#some comment to cause your character to stop and freeze/have a bad reaction

[the-mystic-dragon]

what would happen if soulbeasts are combined with their pets for too long. how would their body modify to being molded with another species with completely different than their own biology?

would they have personality changes? become more quick to respond with teeth and claws rather than thought and reason?

i’d like to think it would be more of your choice of pet in combat controlling the soulbeast in this instance where you’re vulnerable being together in such a powerful yet dangerous state. protecting their ranger even when they aren’t present with them in a fight

edit: slight icebrood saga spoilers in the tags!!

[upat4amwiththemoon]

The Villain

Summary: Wanda is an Avenger, a hero. Wanda’s girlfriend’s father is a villain, though Wanda doesn’t know that. What happens when Tony Stark successfully kills him?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, some descriptions of violence, me not knowing how guns work (please tell me if I missed any!)

Word count: 1859

Prompts (taken from thecharactercomma.com): ‘A character finds out their best friend is destined to be the next villain’ and “You’re so convinced that I’ll hurt them that you haven’t considered that’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

a/n: If you want to, you can send me a request for a fanfic! I can write to any MCU, GOT, OUAT and TVD/TO characters. If you have some other show/movie in mind, request it and I’ll see if I have seen it! I’m not 100% sure how requesting works, so if someone would like to tell me I’d really appreciate it! But for now, I’ll just tell you all here. Feedback is greatly appreciated :)

Y/D/N = your dad’s name

A knock on the door awakens Y/N from her slumber. She grumbles, looking at her surroundings for a moment. A blue hue hits coming from the TV hits her face gently. She fell asleep to her couch while watching Wanda’s favorite sitcoms to understand the references she threw around their conversations. Knocking comes from the front door again. Y/N stands up and quietly walks to the door, looking through the peephole to see who could be at her door at this time of the night. She sees Wanda’s ragged face.

Y/N opens the door. “Wanda, what are you doing her?” She pulls her girlfriend into a tight hug. “Are you okay?”

Wanda nods, breathing in Y/N’s comforting scent. “I am now. Can I come in?”

“Of course, come on. I’ll make you something to eat and you can take a shower if you want to, okay?” Y/N starts walking around the apartment after sitting Wanda down to the couch. She starts going through the kitchen cabinets, looking for something to make for her. Deciding a sandwich would do for now, she starts taking out the ingredients.

“Bewitched.” Wanda comments from the couch.

“Huh?”

“You’re watching Bewitched.” Wanda smiles widely, her heart fluttering. She knew sitcoms were never Y/N’s favorite genre of TV shows, but the fact she was watching them for Wanda, made her feel warm inside. “How do you like it.”

Y/N giggles. “It’s actually better than I thought. I see why you like it so much.” She comes to sit next to Wanda, giving her the sandwich she made. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” She asks, nodding at the dirt and small bruises on her face.

“A mission.” Wanda sighs. “It was a rough one, but still successful I suppose. We almost had him, but people would’ve died if Tony hadn’t killed him.” She takes a pause, taking a piece of the sandwich and swallowing before talking again. “It would’ve been better if we got him alive, but this is a victory nonetheless.”

“Who? A big bad villain?” Y/N smirks playfully.

Wanda giggles, shaking her head. “One of the baddest, Y/D/N.”

Y/N freezes on her place. Her eyes turn wide and her breathing shallows. Wanda doesn’t notice the change in her posture right away, instead, she continues talking about the mission. How he had kidnapped bunch of people and murdered two men, who were most likely ex business partners. Y/N knew that already, her dad had told her very early on that he hurts bad men. That some people might call him a bad man, and her was okay with that, because there were even worse men in the world. He never killed innocent people, he did hurt them for his own advantage, to distract the heroes from stopping him doing his main goals. The two men he killed today were in fact previous business partners, but they did horrible things for fun. Shot endangered animals, drugged and did bad things for women, there were even rumors they hung around in pedophilic rings. When Y/D/N found out about these allegations, he stopped working with them and killed them. Just like that. Killing was never a problem.

“Love?” Wanda touches Y/N’s shoulder, bringing her out of her head. “Are you okay?”

