#reposting this again because tumblr hid my post | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nejibaby · 4 years ago

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Want You Back

Pairings: Portgas D. Ace x Y/N

Song reference/inspiration: Want You Back by 5 Seconds of Summer

Summary: You broke up with Ace a few days before he sets off to become a pirate. You thought that it would probably be the last day you’d ever see him again. But you meet him once again in Alabasta.

Word count: 7k

A/N: This somehow turned out to be too long for my style lol but I just can’t get enough of Ace… Anyway, I hope you have fun reading this as much as I loved writing it. Please let me know your thoughts~

Reposting this because Tumblr $uck$. Please turn a blind eye if you’ve seen this post already last Feb lol

You’re walking down the streets of Nanohana, purchasing water and provisions for your trip when you suddenly stop in your tracks as you see a merchant selling orange roses.

The orange roses don’t intrigue you per se since you’ve long learned that such color could be produced by cross-breeding red roses with yellow roses, however, it’s not often you see such wonderful, healthy flowers in a desert town. That, and well, the sight brought back memories of your past with your first love who you fell in love with too young, too hard, too fast.

You could almost hear the pitter patter of the rain on that eventful day. You could almost see the dark sky on the horizon. You could almost feel the same aching sensation on your heart. The orange roses reminds you of the day you broke up with your first love.

You were both only seventeen then. It was just a few days before his departure; before his journey to fulfill his dream on becoming a pirate. You supported him in his dream, you really did. You believed in him, he’s strong. Reckless, but strong, and determined. He promised he’d come back to you after he’s proven himself, but that’s when you doubted him. That’s the only time you doubted.

While he wanted to be a pirate, you wanted to be a scientist. You have had a curious mind since you were young and it never really went away until now that you’re twenty. When you were younger you’d question, “Why is the sky blue?”or “Why does it rain?” or “How much salt is in the ocean?” But when you grew older, the questions evolved to “What is the mechanism behind this?” or “What would happen to this if certain variables changed?”

He craved for validation while you craved for knowledge.

You thought that it just wouldn’t work out between the two of you. He doesn’t need a scientist and you didn’t need a pirate to achieve your dreams.

Sure, it was possible for a long distance relationship, but you didn’t think you could handle that much distance. It would drive you crazy. You could barely handle the days when you’re at Windmill Village and he’s at Mt. Colubo, living with Dadan Family. And those two places weren’t even that far from each other. It was the trek there that was dangerous so when you were younger, before the two of you even started dating, you always have to come with your aunt Makino, and Woop Slap to get there and visit him, Luffy, and Sabo.

When you were ten years old, you only visited once in three months and then somehow it turned to twice in a month. When you reached thirteen years old, you were finally allowed to go there by yourself wherein you’d visit weekly, sometimes even stay the night. Dadan was actually apprehensive of letting you spend your days there, because she claimed she doesn’t like kids, but you were the only kid on her watch that actually did chores so she eventually relented. Those were the days you loved most, because he was just so close, you didn’t have to worry too much about him.

But soon enough he was leaving. Everyday he promised he’d come back but you doubted. The Grand Line is such a dangerous place. It‘s referred to as the Pirates’ Graveyard by everyone. It was even written in some books you’ve read about the sea. If that wasn’t enough reason to be worried sick, statistics say only a handful of men were able to come out of it alive. While you knew he’s strong, you also knew strength just wasn’t enough.

Truth be told, you wanted to travel the seas too, out of curiosity, of course. There were so many mysteries about the sea, so many unexplained phenomena, so many undiscovered things — things that you wanted to learn about. But you weren’t brave enough nor were you strong so you abandoned that thought.

Orange roses adorned your shirt on that day. You remember the feeling of the raindrops pouring over your body. It was raining in the middle of the night and you were outside Dadan’s house. You were soaked but you didn’t plan on taking cover anytime soon. You just sat outside, wallowing in despair for what you’re about to do.

“Y/N? What are ya doing here? You’re going to get sick!” He called out.

“Why are you still up, Ace?” You asked.

“I wanted to check on you but you weren’t in bed.”

You remember feeling your heart stutter at his words. Ace was rough around the edges but he was always gentle and sweet when it came to you. And you were just about to break his heart.

“Ace, we should break up.”

You remember the way he laughed as if you were telling him a joke. “Oi, don’t joke about things like that.” But he faltered when you didn’t laugh with him.

You couldn’t help but wonder if that was the last time you’d see his face. You stared at his face for a while longer, memorizing his face before saying, “This will never work.”

You expected him to shout, to ask you why, to demand answers. But he just gave you a look of betrayal. Your heart dropped at the sight of that. Your vision became blurry from tears that were threatening to fall. He looked away. Were those tears in his eyes or was that just the fucking rain?

You desperately wished he’d say something, anything. You just wanted to hear his voice again. But there was no response, he just clenched his fists and his jaw, and then he was walking away.

You didn’t have it in you to stay at Dadan’s house after doing such a cruel thing so you left that night after crying a few hours after Ace walked away. You left a note for Dadan though, telling her you were feeling sick and you went home, just so she doesn’t worry about your sudden disappearance.

You really did get sick after that day. Even on the day of his departure you were sick. Makino didn’t allow you to come and see him go but she promised she’d explain why you weren’t there. Despite that, you still did it anyway, you still went there, but you hid behind trees. How could you not? You might never see him ever again. Okay, maybe you’d see him in the newspaper or the wanted posters, but probably never face to face, so you pushed yourself to come. You were glad you did, at least you got to see him smile so radiantly before he left.

A couple of months after he braved the seas, you left Windmill Village too to study science in a different town. But life didn’t really work out the way you wanted it to. In a series of misfortunes, you ended up becoming a pirate too, albeit temporarily, just to finance your dream.

The only thing that you lucked out on was your captain Naguri, an old man who used to be the captain of the doctor you apprenticed to. The doctor who you worked with didn’t want to continue becoming a pirate due to his old age so he recommended you to Naguri as a substitute. Naguri welcomed you to his crew despite you specifically telling him you’d only accompany them for five years and that you were only in it for the treasures. He told you it was fine and that five years was enough so you ended up joining them.

You went from wanting to study science to becoming an apprentice of a pirate doctor to becoming a pirate yourself and having a bounty for your head in a span of three years. If you only knew you’d be a pirate, you wouldn’t have broken things off with Ace. You would’ve just gone with him. But it was too late now.

You sigh as you touch the orange rose. It reminded you of the worst night of your life but you don’t dare to forget it since it was a memory of the last day you got to spend with him.

“Would you like to buy one, miss?” The merchant asks. “It’s—”

You didn’t get to hear the price of the rose because a familiar scream suddenly fills the air. When you whip your head to the direction of the sound, you see a very familiar straw hat on a man running away from Marines. Then it dawns to you that the man is Luffy.

You quickly scramble for your money to buy a single orange rose and then you run towards Luffy. Maybe it wasn’t the right decision to come after him, mainly because he’s being chased by Marines and you’re a wanted pirate too with a 25,000,000 bounty for your head. But he’s your best friend and you haven’t seen him for three years! That, and well, he’s in trouble so it’s not like you’d turn a blind eye on that.

Not a while later, you notice that the marine commander who’s chasing Luffy is Smoker, who is notoriously known for never letting pirates escape from his area of jurisdiction. As far as you know, Smoker is assigned at Loguetown so you wonder why he’s in Alabasta. And then you realize it’s Luffy he’s after. That dumbass could never lie low. You shake your head, Luffy almost always attracts trouble. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed with him yet.

You’re about to step in to save Luffy or at least, to buy him some time to escape when you hear another familiar voice.

“Heat Haze!”

You stop in your tracks as you saw a blast of fire stop the smoke attack and then his figure appears.

Ace.

You watch as he smirks at the Marine Commander, “Give it up. You may be smoke, but I’m fire. With our abilities, a fight would be pointless.”

Ah, Ace is a devil fruit user now. No wonder he’s known as “Fire Fist Ace.”

“Ace!” Luffy says, shocked.

“You never change, Luffy.”

They briefly talk about something, you aren’t able to catch it because your eyes are scanning over Ace. You can’t believe he’s there. You feel your heart beat faster at the sight of him. He’s more muscular now and taller. He looked healthier and stronger too. He’s still as attractive as ever, maybe even more than before. He’s grown into such a fine man.

But this isn’t really the time to be ogling your past lover. You still have Luffy to worry about. So despite the fact that you wanted to stay and watch Ace fight, you sprint off to catch up with Luffy and his friends.

In that instance, you realize that there’s a huge difference between the speed of a person when they’re running away from something (usually from danger), and the speed of a person when they’re running to catch up with someone. While you could see that his friends are running around together in one path, you don’t see Luffy’s straw hat in the group. You may have underestimated his abilities to get lost. With a sigh, you try to look for him in a different route.

You’re awfully tired by the time you find Luffy. And you’re pretty late too because he’s already with Ace and they’re in the middle of another brawl. It’s just like the two of them to get into a fight with a bunch of people. This time it’s with the Billions from Baroque Works.

You want to assist them in their fight even if they don’t seem to have a problem handling thugs like those. After all, you’ve grown to be a great fighter now.

You were pretty much a wimp when you were younger, so you may or may not want to actually show off the fighting skills you learned from your crewmates which led you to have a bounty for your head.

However, your stamina isn’t really that great yet so you still have to catch your breath first. You sit on a stray crate, watching the two fight against the group, just like the old days.

Ace didn’t know what prompted him to look behind him while Luffy stretched his arms to attack a man with a huge sword. But what he sees stuns him. There you are, just a few meters away, casually sitting on a crate with your head tilted slightly to the right and arms crossed over your chest. His breath hitches. He asks himself, were you really there this time or was it just another one of his imaginations?

You’re surprised when Ace snaps his head at your direction. You feel your body involuntarily jolt when you lock your eyes with him. Even after all these years, he still makes your heart flutter.

“Gomu gomu no Bazooka!” Luffy finishes his attack on his opponent.

Ace doesn’t look away from you as if you’d suddenly disappear if he even dared to blink. “Is that…?” He whispers.

“Hmm?” Luffy asks, not really sure what Ace is referring to. Then he follows Ace’s line of sight. When he sees you there, a smile finds his face almost immediately.

Luffy is the first one to approach you. “Oi, Y/N! It’s been a while!”

You grin. “I know right? I haven’t seen you in ages, Luffy! I saw your poster the other week, you’ve gotten yourself a pretty huge bounty.”

Luffy laughs at your statement, you’re pretty sure he’s proud of himself, so unlike you, who panicked after finding out about your own wanted poster.

Ace steps in while Luffy laughs. “Y/N?”

He merely said your name, but it made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“A-Ace,” you stutter awkwardly, blood rushing to your face as you do so. You internally scold yourself, how dare you act like this when you broke his heart three years ago.

“Isn’t that the pirate Y/N?! The one with a bounty of 25,000,000 beli?”

You and Ace didn’t notice the fear etched on the faces of the other Billions as they stared at your group. You and Ace didn’t notice that Luffy has started walking again. You’re both too focused with each other to the point where you feel like nothing else mattered.

The two of you only snapped back to reality when Luffy turned around and said, “Aren’t you two coming? We still have to find my ship and my friends.”

You give Luffy a sheepish smile and then mumble a soft apology. You get off of the crate and make your way towards Luffy. Ace follows closely behind you.

After walking around the block, Luffy points out, “Ah, the ocean!”

The three of you make your way to the coast. “See your ship?” Ace asks. Luffy looks around to find his ship.

You sigh as the same group of thugs come into view again. “You won’t escape!” One of them says.

“You guys don’t know when to quit,” Ace says rather irritatedly.

You know Ace never backs down from a fight so it was kind of a surprise to you when he didn’t finish off the enemies a while back, but then again, time was of essence considering the Marines were hot on Luffy’s track. Yet, a small part of you reasons that maybe it’s because you’re there that he wants to avoid an all out attack from the group.

Before you could come up with another theory about it though, Luffy declares that he’s found his ship and proceeds on waving at them.

Then without a warning, Luffy grabs you. He loops his arm a few times over your stomach and then uses his other arm to reach for the railing of his ship. The next thing you know, the two of you are zooming towards the ship at an insanely fast speed.

And then you both crash. If that wasn’t bad enough, instead of crashing on the floor, you crash on someone. Luffy only laughs as he stands up, “Sorry about that, Sanji, Chopper, Y/N.”

“Bastard!” says the blonde male who you both crashed into. He grabs Luffy and shakes him, “Don’t you know your own strength?! I oughta throw you overboard!”

It takes a while for you to gather your bearings. By the time you do, the blonde male has released his grip on Luffy and was done on threatening him. Now it’s your turn. You hit him on the head, “Can’t you be any more careful, Luffy?!”

“Ah! It hurts, Y/N! Why does it hurt?” He complains as he rubs on the spot you hit.

You hit him once again, “I’ll have you know Gramps Garp would hit you harder if he learned what you did to me. I’m just simply giving you the gentler version of his Fist of Love.”

Garp is Luffy’s paternal grandfather. While you aren’t related by blood with him, Garp treats you way better than he treats Luffy, mainly because you’re the only friend of Luffy who didn’t really want to be a pirate. Because Garp dotes on you as if you were blood related, you always use his name when trying to reason or argue with Luffy because you know your best friend absolutely hates the Fist of Love.

“I said I’m sorry!”

You only huff in response and then cross your arms. When you turn your head to look away from him, you realize that Luffy’s crew is staring at you.

Once again you feel the blood rushing to your face, but this time from embarrassment. You bow your head, saying, “Sorry for the commotion and for, uh, coming here so suddenly. I’m a friend of this dumbass, please call me Y/N.”

The blonde male is first to react, “Luffy, you didn’t tell me you have such a beautiful friend! Oh, and she’s a belly dancer too!” He exclaims with hearts in his eyes.

Ah, he’s referring to the clothes you’re wearing. “Oh, I’m not. This is kind of a disguise,” you explain. And then you add, “I’m sorry we crashed into you.”

“I’d let you crash into me anytime,” he declares. “I’m Sanji, by the way, but you can always call me yours.”

You chuckled at him. You’ve heard that line so many times before, it’s getting ridiculous. You’re assuming the rest of the crew did too, considering you hear a collective groan from them after hearing Sanji’s words.

After that he clears his throat. All of a sudden his aura changes. “You must have a bounty on you, because those looks can kill,” he says in a rather charismatic way while lighting a cigarette and slowly walking to your direction.

Sanji never reaches you though. He’s just a few steps away from you when your sight of him is blocked by a familiar freckled back with a well known tattoo.

What an odd timing to appear.

“Actually,” Ace starts to say, “she does have a bounty.”

You know Ace isn’t the type to read the newspaper so you’re surprised he knew about your bounty.

“Oh, Ace! These are the nakama I was telling you about,” Luffy interrupts.

Ace tears away his gaze on Sanji and then bows, “Oh, why hello everyone. I trust my little brother has been in your care.”

“Yes, he has,” the crew replies, bowing as well.

“He has no manners, so he’ll probably end up burning your hands a few times…”

“Yes, he has.”

“I’ll entrust him to you.”

You bite your lip to prevent the smile that’s threatening to appear on your face. Ace truly has mastered the art of being polite.

“I thought the guy Luffy described would be some selfish, arrogant jerk…” A guy with a long nose says.

“It’s a lie. Someone this polite can’t be Luffy’s brother,” says the woman with orange hair.

The only person you actually know from this ship aside from Ace and Luffy is Roronoa Zoro, the pirate hunter. He says, “He’s such a better person than his brother!”

“Brotherhood is a wonderful thing,” cries a reindeer.

“It doesn’t make sense. The sea’s a mysterious place,” Sanji notes.

Ah, if they only knew Ace before. You chuckle.

Wait. A talking reindeer?!

You’re usually composed, but every now and then you do get excited when something interests you. From the amount of times you’ve spent with Luffy, you kind of react the same way when he’s excited.

You immediately step aside from Ace’s back and walk towards the talking reindeer. You stop a feet away in front of him, just enough so he doesn’t get too scared.

But the reindeer still gets scared. He tries to hide behind the lady with orange hair, except his body is fully exposed.

You still smile though. “What a cute little talking reindeer!”

Then the reindeer suddenly blushes and smiles, “Don’t think I’ll be happy that you called me cute, you bastard.”

“Y/N, that’s Chopper. He’s our doctor. Isn’t he cool?”

