clutter up people’s dashes because I RAMBLE (like seriously, I’m re-reading it all now and I go on and on and on) but I’m gonna cover everything you asked!

TL;DR: get mildly inspired, get involved in the community and have fun with it!

I cannot recommending creating a new blog enough. While it’s definitely easier to just create a sub-blog off your personal, you’ll have a harder go at keeping things separate once things take off. Plus then you probably won’t have ALL your million tumblr things that you’re already following mixed in with your sim stuff, making things so much harder to follow.

Once you start your simblr (whether a sub-blog or whole new tumblr), TAG EVERYTHING. XKIT SAVES LIVES. Not really, but it will save you a lot of time once you install the Quick Tags and make tag bundles. Seriously.

At least once a day, a “reblog if you’re a maxis match simblr” thing comes across my dash–don’t be afraid to reblog those when you’re starting out. (Or the alpha equivalent if that’s your thing).

Seriously, don’t be afraid to reach out to people and get involved. Ask for sim requests, reply to things, join a Discord server–don’t be afraid to talk to people! I’ve actually made a few good friends this time around. It’s awesome.

This is just one of the unfortunate realities about things–if your pictures look good, you’ll get noticed quicker and blah blah. You can get by on just writing, but it’s a lot harder. This is still tumblr. It’s microblogging. LOOOOONG text posts (like this one lmao) are not what it’s geared towards.

Anyway. I play TS4 on Ultra, and that does a lot of work for me. Sometimes all you really need to do is sharpen and brighten things up. Reshade is another good alternative, if your computer can handle it–that takes a lot of the decision making out because it edits for you! I used to use PickyPikachu’s reshade presets. The downside is that it’s pretty resource heavy.

The basic point here is that having good lookin’ pictures goes a long way to making your stuff look “not mediocre.”

Also, and this is a side thing–find a good theme for your simblr, something that looks good for both text posts and pictures, probably something with either a sidebar or header (or both).

This is the meat of the section and it’s all really Kit/Pastille-specific.

I started up the Pastel Pastilles because I saw Berry’s challenge–I had already read Splash of Color a long time ago, and had a (now obviously abandoned) TS3 rainbowcy. But TS4 was fun and ran like a beast and I liked berry sims, so I dove in. If you were to go back in my archives, though, you’d see that I started posting a TS3 LEPacy, and that’s not even my first one.

I’m not going to even talk about the Grims in this post, since they’re really new. But they’re a prime example of using community involvement to stay interested haha. I’m very excited to play with Ruby and her future family because of all the nice sims people sent for her to eat alive become friends with.

Planning with the Pastilles

With the Pastilles, I honestly got a little tipsy one night and did my initial planning based around Halsey’s Hopeless Fountain Kingdom. Like… Not even gonna lie. That was honestly my starting point. You can almost see hints of this in some places. From there, I had certain scenes I wanted to hit.

Gen 1 - Luna - “Hopeless”; it’s about being in a shitty relationship and hoping that changes lmao (“I hope hopeless changes over time”). Luna and Dianthus were meant to have a much more obviously toxic relationship but Luna ended up having four kids by her second pregnancy and I just couldn’t play and write that fast. However, I always knew that Luna’s big moment would be telling Dianthus to get out.

Gen 2 - Verity Vine - “Now or Never”/“100 Letters” - There are a couple things that have stayed consistent in this gen: Veri and her dreams, the peach spouse’s dad was gonna be a dick and they would be separated for years, and they were gonna hook back up at a wedding.

My very first concept was that Riesling was going to be a bit more wishy-washy and bend to his father’s will (hence “Now or Never” being the song). By the middle of the generation, it was clear that Veri would become the distant one (“he said ‘please don’t go away,’ I said ‘it’s too late’”).

Part of writing a sims legacy sometimes is… letting the sims do the writing for you. Meri and Forest weren’t supposed to be the ones getting married (it was supposed to be Chai Tea and Black Cherry) and they definitely weren’t supposed to have the twins but honestly the story is better for it, you know? And obv most of Veriling’s story isn’t the way I initially planned.

All this said, once I knew where I wanted the story to go, I knew I wanted to plan around a few set-pieces: the fountain scene where Riesling trips onto Veri and she realizes “OH SHIT,” the scene where Eiswein walks in, Punk!Veri’s “I don’t dream at all anymore,” and Riesling’s “Hi, I’m Riesling Puck, you might recognize me from your dreams.” Those were all scenes I knew I HAD to get.

Gen 3 - ??? - “Angel on Fire” - it’s about anxiety lmao so I don’t mind linking it, it’s pretty obvious. Gen 3 has an anxious heir, a song about anxiety was on the nose.

I don’t really recommend the getting tipsy part, but definitely do recommend going in with a basic concept.

The cool thing about challenges is that you already have the guidelines as a starting point. One of my favorite parts about this challenge in particular is seeing how people re-interpret the rules–for instance compare the Gumdrops, Frosts, Amours, Pastilles, Fairyflosses, Prisms–we all started from the same basic rules and there’s still a lot of variation, especially once you get past the initial introductions.

Also, SERIOUSLY: don’t be afraid to take inspiration from crazy places–a song you heard on the radio, a movie, your own life, whatever. Like, I decided Veri’s generation would have it’s first Act at Oxtail University because of the “dream of ivy covered walls and smoky french cafes” line in “Beautiful” (from the Heathers musical). The song otherwise has VERY LITTLE to do with Gen 2. It’s just that line became a starting point for me.

Keeping Things Lookin’ Snazzy with the Pastilles

Looking back, you can kind of see Gen 1 was a bit brighter and lighter/different in editing style than Gen 2. I purposefully set out to get a “dreamy” feel for Gen 2′s pictures. It works for me and the Pastilles–it might not for your legacy! Play around with things to see what works.

I’ve also noticed a lot of banners nowadays (they weren’t as big my first go around here on simblr, but they’re everywhere now). I think that helps to keep things “on brand,” organized and consistent too. I personally don’t use a banner for the Pastilles–I didn’t start with one, and now it looks super wrong to me when I try to use one…. So instead, I’d recommend looking at @frost-rainbowcy–she is SUPER on-brand. I can only aspire to reach that level of #a e s t h e t i c.

HOWEVER, I do keep everything on my blog hyper-organized–there’s a main page where everything’s pretty much linked, and the character page.

TBH, you don’t need to go that in-depth. I just like leaving weird easter eggs in places. You might too.

Posting Consistently

So, I started posting the Pastilles officially almost a week after I made the first post with Luna. That’s because I played a BUNCH right at the beginning, so I’d have something consistent to post for a while. It wasn’t initially as story-heavy as it is now. That’s something you probably want to decide before you start posting.

Right now, I’m posting inconsistently because I’m trying to wait around for Cats and Dogs and not give into the temptation to give Veri and Ries the babies they keep wishing for, but….

I’m in game almost every day–I get off work most days between 2 and 4 now, so by 6 PM I’ve eaten/showered/started up TS4. Even if it’s just to make a sim for someone.

I tend to do all my picture editing on Sundays, as it’s my day off. Sometimes it bleeds over into Monday, my other day off. I don’t always write posts up those days, but I at least stick them in the queue so they’re THERE. For me, it helps giving myself that weird deadline lmao

As a result, I almost always have something queued up.