Y/N nods, looking straight ahead. “I need to do something.” She stands up, brushing Wanda’s hand off of her. “You can stay here and do whatever, I’ll be back before morning.” She starts changing her clothes into more decent ones than her oversized t-shirt and sweats.

“Where are you going at this time?” Wanda stands up, following her around, the sandwich now forgotten.

“I just need to go, don’t worry about it.” She gives Wanda a quick kiss. “I’ll be back before you know it.” She walks out of the door, leaving Wanda to stand in front of it all alone.

Y/N sobs inside Stefan’s, who is her father’s right hand man, arms. He is holding her tightly, also feeling devastated from the loss of his best friend. Three other men stand around them, hanging their heads down, sad and ashamed they couldn’t save him. Other people liked to call them a gang or a mafia, but they didn’t see themselves like that. To them, they were just a big family that happened to kill bad people. Of course, others wouldn’t see it like that.

“You know what happens now, right?” One of the men ask as Y/N’s tears subside.

She backs away from Stefan. “No, I don’t.”

“Your father left you a list of names, you have to continue his legacy.”

Y/N stays quiet. She had to wear his mask and become a new him. It was always meant to be hers, just not this soon. She picks up the slightly broken and dirtied mask from the ground, turning it around in her hands. It feels heavy. The mask is originally black, though now it’s coated in blood red paint. That’s what they did, made the mask redder after every kill. Now it had to be cleaned back to its original color. The cycle begins from the start after the mask passes to the next generation.

“I don’t think I’m ready.”

Stefan sets his hand on her shoulder, rubbing it in a comforting manner. “I know this is sooner than we thought, but you have to be ready. It’s your job now.” He digs a paper from his pocket, giving it to her.

The paper is full of names, some of them crossed off. Every name on the lost had done something horrible to get a place on the list. What was considered horrible, was up to the maker. All of the leaders made a list, it was their life goal. Unless they died, then the next person had to cross off the rest of the names. Only after it they could build their own.

“You have to finish it. Kill them for your father.”

“And Stark.” Another man comments, his voice full of venom when he spits out Tony Stark’s name.

“I’m not going to kill Stark.”

They don’t know she is friends with him and the rest of the Avengers, or that she is dating the Wanda Maximoff. Even her father was in the dark about this. It’s not like Wanda knows about her father either. She just couldn’t get the words out of her mouth.

“What? He killed your father! He deserves to die.”

“He is not on the list. I’m not killing him and that’s final.” Y/N commands, her voice rough. She didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t like her to yell or to be cold. Now, she had no other choice.

The man nods, silencing himself.

Y/N glances at the list. Sighing, she stands up straighter and gives the mask to Stefan. “Clean it up, we have work to do.”

After a week, four names have been crossed off the list. The Avengers never got close to catching Y/N, because she knew them. She knew their priorities when it came to missions. Get every civilian out of danger. It was easy to cause a distraction that included innocent people without actually hurting them. Just like her father did.

Y/N punches the man. She is at a bank vault with the owner while the rest of the men are holding the workers and customers hostage in the main area of the bank. It was working flawlessly, at least so far.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” The man whimpers and shakes his head. “No? You have no idea what these pictures were doing in your computer?” Y/N shows him a few pictures she printed out. The man is looking away, not wanting to show any reaction to the photos. “You’re disgusting.” She holds up a gun to his forehead, clicking the safety off.

“No, no! Please, please let me go! I was forced to take them! I didn’t want to, please.” He starts pleading.

Pathetic.

“So, you did take the pictures?” The man nods, his whole body is shaking in fear. “I need you to say it.”

“I took the pictures!”

Y/N hums and shoots him straight through his brains. Spitting on the man’s dead body, she starts walking away from the vault. “I’m done down here, we’re ready to leave.” She communicates to her men through an ear piece. When she hears confirmation from Stefan, she starts jogging to the back door, ready to leave everything behind.

But life wasn’t on her side today.

A familiar with descends in front of her, stopping her to her tracks. “You aren’t going anywhere.” She growls, her eyes gleaming red.

Y/N stares at her. She raises her hands over her head slowly, dropping her ear piece and smashing it under her foot. Her men knew what to do, they didn’t need her guidance anymore.

Wanda frowns slightly, but covers it up quickly. She didn’t expect her to give up so easily. Y/N rips off her mask and throws it to Wanda, showing herself. Wanda gasps. Her stance falters. “Y/N?”