“So cool!” You nod as Chopper continues to dance. “Are you a devil fruit user too? Can I have a blood sample?”

Devil fruits are extremely rare especially in the East Blue and you’ve only ever caught sight of its users on the Grand Line. So when you meet someone who has such abilities, you couldn’t hold yourself back from asking for a blood sample. It’s a trait that your crewmates hate about you because you ask even if the devil fruit user is an opponent. This was actually one of the reasons why they trained you in combat, because that trait often gets you in trouble.

Seeing that you’re a pretty nice person, Chopper agrees.

“You too, Luffy, Ace.” It’s more of an order when it comes to those two. Your excitement about the devil fruit temporarily overpowers your awkwardness with Ace.

The two look at each other and shrug. You didn’t really give them any choice.

Before you can even grab a vial and a syringe, the lady with blue hair interrupts. “Baroque Works! That’s the Billions fleet!” She says, looking over five ships.

“Them again?” Luffy asks.

“Luffy,” Ace calls.

“Hm?”

“I’ll clean them up.” Without saying anything more, he jumps down to his boat and speeds off towards the ships. All five of the ships get destroyed after a single Fire Fist.

Ace truly has become stronger. Your heart swells with pride at his growth. He’s become such a reliable person. If only you didn’t break his heart, you’d be calling him yours and bragging about him.

When everything dies down and Ace settles back into the ship, everyone introduces themselves individually. Then Sanji prepares something to eat for everyone.

Sanji gives the males sake to drink while he gives you and the ladies a special drink. “Y/N-chwaan~” He affectionately calls your name as he hands you a glass of the drink he prepared.

You smile at him as you thank him and he instantly swoons. He walks away happily with hearts on his eyes after the interaction. You have never met a man like him before and that’s saying something because you’ve been to a lot of places and met a bunch of men from the three years of your journey as a pirate. Quite frankly, it’s amusing for you.

But not so much for everyone else. You can tell by the sudden rise in the temperature, and you know right at once it’s because of Ace.

You look over to him only to find him already staring intently at you. You’re not dumb, you know he’s jealous. Still though, his reaction surprised you.

In your years dating him, he never really became jealous. Maybe because the only male persons he’s seen you ever hang out with is him, Luffy, and Sabo. While that much is true, having worked at Party’s bar meant you meet a lot of people and Ace knew that. You’d even tell him about encounters with males but he doesn’t really worry about it, unless they hurt you. You think that maybe he reacts that way back then because you were his but right now, you aren’t.

He only removes his gaze from you when Usopp says, “This is great! Ace and Y/N are our nakama!”

“Kanpai!”

“Who said I’d be your nakama?” Ace raises an eyebrow but he’s ultimately ignored by Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper.

“To delicious drinks,” Usopp toasts.

“Kanpai!”

“Don’t worry about them,” Nami says, “These guys are always looking for a reason to kanpai.”

“Ace, Y/N, are you really going to be our nakama?”

You answer first. “Nah, I’m only here for research and to… Uhm…” you look over quickly to Vivi who apparently was a princess in the kingdom, “…to purchase dance powder.”

It’s funny how you feel bad for purchasing something illegal when you practically do illegal things everyday as a pirate.

Before Vivi could react, you explain. “I only bought a small amount. I just want to identify the content of rainwater from an artificial source. I also wanted to know the composition of the dance powder itself. That’s all.”

“Ehh? That’s it? But why don’t you just come to our crew?” Luffy whines.

“Idiot. Your brother mentioned a while ago that she has a bounty. That means she’s a pirate too,” Zoro says.

“What?! You’re a pirate?! You said you didn’t want to be a pirate!”

“Yeah, well I couldn’t pursue my studies if I didn’t have the money,” you say. “Besides, our captain agreed to have me for five years only. I’ve been with them for three. Ask me again after two years, maybe I’ll reconsider.”

“I don’t want to wait for two years! Join us now!”

You hit Luffy on the head while Usopp scolds him, “You can’t just force her to come.”

“Why not?” Luffy asks. You raise your fist to hit him again. This prompts him to say, “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll ask you again some other time, just don’t hit me anymore!”

Ace looks like he wanted to say something to you but Luffy turns to him and asks if he’s going to join his crew. He looks away from you reluctantly and then focuses on Luffy. “I won’t. I’m in pursuit of a man. He’s known as Blackbeard.”

“Blackbeard?” Usopp repeats.

Vivi asks, “The pirate that sacked the Kingdom of Drum?”

He nods, “He used to be a member of Whitebeard pirates, Second Division. My subordinate. Until he committed the greatest crime you can on a pirate ship… He murdered his nakama and fled the ship. As the Commander, I have to find him and finish him off.”

“So that’s why you’re after him.”

“The only reason I came to this country is because he was reportedly seen in Yuba.”

“Then you’re going to the same place we’re going,” Nami says.

Then Vivi gets a map and explains the route to him.

“I get it. So you’re headed to Yuba too.”

In the background, Sanji says, “Wherever Nami-swan, Vivi-chwan, and Y/N-chwan go, I’ll go~”

“Beat it, Love Cook,” Zoro says.

“What did you say, bastard?”

A fight between the two almost ensues when Nami says, “Anyway, looks like you’ll be travelling with us for a little while.”

Usopp looks the happiest at that. “With you along, this’ll be a cinch!”

“What about you, Y/N? What do you plan on doing?” Nami asks.

You purse your lips, thinking. Isn’t it a little bit selfish of you if you stayed just so you could spend a little more time with Ace?

“Please stay with us a little longer, Y/N-chwan~” Sanji pleads.

While Ace wants you to stay, he didn’t really like seeing another man openly expressing his fondness to you. Unconsciously, he causes the temperature to rise once again, which you’re quick to notice.

You wonder if the rise in the temperature meant that Ace doesn’t want you to stick around. You quickly dismiss the idea though, when he speaks up, “Yeah, Y/N, why don’t you join us for a little while?”

How could you refuse when he personally asks you to stay?

“Do I even have a choice?” You ask nonchalantly, playing it cool as if you didn’t want to stay.

“No!” Luffy grins.

Just like that, you stay.

Later on you find yourself in the kitchen sitting across Luffy and Usopp. They’re playing with their foods when Ace enters the kitchen. He plops down beside you and you instantly feel your heart thump faster. He didn’t even do anything out of the ordinary and yet he makes you feel like this. It’s not fair that Ace looks so relaxed while you’re desperately trying to calm your heart.

Then you jump in surprise as Sanji hits Luffy and Usopp with a frying pan and a wok, scolding them for playing with their food. “If you guys are so bored, go wash some dishes! Jeez, here I am trying to finish our bento before we land—”

“I’ll help!” You volunteer. Ace speaks up at the same time as you did, “Want me to help with anything?”

Sanji looks stunned. Someone wants to offer help? It’s been a while since he’s heard it.

“Y/N-chwan, you’re such a lovely lady~ But don’t worry, just sit back and relax. I’ll do all the work for you~” Sanji singsongs, completely ignoring Ace.

In the corner of your eye, you notice Ace glaring at Sanji while he has his back turned. “Alright…” You say after a moment.

You’re not exactly sure how to proceed after that. Instead of enduring the awkward silence, you whip out your small notebook and start scribbling away. The notebook was more of a logbook where you put in the data you gathered in certain villages or islands— may it be a sighting of an exotic animal or plant, random anomalies about certain places, anything that’s out of the ordinary or just plainly something you’re curious about. Sometimes you just put random questions that pop into your head. It’s rather messy, but it’s one of the things you own that you treasure the most.

This time you write about the devil fruit users you encountered in Alabasta, writing just a short biography of the users and a brief description of the powers they have. Just like that, you’re in your own little bubble. You didn’t even notice that the ship docked for a couple of minutes as per Vivi’s request and that everyone has left you in the kitchen.

By the time you’re done, you realize that the only persons in the kitchen are you and Sanji. The cook is preparing one last meal for everyone to eat in the ship before you all dock. This time when you offered your help, you insisted and left no room for him to refuse. When the table has been set up, he calls for everyone.

You sit at the edge of the table. Not a second later, someone sits beside you. You look up and find that it’s Ace. He has this boyish smile on which prompted you to look away in order to avoid heating up.

Luffy’s crew is boisterous, even more so during eating meals. They’re extremely funny. You feel your worry for your best friend fade away the longer you stay with his crew. But then the rowdy atmosphere instantly quiets down when all of a sudden Ace falls down on his plate. It was only a moment of silence and then they’re all panicking.

“What the hell?!”

“Oi, Luffy, what happened to your brother?”

“Oh no! He’s dead!”

“Someone call a doctor! We need a doctor! Oh, wait I’m the doctor.”

Only you and Luffy are unfazed. Luffy just laughs out loud while Usopp demands him to take the situation more seriously.

You, on the other hand, calmly place your utensils down. You’re pretty much used to Ace and his narcoleptic episodes. You get some napkins and gently grab Ace’s face. You wipe his face from all the food that got stuck on it. Then you carefully maneuver his arm so that it’s resting on the table and place his head on his arm. This is pretty much how you handled him every single time it happened so by now it’s more of an automatic reaction for you.

When you’re done, you realize that everyone’s panic has died down and that they’re all looking at you, except Luffy who continued shoving food down his throat. You feel incredibly shy upon discovering that they caught you tending to Ace. While the others are aware that you, Luffy, and Ace know each other from the past, they haven’t exactly seen you interact with Ace that much since you both arrived at the ship so they assumed that you and Ace are merely acquaintances.

You notice that Nami and Vivi in particular are smiling. Nami has the “I know something” kind of smile while Vivi has more of a genuine smile on her face. Sanji is sulking, but the others are just blinking at you. Then a few moments later, Ace wakes up. “Ah, sorry. I fell asleep,” he says nonchalantly.

“Eh?!” was the collective response of Luffy’s crew.

His hand automatically comes to his face to wipe off the remnants of food in his face, only to find out that his face is absolutely clean and bare of any dirt. This could only mean one thing, he thinks. You cleaned him off, just like the old days when you were still dating.

Ace’s assumption is further confirmed when he hears Sanji sulking about how he wishes he was the one to receive such a tender act from you.

You continue to eat as if you didn’t do what you just did. You could feel Ace’s eyes on you but you refuse to meet his stare. Unbeknownst to you, a smile has made its way on Ace’s face.

Everyone seems to be watching the interaction unfold — again, except Luffy who has witnessed this all before so he doesn’t think it’s a big deal. Anyone with eyes could now tell that there is or was something going on between the two of you.

The atmosphere only goes back to normal when Luffy stretches his arms to reach for food on their plates. Everyone immediately complains about this and the rowdy air comes back.

After the hearty meal, everyone prepares for the long trip by foot. You change into more suitable clothes, something that Sanji wasn’t really happy about since you, Nami, and Vivi switched from dancer’s clothes to a cloak that covers the entire body. Ace looks way happier now than before though and you aren’t sure why.

Before you could even get down the ship though, a group of Kung Fu Dugongs challenges your group. You’re just about to move when in a blink of an eye, Luffy has defeated each one. What a bum, you know you can definitely take them down too but Luffy beat you to it. You pout, you feel so out of shape now that you aren’t really using your body to fight. Ace chuckles at you. It was so sudden that you almost jumped in surprise at the sound.

“Didn’t think you would be disappointed that you weren’t able to fight them,” Ace says.

“Honestly, what should I expect? Luffy has always been like that,” you mumble.

“Yeah, he’s a handful.”

It’s such a short conversation, but seeing that you aren’t exactly pushing Ace away, he takes it as a sign that you aren’t uncomfortable in his presence. He sticks by your side after that.

He remains silent to the point that you even forgot that he was even walking beside you. You only realize that he’s still around when a sand whirlwind comes and he subtly shifts his position so that he’s standing in front of you, shielding you away from the sand. You’re reminded of the days when he’s always by your side to protect you. You feel the butterflies on your stomach one again. If that wasn’t enough, Ace gives you a lopsided smile when you thank him which makes your heart go haywire.

He doesn’t really leave your mind after that. The thoughts of him fully consumed you once again. But did it really go away in the first place?

Your memories with him have been replaying in your mind since then. You didn’t even notice that the sun has already set down until Vivi says that you guys should set out camp there.

The boys are nice enough to set up the tents for everyone, leaving you, Nami, and Vivi with nothing to do. You take this opportunity to shyly ask them about the Dance Powder as you whip out your notebook. You write down all the information they can give you.

“Ah, so it’s basically like cloud seeding,” you conclude.

“What’s that?” Vivi asks.

“It’s a type of weather modification, a process aiming to make precipitation fall from clouds. It is originally used to prevent areas from destruction brought about by drought. I read researchers use a chemical compound called silver iodide and disperse it to the clouds to produce snow which melts before they hit the ground to produce water.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a quite similar process,” Nami says. Then she yawns. “Sorry, I’m getting tired.”

“Come on, let’s rest in the tent,” you say, feeling the exhaustion as well. The two girls immediately fall asleep after laying down, but for some reason you couldn’t sleep. You lay there for about two hours but you’re still unable to sleep.

You get up and reach for your bag, looking for your canteen. But then you see the orange rose. You almost forgot you bought it. The familiar aching feeling makes itself known once again. With a sigh, you leave the tent, suddenly feeling that you need a breather.

You move away from the tents and sit down, playing with the orange rose. The night is cold and you’re shivering but you can’t find it in you to care. You’re so preoccupied with your thoughts that you didn’t hear the footsteps of someone behind you.

You tense when you hear an awfully familiar question. “Y/N? What are ya doing here? You’re going to get sick.”

You don’t respond, thinking it was your mind tricking you into hearing the same things on that night.

“You’re shivering,” Ace calls out once again.

That’s when your breath hitched. Ace truly is there. He sits beside you and you instantly feel his warmth.

“Why are you still awake?” You ask.

“Couldn’t sleep,” is all he replies.

Silence ensues after that, but only for a few moments. Ace is the first to speak. “The cook seems to have taken a liking on you,” he says.

“He’s nice.”

“A little too nice to you for my liking.”

For the first time since he sat beside you, you look at him.

Then he speaks up again, “Ya know… You changed over the years. You’re prettier now… I’m not saying you weren’t pretty before. Uhm…” He blushes, “But you’re way prettier now. You caused quite the uproar among the Whitebeard pirates when your wanted poster came. When I saw the poster myself, I couldn’t believe it. You’re… yeah.”

You didn’t know what to say to that but you feel your face heating up at his words.

“I… I don’t know why but there’s this weird feeling I get when that blonde cook gives his attention to you. Even just the thought of him or another man getting close to you like that makes me feel weird,” he confesses.

“Ace… I’m sorry.”

“I know, I know… We’re not—”

“No, I’m sorry… I’m sorry because I had a lot of fears and uncertainties back then… I feared that you wouldn’t come back to me. The books I’ve read all said that the Grand Line was a horrible place and I didn’t know if you’d make it back alive. I was so afraid and I couldn’t tell you because you might not want to leave because of me… I didn’t want to be the reason you couldn’t fulfill your dreams… So I thought it was better to break up with you… At least then, nothing’s going to tie you down…” you cried.

“Y/N… I didn’t know…” He whispers, close to tears.

“Sometimes I wonder if I only knew I’d be a pirate too, should I have just gone away with you? At least then we’d still be together, right? But that would be too selfish of me… Especially when I was so weak back then. I would’ve had nothing to contribute to you. I’d only be a burden to you.

“But you know what, Ace, even if I was the one who decided to let you go, I couldn’t forget about you… Every place I go to, something will always remind me of you. Even when I sleep, I still dream about you. I don’t think I’ll ever get over you,” you look him in the eyes as you pour your heart out to him.

“God, no matter where I go, no matter how long you’re gone, no matter how many faces I meet, it’s always you, it’s always you I want to be with. I think… I think I’m always going to want you back, Ace…” You close your eyes and clench your fists as you say your final words.

You’re so selfish, god, you hate yourself.

It takes you by surprise when Ace hugs you. You melt into him at once. He lets you cry in his arms. “Ace, I’m really really sorry.”

He hums and then says, “Didn’t I promise I’ll come back to you?”

You pull away, vision still blurry from the tears. “What?”

He chuckles and then pecks your lips. “I promised I’ll come back to you.”

You cry harder from his words. His hand rubs your back, consoling you. “You still look beautiful even when you’re crying.”

You look away and bite your lip as you will your tears to stop.

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you join the Whitebeard pirates instead?”