I utilize the queue like MAD. Right now it’s set at 6 posts a day between 3 PM and 12 AM EST, but I change it up depending on what I have going on and what I can crank out. Usually I leave it on 13 posts a day.

Basically, learn what works for you. It does take some trial and error, but you’ll get it eventually.

Now here’s the real truth: you won’t post consistently if you don’t love your game or your sims.

I love playing the Pastilles as much as I love writing them. To the point that I have them backed up in several places just in case. I’m genuinely attached to the family, and that makes it worth it to me. Sometimes that doesn’t happen immediately (I love Luna, and Vino, and even Dianthus that shitbag, but you can tell that I got invested with Veri and Ries–Gen 1 is 30 pages long on my blog. Gen 2 is 92 and counting).

Storywise, I stay interested because I love the fluffy romance bits and snappy dialogue as much as the Drama Bombs, and also (spoilers) I’m a sucker for supernatural stuff. So I tailored my legacy to fit that.

But when I don’t want to play sometimes I just go in game, grab a few pictures of them in CAS and redo the character page for the 25th time. And that’s okay too. I just always try to make sure I have something to post, even if it’s a small (even if it’s just Riesling’s face. Because I know that’s what y’all want. It’s cool. I get it).

I seriously rambled a lot, but I hope this helps!! Once you get started, please let me know too! I’m rooting for you, non, and any nons to come after you.

#ask #simblr tips #oh gosh i am genuinely so stoked to answer this haha #Anonymous #I️ need to edit this is the morning it’s 2:30 AM and I need to sleep haha

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tahlreth · 7 years ago

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How about ♠ with Starkquill? Please and thank you.

AN: This was so much fun! I’ve never written Peter Quill before, and honestly this prompt got me to finally watch GOTG. I’ve had it forever, but had never sat down and watched it. D: Terrible of me, I know. But I watched it to write this and OMG. I LOVED IT. Obviously I still have not seen the second movie, so uh... there’s probably wrong stuff in here? But I tried?

Also, this fic turned into a beast, and I maybe didn’t focus on the prompt enough. D: But I hope you like it anyway, @silver-twilight!

Beware of the ‘Read More’ thingy.

Peter had noticed Tony’s anxiety almost as soon as they’d met. It maybe wasn’t obvious to the unitiated , but Peter could recognize it easily. There wasn’t a person (or alien or experiment gone AWESOME) in his crew that wasn’t damaged or scarred in some way. They all had moments of panic, times when fear and regret took hold of them hard enough to reduce them to a pile of tears and the shakes. Peter’d had panic attacks before, and regularly found himself coaching his teammates - especially Drax and (strangely enough) Rocket - through their own. And while Tony wasn’t in a full-blown panic when they’d been introduced, Peter could see the warning signs.

He also noticed the way Tony’s eyes kept darting over to a stern faced man holding a brightly colored shield and the people standing behind him, a few looking actively hostile. Okaaaay… so there was probably some bad blood there. Like, maybe sorta like what had existed between him and Yondu. Because Tony was willing to stand with the group (the Vengeance Group or Renegades or something? he’d stopped trying to keep track of every team’s name) in the face of disaster, but it didn’t look like there was a whole lotta love lost between them. He could be wrong and regularly was, but he just got this sense that Tony was desperately looking for the blond leader’s approval even as he wanted that whole group as far away from him as possible.

Man, could he ever relate.

So instead of going on with the introductions, Peter stepped away from his own team, ignoring Gamora’s knowing groan and the way Rocket got his gun ready, and reached out to grab Tony’s hand. “Hey, I’m Peter Quill, better known as Star-Lord in the best, coolest parts of the galaxy. I was part scavenger, part mercenary and part thief before I became a hero - still am all those things sometimes. So I’m gonna steal you now, okay?” He waited just long enough to see Tony’s eyes go wide, but not long enough for anyone to protest. Laughing merrily at the start of this new adventure, Peter turned and pulled Tony after him, going through the members of his team - the team that would form a wall between them and any pursuers. He just hoped the Earth teams wouldn’t turn things violent, because they really kinda needed everyone alive to fight Thanos and his team wasn’t very good at holding back.

The way Tony was running behind him instead of trying to pull away or slow him down was telling. Peter was pretty sure he’d made the right call, especially when they rounded a corner and Tony started to laugh. Pride, warm and bright, took shape in his chest - part of him would always love making people smile. He was allowed to be in the lead all the way down that hallway, until another turn of a corner led them to an intersection. Peter came to a brief halt, furrowing his brow as he tried to make a decision. Just as he was about to do ‘eeny meeny miney moe’, Tony tugged on his hand and started down the right-hand branch. With Peter following instead of 'stealing’, their progress was quick without going into an all-out run again. He lost track of the turns Tony took and the stairways they used; he had the distinct impression that Tony was backtracking and going through hallways and stairwells they didn’t need to. Peter just wished he knew if it was to throw off pursuit or if Tony didn’t want him to be able to get to… wherever they were going alone.

Eventually they came to a halt, stopping in front of what looked like a flat, bare wall. After a few seconds where Tony did nothing but stare, hand starting to go clammy, Peter broke the silence. “I like it.” he announced, gesturing to the wall with their entwined hands. “Nice and sparse. I mean, I like a little more decoration myself usually, but… this is good too. You got nice walls, Tony. The Zry'Khul would love 'em.”

Tony, who’d startled when Peter first spoke, looked over at him. Though he was trying to look curious, his glazed eyes and quick, shallow breathing gave him away. “The what?”

“Zry'Khul. Nice people - weird hands though. Like… like crab-claws mixed with hooves, which is as weird as it sounds let me tell you. They don’t like a lot of decoration. I think it’s 'cause they can’t lift a lot of things - their dexterity is crap. So yeah. They’d like this very nice wall you’re showing to me.”

“Oh. Right.” Tony really didn’t look so hot; now that the adrenaline of their escape was fading, Peter’s attempt at distraction clearly wasn’t enough. There was sweat at his temples, and his breath was continuing to speed up. “I brought you here. It’s not-”

“Hey, you know what?” Peter let go of the man’s hand and held his hands up in a non-threatening gesture. “I just wanted to get you away, and it let me escape too. I hate long, boring introductions. If you need to do… whatever is probably behind there without me, that’s totally cool. I can just go away and not tell anyone about this really nice wall or give any hints about where you are. Or… if you want, I can go in there with you. Gamora hates letting anyone see her when she’s having a hard time, so if you don’t either, I get it. Drax likes me to be quiet and keep a hand on his shoulder, and Rocket doesn’t want to be touched, but needs me to talk at him. Groot… I don’t really know about Groot. That’s Rocket’s territory.” Tony was staring at him, so he gave the man a lopsided smile. “I do best when somebody touches me and lets me listen to my music. It’s soothing for the soul - keeps me from going to a real bad place in my head, you know?”

“I… guess?”

“I’m just… I just want you to know that whatever you need, it’s cool. Just let me know, okay?”

“I’m fine.” Tony told him defensively, eyes narrowing as he made an obvious effort to control his breathing. But he was still sweating, and it took only a heart beat before his eyes started to dart around the hallway again, showing way too much white.

“'Course you are.” Peter agreed amiably. “You’re fine until you tell me otherwise. Now do you want me to stay or should I head back to the absolute mess of suck I probably left behind me?” Tony’s lips twitched just a little, which Peter was pretty sure was a victory for him.