“Hey, you.” She gives her a weak smile.

“Wh-What are you doing here? Why are you wearing that mask?”

“He was my father, Wanda.” She nods towards the mask. Wanda’s eyes widen even more if that’s physically possible. “I had to continue what he left behind.”

“Killing people?”

“Bad people.”

“What are you talking about? Those people up there aren’t bad people!” Wanda glances at the gun in Y/N’s hand. “Drop your gun.”

“You’re so convinced that I’ll hurt them that you haven’t considered that’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.” Y/N ignores Wanda’s command. “My intention was never to hurt them, they were merely a distraction.”

“A distraction?” Wanda scoffs. “They are people, Y/N, not distractions.” Her stance changes again, it goes back to the hero Wanda. “Did you do everything that happened this week?” Y/N nods. “Drop the gun.”

“I’m not killing innocent people, only those who deserve it. So did my father.”

“Your father killed the previous president!”

“He was a rapist and a liar!” Y/N yells, making Wanda waken her magic. “He was a bad person and he deserved to die.” She says, now more calmly.

“No one deserves to die.”

“What about Hydra? Thanos and the chitauri? Ultron? My father? They are all dead. Did they not deserve it?”

“We had no other choice.”

“Neither do I.”

The two are staring at each other, quietly, both wondering what was going to happen now.

“I’m not going to come with you.” Y/N whispers. “I have a job to do.” When Wanda doesn’t answer, she picks up her mask and puts it back on. It covers her whole face. “I still love you.”

“I know.” Something takes Wanda’s attention away from Y/N, most likely someone talking to her through comms.

Y/N uses the moment to her advantage and runs away. Wanda could’ve stopped her, easily, but she didn’t. She chose not to.

[mintymiknow]

Trust Fall ch. 8 | Lee Minho

summary | character profiles | masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Reader

Summary: Little discussions here and there seem to open some eyes and hearts, but is it enough to fully break down the walls that were built? 

Genre: Secret agent/spy au, romance, angst, action

Word count: Approx. 5.8k

Warnings for this chapter: Genre-typical violence & blood due to fight scenes (rest assured, it isn’t gore; just basic or typical violence for fight scenes). Let me know if I missed anything or should add more warning tags though!

A/N: I know you all had to wait for a bit, but I used my break to spend time with family (and play Genshin so...hehe I needed some “me-time”). Anyway! I’m back and here to give you all the next chapter for the series. I hope you enjoy reading it as the end scenes have been my favorite to write so far ‘cause you’ll be getting some tension and fluff at the same time. Leave an ask for any questions and comments!

“I’ve fallen into a daily routine now. I’m used to everything and go about my day normally now.”

That’s what you’d like to say anyway.

While it’s somehow true that you’ve fallen into a systematic rhythm in SKZ, it’s still something that weighs down on you, and you just want to get things over and done with. You still have to drag your body away from the bed, drag your feet here and there, and work in the lab department.

This systematic rhythm consists of working in the lab with Seungmin and Jisung - and eating your meals with them mostly. It also involves Minho and the other boys going on smaller-sized missions, each return giving you more things to work with and whatnot.

In the very back of your head and heart, the brief moments Minho spends with you - namely late nights in the lab discussing the recent findings and theories - are somewhat a breather as it reminded you of the times you and Dr. Kang would stay in the doctors’ lounge, talking about how your rounds with the patients went for the day.

Well, at the end of it all, at least you’re basically good friends with Seungmin and Jisung now. Being with the two gave you a sense of freedom as if you were back in your more relaxed college days or something of that sort.

After getting showered and dressed for another day, you head to the lab department. On the way, you bump into Felix in the courtyard-like area of the HQ. The young male greets you with a smile, “Morning, y/n! Lab duty again?”

You offer a small smile and nod in response, “Hi, Felix. Yes, as usual.”

“I see.” Felix chuckles lightly, “Don’t forget to stand up and stretch from time to time. Sitting for long hours isn’t good for your posture! Though you’re the doctor so I’m sure you knew that…”

“We can forget.” you chuckle, “Thank you for the reminder. You should keep that in mind too.”

“Yeah, sitting in front of computer screens and whatnot is bad for my eyes, but probably my back too.” Felix laughs, his eyes filled with so much brightness.