You pout. “That’s not fair, Ace… You know I wouldn’t be able to say no to you.”

“Well then, that’s too bad for Luffy,” he grins.

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rolldownthehill · 5 years ago

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I’m gonna repost my art here because Tumblr hid my posts. I’m just gonna give it a try again.

Edit: IT WORKS YEAHH!! Also, for those who have HBO Max, pls watch it! It’s really good! Hope y’all have a good day! :D

#infinity train #infinity train tulip #is this even art?#one one #2020 art #rolldowntheart

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stupidusernamepolicy · 3 years ago

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Tagged by @shinkimiope thank u <333

1. Why did you choose your url?

I've had it since my deviantart days. I was getting frustrated that all of my ideas for usernames were already taken (I was starting to think the site was bugged lol) so in a fit of anger I typed it just because. It ended up not being taken so I just used it lol

2. Any side blogs?

I have an art sideblog @slavhew because i didn't want to terminally bore people with posting tons of memes in between art

an old gravity falls sideblog I don't use, it's more like an archive now.

Two defunct really old blogs that I should delete but don't want to

A hidden side for "riskier" reblogs which means anything I deem too edgy or explicit for my main lol

3. How long have you been on tumblr?

Joined at the tail end of 2015 to enjoy the Undertale fandom at the time

4. Do you have a queue tag?

I do, it's #q

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

I wanted to have fun online again and my old accounts were full of bad memories. I also wanted to have a more direct source for fan content other than just reposts

6. Why did you choose your icon?

I drew it on my phone as a meme for a friend and ended up having it for too long to change it lol. Pyke says you're (I'm) a heretic.

7. Why did you choose your header?

I like fires I thought it was pretty

8. What’s your post with the most notes?

It's probably the meme I made making fun of my instrument when I was frustrated that it couldn't play low tones jdjfmdmf. It's got a thousand-somethign notes now

9. How many mutuals do you have?

Uuu I really don't keep track. Mostly cause I've had everyone around for a long time and we more often than not passively follow eachother djjcjdx

10. How many followers do you have?

661

11. How many people do you follow?

1215

12. Have you ever made a shitpost?

Many times but rarely takes off. My art shitpost on side are a bit more popular jsbfjdf.

13. How much do you use tumblr every day?

My usage rises proportionally to how much I'm procrastinating and how shit i feel. Its a good distraction and to mitigate that I usually put stuff into queue so people don't get a barrage of posts otherwise I'd consistently be hitting post limit

14. Did you have a fight/ argument with other blog once? Who won?

Every so often I feel like causing problems on purpose. Most arguments dont really have a conclusion. One radfem insisting women can't be evil that deactivated by the end of it, someone trying to mobilize the aro community to stop "problematic content" (it was peppered with 'save the children' and stupid arguments. They said "free blocklist in notes" then hid my reply from them because I called them out on their homophobic myopic arguments). Misc other stuff thru the years. C'est la vie.

15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

We are all tired. We all have actual lives and use social media as an escape. If I catch you reblogging more than one of those I'm straight up going to unfollow, I will not have a wall of text guilt tripping me when I can't do anything to help in the first place. Fuck you.

16. Do you like tag games?

I do but I'm forgetful sometimes and it gets buried in my drafts :[

17. Do you like ask games?

I do but due to the nature of my blog even when I reblog them I don't really get any bdbgnnd

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

I know for a fact that at least one of them is Tumblr famous in two fandom circles. It's still kinda funny that they follow me on not one but two blogs even after we don't really share those fandoms and I enjoy seeing them on my dash :)

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

I don't do crushes but I am very good friends with a few people outside of Tumblr too and I think it shows from how often I tag them ajndkxmckc.

20. Tags?

@lemonykleonella @its-me-ej @mingominnie @mediasploshion @shroomberton and whoever sees it and wants to feel free to say I tagged you, nobody will know >:)

#admin rambles #tag game #long post

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thefieryeclipse · 5 years ago

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“The Wall” Petlar - Pride Month

In honour of Pride, I’m reposting a segment from my post-series Heroes WIP as a short story here on Tumblr. You can consider it a standalone if you like, or if you want to read more you can find the full fic here ^.^

I hope you enjoy this dive into the memories of Petlary goodness behind “The Wall”!

(M, slash, m/m, angst, blood, tears, fluff, feels)

(This gorgeous gif, my favourite one ever, doesn’t belong to me. All credit to the original creator, but sadly I still don’t know who that is!)

SPOILERS BELOW FOR “TONGUES OF FIRE” - Chapter 38

Peter awoke on the ground, but he couldn't remember getting there.

Everything was silent. A pressing white noise so vacant it was deafening, and nothing at all stirred but the slow rise and fall of his chest. Lying on his back, he opened his eyes to the velvet blanket of a vast, cloudless sky high above.

A sky that was... flashing?

Confused, Peter frowned up at the moon chasing the sun between elongated skyscrapers, shadows washing over him where he lay while days and nights passed before his eyes like the swinging beat of a pendulum.

Feeling oddly weightless, he picked himself up from the middle of an abandoned city street, lined on both sides by a row of neat trees. And suddenly the niggling thought that he was forgetting something important didn't seem to matter anymore, that he was supposed to be somewhere else.

He didn't understand. It should have been New York City. The streets Peter had grown up in, the island on which he'd spent nearly every day of his life, but he didn't know this place. It was an amalgamation, a hybrid, a new face whose features merely resembled those of his hometown. The city was deserted: empty streets and empty buildings lined with a million windows gaping at him like hollowed eye sockets, watching him struggle to find his bearings. There were no signs of life. Not even a car had been abandoned by the sidewalk, not one old newspaper fluttered through the windless air. Peter shivered, although there was no temperature. His faint breath shuddered, although there was no sound.

And then the echo of raised voices behind him made his heart thump loudly in his chest.

Peter span just as the sun froze in the sky, high on the crest of a bright and clear morning. He recognised the voices rebounding off vacant husks of buildings around him, just before two men turned a corner and appeared into view, one storming ahead while the other tagged along angrily at his heels. Peter couldn't have hid even if he wasn't exposed out in a wide open road, his feet rooting him to the spot as his blood instantly ran cold.

“...like it or not, Peter, you're stuck here forever, with me, and I am trying here! Are you? 'Cause it sure as hell doesn't feel like it!”

“Am I supposed to feel guilty? You murdered my brother, I don't owe you anything!”

“Yes, I did. I murdered him.” Sylar snarled, and although he wasn't shouting this time his words reverberated further, more clearly, than the others before. “I slit his throat and watched him bleed out and I didn't even care. He died alone, Peter. Scared. Defeated -”

“Stop it!”

Heart racing faster, Peter saw himself turn on his enemy, hands balled into fists at his side. Sylar stopped walking in response, head held high. And all the while Peter was outside it all, unharmed, invisible on the outskirts as he just stood there gazing at the surreal sight unfolding before him. Holy shit.

“- And I've said it a thousand times before, and even if you don't believe me that doesn't change the fact that I'm -”

“Don't!”

“- Sorry.”

The word ricocheted around the barren city. It lodged itself in Peter's gut like a bullet shard, sympathy pains felt from the shaking young empath standing before him in the distance. “Stop saying that. You don't mean it. If you were sorry you wouldn't have killed him. If you were sorry you wouldn't have killed any of them.”

Sylar scowled after the smaller man as he continued storming along the street, drawing closer to where his dream-like counterpart stood. Neither of them noticed him at all.

“Oh I get it,” The killer tagged along again, more infused with a fiery emotion than Peter had ever known him. “You've never made a mistake. You've never looked back and wished for a do-over. That you could change, that you'd made different choices, that you knew then what you know now, because your life has been nothing but a series of winning decisions, is that what you're saying?!” Sylar grabbed after his accuser, wrenching him back around by the arm. “'Cause from where I'm standing, it looks like they only served to land you in the exact same shithole as mine.”

Peter tugged himself free. “At least I never killed everyone who ever tried to love me!”

The following silence rang out loudly. Now close enough to the pair to make out the nuances in both men's faces, Peter watched with a weight constricting his chest as Sylar reeled, deeply wounded. Regret shone plainly on his own self's face, for just a heartbeat too long before it was forcibly concealed behind a mask of defiance.

Sylar's reply was quiet, but not gentle. “Loved ones. Mothers. Friends. Tell me, where are yours, Peter?”

The counter attack winded Peter Petrelli. Both the haunted man currently backing away from his enemy's space, and the spectre set adrift in the strange city that didn't belong to him. Peter and Sylar glared at one another, two lost souls forced together among nothingness, concrete, brick and stone, the double-bladed burn of rage rising between them like smoke in the air.

Sylar tipped his head slightly in a manner anyone else could construe as sympathetic. “I wonder what's worse? The thought that everyone else out there is dead; or that none of your precious heroes have bothered to look for you all this time?” He twitched one heavy eyebrow to hammer the point home. “Do you think anyone's even noticed you're missing? Or do they just not care?”

For a moment, the looming promise of an echoing crack of a punch rang throughout the city. But none came. Peter didn't attack, and he didn't make a sound beyond the pained catching of his breath. Then he tightened his fists and turned his back on Sylar one last time, picking up the pace as he left the killer behind.

“Like it or not, Petrelli, I'm all you've got!” Sylar called after him, teeth bared. “And neither of us are going anywhere for a long, long time!”

Peter's heart lurched when his other self faltered a step, almost level with where he hid, veiled out of time. He fought the urge to reach out and bridge the impassable distance with a touch, as the same vulnerability and fear that itched within his ribcage flickered over the other man's face, pooling in his eyes. But then his dream counterpart pushed on, leaving a full, unobstructed view of Sylar's dampening temper in his wake.

Slowly, the killer's scowl eased. He hunched in on himself, watching every step as his only means of company walked away.

It might have been the first time Peter had ever witnessed something close to shame from the guy. Something close to regret. It was a painful pill to swallow, like it went down the wrong way. And when Sylar finally dropped his eyeline to the ground and turned his back, Peter hurried to follow his own footsteps deeper into the city without pausing to witness one more second of the killer.

But as soon as he took his first step the sky fast-forwarded again and he was alone.

Morning became noon became night as Peter found himself lost among vacant streets and stretching shadows that snatched at his heels like fingers. Guided by an invisible cord looped around his waist, he searched with no direction, intention or idea where he was going, just a ghost adrift in an endless maze that re-arranged itself in his peripheral vision.

He lost track of how many times the sun rolled across the sky before it stalled once again, a red glimmer hanging low between the towering spires of skyscrapers. Peter stopped running, somehow not even out of breath, once he was framed in the open mouth of a back alley, the sunset staining a towering brick wall blocking the far end crimson.

The hairs on the back of his neck tickled as he caught sight of himself once again, unmistakable in his fury, stalking the length of the alley ahead.

At the far end, Sylar climbed to his feet at the base of the wall to accommodate the approach. And even from this far away, with merely one glimpse of him, he certainly didn't look like the same, smug serial killer Peter's nightmares had been plagued by for years.

Again locked in place, he watched himself stomp towards the murderer without easing or slowing down; watched Sylar ball his hands into fists but not lift them; watched himself raise his arms and tackle Sylar around the neck, winding him, knocking the breath from them both –

But it wasn't a fight. Instead, they both swayed with the momentum of something so unexpected, something so harmless, as a hug.

Alone on the outskirts of this secret, Peter's throat tightly constricted. He couldn't breathe. He didn't need to. He was only a ghost, anyway.

Floating closer to the exchange, he couldn't seem to make sense of the bewilderment shining plainly across Sylar's face. Or his own arms holding the guy close, or the sound of his soft, strangled voice muffled in the depths of Sylar's shoulder.

As if he hadn't ever been a mortal enemy. As if he wasn't a ruthless serial killer. As if he'd never heartlessly cut down Nathan Petrelli in his prime.

“You were right.” Realistically, the words shouldn't have rebounded down the alley, but Peter heard them anyway. “No one's out there looking for us. No one's coming to save us. It's just you and me, Sylar, and I just can't... I can't fight with you anymore.”

Peter's arms tightened around the taller man. And only then did Sylar let his eyes flutter closed and tentatively place his hands on Peter's back. He bent down into the hug, returning it, indulging in the feel of it as if it were the first of his life.

“It's down to us. Alright?” Peter continued huskily. “It's you and me, and I don't wanna live this way forever. I can't carry this... this hate much longer. I can't.” He paused to chase a breath, and when he continued his voice was dangerously close to cracking. “We can't keep going like this if we're gonna survive, here. We've gotta do better, Sylar. We've gotta make it work. Okay?”

For a long time the men simply stood there entwined, rocking slightly on the spot, where no one could see them and no one would ever know. And in that reprieve it didn't matter that they'd shattered one another in the past, or that they shouldn't want to hold each other close, because for a moment it was as if the fights had never happened and the miles of blood stained history belonged to someone else.

Watching, Peter struggled to swallow when Sylar slowly nodded his head in agreement. When he then pried the smaller man away with gentle hands and an unfamiliar softness to his eyes, and just held him there close, looking down into his face as the whisper floated down the alley and imprinted into the witness's skin.

“I want to make it work, Peter...”

Time sped up again before he could see what happened next, before he was ready, erasing the men, the wall and the words from the slate like they'd never existed at all.

Day and night pulsed around Peter once more as he struggled to keep up, resuming the endless path to nowhere with less blind trust than before. As he searched vacant streets he shivered, and as he walked broken roads he worried, plagued with the strangest sense that this time he'd left more than just the alley behind.

The city warped around him. Buildings moved when he wasn't looking. Brief flashes of sunlight revealed new sights that hadn't been there the moment before. And then night fell steady and constant upon the world and Peter was somehow high atop a rusting fire escape, outside the only window in the sprawling city that housed the warm glow of light. Of life.

Helpless to resist, he numbly phased through the window as if he were a phantom, heart pounding heavier than ever in his chest.

Inside, the apartment was dark, cluttered, unfamiliar. Floating shelves lined the walls, packed to the brim with canned food while their previous occupants scattered the floor in precarious piles of books. A workbench stood near the back wall, buried beneath some sort of mechanical scraps Peter couldn't make out from here. But he wasn't really looking. Because that glow of a light didn't come from within these rooms, he now realised, but from between them.

A hidden hatch stood open in one wall. A two-way mirror that revealed a winding, shadowy corridor beyond. And the swinging light bulb within lured Peter in deeper as if he didn't have a choice but to obey.

Just as before, the two living souls in this place didn't look up as he approached them in the dark. They didn't even acknowledge him. And just as before, Peter couldn't name the mass of emotions that ached within his chest at the very sight of himself and Sylar, sitting silently side by side on the floor, their backs against the dusty inside of a wall.

The taste of horror seemed familiar on his tongue. But if this was due to the tears currently drying on Sylar's flushed face, or the desperate screams scrawled by bloody fingertips on the walls, he couldn't decide.

“It's from... before. Way before, when my ability first...” Sylar tried then faded off, as if he didn't even know the words. Meanwhile, sitting beside him, Peter nodded and took a steadying breath, caught between giving his split attention to the crying man or the ghastly bloodied 'forgive me's towering above.

“S'okay.”

“No, Peter. It's not.”

Still sniffling slightly, the killer turned to Peter, exhausted and unguarded and unashamed of his vulnerability in a way that sent more spasms tightly clenching through the empath's heart. Because this wasn't an act and it wasn't a pity plea, and as much as he hated it, and as much as the sight made his stomach cramp as if he were about to throw up, Peter couldn't tear his gaze away from the blatantly human sight of the man visible in fractures behind his shattered facade.

Sylar's voice was soft when he elaborated, thick with a recent burst of emotion that had yet to fade. “None of it is okay. No matter what I do or how many times I start, I can never get past... this.” He blinked rapidly, not quite looking at a hundred broken attempts at redemption pressing in on him from all sides. “I've tried. I really tried, so many times, and I wanted to be better. But after all these years... I just don't think I'm strong enough on my own. And no one has ever stayed long enough to...” He stopped himself again, scowling at his own self-pity.

The Peter on the ground tore his focus from the sorry sight of Sylar, looking up again upon the defaced walls. A timeline. A mural of blood, sweat and tears, a memorial of the killer's endless battle with his demons. And Peter drank in each word despite the burn.

Please forgive me... Help me... I'm sorry... Forgive me... Please...

He closed his eyes just briefly, biting his lip. “I will.”

“What?”