“… you can stay. Just don’t-” Tony paused, looking nervous, defiant and needy all at the same time. “They don’t know about this room. None of them. So don’t… if you could not…”

“Dude - your secret dies with me. Really far away too - probably in a whole other star system. So your secret’s gonna be pretty secure.”

Tony gave the smallest of nods, then bit his lower lip. “Fri? Open it up please.”

“Yes Boss.” The fuck-ton of weirder shit he’d seen that kept Peter from jumping at the sound of the disembodied voice. As soon as the lady-voice spoke, he heard the sound of gears whirring and parts moving. Before his eyes, the whole wall in front of them slid back a few inches, then retracted to the right enough to create a doorway. A low whistle left his lips, because he was impressed. Sure he’d guessed there was something behind the wall, but it was only because Tony had purposefully brought them there. If it wasn’t for that, he probably wouldn’t have noticed; the design was seamless, designed to make the eye turn away because it was just as bland as the rest of the walls around them.

When Tony grabbed his hand, the move was hesitant and the guy began to pull back almost immediately. Peter figured he was just afraid that the gesture would be rebuffed, so he quickly wrapped his fingers around Tony’s and gave a squeeze. “After you,” he told the other man gallantly before grinning. “I learned when I was just a kid to never go through a door first - never know who’s waiting inside to eat you.” Again, his humor didn’t seem to help Tony escape the panic he was experiencing… but it didn’t make his face go any more pinched either. Wouldn’t hurt to keep trying until the guy told him to knock it off.

Once they were through that little door, the wall closed behind them and a soft light filled the space. It wasn’t nearly as bare and boring as the wall that hid it. Peter could tell that Tony coped by tinkering, by creating, by doing. There were two workbenches on opposite sides of the sizable room. One had a chair and was full of finicky tech things that were laughably out of date even to Peter’s inexperienced eyes - though by Earth standards, it was all probably ahead of its time. The other workbench was larger but had no chair; it was clearly where Tony did some heavier lifting. He could make out a soldering iron lying amid bits of half-assembled creations. Peter wondered how many of them were ever actually finished, and how many designs were left behind once Tony was okay again.

Tony seemed reluctant to let go of Peter’s hand, leading him all the way to the first workbench. In fact, he slowed just enough that his side was pressed against Peter’s, and he could tell the man he’d stolen was someone who liked touch when he was having a hard time. Touch-starved even, maybe, if he always ran here to handle his issues and no one even knew about the place. The man came to a stop beside the chair, blinking several times. “I don’t have another one,” he said almost stupidly, eyes a bit glazed again. “I forgot-”

“It’s no problem. I don’t mind the floor - after the Kyln, everything else is comfortable, believe me. Or I can sit in the chair and you can sit on top of me. Bet I’m comfier anyway.” Tony shook his head immediately, so Peter held up his free hand again. “Just a suggestion. What you say goes.” Letting go of the man’s hand, he dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged, shifting until the bottom of his coat was fanned out around him and not pulling anymore. “This is totally good too. Do you need me to be quiet to work?”

It was an out - Tony knew it too, from the relief on his face. Whether he said 'yes’ or 'no’, it wasn’t about helping him calm down - it was about what he needed in order to work. Tony was 'fine’ with very heavy quotation marks, so Peter was sure he’d need the excuse.

“You can talk. Might not answer though. I’ve got… I have a lot of work to do.”

“Got it. Sometimes I talk to a tiny tree that just goes 'I am Groot’ over and over - even non-answers are music to my ears.” Tony watched him for a minute, like he was waiting for Peter to go 'gotcha’ and reveal how this had all been a trick. Peter just kept his most disarming smile on his face until Tony finally eased into his chair. Once he was sitting, it was like it sent a signal through his body and brain - he hunched over and hid his face in his hands, entire body beginning to tremble like a swarm of Slinrhs in a strong breeze. His breathing got harsher and quicker, and he was mumbling to himself though Peter couldn’t make out the words. He wanted to help… but Tony was 'fine’. So Peter waited for a little while, letting Tony have his moment… until he began to worry that Tony was going to start hyperventilating.

“So the floor is fine, but my back is killing me.” Peter offered conversationally, like Tony wasn’t having a panic attack a foot away from him. “Mind if I lean on you for a bit?” Tony stopped abruptly, going completely still and silent; Peter bit his tongue to keep from cursing himself. Still, he stayed quiet and waited, not wanting to take back the offer if Tony wanted it or make it seem like Peter had noticed Tony’s distress.

“Yeah. That’d fine. I need… I’m going to be working on some designs for a bit.” His every word was carefully measured and precisely spoken; Peter was sure it was taking the man everything he had not to fall apart. “You can… it’s fine.” Tony pushed away from the desk a little, and the chair squeaked when he turned to face Peter. “Gimme a blueprint, Fri.”

“Which one Boss?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony answered quickly, tersely. The lady-voice didn’t seem offended though, because a holograph sprung to life between Tony’s hands. The guy was definitely light-years ahead of the rest of Earth’s tech, which was awesome and impressive. He took it in, then made a point of messing with a few of the lines before glancing at Peter. “You can lean, if you want. I can work above you.” Again with the very careful words, expression striving for one of nonchalance and only projecting anxiety.

“Great!” Peter scooted close and turned away from Tony, then leaned back against the man’s legs. For a second he could feel Tony’s tension… and then he seemed to let some of it go as he also let out a long breath. He was still shaking though, and when Peter peeked up at him again, he could tell Tony’s breath still hadn’t slowed to its normal pace, and he was still sweating more than he should be. Tony had said he didn’t mind if Peter talked… so he launched into a tale about the time Gamora had been accidentally engaged to a Krylorian, and he only had to embellish a little. It took that story and half of another before Tony seemed to have calmed completely. He started talking back, and brushed his hands over Peter’s shoulders or hair when he did.

Neither one of them mentioned that Tony hadn’t done a thing more with the design he’d had his lady-voice project.

~.~.~

The next time Tony brought Peter to his panic room (ha, the term was even more literal than usual), there was a second chair. He didn’t comment when Peter sat in it, but his jaw did go tight. At first, he didn’t think much of it… but four stories in - most of them amazingly entertaining if he did say so himself - Tony still hadn’t seemed soothed in the slightest. So since Tony was still 'fine’, Peter casually mentioned that the chair wasn’t very comfortable and slid to the floor; Tony instantly turned his chair so Peter could lean against his legs. Almost as soon as he started talking again, Tony started to breathe easier.

The chair disappeared, and a cushion for Peter to sit on turned up in its place.

~.~.~

The first time Tony admitted he wasn’t 'fine’, his panic attack had started in the presence of the group as a whole. They’d been talking strategy and tactics against Thanos, and FRIDAY put up a very realistic projection of space as Peter and the rest of the Guardians talked about the way Thanos was likely to approach and what they and some of Tony’s unmanned suits might be able to slow him down. Busy discussing tactics with Captain America (who was okay, even if he and Tony seemed to have a lot of trouble communicating), he didn’t see the signs until it was too late. Even then, it was Rocket who suddenly jabbed him the ribs to get his attention, then directed it to Tony. Tony, who hadn’t spoken in five minutes - a long time for him. Tony, who was gripping the edge of the metal table so hard that it had dug into his skin - Peter could see drops of blood starting to drip down his palm. Tony, who was staring at the projection with wide eyes, pupils pinpricks - whatever he was seeing, it wasn’t in the room with the rest of them.