You release a soft sigh and smile, “I commend you and your efforts in the tech division.”

“Thanks…” Felix says sheepishly, “I’m not one for being in the limelight, but it’s nice to hear that us tech agents are doing good too. We are working in the background most of the time.”

“Well, I’m sure that without you and the other tech guys, Minho and the rest of the agents would be doing missions blindly and without any advantages.” you say seriously yet warmly.

“That’s true.” the younger laughs, “Gee, you’re really nice, you know that?”

“Not really...just...um, saying facts.” you stutter, suddenly taken by surprise by his compliment, “It’s from a completely objective perspective after all…”

Felix grins wider, shaking his head, “I can tell you’re a nice person, y/n! Minho says you’re a bit closed off, but it’s understandable. Jisung and Seungmin know you best, and they like you a lot, so that’s more than enough to like you too. Besides, you wouldn’t be here if you really didn’t care, right?”

After that statement, another agent calls for Felix, so the freckled male has to excuse himself. As he trots off to the main HQ building, you stand there, dumbfounded.

“Besides, you wouldn’t be here if you really didn’t care, right?”

You’ve been blaming Minho and Jung and SKZ for dragging and forcing you back into the game. Blaming them for giving you no choice no matter what, but deep down, you knew that you did have a choice. You could run away any time, turn to the government or something to fight for your rights. You could give in to the dark whispers of joining Cle to end whatever struggle once and for all.

But you had a choice, and you chose to work with SKZ.

Because yes, you cared. Yes, you wanted to make sure no one lost their lives over a stupid serum.

You chose this.

Who knew that Felix, happy-go-lucky and carefree as he was, would just nonchalantly utter words that would open your eyes and heart. Well, maybe it was that innocence and cheerfulness that made it more believable and genuine to you.

Shaking your head to release yourself from a trance, you clear your throat and make hurried steps towards the lab department. You take the elevator and go down to the underground level where most of the work is done. You then venture further inside, heading for the hallway where various rooms are lined. You’re about to scan your ID to open the door to the lab room you frequently use when the door slides open by itself; you’re met with a tall figure in front of you.

You look up, only to see Jung standing in front of you, tilting his head to the side. “Oh, Dr. Song, good morning.” he chuckles.

You nod politely, “Yes, good morning, Jung. What...what brings you here?”

Jung rarely stepped foot into the lab unless you guys summoned him and the agents for briefing on test findings and results. As far as you were concerned, the results for the tests Jisung ran yesterday are due later in the afternoon, not this morning.

Unless...something happened and Jung needed to speak directly to you, perhaps?

“Did...something happen?” you ask again, clearing your throat.

Jung shakes his head and offers a smile, “Well, technically I was looking for Seungmin, and since you both work closely, I thought he’d be here...where’d that boy go?”

“Seungmin’s doing his rounds in the medical wing, I think.” you explain, “Did you need something from him? Maybe I’d know…”

“Oh, no. It’s just about an agent that needs treatment, and I think Seungmin would be the best doctor to work on it.” Jung sighs and offers a small smile, “No matter, I’ll look for him myself.”

“I see, alright then.” you nod.

“Have a good day, Dr. Song. Don’t forget to take breaks. Minho says you’ve been working non-stop.” Jung calls over his shoulder as he walks away, muttering something about ‘where is Kim Seungmin’ afterwards.

You go inside the lab room and press the button for the door to slide shut. Call it “trust issues”, but as soon as the door closes, you scan the room and check everything there, making sure how you left it last night was how it was until now.

Not a single thing was out of place, so you mentally slap your mind for being so suspicious.

You then proceed to study whatever chemicals and substances the team has brought back the past few days, and you study them along with...well, vials of chemicals that you’ve hesitantly withheld from the rest - from Minho. These withheld items were things you’d only test and analyze when you were working by yourself, keeping the observations and notes in a small notebook that you kept in utter secrecy and safety.

If Jisung and Seungmin wanted to enter the lab room, they’d have to knock or scan their IDs, and if it were the latter, the beeping sound before the door opens gave you enough time to conceal whatever substances you were hiding under the table or in the desk drawers.