“I'll stay.” Peter clarified, sighing out all the tension in his frame. Sylar stared at him. “I won't leave you. I won't run out on you. I won't lie, or betray you, or manipulate you like my mother did.” Now Sylar looked so affronted that a sudden telekinetic choke hold wouldn't be a surprise. But instead he just gaped at Peter, lips twitching soundlessly as he struggled to untangle his thoughts into something resembling words. “If you're serious about wanting to be better, Sylar... I'll help you.” Peter finished, a soft exhale. Only then did he meet the killer's eyes, and there was no room for doubt in that tiny corridor that he knew exactly what he was signing himself up for. That they all did.

Silence stretched for a long time. Until the older man recovered some semblance of his vocal chords. “Wh-why would you want to do that?” The question was laced with hope and suspicion, two compounds at war with each other.

But Peter just looked at him, and the honesty on his face was clear for all to see. “'Cause the guy who wrote this?” He glanced back at the blood-scrawled walls as if pained. “He never had that chance. And maybe if someone had just listened to him back then... none of this would've happened.” He offered Sylar a sad little curve of his lips. “Maybe all you needed was a friend.”

The killer's heavy brows eased from their furrow. Fresh tears streamed from his disbelieving eyes. Too late, he seemed to notice what was happening and averted his face, tremors consuming his hunched form.

And rather than leave, Peter leaned into him, a comforting warmth. And rather than recoil, the empath reached for Sylar's hand and held it gently, surely, and just sat with the man in silence while he cried.

And then time shifted forward again.

Left reeling on the spot, Peter the spectator, the ghost, tried to blink away the blurriness stinging at his own eyes. When it subsided he saw he was no longer crowded by bloody prayers or that lone, swinging light bulb: he was back outside on the fire escape. And that same old cord, his guide, was pulling him on again, but he didn't want to answer the call this time.

The tangled mass of feeling expanded further inside with every step he ascended the rusty staircase. More years flew past within moments. And the whispering breath of wind grew louder the higher he climbed.

On the final step, darkness blanketed the city for the last time. The sky was vast and starless high above, the rooftop captured in the cool tones and hues of the illusive moment between evening and night. Shaking slightly, it took Peter a moment to realise that the whispering breaths didn't belong to the wind, after all. And through shadow he discerned the shapes of two bodies on the ground, naked and writhing beneath a bundle of discarded clothing.

He meant to jump back from the scene but the steel cord wouldn't let him. So Peter was forced to hide here in the dark, unable to feel his limbs at the sight of his own self kissing the lips of his enemy. The pair broke apart with deep, shuddering breaths, and Peter watched himself lie back and smile sleepily at the man in his arms.

Then a murmur punctured the night, sending goosebumps rolling down his spine.

“Do you trust me, Peter?”

“Why, you think I'd do that with just anyone?” The empath chuckled and pressed a kiss to Sylar's shoulder. But when the man didn't laugh Peter propped himself up on an elbow to better look down upon him. “What's up, buddy?” He prompted with another small smile, trailing a hand over the killer's bare chest and stirring the hair there.

The gesture was so natural and yet so obscene, that in the rational corner of his mind Peter wanted to yell and run – no fly – away before he saw something else he'd never be able to shake. But he was still chained in place by something heavier than shock, and the warden of fate wouldn't let him move or even make a sound. Instead, he bore witness to the exchange of intimate touches, adoration, a familiarity that he'd never been able to keep with anyone in reality.

“I was just thinking about Elle.” Sylar confessed, looking up into the darkening sky.

Peter's caresses slowed. “Oh.” The spectre watched his own face fall slightly, far too familiar with that feeling not to experience second hand rejection gnawing at him now.

“Not like that.” Sylar appeased Peter slightly by prying the man's hand from his chest to absently entwine their fingers, but still didn't drop his gaze from the heavens. “I was thinking about how... how I didn't kill her for her ability. I killed her because she betrayed me.”

Peter frowned, the ease from earlier fading. “Is that supposed to make it okay?”

“No. But it makes it different. She lied to me. It was... personal, the others weren't.” Peter's sigh finally earned Sylar's full attention, and when the smaller man untangled himself from the killer as if to get up, Sylar held onto his wrist, keeping him there. “I could have loved her, Peter.”

On the far side of the rooftop, Peter felt that word impact like a sledgehammer to the gut. Love. But on the ground, he didn't look surprised by this information at all, reluctantly indulging the other man with a scowl still dirtying his brow.

“I trusted her. I let her in. But she...” Sylar's expression grew distant then, cast back through time. “...Recoiled. And I reacted. It was... fragile.”

The empath huffed impatiently through his nose, biting his lip. “What're you trying to tell me, Sylar?”

Sylar fell quiet, his face unmasked in a way that was entirely unfamiliar to his enemy. And more than he had when intruding upon the secret closet of bloody remorse, or catching the pair naked and breathless with sweat still drying on their skin, Peter felt wrong, voyeuristic, to be spying on such an intimate sight from the shadows as that expression.

Sylar reached up to trail Peter's long, tousled hair from obscuring his eye, a painfully sweet gesture. And when he took a breath it shook slightly. “This place? You and me? Whatever the hell we've gotten ourselves into... It's fragile, too. It's special.” He gave up on the stubborn lock when it refused to stay put, dropping his hands to fold across his stomach. A shadow of affliction passed over his face. “And if people knew they'd try to take it from us.”

Peter relaxed back down over his companion, lips quirking up on the working side. “Then we won't let them.”

Sylar tried to smile in response to the gentle nuzzling of his nose. A weak, short-lived thing. “You're too trusting, Peter, and I'm too destructive and it would be easy, too easy, to ruin this if they wanted, which they will. And if we ever do wake up and all this feels like a dream, I don't want there to be any doubts between us. Nothing they can use.”

Concern ghosted across Peter's features. He climbed free of his companion to fall flat on his back beside him, looking unseeingly into the ebony void far above. “Why are you saying these things?” He hugged his arms around his own torso, suddenly feeling the cold he hadn't a moment before.

And the spectre on the sidelines only drew closer to the scene, ever helpless, defenseless to resist.

Sylar turned his head to survey Peter, shadows emphasising the heavy angles of his face while his messy hair splayed out around him, thick and dark on the ground. He should have looked dangerous lying there so close, heart rate still elevated, skin still heated. He shouldn't have looked handsome, striking in his vulnerability. But he did. And only more so when amusement brightened the serial killer's features through the slight pursing of his lips. “Do you remember I told you about Lydia from the carnival?”

Still refusing to look at him, Peter just nodded, only more confused. An affectionate smirk twinkled at the corners of Sylar's eyes. And he was even less recognisable as the brutal murderer that had ripped reality to shreds in his wake.

“I've been thinking for a while, now. And if we ever get outta here... I want you to use her ability on me.”

At first, Peter just met the man's eyes, blinking quickly at him while he processed. Then he pushed himself into a sitting position, squinting down at Sylar as if the statement would be clearer from that angle. His hand shook while he ran it through his disheveled hair, and only upon close inspection was it evident that Sylar was holding his breath.

Stunned, Peter could barely muster his voice. “You'd trust me to read your soul?” He looked unsure, as if at any moment he expected his companion to reveal it as some sort of joke. But Sylar only nodded, that knowing, affectionate smirk washing across the rest of his features. And sudden tears welled up in the empath's eyes, refusing to fall, in the moment the truth finally hit home. “Really?” He breathed, a sound so small it couldn't carry the short distance across the rooftop.

But from above, his ethereal counterpart heard it anyway. And he saw Sylar laugh a little in response to Peter's disbelief, the deep, pleasant sound catching in his chest.

Equal parts horrified and entranced, Peter struggled to believe what he was witnessing from this man and that voice and those lips: the fearsome lone wolf who'd always killed before letting someone get too close, close enough to hurt him.

Yet, he saw his other self's eyes roam between Sylar's, so close below his own. And looking at the men now, having already obliterated so many boundaries to have gotten this far, sharing in the midst of the rubble they'd created, Peter could see every scar that had transpired between them, scrawling signatures embedded below one another's skin. They'd never be free of the other. They were already imprinted, marked forever like tattoos.

And for the very first time, it looked something close to beautiful.

On the ground, eyes wide and glistening, Peter hesitated slightly before skimming his knuckles across Sylar's cheekbone. The murderer caught his hand, cradling it between both his larger, stronger ones, the hands that had spilled an ocean of innocent blood long ago. “Only if you want it,” he smirked, “otherwise I was joking.”

Peter's answering grin illuminated his entire face, an emotion so potent that his unseen counterpart hungered for it, ached for it, even just to know what it felt like.

Because he was pretty sure he'd never smiled like that in his life. And he'd never known such a certainty as he was witnessing unfold before him now. As far back as he could remember, nobody had ever trusted him that much. He'd never found that someone who thought him special enough to want to hold, to want to keep, to want to let so close that it was literally, humanly impossible.

And now his heart broke when he saw himself lie back down against the rooftop, and his last reservations fell and pooled around his ankles as his other self leaned in and murmured against Sylar's lips.

“Alright.” He promised.

The kiss was gentle, intimate, achingly tender even from the outside. Soft lips against lips, hands cradling bare skin, smiles curving against one another while Sylar rolled atop Peter, pinning him to the cold ground. Night was entirely upon them now, and the whisper of deepening, breathless kisses leaked into the air, meanwhile on the outskirts Peter felt like he was falling. Like his core was being hauled up into the air by that same old invisible thread, leaving a vital part of himself behind.

The city was evaporating around him. The horizon floating away like ash, the walls closing in upon where he stood, trembling and weak, longing for a breeze to soothe the burning promise of tears gathered in his own eyes.

He'd seen too much. He hadn't seen enough. He didn't understand, yet it made all kinds of sense. That wrong was right and people could change, could forgive, and that try as he might Peter couldn't find the will in himself to deny what he knew had been real, once.

And suddenly he was enveloped by the heat of another man's arms around him, strong and sincere and reliable. He felt the living softness of someone else's skin touching his, although still he stood alone, his lips tingled beneath the sensation he'd almost forgotten was that of another pair against them, it had been so long. And he could sense every part of that body, he could breathe the familiar, comforting scent of his hair, and somehow he tasted the gentle press of Sylar's tongue in his mouth, and he felt safe. Trusted. He felt wanted more than he'd ever been wanted before. And it invaded his senses all at once, unrelenting, overstimulating, until he couldn't discern between fear and arousal and he no longer knew where the Peter on the ground and the Peter on the outskirts collided.

Only then, the shackles keeping him frozen in place broke free. Feeling returned to his limbs and he stumbled away from the illicit lovers as fast as shooting pins and needles would let him.

But he wasn't steady enough. And with that cord now severed, he fell.

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faboideaehuai · 5 years ago

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In traditional Chinese thought, yin and yang complement each other, and one cannot exist without the other. CQL had at least two references to this idea, one being the Song Lan & Xiao Xingchen pairing, the other being our protagonists. The reference extend far beyond the color of their costumes, and both couples had bad things happen to them when they were separated. Fortunately, Wei Wuxian got a second chance at life.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, black and white, yin and yang. They were meant to be together.

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Reposted, because Tumblr somehow hid my first post from all tag searches. I’ve reached out to Tumblr about it (I literally stayed up for 2 days finishing this one, I want to see it posted), but Tumblr says it was “normal” and did nothing. So here it is again, I want to see what exactly I did to warrant Tumblr taking down my post from searches.

#the untamed #cql #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #陈情令 #忘羡 #蓝忘机 #魏无羡 #my drawings #mo dao zu shi #mdzs

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starfleetdoesntfirefirst · 4 years ago

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Popping back into disco fandom after a busy week and decided to give my incomprehensible meta from earlier this week a reblog; however, discovered that this webbed site hid it and realized that, despite my scrupulously including no links, it very likely was hidden because of my tongue-in-cheek use of a certain phrase, so decided to just repost instead sans webbed site phrase. Anyway,

Thinking about the degree to which Cpt. Georgiou’s story is about kindness and integrity, and the degree to which that means that (long before the events of later in the season make this incredibly explicit) it is therefore about the enemy within.

Like any self-respecting Star Trek captain fangirl, I have firm opinions on Georgiou’s Coolest Moments, Most Underrated Qualities, etc. The moment that beats out of a hell of a lot of Cool Underrated Moments/Qualities to reach second-place, extremely-close-to-first place for me is the moment when she tells Burnham that retreat is not an option not only because they’re in Federation space but also because they are the only line of defense for the space station and the Andorian colony behind them.

It’s not really a quotable-quote, but to me, it’s one of her most awesome moments, because it’s what makes much of the rest of the pilot episodes an awesome story about a captain and her crew looking out for innocent people, rather than about a captain risking and ultimately losing her ship and multiple members of her crew for the sake of space!diplomatic posturing.

But my first-place Underrated Georgiou Moment is the one that it’s tempting to call that moment’s inverse: We don’t start shooting on a hunch, and we don’t take innocent lives, period.

Georgiou looks out for the people on the base behind her, and she looks out for people in the starship confronting hers, which is only the inverse of looking out for innocent people if you’re willing to stake their lives on the assumption that they are not innocent.

<food/diet talk> I once read an advice column where someone had written in to say that they wanted to eat more ‘healthy food,’ but that fast and processed food was faster, cheaper, and better-tasting. The advice columnist began their response with Well, you’re right–fast food is faster, cheaper, and better-tasting! At the time, having grown up with years of war-on-obesity type messages about how home-cooked fresh-vegetable-based meals were in fact Faster and Cheaper and More Delicious than fast food, I clutched my pearls at this.

What the advice columnist said was, of course, in many contexts, correct. We tell our children that fresh food is always cheap and easy to prepare and will save them, </food/diet talk> and that kindness feels good and pleasant and makes their lives better, and sometimes it does, but sometimes it’s brutal and painful and entirely capable of making things worse. I think one reason I find Georgiou’s Trek Captain StoryTM comforting is because of the way her story as a whole makes me feel less alone in not necessarily associating acting with kindness with feelings of softness or pleasure or fulfillment.

Acting with kindness is so often swallowing a grenade; wrapping your arms around it. Matter can’t be created or destroyed and even in the movies whose directors haven’t seen the Mythbusters episode about how jumping on a grenade probably wouldn’t work anyway, you can’t put the pin back into it. The pain has to go somewhere.

Kindness and integrity are about shouldering the pain–even though you don’t deserve it; even though the very act of taking the pain onto yourself not only hurts you but also might in turn hurt someone else. Or, sometimes, kindness and integrity and supporting someone else are about finding a way to offload some of the weight onto another, different someone-else who doesn’t deserve the pain either but maybe, in this moment, is more capable of shouldering it than the person you’re looking out for would be. Kindness is entirely capable of wounding its practitioners, or, to paraphrase Seven of Nine: It’s hopeless and pointless and exhausting, and the only thing worse would be giving up.

Despite all those poems about women being wolves (the idea of wolves), and letting our teeth drip with blood and thorns grow from our hair, much of the time the person in the path of our aching teeth is not the person who deserves to cut by them. Have you ever wished someone, a good person!, ‘Good morning,’ and gotten a perhaps-justified glare from their exhaustion-smudged eyes? Because they’re in such a bad mood, because they’re in so much pain, because of course they would have glared at anyone who spoke to them? Except that, of course, it turns out they were quite capable of warmly greeting their boss or their lover or the more valued–and less visibly disabled–person who walks into the room after you. Even justified rage and pain and desire, when released indiscriminately, often do discriminate.

Near the end of Discovery Season 1, I remember reading a review that encapsulated Mirror Georgiou as being mirror-universe-evil but also a better strategist than Prime Georgiou, because she was quicker on the uptake than Prime Georgiou had been when Burnham spoke with each of them, respectively, about the current relevant threats. But deciding who is better at threat assessment necessitates defining what is a threat.

There’s a piece of fan art I’ve always wanted to paint if a) I had significantly greater art skill, b) I had the literal weeks it would take to paint a multi-panel art piece, and c) art on the theme of ‘person protecting someone else with their body’ didn’t inevitably come across looking like the “this is so sad” poorly-scaled soldier protecting cartoon toddler meme: Captain Georgiou and a small Shenzhou, a la all those sick Janeway-chilling-with-small-floating-Voyager-in-space artworks, standing in space with the space station behind her and the Klingon fleet in front of her. She is protecting the space station behind her from war; in subsequent panels, the viewpoint revolves around her and the little Shenzhou, and the images behind her shift to show the people we know and love on the Discovery–Culber and Stamets kissing; Burnham and Stamets releasing the tardigrade back into space; everything we recognize from ST:DSC’s Federation as innocent and loveable and worth protecting.