Now that Peter was looking at him, the attention of everyone else shifted to Tony as well. Maybe feeling the weight of their stares, the man came back to himself… only to start gasping for breath, face going pale as he cringed back in his chair. He had his left hand clasped over his heart, with the right holding his left arm; he must feel like he was having a hear attack. Tony wouldn’t answer when anyone spoke his name and didn’t react to touch either… not until Rhodey grasped his shoulder. The reaction was instant and violent - Tony turned and took a swing at the man Peter knew to be his best friend. He missed and fell to the floor in the process; once there he scooted until he had his back to the wall. Knees at his chest, arms wrapped around them so he could hide from the world, Tony continued to try and catch his breath, shivering and shaking terribly.

“Shit, I forgot - Tony I forgot, I’m…” Rhodey sounded distressed, but Tony wouldn’t allow him to approach… maybe because he was trying to talk to Tony from above him.

Peter slipped to the floor, then walked on his knees to Tony. “My back hurts.” he offered with no explanation to the rest of the room, most of who were watching with horrified fascination. Peter had a feeling Tony had hidden these attacks from all but a few of his team members, past and present. Turning around, Peter plopped down onto his bottom, then leaned back against Tony’s legs like they were in that hidden room. Tony shifted just enough to accommodate him, then buried his face in Peter’s shoulder. To help him calm down and shift the attention of the group, Peter regaled them all with the time Yondu had let Peter believe for weeks that they were fattening him up so that when they ate him the whole crew of Ravagers would get more than a mouthful.

Once it was over and Tony had stopped shaking, Peter stood and offered him a hand up. Tony took it and they left without a word. When Peter looked over his shoulder, he saw his team staring after them with understanding and empathy on their faces. Rhodes looked thankful, giving him a small nod when their eyes locked, and Captain America looked worried and made an aborted step after them. The door slid shut behind them, and they started toward Tony’s special, secret room. When Tony’s knees failed him halfway through the walk and he started to say 'I’m having a heart attack’ over and over, Peter scooped the man into his arms and jogged the rest of the way to that blank wall. FRIDAY opened it without needing to be told, and Peter smiled just a little. “Thanks lady-voice.”

“Of course, Star-Lord Quill.”

Instead of putting Tony in his chair, Peter brought the man down to the floor with him, settling them on the cushion. He kept holding Tony, though he shifted so that Tony’s back was to his chest and he could put his face in Tony’s shoulder like the man had done to him. He pressed one hand against Tony’s chest, over his racing heart, using it as another way to both comfort Tony and monitor the attack. This time when he started to talk, it was in a soft, soothing voice. He told Tony about the moments of quiet wonder he’d experienced on his travels, the things he’d seen that had awed him in a way most humans would never experience. Peter talked about all the beauty he’d found in his travel across the galaxy, though he did his best not to talk about space itself. He talked himself hoarse before Tony finally settled and his heartbeat returned to normal. Peter expected him to pull away and go pretend to work… but he didn’t.

Tony half-turned in his arms to tuck his head under Peter’s chin, then let out a shaky breath. “I’m not fine, Quill.”

“I know.”

“I can’t remember the last time I was.”

“I know, Tony.” He reached up with one hand to gently wipe away the man’s tears with his thumb, but didn’t otherwise draw attention to them. “It’s okay not to be fine sometimes. And it’s okay to tell people you aren’t.” Tony’s laugh was self-deprecating and miserable.

“I don’t think I’ll have to. They couldn’t have missed it after that shit-show.”

“They won’t think any less of you.”

“Wrong.”

“Well then I don’t think any less of you. I’d be totally cool with you letting me know when 'not fine’ turns to 'really bad’. You shouldn’t have to go through it alone if you don’t want to. And if you can’t tell me but want me to know, you can always have lady-voice tell me.”

“That’s not her name.”

“No, but she likes it.”

“I do, Star-Lord Quill.”

“You’re both ridiculous.” Tony sighed and shifted a little before turning his head and yawning against Peter’s throat. “I’m tired.”

“You can sleep. I’ll stay.”

“Thanks Peter.”

After that, FRIDAY usually found a way to let him know when Tony’s anxiety had reached a level where he needed (or just wanted) Peter. He and Rhodey talked a little, sharing tips and tricks. Peter learned to never touch Tony’s shoulders or head without warning and he mentioned that Tony seemed to like it when he talked about everything except the panic attack and why it was happening. Rhodey was pretty cool - Gamora seemed fond of him too, though she threatened Peter heavily whenever he mentioned it.

Thanos drew ever closer, but Peter made sure Tony didn’t have to attend the meetings that used the projections of space.

~.~.~

The first time they kissed wasn’t in the panic room. Tony hadn’t been having an anxiety attack or been distressed at all. The genius had been spending time with Rocket, both of them seeming to delight in having someone to talk tech and weapons to. Honestly, Peter was kind of worried (and really, really excited) to see the sort of stuff they’d come up with together. That day, they were all on the Milano, taking a bit of a time out from the other teams. Tony and Captain America had been arguing so much that the genius had stormed off hours before, Drax had just about come to blows with Spider-Man because of the kid’s jokes, and Natasha and Gamora had been eyeing each other with increasing hostility and ever-more-deadly weapons to sharpen in their laps. Peter was starting to get irritated with Hawkeye - his caustic personality just rubbed him the wrong way. Even Groot had started to get grumpy, his cheerful nature disappearing under very cranky 'Groot’s.

They’d all needed some air.

Tony and Rocket had already been aboard, getting along like a house on fire. It would have been irritating if Peter didn’t find it so heartwarming. He hadn’t ever seen Rocket take such a shine to anyone but Groot, and he liked seeing his friend excited and happy instead of snarling and hurling insults at the world. Part of it was probably Tony’s obvious respect for him - he never treated Rocket like an animal, didn’t make jokes about him being a 'rodent’, and would seek Rocket out for advice about tech - an acknowledgment of Rocket’s intelligence. Peter sort of wished he’d started out treating Rocket like that, with the dignity he deserved… but at least he’d gotten there in the end. All the Guardians had, and despite contentious beginnings, Peter thought they were one of the more solid teams that had come together to defeat Thanos.

To have Tony fitting into that group made Peter smile and feel sort of tingly in the regions of his heart and stomach. Tony and Rocket hadn’t even greeted them when they all filed onto the ship, too busy cheerfully debating the merits of focusing on damage or area of effect. Peter’d left them to it, clasping Drax on the shoulder before leaving him with Gamora - the ex-assassin would be able to help him soothe the last of his temper. Everyone would be hungry soon (except Groot, who seemed to live on sunlight and Rocket’s attention), and he’d like to keep the Guardians away from the Avengers for a little while longer. The Fantastic Four and the X-Men were only a little better, and Peter sometimes thought that maybe the Guardians were just too… different to fit in. They’d all been losers, freaks and criminals before they saved a planet. Even then, their quest hadn’t started out as any grand, noble gesture. It was them fighting desperately against the inevitable and managing to overcome the odds by sheer chance.

Even now, they didn’t really consider themselves heroes. They weren’t like the other teams, and that had to be why being around them for too long had all the Guardians getting a bit twitchy.