After a few hours or so, you finally decide to take a break and keep the vials and flasks in a locked cabinet before clearing up the desk and returning whatever equipment you used. However, you still remain seated on the stool, going through the notes you’ve written in your notebook and rattling your mind to come up with mental calculations and formulas to make sense of your findings. So far, you don’t have anything, and your eyebrows knit together in desperation.

“Y/n.”

You freeze in your spot upon hearing that sharp and clear voice; you don’t even bother to make any moves in hiding your notebook - that’s too suspicious. Instead, you simply close the notebook and try your best to look as calm as possible as you look up, “Agent Lee.”

Minho crosses his arms, something you’ve learned to look away from - unless you want to internally drool over how attractive the simple gesture looks. “I thought you were supposed to be with Jisung for today? That’s what he told me last night anyway.” he says plainly.

You sigh. Did they all keep tabs on you or what? “I was just about to meet with him.” you answer, breaking eye contact with him once again, “I just...wanted to check some things here.”

“Anything of use?” Minho raises an eyebrow, and you know he’s trying to get you to explain yourself.

You lift up your notebook and weakly wave it in the air before explaining, “Just...going over some notes from previous findings and trying to connect the dots. I...am yet to see anything of significance.”

Once again, not a complete lie; yes, you were trying to connect that dots and whatnot, but nothing of significance? That was a lie. You’ve already noted some pretty significant findings aside from the ones you discovered with the other scientists, but you didn’t need to tell Minho that. Not yet...maybe.

Minho walks over, stopping a bit too close for you, and you involuntarily flinch at the suddenness...and proximity. The agent notices the subtle reaction, eyes slightly lidding in either annoyance or guilt...you aren’t sure which one. He plants a hand on the desk, leaning against it as he raises an eyebrow again, “Care to share anything else?”

You shake your head, moving to put your notebook in your small purse and slinging it onto your shoulder. You stand up from the stool, but instantly regret it as Minho takes one very miniscule step towards you. That tiny step is enough to cause you to take your own step back, unfortunately bumping into the stool behind you. The male catches you with ease, a hand lightly supporting your lower back as he tugs you close with one swift and effortless motion.

Your hands fly out to settle against his chest in an effort to put as much distance between you two. Minho leans close, his head perfectly and dangerously near the side of your neck; his dark hair tickles your ear, and you can almost feel the tip of his perfect nose against the skin of your neck. You can’t help but gulp, and you’re sure the agent notices it. Despite his body warm against yours, you’re frozen like ice, unmoving as Minho remains in that position for a few more seconds.

After, he pulls back and stares at you with an unreadable expression, dark eyes still somehow sparkly despite the tension in the room. “Did you...perhaps drink at the bar before coming here? While on duty?” he asks sternly, as if reprimanding you.

You blink your eyes, staring at the male with confusion. “Excuse me?” you blurt out.

“You smell like alcohol.” Minho says in a deadpan manner.

You angle your head to sniff your shoulder to see if he was telling the truth. Surprisingly, you caught a whiff of alcohol from your jacket and internally groan, closing your eyes in embarrassment. If this were a cartoon, your cheeks would be tomato-red. You open your eyes to see Minho smiling at you, the curl of his lips nothing short of teasing and playful. Your cheeks are probably redder now.

“I didn’t drink today.” you clear your throat, tearing your eyes away from Minho’s to look down. Instead, your eyes land on his tie, already loosened at the top with the first few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. Your mind goes hazy.

Minho laughs lightly, “You do know it’s against the rules to go to the lounge bar when on duty, right?”

You snap out of whatever reverie you were in, dragging your eyes back to Minho’s. You nod, narrowing your eyes to mask your flustered state, “I drank yesterday, but with Seungmin and Jisung. I didn’t do anything today. This is the jacket I wore yesterday, that’s why.”

“I see.” Minho tilts his head innocently, pulling away and retracting his hand from your back; you suddenly miss the warmth.

You clear your throat once more before bowing politely, “Now if you’ll excuse me, Jisung might be waiting.”

You don’t wait for Minho to reply, skirting around him to leave the room in a hurry. Minho watches your retreating figure with warm eyes, but as soon as you’re gone, he narrows said eyes and scans the room. Though nothing in particular seems wrong, he does notice a small sheet of paper on the floor, perhaps slipping from your notebook when you hurriedly put it back in your purse. He bends down to pick it up, flipping it over to reveal a small polaroid photograph.