But as we circle back around to the same viewpoint again, the images shift. Instead of the Klingon fleet in front of Georgiou and the Shenzhou, we see the innocent people living their lives on Qo’noS; behind her, we see Mirror Georgiou bombing the rebel base; Mirror Georgiou preparing to execute Burnham; Cornwell and Sarek working with Mirror Georgiou to destroy Qo’noS; Qo’noS exploding into fiery nothingness. Is Prime Georgiou defending what is behind her from what is in front of her, or holding back what is behind her to protect the rest of the universe?

What is a Star Trek captain’s coolest #Underrated Moment?

Would Captain Georgiou have been able to effect more net positive good in the universe if she’d been just a bit more ruthless, a bit less Captain Kirk and a bit more Chrisjen Avasarala from The Expanse, and had elbowed her way up in the ranks to become an admiral by the time of the war? Maybe! To quote another advice column: “Should” Éowyn have stayed behind in Edoras to be Queen? Probably.

(Because that one’s a complimentary quote and Tumblr will hide the post if I link: “Commander Logic tells you how to get unstuck,” captain awkward dot com, which I do not endorse entirely as an advice site but which definitely has its moments.)

But then, of course, there’s no woman-Hobbit tag team to kill the Witch-King of Angmar (who is most definitely not Innocent People), and then maybe Admiral Georgiou helps create a better Federation that flawlessly averts the war in the first place and buys all of its citizens a new puppy, or maybe a Georgiou who would make the choice to ruthlessly cut her way to the top is, in fact, the Georgiou we meet at the end of Season 1 who made the choice to ruthlessly cut her way to the top and now stands there, using a mirrored Starfleet to control a mirrored universe.

Here is the story we got instead: Georgiou was a captain and not an admiral, and she didn’t avert a war, and she lectured Burnham like a child and was space-racist about Saru and didn’t even always wrap her own indiscriminate cruelty and pain and desire safely in her arms.

(And yes, I’ll always be disappointed that we didn’t get seven seasons of Captain Georgiou, or one season of Captain Georgiou and six season of Captain Burnham and background Admiral Georgiou, or… Prime Georgiou isn’t just comforting and hopeful and inspiring; she has flaws and impulsiveness and ruthlessness herself. What would it be like to see the story where she grows?)

But she did not start shooting on a hunch, and she did not take innocent lives. She put her own ruthlessness into the service of holding back what was behind her as much as facing down what was in front of her. She changed the people who she served with and captained, like every other cliched metaphor of ripples in a pond, and when Starfleet became the enemy within, and partnered with her own mirrored enemy within to try to kill millions of innocent adults and babies and children, it was the woman who had been the Shenzhou’s first officer who was the first to stand and say No, and the woman who had been the Shenzhou’s pilot who was the second.

I enjoyed seeing Mirror Georgiou stab Mirror Lorca as much as I enjoyed seeing Éowyn stab the Witch-King of Angmar. I don’t have a problem with the power part of power fantasy. But sometimes the Underrated Moment looks uncool. Sometimes the only way to act with integrity is to give something up rather than to Stand Up For Yourself The Way You Deserve, and the only way to look out for someone else hurts you in a way that is painful and awful and unfair. Even the most satisfying power fantasy is still a fantasy.

I would have preferred to see Lorca live and stand trial for crimes against humanity not for his sake but because a Terran Empire that condoned death as a consequence for failure is only a mirror to a Federation that condoned life in prison as a consequence for mutiny.

What do you see as Starfleet’s greatest threat?

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ellana-ravenwood · 6 years ago

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Salt, Tequila, Lemon - Jason Todd x Reader

Please read this intro, thank you very much :

So. I posted this yesterday, but after a bug on the Tumblr app on my phone it got deleted. I’m super bummed out because it had over 200 notes and quite a few feedbacks that I never got to read because it was accidentally deleted...If the people that took the time to comment things on the story could take a bit more time to write a little comment again and give me their feedbacks, and also if the people that liked and reblog could do it once more...i’d appreciate the hell out of you <3. So reposting it (thanks god I always have back ups of all my stories now). Written in twenty minutes during my break at work. Bam. Hope you’ll like it :

Also, since Tumblr’s new guidelines and enforcement of it, I DON’T really appear in searches anymore, so the only way for this story to be seen by others than those who follow me is to reblog it. So if you wanna, you can show your support for my writing by doing just that. Thanks very much. You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

_________________________________________________

Ok. So. Grandma’s remedy against heartbreak ? Oh, right.

Salt. Tequila. Lemon.

Got it. Licking the back of your hand to make the salt stick to it, you pour yourself a massive shot of “To-Kill-Ya” in your coffee mug, not even caring about the fact that there is still some remnant of your cappuccino from last night in it.

You focus on the sound the liquid makes as it fills your cup. Makes you think about something else. Good. Yup. This was totally gonna help right now.

“Cheers”, you exclaim to yourself, your empty apartment echoing your voice.

Salt.

Wincing. Stingy. Salt on its own is gross.

Tequila.

More wincing. Oh my god, it burns. The coffee that was still at the bottom of the cup is an oddly nice touch.

Lemon.

The last of the Wincing.

You spit the piece of lemon you just bit into in the trash and…miss. The yellow fruit falls with a little flat sound on the floor, and you honestly can’t bother to pick it up. Your apartment is a mess anyway, so you just stare at it angrily and pour yourself another drink.

Salt. Tequila. Lemon.

You gulp the last of the citrus and shiver. Miss the trash again.

Damn. This was good.

Well, actually, it was disgusting.

You didn’t like strong alcohol and what the Hell ?! Why did you leave a bit of coffee in your cup ? Now that the aftertaste was kicking in, it was actually really gross. If the tequila itself didn’t make you wanna throw up, the stale coffee taste nearly did. Oh, and the salt and lemon combination was as awful as ever.

You really didn’t like salt, tequila, or lemon.

But it was still good.

Because thanks to all this immediate awfulness, you could slowly feel yourself drift into “haze land”, and forget about your worries.

Forget that your boyfriend of two years just cheated on you with some random woman you worked with. Woman that, by the way, he met at the Christmas “end of the year” party from you work you invited him to…You gave him free champagne and mise-en-bouche and all your love, and he broke your heart.

It wasn’t your thing, to drink your sorrow away. And it wasn’t your thing either to wallow because of a man…But you genuinely thought he was “the one” (oh what a mistake you would soon realize that was).

He was always so nice, treating you like a princess. He complimented you daily, and never forgot an important date. He was affectionate, not to an annoying point. He was the perfectamount of affectionate. He was a gentleman and seemed to love you and yet, he betrayed you.

If a man like him, that was nothing short but sweet and passionate with you, cheated on you, then did that mean you couldn’t trust anyone ?

Because in your eyes right now, he was perfect. Albeit said eyes were slightly clouded by a a few tequila shots.

You were downing a fourth drink starting to slowly sob when…

There’s very few things that can get you out of a drunk state in seconds.

An extremely cold shower could do the trick, for instance. Brings you back to your senses a bit you know ? You wouldn’t magically be sober, but you’d get a clearer mind. Or someone giving you shocking news ! Or like, an event so incredible that your body just forgets how drunk it is for a minute.

And this event, for you, came at the perfect time.

Right when you were entering your “sad drunk” phase, which was between the “lol alcohol does NOTHING to me” phase where you downed most of your drinks, and the “dancing on the bar’s counter” phase (a few more drinks and you would have a one woman dance party in your living room, acting as if you were on a bar’s counter and that your name was suddenly “Britney”).

Right when you were about to wallow times a thousand, and cry, and yell “whyyyyyyy ?!” to the sky, arms in the air (drama queen).

Years later, looking back on that particular event, you’ll start to realize that Destiny HAS to exist. Because come on, it was just too perfect a timing to be a simple coincidence.

You were about to swallow up your fifth drink, launching yourself head first into the “sad phase” when an ear shattering noise rang all around your apartment.

Broken glass.

It was the sound of broken glass. Heightened to the max by your drunkness. You turned on your stool, and…there he was.

It was a guy. That you were sure of because he had no boobs and too much pecs. And that guy…well that guy just flew right through your window, destroying it. How rude.

There was glass everywhere.

How much did a window cost ? Probably a fortune.

You wondered briefly if you could just use aluminium foil and tape the shit up. There was nothing of value to steal in your apartment anyway, and if aluminium foil could keep meals warm, it definitely worked with a house too right ?

You sobered up quite a bit, but you were also very drunk when this event happened, so your mind was still in that cloudy weird phase where your priorities were…interesting.

You worried more about the broken window at first, than about that guy who just launched through it.

A guy.

Not just any guy.

You saw that guy before.

He was one of those night vigilante your crazy hometown was filled with…RED HOOD !!

“Thick thighs”, is the first thing you thought right after you recognized him (priorities).

The second thing you thought was that you needed another drink, and so you downed what was your fifth one, but with that crazy thing happening ended up being on the same level as if it was a second one. You were tipsy, but not “drunk” anymore.

The third thing that came to your mind was…Is he still alive ?

No cause, he was like, just laying there, on your living room’s floor, not moving.

“…Outch.”

Oh. He spoke.

So he ain’t dead. Good, means you can have another drink then, you don’t need a clear mind to call an ambulance or something.

Oddly enough, in your half-drunk half-sober state, this sounded completely reasonable. Nevermind if Red Hood had some internal bleeding or something. He talked. He was probably fine.

A minute passed, and you just sat there, sipping up your tequila in between taking a pinch of salt and biting into a piece of lemon.

Salt, tequila, lemon. Great remedy against heartbreaks.

Wait, were you heartbroken ? Really ? You couldn’t really recall that fact now. But, yeah…it was the reason why you were drinking right ? Because right now, all you could think about was the fact that this Red hood guy had abs for days…

This unforeseen event sobered you up quite a bit, but the two shots you just took kinda brought you back to the same state than you were before.

Well. Not quite. You were drunk as hell again, but seemed to have avoided the “sad phase”. Instead, Red Hood bursting quite literally through your window took you to another road.

The : “Cool, I got a drinking buddy phase”. Well, taking for granted he didn’t have any internal bleeding and wouldn’t die while biting into a lemon wedge.

“Tough day ?”

You ask him, as he slowly sits up and shakes his head, trying to regain his senses. He looks towards you and seem surprised (or at least you think he is, because he wears a mask so…kinda hard to tell).

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

Jason definitely thought he was alone in this place, because no sane person would just sit there, not saying anything, as someone simply jumped through their window. Nope, most people would just freak out. Scream.

He knows, because it’s not the first time he falls through a window during a night on duty. And every single time it happened, people freaked out. Screamed. Threw stuffs at him, or hid away begging for their life to be spared.

And yet here you were, half a bottle of tequila in front of you, surrounded by lemon wedges you bit into, and table salt all over your hand, just staring at him curiously. And did you just say : “tough day” ?

Well, Jason guessed the empty half of the bottle was why you were so chilled about it all. He sat up, and slowly got back to his feet.

Usually, going through a window meant the end of the night for him. He’d go back to one of his secret stash, patch himself up and get some rest. Most of the time, he fell through windows because someone pushed him or threw him there…Though today, he just embarrassingly missed a step and fell by himself.

Of course, no one would ever now he tripped while jumping from one building to another (you lived on the last floor) and went careening into your home (and life). Nope, the official story would be that he fought a fierce enemy and was thrown into that window. Finding fake villains name was easy, given how truly ridiculous some could be.

Tim and Damian were still after the “Illusive Blue Man” that he totally made up that one time he walked into a poll and had a huge black eye that he couldn’t quite explain…Oh man, he had to stop telling such elaborate lies and just say “I fought with a few guys last night” without more explanation.

But he couldn’t help it. And those kids believed everything he said, it was too tempting…But for now, this wasn’t the issue. Nope.

He did a quick check of his body and knew he wasn’t really hurt (thanks “dad” for the amazing body armor ugh ?), so he was planning on leaving that poor girl’s house and send a mystery check in the mail to pay for the damage (money stolen from a certain Bruce Wayne of course, as if he would pay himself).

Yup. He was just gonna stand up, and go on his way and…somehow, he found himself sitting on the stool opposite side of this mysterious girl, and now she was peppering salt on his hand ?

“Salt”, she says, and she has a cute drunk voice. Jason almost forgets he just went through a window a few minutes ago.

“Tequila”, she continues, downing her drink and pointing at the one she poured him. He doesn’t even care the she poured it in a cereal bowl that she didn’t even seem to have clean…He drunk worst things in worst recipient. He turns away to take off his mask and so that she can’t see his face, and “bottom’s up”.

“Lemon !” she finishes, biting into the sour fruit and spitting it in the direction of the trashcan but missing completely. The lemon wedge goes to lost itself amongst his fallen brothers…

Jason bites into his own lemons, and spits it. Right into the garbage.

There’s a slight pause, where she just stares at the trashcan, and then at Jason, back to the trashcan, and then turns to him again and simply says :

“Wow.”

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

So. This was surreal.

Here you were. In your home. Taking tequila shots. With…Red Hood.

One of Gotham’s night vigilante. The most violent one. But the dude seemed chilled. He was holding his liquor really well.

And now you were talking about your broken heart, telling him the story as if he’d been your friend for years. And he was listening. Intently. And reacting to what you were saying. It had been a LONG time, since you had this kind of talk with anyone, and despite the fact you were drunk, you still noticed how nice it felt to have someone to talk to. Someone that genuinely listened.

“And then he slept with her !” you say angrily.

“Nooooooo !?!”

“Yes, he did ! He slept with…with…what was her name…”

“Nicole. From accounting.”

“Right, Nicole from accounting ! That bitch ! She always just…counts and shit ! And he slept with her ! Nicole from accounting ! Whom he met thanks to me, by the way ! At a partyyyy !! At my wooooork !!”

“What an ass.”

“Right ?! Oh but he had such a good ass though…Quite firm. But whenever he wore jeans, it was super flat.”

“So, not such a good ass in the end then ?”

“I guess not. You have a good ass. Popping right out in this outfit of yours.”

Red Hood chuckles, and the sound of his laughter makes you forget that you just said something incredibly embarrassing. His voice is…nice. Deep. Manly. You like it. You wanna make him chuckle some more, so you say, hoping :

“And it looks very firm. Not just quite firm.”

It works. He snorts and it’s very cute. Oh wow. He can be sexy and cute. Full package. You smile a bit dreamily.

For a second, he’s lost in that smile of yours, and there’s a silence installing itself in the room. A comfortable one. That you break :

“Ok. So now, he’s not that perfect anymore ! He got no ass ! Penalty points ! I never notice how un-assed he was before…”

Jason smiles and damn. He’s hot.

Somewhere along the way, he stopped turning his face away from you whenever he took a shot, and just ended up taking his helmet off. He was probably hoping that you’d black out or something, so you wouldn’t remember his face (or he just didn’t care).

In any case, you were pretty sure you never saw him before. His face kinda reminded you of an old memory. Of someone you saw somewhere long ago, when you were a kid…Which wasn’t really a big help right ?

Right. You had no idea who he was. And in your drunken state, probably couldn’t piece anything together anyway. So even if you did know who he could be, you wouldn’t know in the end anyway…Makes perfect sense right ?

What you knew was : he’s hot.

This white streak in his hair did something to you that you couldn’t explain. And that jawline ? You would love to get cut on that bitch. It could actually cut a bitch, you were sure of it. Those blue eyes ? You’ve never seen someone with such blue eyes. And did you mention to yourself how muscular he was ? Because man you only saw guys like this in magazines !

But beyond his handsome features, he seemed like a nice guy. Like he was listening to you, a total stranger. And this realization suddenly raised your guard up.

You also thought that your ex-cheating-boyfriend was a nice guy. And come to think of it, who the hell just barge in someone’s home like that, and actually stay to drink tequila shots ?! Wait but…in your guts…it’s not like with your ex.

You don’t think he’s a nice guy. You know he is.

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

There’s a visible shift in your mood, after this realization. So far, you talked to him about your broken heart freely, and he listened.

Oddly enough, no words that came out of your (perfect) mouth bored him. Jason wasn’t sure wether it was the alcohol or not, but you captivated him.

But in a split second, and without him knowing why, your features changed. You were now frowning. Like an unhappy little kid. It was kinda cute, but he didn’t like it because…why were you frowning ?