Shaking away his serious thoughts, Peter pulled on his headphones and pushed play - he could get lost in his mother’s music while he made them all dinner. He was so busy singing along and dancing between cooking them dinner that he didn’t realize Tony was in the room with him until the man took hold of the hand he’d just flung out in time to the beat. The food was ignored as they fell seamlessly into a dance for two; Peter even slid his headphones back around his neck and cranked up the volume so they could both hear the music. Tony sang right along with him, eyes lit up with joy, cheeks slightly pink from exertion. Song after song they danced and belted out, both of them slightly out of tune and neither caring even a little.

At the end of 'Come and Get Your Love’, Peter bent Tony back, making the man laugh so hard he nearly brought them both to the floor. He hurried to reel Tony back up, but Tony was trying to get there himself, and they both stumbled and lurched around the ship’s tiny kitchen, tripping over air and each other’s feet. When they finally, finally came to a stop, it was with Peter’s back pressed to the wall, Tony pressed against him, and both of them laughing hard enough to make tears come to their eyes. They kept laughing until they couldn’t breathe, Tony’s head on his shoulder and his breaths coming in soft pants that tickled Peter’s skin. After a few minutes, Peter started to run his hands over Tony’s back, head tipped back and eyes closed as he reveled in the feeling. He’d known he was attracted to Tony for a while, and he thought the feeling was mutual. Even if he wasn’t, he was always glad when he got to hang out with Tony outside of panic attacks. It was nice to smile and laugh with him.

Tony shifted and Peter looked down at him with a quirked brow; in answer, Tony gave him a sweet smile. He leaned up at the same time Peter bent his neck, and their mouths met in a perfect first kiss.

Or it would have been, if the food hadn’t caught fire and the smoke sent alarms peeling through the entirety of the ship. They laughed against each other’s mouths as the went to take care of the issue, moving in a much more awkward dance across the floor because they refused to let go of each other. By the time the attempt at dinner was extinguished, the rest of the Guardians were in the doorway of the kitchen, watching them.

They didn’t stop kissing while Drax congratulated them on their future copulation or when Groot started to tug on Tony’s pant leg, chiming in with cheerful 'I am Groot!’s continuously. Rocket jeered at them and Gamora said she would never understand human mating rituals, and they were still kissing. It wasn’t until Peter’s stomach let out a rumble that they finally separated. When he started dinner over again, Gamora teasingly towed Tony out by the ear, saying she didn’t want another meal burned to a crisp because of Peter’s distraction.

So Peter and Tony’s first kiss didn’t happen in the panic room, and they couldn’t seem to stop kissing everywhere once it had happened.

~.~.~

Tony wasn’t the only one who had anxiety. He wasn’t the only one who sometimes felt his lungs seize, who felt his heart start to stutter and gallop in his chest. Sometimes Peter remembered the last time he saw his mother, or all the fear he’d felt when he’d been kidnapped by Yondu and his Ravagers. Sometimes he remember the feeling of being unmade, his everything being unraveled and consumed by the power of the Infinity Stone. Sometimes he thought of Thanos, and was completely overwhelmed with the thought that Thanos might be able to harness the power of six of them. Before Earth, before Tony, Peter had handled his panic attacks the same way almost all the Guardians did - they latched onto the nearest member of the team to help them through it. They all knew how to handle each other’s attacks, and Gamora was the only one who wanted and needed to be away from all of them when her past and fears for the future caught up with her. Peter had preferred Drax only slightly - the hulking warrior didn’t mind casually touching him, while Rocket did it but was uncomfortable with it and Gamora could only bring herself to awkwardly pat his back.

Once he’d met Tony though, things had changed. While he would turn to his teammates if Tony was busy or otherwise unavailable, he mostly went to his boyfriend, who would lead him to the panic room. There they could cuddle on the couch that had made its appearance soon after their first kiss. Tony would run fingers through his hair and over his back; he didn’t mind that Peter sometimes held him a little too tightly. He wrapped himself around Peter and didn’t talk, because Peter wouldn’t hear him anyway.

With Tony as an anchor to the real world, he would sink into the music of his mother’s playlists completely. He let himself (and all his thoughts, all his feelings) go. Sometimes it felt like he’d ceased to exist, like he was part of the music, of the music was him. It was a feeling that was both strange and perfect, and usually he was ready to come back to the world by the time one side of the cassette tape had played.

The times that he wasn’t, the times that were so bad he came close to hyperventilating as soon as he heard the 'click’ that meant the music had ended, Tony always knew just what to do. He would shift the headphones off just one of Peter’s ears and speak quietly against it. Sometimes he would sing, and sometimes he whisper words of love and affection. If he was having a bad day of his own, he would ramble about his latest project as his fingers fumbled more clumsily than usual at the Walkman.

No matter what though, he always got it open and would turn over the tape, talking all the while so Peter wasn’t left hanging in silence. Once the Walkman shut with another 'click’, this one helping calm Peter down again, Tony would carefully tuck the player back in its proper place. Clever, calloused fingers would straighten and untangle the wires leading up to Peter’s headphones. Before he reached back down to start play, he always, always sang a short phrase that made Peter smile briefly before Tony settled the headphones back over his ears and Peter lost himself again

“Gimme the beat boys and soothe my soul, I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away… drift, drift away…”

It wasn’t exactly how that song was supposed to go, but that was okay. Peter thought Tony’s version was perfect for them.

#my fics #prompt answer #StarkQuill #Tony Stark/Peter Quill #Iron Man #Star-Lord #The Avengers #Guardians of the Galaxy #Tony Stark #Peter Quill

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deathtrapnest · 7 years ago

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“Cool Down”

fandom: Superman generally, can fit into comics/Smallville/DCAU/etc pairing/warnings: Clark Kent x Lex Luthor, NSFW/smut involved

summary: Nothing is better on a hot day than having a boyfriend with super powered freeze breath.

also on AO3

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

If someone walked in, he was screwed.

It was 86 degrees in Metropolis and Lex had spent the past six hours walking on the streets- he’d had to give a speech and talk to a union.

As soon as he’d gotten back to the safety of the Lexcorp building, he’d barked at his secretary to not bother him with anything, shut the door to his office, closed the blinds, and propped his desk chair directly up next to the air conditioner.

And now he found himself in an admittedly undignified position: tipped back in his office chair, feet propped up on the top of the air conditioner so that the fan was blowing cool air directly down his pant legs. It was heavenly. He could already feel the sweat chilling on his heated skin.

He was tipped so far back in his chair he was staring at the ceiling. He’d left the lights off- too bright. Reminded him of the sun. The room was sunken in purple shadow, panes of dim light coming from the slits in his blinds.

He took a luxuriously long gulp of chilled perrier while he loosened his tie and undid the top THREE buttons of his dress shirt (what a scandal).

Lex sank down further against the black leather seat, hearing it creak under his weight as he bent back.

When he heard a knock followed by a quick opening of the door, he panicked. And in his panic, kicked out against the air conditioner. The chair lost balance and with a crash he toppled over onto the ground- legs flying out over his head as he nearly somersaulted backward.

“M-Mr.Luthor?!” his secretary’s voice squeaked, a very reasonable amount of fear in her voice.

“What?!” he snapped, immediately leaping to his feet so fast it made his own head spin. “I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed!”

“I’m sorry” she flinched. “You just always said that Mr.Kent should always have priority and-“

Clark’s head popped through the half open doorway, big smile on his face, not a drop of sweat on him, hair perfectly in place. The bastard.

Lex could feel heat in his own face completely separate from the outdoor temperature. He picked his office chair up off the ground and set it right, as loudly and aggressively as possible.

“Fine.” Lex said, dismissing the secretary with a wave of his hand. She breathed a sigh of relief at avoiding being fired for the present moment, and darted away.

Clark closed the door behind him and sauntered in, hands in his pockets and too smug smile on his face.

You look….” Clark paused, eyes scanned Lex up and down, from the unbuttoned and untucked shirt, the loosened tie, the beads of sweat on his forehead and collecting on his collarbone. “…debauched.”

Lex rolled his eyes. “Not all of us have bodies impervious to changes in climate.”

Clark sat on the edge of Lex’s desk “You wear it well.”

Lex scoffed, sitting back in his chair (though careful to maintain his balance in it now…) and taking another swig of his drink. The bottle was cold, dripping perspiration. He put it against the back of his neck, almost groaning at the immediate cold relief it brought.

When he looked up, Clark was perched on the edge of the desk still, looking at him with his lower lip caught between his teeth. “Want some help beating the heat?” he offered.

Lex took the bottle from his neck and placed it on the desk, then leaned forward, running his hand across his throat and down the plane of his chest, purposefully provocative as he looked up at Clark through his eyelashes. “I suppose you might as well make yourself useful if you’re here.”

Clark seated himself more fully on the desk and patted his thigh. “Put your leg up.” he said. Clark could be infuriating. He had his own special brand of cocky assuredness that he somehow managed to always make seem wholesome and jovial. His eyes were all sparkling Smallville blue skies, not a hint of guile. But the naughty smirk poised on his lips said otherwise.

Lex frowned but complied, slapping his much more slender leg over Clark’s thigh with deliberate and petulant force.

Clark looked him in the eye as he undid the laces on his shoe, easing it off his foot and tossing it to the ground, then pulling his sock off.

He pulled Lex’s leg forward, holding him by the ankle, and dipped his head down, long dark eyelashes visible against his cheek as he pursed his lips and slowly breathed ice breath against the sole of Lex’s foot.

Lex shivered, his breath hitching as Clark looked up from his task, blue eyes meeting his and gaze unwavering as he took a breath and then slowly blew out on each individual toe, his full, parted, lips so close they were practically touching Lex’s skin.

“Does it feel good?” he asked softly.

Lex nodded.

Clark pushed up the leg of Lex’s slacks, rubbing his cheek against the soft, hairless white skin of his calf before breathing gently, cooling the skin to the bone everywhere the huff of air from his mouth touched.

Clark repeated the procedure on Lex’s other foot and leg, delighting when Lex grunted and shifted in his chair when he laid an unexpected bite on his ankle bone.

“Come here” Lex commanded and Clark smiled prettily as he dropped Lex’s leg and climbed across the desk, straddling Lex’s lap.

He pressed his mouth against his neck, blowing cold air gently in between kisses and laps of his tongue which was as cold as an ice pack. Lex groaned, arching his hips up against Clark, snaking his arms around him and squeezing his thighs through his slacks.

Lex loved the way Clark’s erection felt grinding against his through the fabric of their suits. The friction and restriction of expensive designer fabric on him just intensified the urgency of his need. He made a keen of desperation as he humped against Clark, the desk chair squeaking under their combined weight.

Clark unbuttoned Lex’s shirt carefully- knowing from experience that he’d be reprimanded harshly if he dared rip any of Lex’s Armani, even if it was in the throes of passion. Even his fingers felt blissfully cool against Lex’s skin as he slid them across the sweat soaked planes of his torso. Then he dropped his head and ran the tip of his tongue, cold and wet like an ice cube, around Lex’s nipples, drawing them into hard points almost immediately.

“You think you’d be any cooler if you weren’t wearing a suit…?” Clark suggested, pawing at Lex’s crotch, running the heel of his palm roughly over the curve of his cock beneath the seam.

“I have a meeting in an hour.” Lex said between gritted teeth.

“I think that’s plenty of time.” Clark said agreeably. He swirled his tongue around Lex’s earlobe. “I’ll try not to make too much of a mess of you.”

“There won’t be a mess if you swallow it all” Lex replied, pulling his belt undone and dropping it to the ground beside him.

Clark’s mouth was useful for freezing breath but Lex found it was even nicer when it was warm for him.

Lex never got tired of seeing Clark on his knees, hunched under Lex’s desk, taking his cock in his mouth.

He threaded his fingers through Clark’s hair, guiding his head down until he was bobbing over his lap in a steady rhythm. Clark made noise when he gave head- muffled little hums of appreciation that vibrated lovely in his throat, loud breaths through his nose like a race horse that Lex felt in puffs of air against his exposed cock every time he withdrew, and utterly obscene slurping sounds even though saliva always seemed to spill from the sides of his lips anyway once he started going with enough gusto. It was enough to drive Lex mad, digging his fingers against the nape of Clark’s neck as he thrust upward into the tight heat of his mouth.

It didn’t take long before he was coming, arching his back against his chair and holding Clark’s head down so hard that he was gagging on him. Clark swallowed all the mess- as promised- and released Lex with a gasp.

Clark wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and adjusted his glasses as he stood up, looking flushed and pleased with himself with red, swollen, lips.

Lex took Clark’s face in his hands and kissed him, tasting himself on Clark’s tongue before he pulled away.

Clark turned his head away bashfully, smiling. “Zip up your fly, Mr.Luthor.”

Lex smirked at him and did so, but Clark stilled his hands when he began redressing and re-buttoned his shirt for him.

“When does your meeting end?”

“I’ll be home in time for dinner.” Lex said with a bite of sarcasm. He couldn’t take his own domesticity with Clark seriously. It just seemed to improbable.

“Good.” Clark said, taking Lex’s tie in his hands and tightening it up to his collar. He turned to leave but before he got to the door said over his shoulder. “Don’t fall off your desk chair again before then. I don’t want to hear about you injuring yourself.”

#clex #clark kent #lex luthor #smallville #superman #my fanfic #fanfic #mine

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lavieendonna · 7 years ago

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Brushwork || ArtMajor!Calum AU (Chapter 17)

Summary: An Art Major AU where Dallas - third year gawky art student at VCA - makes a deal with Calum - her cute new neighbour and project partner - and they spend the entire year learning that the perfect masterpiece takes a whole lot of brushwork.

Date: 18 September 2017 Requested: not really no lmaoooo Pairing: Calum + Dallas Words: 3.3K Warnings: some tense friendships here. Mali makes another appearance. Um. Yeah, i think that’s it. A/N: This is not really up to a great standard, but I think I did well for someone with writer’s block! Please let me know what you think, I love getting all kinds of feedback! Big Love xo

Ask | Masterlist | ‘Brushwork’ Spotify Playlist | Next Chapter | ‘Brushwork’ News

Chapter 17: ‘Yeah, You’re Right, You Should Probably Neck Yourself Now To Save Yourself The Humiliation’

I’d only moved about two feet to the right in my painting progress all fucking morning. It was 3 in the afternoon and we were on a late coffee/lunch break and Calum was trying his best to assure me that we were making good time and that we’d actually been super productive. But the paint on his neck and face and on my arms and nose said otherwise (there were a few minutes somewhere near 12 o’clock where we were tired and distracted and looking desperately for something to paint other than this damn wall and that stupid, faceless ballerina).