He tries to lighten up the mood and says :

“Well here you go. See, you didn’t loose the perfect guy, his ass was flat in jeans. Can’t work with that, can you ? I bet we can find other flaws. Make you realize he actually was a looser.”

Your guard is up, but you can’t help but smile a bit, plus you were frowning just now because you realized you just knew you could trust that total stranger, and it was so weird….

Besides, no harm in indulging this, because you’re pretty sure it’ll make you feel better to try and see the bad side of your ex-boyfriend, not just his good ones. No one was perfect. And so, still a bit careful, you say :

“Well…He never got any of my Tv shows or movie references.”

“Well, here’s a point to take off of his “perfectness”. Doesn’t get pop culture references. Deal breaker.”

“Yeah…Yeah you’re right. It is. He also used to hate when I made jokes. I like puns ya know ? Terrible ones. Well, he was always embarrassed whenever I made them in public.”

“Ashamed of his girlfriend, doesn’t sound very gentlemanly, right ?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t. Maybe he wasn’t such a perfect gentleman…He also used to not want to go out with me if I didn’t wear any make-up and was dressed just casually.”

“What you mean, he never just went out with you ?”

“We only went out on dates. I had to dress up. I could be casual home though…”

“Well goodie, the man let you be yourself when you were home. Big deal. To be honest, sounds like a douchey move.”

“That was kinda douchey…I never cared what he looked like.”

And it’s true. For you, physical appearance wasn’t everything. And sure you thought your ex was hot and all, but only because you liked his personality too. You liked his jokes, you were never ashamed of anything he said.

And right now, sure that stranger that bursted through your window was hot, but the reason you felt like you could tell him things was because he just made you comfortable by his mere aura. Because he gave you such a good vibe.

You never were fully about appearances. It was always just a bonus for you…So it never occurred to you why your ex would only hang out in public with you if you were pampered. Like he used to hate when you just wore hoodies and no make-up, even if you didn’t need make-up to be beautiful.

Comes to think of it, he was very much about appearances…Uh. Interesting. You never realized that before.

You turn to Red Hood, and the look on your face says it all. You’re slowly realizing maybe you didn’t just lost “the one”. The vigilante says :

“Ok, so : no ass, no humor apparently, doesn’t get pop culture references, and was kind of a jerk when it came to going out with you…”

“He did tell me often that I was beautiful though. Including when I just woke up from a night out, and was awful looking.”

“Yeah, but he never went out with you looking like that. He shouldn’t feel ashamed of hanging out with you looking like that. Just like he shouldn’t feel embarrassed when you joke. He can be exasperated, like if you really make bad puns, sure. And he can think it’s unfunny…But embarrassed ? No.”

“I guess…I never thought about it.”

“Well let me tell you, as someone who does not know neither you nor him personally, he sounds like a bit of a jerk. Let’s not forget he cheated as well. Like, that’s not something good people do. Especially not with…Nicole from accounting.”

“Nicole from accounting…Yeah. They’re together now though.”

“So ? He should’ve broken up with you if he realized he liked her. That’s the right thing to do. Trust me on that, I put villains behind bars for a living, I know what’s right or wrong.”

“I heard you kill criminals.”

“Used to. I used to kill criminals, I had issues. I’ll tell you one day if you wanna. It’s a real tear jerker story. With clowns and crowbars. And I’m telling you that because I’m drunk, right now. Also, if we want to be specific, I don’t actually make a living out of putting villains behind bars. Like, I don’t get paid or anything…”

Jason finds himself ranting about anything that comes to his mind, and though he hears himself claim it’s because of the alcohol he’s saying all this, he realizes maybe there’s something else making him want to talk.

You. A total stranger he walked upon. Or rather, went-through-the-window upon. Who didn’t freak out when he went through said window. And instead, invited him over to have tequila shots.

Because, according to your grandmother, the best remedy to…basically any problems in life, was “salt, tequila, lemon”.

“She was a wise woman.”

He says, and you turn to him, clearly not understanding what he was talking about.

“Who ?”

“Your grandma. For saying that salt, tequila and lemon was a great remedy against heartbreaks and all.”

“Oh. Yeah. I wouldn’t know, I never met her. She died before I was born.”

“Well what she passed on to your parents is great.”

“What ?”

“Well, that “salt, tequila and lemon” thing, I assume she said that to your mom or dad, and then they said that to you, and then it became your grandma’s advice. Right ?”

“…Nah. It’s an excuse I made up. Whenever I need to justify something, I just say “like my grandma said, ain’t no shame in eating an entire tub of ice cream if you want to”, and then people are just like “oh yeah, cool”, because when you say the word “grandma”, then it gives a perspective to your words ya know ?”

Jason had no idea what you were on about, but he loved it. You seemed to be very smart. And witty. And funny. The hell did that guy cheated on you for ? And why was he ashamed of going out in public with you when you weren’t dressed up ?!

You currently wore “Hello Kitty” pyjamas, had absolutely no make up on, and your hair was a mess, and he thought you looked gorgeous.

“Why are you so nice ?”

Your question takes him by surprise, and for a few seconds he doesn’t register it and just says : “ugh ?”

“To me. Why are you so nice to me ? Is it the alcohol ? Does it make you nice ? Or are you just nice to every stranger ? Every girl you destroy the windows of ? Or are you like my ex ? You seem nice, but then you go off and cheat on your girl simply because you like another girl and you’re too cowardly to break up with your current girl ?”

Jason hiccups slightly, and says :

“No, I’m not nice to any girl I met. I’m actually usually kind of a jerk, too “brutally honest”. But you…I don’t know. You give me good feelings. Oh and here’s to add on his flaws list. “Coward”. Can’t even break up with a girl, has to wait to get caught red-handed and break her heart. Cooooward. Bad flaw. Kind of guy who runs in the face of danger, instead of standing by you.”

It’s probably the fact that he said “you give me good feelings” that spurs this in you. That gives you a new clearer perspective on things.

“My heart wasn’t broken.”

It’s a shock, to you. This realization. This sudden feeling jumping in your face. You…are not heartbroken. You’re mad. You’re frustrated. You feel betrayed. You feel a crazy burning anger towards your ex for toying around with you like that. For not having the balls to just break up, after spending two years together.

He was suppose to know you. To be your friend. Things could have turned out better. He could have just come up to you, say the truth, and…You were pretty sure you’d still be friend. Because he really was a great guy.

He really was all the good thing you though about him. He made a mistake, an unforgivable one in your book. But he was a great guy.

He was just…not your great guy. Not anymore at least.

And you realized, there, quite drunk, that…It was ok.

Your heart wasn’t broken.

Your pride was. Your trust was. But your heart ? …Maybe you weren’t completely in love with him. You were best friends, yes, but love ? Maybe it wasn’t love…

Your heart wasn’t broken.

“My heart isn’t broken.”

You tell Red hood, looking at him right in his wonderful ocean blue eyes. And he looks right back at you, and just nods. Just like that. And then he pours you one last tequila shot.

Because like your grandma would say : “When you make great discovery about yourself…Salt, tequila, lemon”.

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

It took you only a few hours with him to realize that you weren’t in love with your ex, and that was kinda scary. Because this realization didn’t come from nowhere.

Nope.

But when he said that your ex broke your heart, you felt obligated to tell him that no. No your heart wasn’t broken. You were sad and angry, yes, but not heartbroken. For you, in that moment, it was important for this total stranger to know you weren’t actually in love.

Hell, you didn’t even know yourself you weren’t that in love before you talked to him. It just came as a sudden, yet utterly true revelation.

Because, and this wasn’t the alcohol speaking…You felt incredibly attracted to that guy. To Red Hood. Not just because of the white streak in his hair, and the eyes, and smile, and voice, and abs, and thick thighs. That too, sure, but not only…Nope.

Nope. Not because of this.

But because he had a tough day (he said so himself, explaining to you how he went through the window…he was fighting a super-villain when he got flung through your window, tough tough time ahem), and yet he sat with a crazy lady that peppered salt on his hand and practically forced him to take a tequila shot…

Because you could see in his eyes, and felt in your guts that he didn’t have an easy life…and yet he took a break from whatever he was doing to just sit with you and listen to you. He didn’t even make sense, that you trusted those feelings so fiercely. And yet, you did. Because he listened to you.

He saw you were struggling and he stayed. And though you felt you couldn’t trust anyone at that time…You oddly felt like he was ok.

Like he wouldn’t be the kind of guy to cheat, or run in the face of danger, leaving you all alone to fight off demons.

In a few short hours, you fell for this guy more than you ever fell for your ex.

What did that say about you uh ? …That was pretty pathetic…

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

Jason didn’t think that you were pathetic at all.

On the contrary. If he went to seat with you, and drink with you, is because he was instantly mesmerized by you.

And though he didn’t know at first why, now he was sure of it.

It’s because you didn’t freak out. And something told him it wasn’t only because you were a bit drunk (he fell in drunk people’s home before…none reacted like you).

Nope. It was because you were special. He just knew it. Special in every way. Funny. Beautiful. Genuinely listening to him when he was speaking.

He peppered his own problems within your story, as you told him. And you listened. Hell, even referenced a few things he said early on, way later, while you were crazy drunk. You listened.

You gave a total stranger that seemed to have a tough day some salt. And tequila. And lemons.

And then you cared. You asked him a thousand times if he was ok, and he basically had to take off his armor to prove it so (to your eyes’ greatest pleasure…mm mm mm those muscles).

Captivated. He was captivated by you. It was strange, and though he knew it was because you were special, he still was unclear as to why his feelings were that strong.

For someone he just met. And barely knew. And only knew while drunk.

You were just…Special.

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

It was surreal. The all thing.

What started as a night where you planned on wallowing your pain and drinking…ended up changing your life.

And no one could convince you that it wasn’t Fate. Because what were the odds that Red Hood would fall through YOUR window after tripping (yeah you didn’t buy that “fighting super-villains thing” at all) ?

What were the odds of his timing being so perfect, arriving just before you started to cry ? Because there was no doubt in your mind that if he had come a few seconds later, he wouldn’t have stayed.

He would have found a crying mess, and maybe he would have tried to confort you but…You wouldn’t have answered. In your “sad phase”, you only cry and whine. He would have eventually left. And the wonderful talk you’d just have, would never have happened.

But instead. He came right before your lips touch that fatal shot of tequila that would have brought you into the “sad phase”. And took your drunkness down a notch. Rerouted your evening.

You weren’t wallowing anymore, you were ranting.

Sharing your anger and frustration.

And he helped you realize that your ex wasn’t that perfect…That maybe it was just not meant to be…After all, he cheated on you.

Uh. What a shame. You didn’t even know his name…”Red Hood”…

You wished you knew his name.

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

The morning lights were rising, and the bottle of tequila was long gone.

There were still salt and lemons though. For some reason, you decided to buy the entire grocery store’s stock of lemons.

Red Hood stood up, and said he had to go.

He was nice about it. Said it was a pleasure to have spend the night with you. You both laughed about the innuendos that ensued.

You were exactly on the same page. And he understood all your joke referencing to pop culture…

But it was time for him to go. And he apparently had no intention of telling you his real name. He didn’t hint either at ever coming back to see you again.

And there was that. Just a nice night, spend talking to a genuine friend that you’ll never see again.

A genuine friend that you didn’t even know a few hours before.

Maybe it was the alcohol speaking. Maybe not.

And even if you ended up never seeing him again, this evening truly changed your life…At least, it saved you from a heartbreak. Made you realize it wasn’t that.

Though, now, as he climbs out of the window again (he couldn’t possibly use the front door), you feel like the actual heartbreak is starting.

Grandma’s remedy against heartbreak ? Right.

Salt, tequila, lemon…

But the tequila is all gone.

“I’ll send someone to fix that window…Sorry again about that. …Bye.” are his last words, and then he’s out.

And the tequila is all gone.

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

…

Days pass by in a blur.

Salt. Tequila. Lemon.

Ugh. But you don’t want to this time. You don’t want to get drunk to forget.

You don’t want to forget him. And you know it’s ridiculous to get that worked up over a guy you met one night and that will never come back. That you didn’t even know the name of.

This entire night was weird anyway.

Getting drunk with a dangerous night vigilante. Pouring your heart out to him, and him doing the same. The hell were you even thinking ?

Salt. Tequila. Lemon.

That would be a good idea to do this right now, because man…your heart hurt. More than when you discovered your ex sleeping with Nicole. From accounting. But you can’t resolve yourself to drink. To forget. Nope. Instead you…

*Knock knock knock*.

Uh ? You take a quick look at your clock in the kitchen.10 pm. Who the hell is coming at 10 pm ?! It can only be bad news. Especially in Gotham…You peep into the eyehole and…

WHAT ?!

You open your door quickly, and…

“Told you I’d send someone to fix your window.”

It’s him. It’s Red hood. But in…civilian clothes.

His ass doesn’t look flat in jeans.

He’s holding a window wrapped in cardboard, and there’s a toolbox at his feet.

“Yeah, you did…come in.”

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

Jason Todd.

That’s his name. And connections are fast to be made in your brain. Jason Todd. Bruce Wayne’s adopted son. That supposedly died…ten years ago.

And is Red Hood now. Oh. It makes sense. Even his little “killing criminals” thing while Batman never killed. You easily put two and two together.

Red Hood. Jason Todd. Bruce Wayne.

Wow. Can’t believe you never guessed that before. Of course Bruce Wayne is Batman. He’s got the motive, the means, the excuses…It’s so obvious. And yet, you never realized. And no one else in Gotham ever realized.

Jason Todd.

Now you know his name.

And he’s fixing your window. Nobody ever fixed windows for you before (even those who broke it).

Um. To add to the “perfect man” list : “Handy”.

Jason Todd.

He quickly works the window up, and then he turns to you. While he was working you talked, as if you knew each other for years. Joking around. Like old friends. Like old extremely good and close friends.

It fits. It clicks. It’s natural. You and him, him and you.

Barely knowing each others, and yet knowing each others the best.

Jason. Todd.

He turns to you now, and with a smirk, he says :

“Ya know, my grandma always say that when something good happens to you, you need to celebrate. And I feel like this, right now, you and I, though I have no idea what we’re doing and where it’s going…Well it’s still something to celebrate. And she always says, my grandma, that to celebrate perfectly you need…”

You smile.

Yeah. You don’t know where this thing between you two is going, but you do know that you never met someone who so fully understood you.

And in such a short span of time. And you know you’re not mistaking. It’s a feeling too strong to be a mistake.

He came back to fix your window for god’s sake. And trusted you enough to tell you his actual name. Without a second thought. Which meant everything. Especially since from all the hint he let slip through last time you saw each others, about his father, well…let’s just say telling people his real name wasn’t really something he was used to.

But it just works. It fits. It clicks. It’s not like with your ex, because you don’t think you know it does. It just does. The fact that you say those next few words in perfect sync finishes to convince you :

(“…And she always says, my grandma, that to celebrate perfectly you need…”)

“Salt, tequila, and lemons.”

______________________________________________

I’m so mad the Tumblr app crashed and I deleted the original post...Y’all were great and reblogged the hell out of it ! Which is why it got so many notes in such a short span of times. And feedbacks. I haven’t had that many feedbacks on a story in a long time. So just one last time and I won’t bother you with that again : Please, if you enjoyed this story, don’t hesitate to reblog it and share it with others. People who don’t follow me can’t really find my stories anymore so...you’re a big help by spreading them. It’s always very encouraging.

And if you got the time, feedbacks are always hella appreciated and always make my day a little brighter <3.

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aquaticalay · 6 years ago

Text

For Something Greater .Chapter Two.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: (Y/n) is an active duty Navy SEAL Commander, the first and only woman to ever be a SEAL. When two American spies are captured during a reconnaissance mission at a Hydra base in Transia, (Y/n) and her team are forced to team up with The Winter Soldier to rescue the captives. Being wary of the avenger, she agrees to do one mission with Barnes, and one mission only. But after an unexpected turn of events, her team and Barnes must work together to finish what they started, while (Y/n) and Bucky try to sort out their complicated feelings. (Set six months after Endgame.)

Words: 1700+

Warning/s for this chapter: cursing, violence, death, mild Endgame spoilers

Warning/s for the series: Endgame spoilers, cursing, war violence, eventual smut

Note: I’m going to post a new chapter for this story every two days! Let me know if you wanna be in the taglist! (I’m going to keep this series’ taglist and the permanent on seperate to keep it tidy)

Recommended: listen to Human by Rag'n'Bone Man while reading this chapter.

(Read: I had to repost this again and again just so it would show up in the tags. Tumblr please fix this.)

ALL CHAPTERS OF "FOR SOMETHING GREATER" IN MY BIO

The trip felt longer than it was supposed to be. It was probably because it was a relatively more silent flight than usual, though Woods and Harris were still bickering like children. But aside from that, you only engaged in conversations with your team from time to time. The Winter Soldier’s eyes lingered on you, and it was almost impossible to ignore. In his gaze was not judgement, that you would’ve anticipated, but instead it was more a look of curiousity and amazement, maybe even borderline respect.

You stole glances at him to watch his movements, his behaviour. You studied his weapon. The rifle was a familiar model, an M249 SAW. You had fired it a few times. It was a convinient model, even resembling some functions of a machine gun. But you found it odd that he would choose that type of firearm, considering he had been a sniper in 1945. Choosing a rifle that leaned more towards a machine gun than a sniper made him seem more messy. Despite that, you knew not to judge him based off the firearm he used. He was not only a supersoldier, but a highly trained stealth operative as well. He would be as deadly with a baseball bat as he is with a gun. The only other weapon you saw was a sheathed knife on his thigh. You didn’t recognize it as any type of US military knives. You had your suspicions that it was made of vibranium, like his arm. Wakanda gave him a practically indestructable arm, and why stop there? Why not give him an indestructable knife, too?

Either way, it was a completely different model from your Ontario MK3 Navy Knife, which was mostly used for self-defense and protection. The size and shape of his knife, however, suggested that it was intended for a more brutal purpose, perhaps a clean, silent kill.

Those were all his weapons. No grenades, no glocks. If he were a normal human being, it would seem like he came unprepared, but he was not normal, and that could be proven in his blood and in his kill record.

A kill record that rivaled yours.

When the cargo plane reached cruising altitude of 800 feet, you stood up, and the Winter Soldier and your team did the same. “We know our mission. Get in, get the hostages, get out. But since it’s Hydra, treat this like an assault mission,” you said, “Sergeant Barnes is familiar with the general structure of a Hydra base, so he will lead us into the compound, but you still take orders from me. Hydra will jam long range radio transmissions. We only have short ranged ones to communicate with each other. We’re in this alone, and we can’t call for back up if anything goes south, so make sure nothing goes south. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Commander!” the boys said in unison.

With that, you each strapped in a static parachute. The hatch opened, and you jumped from the plane.

It was a habit by now, but you never got tired of it. It was in the middle of the night, the wind was in your favor. You stepped out of the plane, a thrilling smile on your face, a smile that distracted you from all the blood in your hands, that reminded you why you loved this job.

You had been dropped at a forest near the Transian mountain range, where the Hydra base is located. You were only several miles away from Serbia.

The trees gave you the perfect cover. You quickly regrouped and started a hike to the exact coordinates of the Hydra base.

For amateurs, the hike would have been five hours long, at least. But with the training your team had gone through and the Winter Soldier there, it would only take three hours, max.

Within two and a half hours, you had visual on the warehouse. Your team hid behind fallen timber.

You’ve gotta be honest, to the naked eye, the ‘base’ wasn’t exactly impressive. It just looked like an old warehouse made of rusted metal. It didn’t look threatening at all. It didn’t even have a fence around it.

“You can’t be serious,” Lawson scoffed, a smile forming on his face, “this is supposed to be a nazi terrorist facility? I’ve seen small rebel bases more threatening that this shit show.”

Barnes, however, studied the warehouse instensely, “Don’t underestimate them,” he warned, and in his voice was a cold, terrifying certainty.

You adjusted your goggles to zoom in on the base.

“What do you see?” Jones asked, a splinter of nervousness mixed with hope cracking in his voice.

Jones saw the base as Lawson did, a sorry excuse for an organization that at one point had almost had total control of the world. He thought there wouldn’t be a fight. He thought this would be an easy in and out mission. But you had a feeling Barnes was right, judging from his cold reaction.

“Not much,” you admitted, “I only count seven security guards patrolling the warehouse.”

Barnes decided to split the group into two teams. The first team would draw fire to the patroling guards, while the other one would enter the facility undetected.

The first team, the team that would cause a diversion, consisted of the better skilled and experienced marksmen in your team, McCoy, Miller, and Woods. They took cover behind a boulder, preparing to fire upon order.

The rest of the team, you, Barnes, Harris, Lawson, and Jones circled the perimeter to prepare to enter from the weakest entry point, the back door.

“Status?” You called to the diversion team via short range radio.

“Ready to fire on your order, commander,” Woods answered.

You looked to Barnes. He gave you a slight nod. You waited a heartbeat before you said through the radio, “Fire.”

In an instant, you heard chaos break out on the other side of the building. Without a doubt, the guard stationed on the back door left to help defend the front door.

That was a foolish move, and it proved that these men were untrained and inexperienced.

“On me,” Barnes led your team inside.

“Watch our six,” you told Jones. He nodded in response.

Barnes opened the door and… the warehouse was absolutely empty, except for two people in dressed in black, brown sacks over their heads, handcuffed to a chair in the center of the warehouse.

Could those be the missing CIA agents?

The team sweeped the room, and found nothing, but still stayed a safe distance from the people in the center of the room

“Help us,” a hoarse male voice from under the sack said weakly upon hearing footsteps, “we’ve been held hostage for weeks.”

The voice was American.

“They’re the agents!” Jones concluded, relief in his voice. Jones laid his firearm down, and quickly moved to the center of the room when you realized that those two people were wearing explosive belts.

Your eyes widened.

“Get down!” Barnes barked the order as he realized what was going on.

“No!” You didnt think twice. You moved towards Jones, trying to shield him from the explosion.

It exploded. You were thrown back by the impact, a shrapnel from the bomb embedding itself in your shoulder.

You struggled to get up, you vision blurry. “Oliver!” You struggled to scream, trying to get up as searing pain roared through your body.

You laid down, face up. You tried to look for the source of pain and saw a piece of metal deep inside your left shoulder.

You saw flash of metal, as the Winter Soldier rushed towards you, applying pressure on the sides of your wound.

“Oliver J-Jones,” you said faintly, “T-the kid, is he o-okay?” You struggled.

Barnes grunted and cursed, but he avoided the question.

You gathered all of you strength, “B-Barnes! I-is the kid okay?”

Collecting your consciousness and your common sense, you realized, Jones couldn’t have made it. He was too close.

You realized it, but that didn’t mean that you had accepted it. With whatever’s left of your energy, you thrashed under Bucky’s arm, “J-Jones! Where is he?”

“Hold still,” Bucky ordered, “You’re bleeding out!”

No.

No, this couldn’t be happening.

He was young. He was a kid. He was your responsibility.

His death was on you.

His blood is on your hands.

No.

“Get her to the ORP, she needs blood transfusion immediately,” Barnes said, and that was the last thing you heard before the world faded into black.

Your team rushed you to the ORP, and you were still unconscious.

“She’s losing blood,” Woods said to the medical officers. One of the officers nodded and scanned your suit for a dog tag. She found it in one of your utility pockets.

The dog tags contained your blood type, but when the medical officer saw it, her face grew pessimistic.

“What’s wrong?” Woods asked.

“She’s O negative,” she mentioned, “it’s one of the rarest blood type in the world, and is not compatible with any other blood type. It would clot. We don’t have a supply here.”

“Then transport her, dammit!” Woods shouted frantically.

“She wont make the trip,” she explained.

“I’m O negative,” a deep voice said, and it belonged to the Winter Soldier as he entered the room.

The medical officer stuttered, “B-but you’re a super soldier, we don’t know the effects-”

“So what? We’re just gonna leave her here to die?” Barnes asked inscredulously, “Look, I’m your best shot at saving her.”

The officer looked at her colleagues. She nodded, “It’s worth a try.”

“Wait,” Miller intervened, “Just how experimental is this?”

“Very,” the medical officer almost visibly shuddered, “There’s no telling what the side effects are, if there are any, or if she will survive the transfusion at all.”

“Then maybe we should run diagnostics first,” Miller suggested.

“There’s no time for that!” Lawson growled, visibly distressed.

“But this treatment might kill her!” Miller said.

“Yes, this might kill her, but not doing anything will kill her,” Lawson sneered, “I just lost my teammate. I’m not going to lose my commander, too.”

The whole room fell silent.

They hadn’t had the time to grieve. They hadn’t had time to process the young SEAL’s death, and this was the first time anyone had talked about Jones as a deceased man.

The medical officer told her colleague, “prep her for surgery.”

@greatwerewolfdragon @ciochesono @keepyourdreamsalive @valentynecalum @bigchunggus @vaultures @ka-x-in @marvel-is-my-life-blog @ljthewinterllama @thefirst-galaxy @meraki-loki @wolfiea03 @izzyisavengersupernaturaltrash @teageowen @illi-vanilli @nicholasbich @childishhoe @infinityexe @natashasnight @talk-geek-to-me @divinediego

(I apologize for tagging you all multiple times in one day, but Tumblr is acting up and not showing my posts in the tags so…. @staff fix this pleaseeeee)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagines #bucky imagine #sebastian stan x reader #avengers x reader #bucky imagines #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan imagines #sebastian stan #the winter soldier imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky #for something greater chapterss

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ilovemygaydad · 6 years ago

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Exes and ‘Oh’s

from the friends in dark places au

pairing: moxiety, eventual logince, background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

summary: [sort of outside the timeline] as a way to get virgil more comfortable in their group, patton decides everyone should take a day to go to the mall

WARNINGS: attempted sexual assault, kissing, non-consentual kissing/touching, physical violence, mention of a broken nose, blood mentions, head injury, panic attacks, crying, anger, toxic relationships, toxic oc, mental abuse, swearing, yelling, condescending tone, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: so i have to repost all of these in a different format! yay fucking me!!!! please consider reblogging these if you’re a fan of this series because it’s all fucked up now

first of main plot - companions

consider buying me a coffee (please)

Patton had decided that going to the mall would be a really great way to make Virgil feel more comfortable with Logan and Roman. Lo had picked them up around noon, and they had taken to walking around in an attempt to find somewhere to stop first.

Suddenly, Virgil grabbed Patton’s arm and swung him into the nearest store. Pat ton gave him a confused look, prompting at least some explanation as to why they’d ditched their other friends.

“I just,” Virgil rushed as he peeked out from behind a clothes rack that he’d hidden behind. “I saw my ex. God, I didn’t expect to see him here!” Patton peeked out and scanned the mall’s occupants until he spotted a familiar face.

“Are you talking about Jason?” Patton asked.

Shock spread across Virgil’s face. “Uh, yeah. How’d you know?”

“Oh, he’s also an ex of mine. And Logan and Roman. I didn’t realize you’d dated him, too!” Pat watched as Jason sat down at the circle of chairs just outside the store.

“Yeah…” Virgil muttered, squeezing his fists rhythmically. He was starting to have a panic attack as bad memories from his only relationship flooded back.

“Woah, kiddo. Are you okay?” Concern was laced in Patton’s voice as he set a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I just… Well, he, uh… It’s not important. I’ll be fine,” Virgil assured, giving a tiny smile that fell far flat of believable.

“Did he abuse you?” Patton asked quietly.

Virgil’s breath caught in his throat as memories spun around his brain.

---

“You need to stop talking to those people online, V.” Jason had confronted Virgil after school when they had been sitting at the bus stop.

“What? But they’re my… They’re my friends.” Virgil was confused. It was rare for him to bring up his Tumblr friends to Jason, and the times that he had, it was just to show him a funny post they had sent him.

“I don’t trust them. You need to tell them you can’t be their friend anymore,” his boyfriend told him. Virgil supposed Jason was right. He didn’t know much about his online friends, so maybe he shouldn’t trust them.

That night he’d deleted his Tumblr account.

---

“Jay, I don’t really feel like coming over tonight. I need to study for my bio test, and I’m super tired,” Virgil explained with a sigh, closing his locker and walking down the hall. Jason was hot on his trail.

“If you cared about me, then you’d come over.”

Virgil stopped in his tracks. “I do care about you. Why would you even say that?”

His boyfriend’s expression turned sad. “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me. You don’t seem to care about me anymore.”

Virgil grabbed Jay’s hand and looked him in the eye. “Okay, I’ll come over. But you have to help me study. This test is really important to me.”

---

“Babe, come on. You know you want to,” Jason coaxed as he placed his hand on Virgil’s waist, pulling him closer.

Virgil jerked away. “Knock it off! You’re drunk, and all that I want to do is study. Regardless, you aren’t in any situation to make important decisions.”

There were a few excruciating moments of stillness where Virgil thought that Jason would back off when Jason grabbed him by the shirt collar and forced him into a kiss. Reflexively, Virgil pushed him away. His hands shook, and his breathing was becoming unsteady.

“What the fuck?!” Jay screamed and stalked close. His hands reached out to grab Virgil again, but Virgil was able to dodge the forceful grasp enough to run to the door..

“You’re drunk, and what you’re doing isn’t fucking cool. We’ll talk about it in the morning. Good night.” He reached for the doorknob, but his action stopped short when he heard a thud behind him. Virgil whipped around, only to see his boyfriend’s hand being pulled out from a hole he had punched into the wall.

“If you leave, I’m going to kill myself.” Blood was dripping from Jason’s hand onto the wooden floor of the foyer. Cold rushed through Virgil’s veins.

“What?”

“You heard me. I need you, yet you want to leave me. You’re being a terrible boyfriend,” Jay accused.

No. That wasn't true. Was it? What if it was?

Jason started forward again and pressed Virgil against the wall, kissing him sharply. A cold hand slid under the hem of his t-shirt, and hot ears began to stream down his face. What had he done to get himself into this terrible situation?

Virgil acted on impulse. He shoved as hard as he could and flung the door open, sprinting down the street without pausing. He ran for as long as he could, eventually collapsing in an alley a few miles away. Panic spread through him as he realized that he was in an unfamiliar place without his phone, which he’d left at Jason’s, and completely alone. Virgil hid behind a dumpster until the morning came, too terrified to wander the streets alone.

---

“We’re through,” Virgil said as he walked up to Jason on Monday morning. After what’d happened on Friday night, he hadn’t left his bed, feigning sick to get out of any human contact.

“What?” Jay asked as he turned to face Virgil. His features were contorted--cold and angry.

“I can’t stay with someone who doesn’t respect my wishes. Please don’t talk to me ever again.” Virgil walked away, hands in his sweatshirt pockets to hide their intense shaking.

The next week, Jason had transferred schools, and Virgil didn’t have to worry about him anymore.

---

“I--no. Of course not,” Virgil replied after a too many seconds. Patton’s normally cheery expression turned furious.

“Virgil, what did he do?” Patton’s voice was terrifyingly deep. Without a second thought, Virgil spilled all of the details of his horrible relationship.

“That asshole! I’m going to kick his ass to next Thursday.” Pat growled. Virgil reached out to stop him, but his fingers just barely brushed against Patton’s arm as he exited the store. Patton stormed over to the chairs in the center of the walkway.

As Virgil rushed out after him, he was met with Roman and Logan, who must have realized their other friends weren’t following them anymore. The trio stared as Patton confronted Jason.

“Hey, Jason! What’s up?” Patton’s voice was saccharine sweet without any trace of genuine happiness that normally presented itself.

“Um, hey, Patton.” Jay sputtered, clearly confused as to why he’d been addressed by his ex.

“You know,” Patton said, laughing without any humor. “I let you off the hook for all of the shit that you did to me and my friends, but I really shouldn’t have. Do you know why? Because you’re a terrible person who thinks that it’s okay to sexually and mentally abuse people. I was weak for a long time, but I’ve finally grown a thick skin just in time to find out that you not only mentally abused Logan, Roman, and me, but you both sexually and mentally abused someone who I love. Who the hell do you think you are for thinking that is in any way okay? You’re an absolute garbage excuse for a human, and I’m sorry that anyone has to see you on a daily basis. Go shove a foot up your--” Patton was cut off by Virgil pulling him back.

“Patton, it isn’t worth it. Just let it go.” Virgil’s face was pleading, obviously wanting to avoid any more confrontation.