“Dallas, you need to just fucking chill, okay?” He said for what felt like – and I hoped it would be – the final time. He wasn’t really reassuring me anymore, in fact he looked almost frustrated as he rolled his eyes at me. I scowled at him over a milkshake that we were sharing. “We’re going to finish on time.”

“Fuck you.” I pouted. “Don’t swear at me.” Calum chuckled, eyes wild and fake-offended as he snatched the chocolate shake from my side of the table and sucking on the straw.

“Alright then, no more milkshake for you then.” He teased and I just offered a sidelong expression.

“Whatever.” I shot at him. “I didn’t ask for it to start with.”

“You literally paid for it.”

“… that’s not the point.”

“You’re a dick.”

And the conversation – if you could call it that – went on like that until we’d arrived back at the wall with a fresh shake that Calum paid for this time. It was strawberry and the pink colour looked like it belonged in a sex novel, the way Calum kept licking the residue off of his lips. I purposefully stopped looking at him after the third or fourth time because every time I watched him I would blush.

“What do you reckon?” I asked him through an almost defeated sigh. We stood about 6 feet away from the wall, side by side, and staring at our unfinished work. “How much longer do you think we need?” Calum hmmm’ed and ha’ed next to me for a moment, his face contorting to match his thoughts. To me it looked like this piece was never going to be finished. The dancer still had no face, her hair had no colour, the middle section was still predominantly only outlines – it was going to take a miracle for us to finish this on time.

“I think we can do it.” Calum said confidently. “If we both work on the background now we could be done in another couple of hours. The tutu detailing… is going to take another day or two, probably. But I can skip a couple lectures to get it done. I think.” He didn’t sound as convinced as I wanted him to be about this, but I took whatever I could get.

“Alright.” I looked at Calum and he offered me the milkshake. I was tempted to just take a sip as he held it to me, but I had this premonition of that ending in my choking on the straw and projectile vomiting all over the poor kid. I shuddered at the thought and just took the plastic cup like a normal person. “I’m going to kill myself by the end of this, but alright.” Calum rolled his eyes at me through a chuckle again.

“Such a flair for the dramatic.” He laughed. “Come on, I’ll do the bottom this time.” He started to head toward the wall and I shook my head as I followed behind.

“Uh, no.” I disagreed. “No, if I go up on the ladder I’ll die.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Calum practically wailed, his laugh musical and not at all offensive – though it probably should have been. “Is there anything in this world that won’t end in your untimely death?!” He looked at me over his shoulder and his brown eyes were swimming with tease but also bewilderment.

“No.” I deadpanned, face straight and completely serious. Calum eyes rolled one more time and I let myself smile just a little as he wandered over to his palette that he’d abandoned at the base of the wall, reapplying the paint with a little grin of his own.

I felt like I was in some sort of trance or a dream – this was all too surreal to be true. The most unbelievable fact was that Calum, by some miracle, wasn’t sick of me yet. This whole semester I had been waiting for him to realise how bat-shit crazy I was and head for the hills. But it hadn’t happened and I had the feeling that I was never going to get over that.

Around 20 minutes into the new painting session, a low whistle coming from right behind Calum and I pulled us out of our focus. Both of us spun around to see who was commenting on our unfinished piece of shit and to both of our surprise, it was my sister.

“Looking good, nerds.” She said with a relatively impressed grin, arms folded across her chest and her head tilted to the left as she continued to somewhat objectify our mural.

“How are we the nerds?” Calum said first. “Aren’t you in law school?” Belle replied with a wave of her hand and a cheeky smile that made Calum giggle and turn back to the wall.

“What’s up?” I took to asking, squinting a little bit in the afternoon light that was reflecting around the atrium.

As I gazed up at my sister – not for the first time in my life – I saw that she looked relatively dressed up. Black skinny jeans that weren’t ripped (actually, looking them, they were probably mine), tight fitting grey v-neck tee and her hair, as always, pulled back into its un-messy messy bun and large hoop earrings (that I was pretty sure she’d stolen from Polly eons ago) dangling from her ears. She’d done her makeup natural, but on point, and I could tell by the way that she’d stolen my good handbag and clung onto it for dear life, that she’d just been out.

“Where were you?” I cocked an eyebrow at my sister, curious. Part of the reason she rarely came to visit me at school was for the lack of things for her to do here. I wanted to know what she’d found to entertain her enough that she wanted to dress up for it.

“Oh,” She shrugged but offered a small, secret smile I think was only meant for herself. “I had lunch with Ashton.” I blinked back my surprise.

“Jesus.” I mumbled. “How did that go? Did you rip him a new one?” Belle rolled her eyes, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she shook her head at me.

“No.” She said pointedly. “We just… talked. Cleared the air.”

“I didn’t realise the air between you guys needed cleaning.” Calum commented – although I didn’t think he meant to on purpose because when I looked up at him on the ladder I could see a faint blush in his cheeks. But Belle shrugged anyway with a small, content sigh.

“It did, and now it is, and I think we’ll be okay now.” She said with a small nod and I smiled up at her gently.

“That’s awesome, B.” I told her.

“Yeah.” She said, and dare I say it, she was almost back to normal. “Yeah, we’re going to go out for dinner tomorrow night so it should be like old times.” She smiled pretty wide again and while my heart was bursting and I was happy that my sister was finally feeling better, I couldn’t help the hesitation and slight fear for her too.

“Oh.” I stammered a little under my breath trying to find my footing and the right words to say that wouldn’t offend anyone. “That’s, um. Yeah cool. Did you… I mean, did you tell Polly yet?” I could feel Calum looking down on me with that curious eye, wandering about my motives – and quite honestly, I was wandering about my motives too. All I knew was that Polly’s heart would break if she knew that my sister was going on a date with the boy she was borderline in love with, but also that Belle would never intentionally hurt Polly that way. I just wanted them both to be okay.

“Eh, it’s fine.” Belle waved her hand again, her demeanour stiffening a little bit but her tone jumping a couple of octaves. “She’s fine.”

“Fair enough…” I mumbled out. “Are you headed off now?” My sister nodded and she come over to kiss my cheek quickly before she turned on her heel and quickly sped off with my jeans and my handbag.

“That was weird.” Calum commented. I just nodded, staring after my sister with a small frown.

“Always is with her.” I muttered, turning back to my palette and brush.

I was starting to notice that Mali took longer to answer the phone than any normal human did. I wasn’t overly bothered by it – phone calls tended to give me extreme anxiety, so the longer I could put them off the better. But Calum’s sister was on some other wavelength where messaging or texting just wasn’t an option. I would text her to ask a really quick question and then all of a sudden, she was calling me 5 seconds later to answer and then I would hang up at 1 in the morning after talking about the role of push-up bras in the Twilight series for a couple hours. Seriously. That actually happened. It was weird.

I threw myself back onto the sofa, legs dangling off of the arm rest as I stared up at the ceiling, my heart kind of doing flip turns in my chest because Mali had just finished rattling off some of the things that Calum had said to her in the past 24 hours. That’s why she told me to call her – Calum had told her that he was super nervous about our date.

“Honestly, I feel like I should be more nervous than him.” I confessed. “I am more nervous than him.”

“You don’t know that.” She said very matter-of-factly. I could almost picture the dead-eyed look she would shoot me with if she was here.