“No! I am not just going to ‘let it go!’ Are you kidding me?” Patton jerked away from his friend and turned back to Jason, who’d stood up with a sickening smirk plastered on his face.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Let Suburban Dad here get his word in.” Jay took a few steps forward. He’d grown a bit over the years and towered at least three inches over both of them.

“You’re disgusting! I can’t belie--” Patton’s yelling abruptly stopped as Jason shoved him backward. His head made a hollow thunk as it hit the wooden armrest of the mall chair.

“Roman, go grab security. I’ll take care of Patton and Virgil.” Logan ordered from a few feet behind Virgil. He heard scrambling feet on tile, but Virgil’s mind didn’t really take the noises in. His sole focus was on Jason.

“You son of a bitch!” Virgil screeched as he marched up to Jay with no regard for his own safety. “What the fuck was that? How dare you hurt Patton--he’s never done anything to you! I’d say that I can’t believe you’d do that, but I know damn well that you would. You’re a coward!” He took the final step and flung his fist into Jason’s face. The teen in front of him collapsed onto the ground, blood trickling from his now broken nose. Virgil crouched down, looking Jason straight in the eye.

“That is something that I should have done a long fucking time ago.”

---

After things were cleared up with malls security and Patton was cleared by the paramedics, the group of friends were finally able to make their way home. Virgil was hunched in his seat, emotionally drained from the day’s events.

“Hey, Virgil,” Roman piped up from the front seat. “What you did was really brave.”

“I agree,” Logan added. “You were very heroic out there even if what you did was extremely stupid. It was an admirable move.” He flashed Virgil a tiny smile in the rearview mirror.

Patton gently latched himself onto Virgil’s hand and gave it a light squeeze. Virgil turned his attention to his friend sitting next to him. “I’m so proud of you, kiddo.”

“It’s… It’s not a big deal.” Virgil sunk deeper into his seat, flipping his hood over his head to conceal the rosy blush that was spreading across his face.

#sanders sides fic #virgil sanders #patton sanders #m writes things #logan sanders #roman sanders

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katymacsupernatural · 6 years ago

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Magnetic Chapter 6: Turn About

Dean Winchester x Reader

Story Summary: After your Dad was killed, you were shocked to learn all about his hidden life. Deciding to follow in his footsteps, you turn to a life of hunting, surprised at how well you adapted. Then comes along Sam and Dean Winchester, turning your life upside down. You and Dean don’t get along at first, but then things soon start to change.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

A/N: This is a repost because Tumblr took down the original post.

After an awkward dinner that night of chili burgers, you had gone straight back to your room, needing to be alone for a while. It was nice being with people, to not be on your own, but it was a hard adjustment to get used to. And tonight, after the gifts from the store, and the homemade food, along with the teasing between brothers, you had felt a little overwhelmed. You were more than used to sitting in your motel room, munching on greasy fast food, the TV the only company. So having someone who actually talked back made you feel more on the spot.

After shutting the door to your room, you took a deep breath, the silence relaxing and calming. Throwing clothes off as you went, not caring where they landed, you stood in front of your dresser in just your lacy black bra and underwear. It was one of the few girly things you could get away with wearing while hunting, and you usually splurged on them, while buying the rest of your clothes second hand, or on clearance. So many times, you only wore a shirt once before throwing it away due to blood stains or rips in the material. It was not worth buying new, and your budget couldn't afford it anyway.

You were just pulling out a pair of skimpy sleep shorts and a tank top when you heard a slight knock on your door. You didn't even have time to pull your shirt on or cover yourself before the door was opened, and Dean came sauntering in, a plate of pie in his hands. "Hey, you left before I could tell you we had dessert. Now, I usually don't share my pie but,..." He said, before his eyes drifted upwards, his words stopping as he took in your undressed state. You blushed, covering your body as best as you could, but according to his Cheshire cat smile, you didn't do a good enough job.

"Dean!" You exclaimed, but the man didn't even have the common decency to look away. Freezing in your spot, you could do nothing but watch as he looked you up and down, licking that plump bottom lip of his.

"What?" He finally asked, his eyes making their way up your body to meet yours. "Isn't it fair play? You oogled me when I was half naked. Just returning the favor, honey."

Huffing, you gave up, slipping the tank top over your head, watching as Dean's smile turned into a pout. Slipping your shorts on, you glared at him, your arms crossed. "What did you need?"

"I brought you pie!" He said as if it was more precious than gold.

"Thanks." You said, taking the plate from him, and setting it down on the nightstand. "Now you can go."

Instead of leaving as you had hoped, he stood there, an indecisive look on his face. "Look, Sam talked to me. And I know we didn't start off on the right foot. But this pie, it's my peace offering. Maybe we can start again?"

"Sure." You answered carefully, Dean's version of playing nice catching you off-guard.

"Oh, and we have a hunt. Which means that you're not gonna be able to sleep in. So you need your beauty sleep sweet cheeks." He said, his usual sass back as he left the room. After making sure the door was shut again, you crawled into bed, before grabbing the pie. Little did Dean know, but you had a major weakness for the sweet, flaky pastry.

----------*-------*-------------

The next morning a pounding on your door had you rolling over in your bed, groaning at the intrusion.

"Rise and shine sweetheart. You only have 15 minutes to get those sweet cheeks dressed. And I know they're pretty sweet, I got a good look at them yesterday." Dean yelled through the door.

Cursing him under your breath, you went and opened the door, laughing as Dean almost fell through.

"Shut up you Ass." You growled at him, a frown etched on your face, grumpy at being woken up.

"Wow, someone's not a morning person." He grumbled, holding his hands up and backing out the door, straight into Sam.

Sam looked between you and his brother, deciding his best course of action would be to get Dean out of there. Grabbing him by the collar, he pulled him down the hallway, yelling over his shoulder. "Get dressed Y/N. We have a vengeful spirit to deal with."

Slamming the door, you grabbed items, needing a shower to wake you up.

Within twenty minutes you were dressed and feeling more like yourself. Taking the traveling coffee mug, along with the apple Sam threw your way, you slid into the backseat of the Impala, after tossing Dean your bag. "So where are we heading?" You asked him, as you settled comfortably in the seat.

"Small town in Colorado. Should be there in about five hours. A group of college students has been getting killed off, almost exactly the same way their buddy died last year." Sam explained as Dean pulled out of the garage.

"Great, college students." You muttered.

"Hey, college students aren't all bad," Dean argued. "They know how to throw a party. And then those cheerleaders, in those outfits."

On an urge, you leaned forward, slapping Dean on the shoulder. He jerked the wheel in surprise, while Sam hid a chuckle behind a cough.

"Hey, what was that for?" Dean whined.

"I didn't want to hear all your fantasies, thank you very much." You explained.

Instead of arguing, Dean just turned the radio on, and a Bob Seger song came on the radio. "I love this song!" You exclaimed, once again taking Dean by surprise.

"You do? I pegged you like more of the Belieber type." He shot back, and you smacked him again.

"Hell no, I can't wait for him to be gone." You insisted. "I love classic rock, and (your favorite band.) My dad's favorite band was Kansas."

"Wow, you two do have stuff in common." Interjected Sam. "Dean thinks there is a Seger song for every moment in life."

"Could be." You agreed, before leaning back and listening to the music as Dean drove down the two-lane road.

#magnetic #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural reader insert #katy writes

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claitynroberts · 6 years ago

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Leopard Print

Summary: What happens when Sam, Dean, and y/n get some much needed vacation time? Better yet, what goes down after Sam leaves y/n and Dean alone for the afternoon?

Warnings/Genre: Crack, Fluff. Some language and detailed description of nude forms. Sorta 18+.

Word Count: 1925

A/N: Written for @spngenrebingo, square filled is Vacation. This is a repost of an a old post since the original was eaten during the Tumblr purge that didn’t do a damn thing.

If Dean was anything, it was an opportunist; and when opportunity came knocking, he answered the damn door. Hell, if he, Sam, and y/n hadn’t saved billionaire CEO Jonathan Thomas from a djinn attack in Kentucky a few weeks ago, they wouldn’t be where they are now; sitting pretty at some private beach house miles away from civilization.

Mr. Thomas had offered it to them for a week, all expenses paid, as recompense for helping get his sorry ass out of the precarious situation he’d inadvertently become a part of. At the time he’d offered them the use of the mansion on the coast, the three hunters had been swamped with case after case, vacation being the furthest thing from their minds. With the strange but welcoming respite the lull in cases brought with it, the three hunters had some extra time on their hands and were already half-way to the promised excursion. One phone call to Mr. Thomas was all it took for Dean to gather the gang and head south.

Now, it was day three of their first vacation in...well, ever. He, Sam, and y/n quickly found and laid claim to their own corners of the house and the sprawling expanse of white sand outside, coming together for meals and the relaxing banter the cool beach evenings offered.

This morning Sam had decided to drive into town, eager to check out the local sites, museums, and libraries the cultural destination had to offer. Y/n had retired to the beach lining the ocean just in front of the large house, chair, cooler, and umbrella at the ready.

Dean had been cleaning up his dishes from lunch when he glanced out the window to see Y/n’s sun hat peeking over the back of her beach chair, her purple string bikini top hanging from the backrest and waving in the ocean breeze like a flag. As he rinsed the plate and dried his hands on the green dish towel, he smirked, a rather devious plan coming to mind. And, well, opportunity just happened to be his middle name.

He’d had a thing for y/n for a while now, but nothing had ever come of it besides some hardcore flirting and drunken make-out sessions in the dark recesses of the ratty motel rooms they frequented. Today, something just might change. Maybe.

Softly, he padded into his room and began to don the outfit he’d picked up for vacation before they left Lebanon. Moments later, after some tugging, jumping, and adjusting of the pinching fabric, he was ready. Looking in the mirror, he smirked to himself before leaving his room to walk across the large living area. As Dean stepped through the French doors and onto the back deck he was instantly met with the warm, humid air and the roar of the ocean waves. As quickly as the sand would let him, he trudged through the stark white powder, plopping down in the extra beach chair beside y/n as he fished a beer out of her cooler.

Devilishly he looked over at her as he took in her body. Her long bronzed legs were stretched out in front of her, the supple skin soaking up as many of the sun's rays as possible. Her full, rounded hips were being hugged by the dainty strings of her bikini bottoms, the modesty ending there. The golden skin of her stomach gave way to the supple flesh of her bosom, full rounded breasts basking happily in the summer sunshine. The areolas were a dark dusty rose and her nipples had become pebbled and erect from the cool ocean breeze. Shadows from the umbrella fell across her collarbones, traveling the length of her graceful neck to fall across her face. Y/n held a romance novel open in her lap as she continued her reading, never once taking in Dean’s presence.

Clearing his throat he caught her attention as a perfect eyebrow rose over her dark sunglasses and she turned her head in his direction. “Can I help you?” She asked in a sweetly, sarcastic tone.

Taking in his incredibly ridiculous getup she stifled a laugh by covering her mouth daintily with her hand. Dean was wearing a white Hawaiian-print button down with multi-colored hibiscus flowers and dark green foliage. The shirt wouldn’t have been completely awful had he not paired it with cutoff jorts, velcro sandals, and a floppy blue fishing hat. To make the scene even more comical, he completed his look with his dark ray-bans and a thick smearing of sunscreen on his nose, making him look like every stereotypical male tourist from every bad movie ever.

“Don’t you think you ought to be wearing a little, I dunno, more?” He asked making a vague motion over his own chest to communicate her lack of coverage.

“Oh my god, you’re right!” She shrieked as she looked down at her topless torso, feigning embarrassment by covering herself with her book. “Have you seen my top? I think someone stole it!” Jokingly she looked around as if it had merely fallen off her body.

“I-I think it’s on the b—.”

“I know exactly where it’s at, Dean, because I put it there.” She glowered at him in mock anger as she attempted to hold back a smirk. “It’s a private beach, and I intend to take full advantage of it.” Y/n dropped her book back down and went back to reading.

Dean attempted to come up with a line, something to throw back at her, but, instead, his mouth ended up gaping like a fish. Looking over at him, his stunned reaction caused y/n to giggle, a full-on body-wracking expression of emotion. “Why Dean, I do believe you’re speechless.” She giggled again and took a long pull of her beer.

Silently Dean stood up and began undressing. First to go were the awful dad-variety sandals, then he threw his gaudy fishing hat into the seat he had vacated. Working to undo the handful of buttons at the bottom of his shirt, he let the light fabric slide from his broad shoulders, revealing the pale, soft but muscled form below. He had a perpetual farmer’s tan from always wearing his t-shirts and flannels, resulting in just his forearms, neck, and face being a deep sun kissed bronze.

“What’re you doing?” Y/n asked, all hint of teasing gone, curiosity taking its place.

“I just thought I’d go for a swim instead of sitting here being insulted by you.” He grinned at her as his hands moved toward the fly of his jorts.

“Oh really, now?” She asked, a bit of mirth returning to her voice as his hands stilled their progress. “Do you know how much sand you’ll get in your cracks and crevices just from being out there? Furthermore, do you understand how hard it is to remove it all? You’d be better off taking a dip in the pool.”

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before a wide grin split his face. “Well maybe you can help me take care of that later, but right now, I’m going to go swim in the ocean. It’s our first vacation in years. I’m going to enjoy this.” He smiled at her as he made quick work of his fly and dropped the denim abomination to the sand.

Y/n dropped her book as she used both hands to try and hold in the laugh that threatened to rip out of her chest at the sight of Dean in his swimwear. “You like?” He asked, holding his arms out to his sides so she could take in the full sight.

Beneath Dean’s cutoff shorts hid a little surprise he had picked up when they stopped at the head-shop in town to pick up souvenirs from their trip. Clinging to his narrow hips was a small, skimpy pair of swim briefs. Two narrow strips of leopard print fabric hugged the lines of his hips to drop down where a triangular scrap of similarly printed fabric barely covered his manhood. His impressive member was straining against the form fitting material, leaving nothing to the imagination. Grinning he looked down at y/n as he began to step backwards toward the water line. “Why y/n, I do believe you’re speechless,” he said nonchalantly, throwing her words back at her as he chuckled, turning around and slowly jogging to the water.

This time y/n couldn’t hold it in, a loud burst of laughter escaping from her chest as she took in the sight in front of her. Not only did the swimwear barely cover his junk, but in the back it didn’t hide a lick of flesh. Instead, the two straps of leopard material that were hugging his narrow hips simply met at the base of his spine and disappeared between his cheeks, leaving them fully exposed. The flesh and muscle simultaneously bouncing and flexing with the effort of his jog across the sand.

While she didn’t expect the view, she couldn’t deny the fact that it was a helluva nice one. So nice, in fact, she felt a pool of slick gathering at the entrance of her core. “What I would do to that man,” she mumbled to herself as she picked up her book and readjusted her surroundings.

Glancing up she noticed Dean had stopped and looked over his shoulder throwing her a smirk and a wink that set every girl’s knees to buckling. “You chicken, or do you just like the view?” He called across the expanse of sand as he turned toward her and began to flex his muscles in different poses much like a bodybuilder.

Pursing her lips she shook her head at him as he egged her on. Having had enough of his taunting, she tossed her book down and took off at a sprint, her tits bouncing with the movement and thoroughly distracting Dean long enough for her to launch herself at him. His hands came up to catch her under the ass, his fingers dimpling the soft flesh where her thighs met her cheeks. She looped her arms around his neck for support, her breasts pushing flush against his own bare chest as she leaned toward him.

“I’m not chicken,” she said matter of factly. “And I guess the view was alright.” She finished with a smirk.

“Just ‘alright’, huh?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I mean you—.” She didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence because Dean had effectively shut her up by crushing his mouth to hers. She opened up for the kiss, a soft moan escaping her parted lips as Dean pushed his tongue forward to twist and twine with hers. Mirroring his actions, y/n deepened the kiss before pulling back, catching Dean’s lip in the process and nipping at it gently.

“How was that?” He asked breathlessly, his dark green, lust blown eyes meeting her y/ec ones as they each looked to the other for confirmation of what had just transpired between them.

“I’m not sure. Maybe we should try again,” y/n replied on a heaved exhale, attempting to catch her own breath.

“Good idea.” He nodded.

They each dove at the other’s mouth for the second, perfect kiss in a long series of a lifetime’s worth of kisses. The sun, salt, and sand falling away until it left just the two of them clutching at each other with a desperation running deeper and farther than any ocean current.

#spngenrebingo #leopard print #repost of an old post #dean winchester #sam winchester #reader insert #spn #supernatural #fanfiction #fic #fanfic #writing

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