“I do know that,” I fired back. “Because it’s true. I’m going to shit myself, I know it. I’m terrified.”

“What for?!” She yelled into the phone. “You told him yourself, there’s nothing to be scared about.”

“Actually,” I began my correction. “I told him there was nothing to be nervous about, I didn’t say anything about being scared. Secondly, I lied.”

“Thirdly, you’re an idiot.” Mali interjected and I could hear the frustration oozing from her voice the same way Calum’s did. “Seriously, don’t you ever get sick of being so… paranoid?”

“I’m not paranoid.” I pouted.

“Oh, whatever, you are so.” She chuckled. “DJ, if Calum didn’t like you already he wouldn’t have asked you out.” I sighed, eyes closed as I tried to let Mali’s pep talk work its magic.

“I know.” I said quietly. “I just… I really don’t want to fuck this up. I fuck up pretty much everything else in my life so it would be a nice break if this was the one thing I don’t ruin.”

“Don’t worry.” Mali was almost begging me now. “Just be yourself and you’ll be fine.” I scoffed, but I didn’t interrupt. “I can honestly tell you that even though Calum is just as nervous as you, he really likes you and he’s excited. He really likes spending time with you.”

I couldn’t help the little smile on my lips when Mali said that. And I didn’t blush either, so I guess that was a big step for me.

“I know.” I ended up saying carefully. “He told me.”

“Well, there you go!” Mali said cheerfully. “He’s confident when he’s with you, and I haven’t seen him like this in a long time. You’re going to be okay.”

Weirdly enough, I felt better. I never expect to when I confide in my friends about my problems – which is dumb, I know, but it’s like every time I go in to these conversations completely expecting the other person to tell me, ‘yeah, you’re right, you should probably neck yourself now to save yourself the humiliation’ it feels just that little bit better when they don’t.

I sat up with a jolt as I heard the front door being unlocked. It was Polly, obviously, and it made my heart race for a whole new reason because for some reason I felt like she was about to walk in on me doing something illegal or dirty. According to her version of the Friendship Agreement, talking to Mali about my boy problems probably was illegal and dirty. Did I have time to do anything about it, though? No. Because Polly had this amazing talent of barging into any room she ever entered.

“Hey, I brought – oh, sorry.” I watched with secret panic as Polly, in all of her beauty and grace, dumped a bunch of plastic bags from Riot! on the floor in front of the kitchen counter and a Pizza Hut box on top.

“I gotta go.” I said quickly into the phone, not waiting for Mali to say ‘goodbye’ before I hung up. I would call her back later to explain – or, at least, I would text her saying that I would call her back to explain and then not do it. I offered a tight-lipped and hopefully non-suspicious smile to Polly who just looked at me kind of awkwardly.

“Uh, hey.” I said as cheerfully as I could muster.

“Sup…” She drawled out slowly. “Who were you talking to?” For a split second, she narrowed her eyes at me as if she knew my dark secret – not that I’d been overly secretive about my ability to make a new friend that I actually liked or anything. But Polly’s dagger eyes didn’t last long anyway, so I just cleared my throat a little bit and decided that maybe this wouldn’t go disastrously wrong if I told Polly the truth.

“Oh, um.” I coughed one more time. “That was Mali.”

“That’s Calum’s sister, right?” Polly’s eyebrow rose gently and I just gave a small, slow nod.

“Yeah, um.” I gave a soft chuckle. “I wanted to, like. Talk to her. About Calum.” Polly just stared at me a little blankly for a moment or two, and it was a little frightening because I couldn’t for the life of me tell what she was thinking. Usually I could pick up on however Polly was feeling based on a single twitch of her nose but something was different this time. Her eyebrows furrowed together ever-so-slightly and the corners of her mouth turned down just a fraction, but it was like there was so much going on in her head that I couldn’t read her eyes anymore. I’d never felt this way about Polly before. It was off.

“You talk to her about Calum?” She asked, finally breaking the silence. I gulped, her quiet and hesitant reaction not exactly what I was expecting.

“Yeah.” I said again. “She and I… I dunno, it’s just…?” I frowned, because I was starting to feel like Polly was after a specific explanation but I couldn’t really figure out what that was or if I could even give that to her. Polly frowned too. I gulped again.

“I thought…” Polly gave a seemingly frustrated sigh as she cut her sentence short, walking into the kitchenette and switching on the kettle.

“What?” I asked, standing up from the couch and wandering around the other side, leaning against the back. Polly shook her head, taking another moment to exhale kind of loudly and shake her head while she chose her words.

“I just… I thought we were going to start telling each other stuff.” She finally spat out, not really looking at me and just focussing on making herself a coffee. “I thought…” She took another breath and there was a moment where I was actually scared I’d hurt her feelings.

“What?” I prompted her gently, not liking the way she kept speaking in half-sentences. The taller girl let out the breath she’d been keeping in and finally looked at me, her eyes less clouded this time – which slowed my heart rate significantly, thank God.

“I just don’t know why you keep not talking to me about your love life.” She said, and I was pretty sure I saw a tiny small twitch on her lips but something in my gut was telling me my brain was tricking me into seeing what I wanted to see. “I’ve been invested in this since day one, remember?”

I gave a tiny chuckle, scratching the back of my neck sheepishly but shrugging at the same time.

“I know, it’s just –!” I couldn’t stop the chuckling, and that was probably bad because this felt like a relatively serious conversation. “Mali has different intel than you! She’s his sister. And he tells her everything, so I just… I wanted to know stuff Calum wouldn’t have told you.”

Polly rolled her eyes but managed to force out a small laugh.

“You underestimate my relationship with Calum, you know?” She said and I smiled, rolling my eyes too as I crossed my arms over my chest. “How’s B?” She changed the subject and I blinked again, because I didn’t realise she knew that Belle had been here.

“Oh, yeah, she’s… Well, she’s B. She was a bit upset, but she was pretty good when she left this afternoon.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Dad’s anniversary is coming up and she just needed someone to talk to.”

“Fair enough.”

“She made peace with Ashton, too, which is good.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, they’re going to dinner tomorrow night.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Polly was being weirdly quiet and her sentences were tapering off again. It was weird, and the sudden tension in the room and… animosity rolling off of her shoulders towards me; well, needless to say, it was freaking me out a little bit.

“Pol?” I paused to let her decide if she was going to answer me.

“Mm?” She hummed, and I could feel the wall she was putting up as she abandoned the coffee she was making and started gathering her things from her handbag.

“Does my sister going out with Ashton bother you?” I asked carefully, watching as Polly froze, eyes glazing over. She looked like she was shutting down, and it scared me because she’d never done that before and I had no idea why she was doing it now.

“No.” She smiled at me, but it didn’t reach her eyes – in fact it was icy, the kind of smile that held sarcasm and annoyance behind it. “No, it’s um. It’s cool, I’m happy for them.”

“Are you sure?” I prodded, grimacing because this whole conversation felt the way as the one we had years ago before she punched me and broke my nose. “You just seem so… off?” Polly just shook her head.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” She said quickly, like she was saying it just to shut me up and moved on. It stung. And I was annoyed and confused because she was icing me out, and while it had happened once or twice it was never like this and never lasted this long. “I’m gonna go see Ash. Don’t wait up.”

And with that, she left, hot pizza still on the counter and her shopping bags still all over the floor. I was left standing there feeling like an idiot.

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