Minho’s eyes glaze at the photo, taking into account the three individuals posing happily. He sees a woman on the right, one eye closed as she makes a winking face with a smile wide and bright as she flashes a peace-sign with her hand.

In the middle is a male who Minho recalls is the man you met up with before - Dr. Kang Hyunbin, the one you claimed to be your good friend. He smiles calmly, eyes twinkling even through a photograph as he has one arm around the other woman’s shoulder, and another arm around your shoulder.

There, at the left side you stand, smiling wider than Minho has ever seen, eyes full of life and not dull like how it is in here. The three of you were in casual clothes, though still wearing your usual lab coats in what seems to be the outdoor garden of Gongjak Hospital.

“Never thought I’d see someone smile like this after her.” Minho thinks to himself, “How cruel is fate, huh?”

He catches himself looking at you a second too long than he intended, so he releases a sigh and pockets the photo, making a mental note to return it to you soon. Turning on his heel, the agent then heads for the training facility in the main building.

“If I may be so bold, I’d say you’re in love.” Jeongin laughs after finishing a routine on the treadmill, plopping down onto a bench, “Not kidding.”

Minho leans against one of the gym equipment, raising a displeased eyebrow as he utters, “Yeah, you’re being too bold as usual, Innie. That’s not even - I don’t even know what to say in response to that.”

Chan wipes the sweat off his forehead with a towel after he finishes his turn with the punching bag. “I am intrigued how you came with that conclusion though.” the eldest says.

Jeongin laughs, his eyes narrowing into a playful yet sincere disposition, “Well, you don’t show it, but we know you well enough to see that you really do care about her. And it’s not just because you’re her partner or it’s your job to do so. I know how you are when you genuinely care about someone, and your eyes tell me that you do care about y/n more than you lead on.”

“Ok, but what if I’m only like that because I don’t want her to die? Because we’re agents? We’re supposed to be protectors of this country and its people?” Minho reasons, heading towards the punching bag.

“You’re pretty touchy and teasing with her, am I right? Kinda flirty and charming.”

“It’s called a cover, Innie. You’re familiar with that.”

“I just have a feeling. You don’t care about people to that extent. You tend to act out of duty and obligation, not attachment and emotion. With us being an exception to that, the other person I can see this side of you with is when you’re with y/n, or if it involves y/n.” Jeongin leans back against the wall, his smile not faltering one bit, “Not saying you’re attached to her, but I’m just saying that there’s already an emotional connection, and I have a feeling it won’t be long until it becomes something more serious.”

Chan looks at the youngest in awe, smiling like a proud father as he slowly claps his hands. He puts a hand on Jeongin’s shoulder and gently shakes him before turning to Minho, “You know, I do have to agree with Innie on this. You don’t even have to act on feelings or whatever. Just...try not to close yourself or your doors, alright? Maybe you’ll earn another new friend along the way.”

“I don’t need her if I have you guys.” Minho lightly punches the bag a few times, “She’s a waste of time. I just need her to finish her part so we can finally conclude this long mission.”

“You’re probably going to shoot me for saying this,” Jeongin starts as he hides behind Chan, “but are you just saying that because she reminds you of Jiyeon?”

At that, Minho shoots a glare at the two males, eyebrows furrowed. Jeongin sheepishly chuckles, but he boldly presses on. “Changbin told us...how much y/n reminds you of Jiyeon, and well, yeah, we do see it too. Is that why you don’t want to get attached? Not even romantically...platonically, even.”

Minho’s eyes soften as he looks down at the floor, “I’ve made myself clear when I said that emotions are a waste of time and are a useless distraction - things I can’t afford in this job. I’m here to protect people, not make friends and fall in love.”

Chan hums, offering a slow and easy smile as he looks at the male with warmth. “Y/n isn’t going to kill you. Or us. Or anyone for that matter.” the eldest agent states confidently, “It goes against her principles...against the doctor in her. That’s more than enough to convince me she’s on our side.”

“Wasn’t that what we thought of Jiyeon?” Minho scoffs, “Noble woman serving the organization to protect the people because of her pure heart?”

“No.” Chan says in an instant, his voice filled with certainty, “Y/n cares about lives, otherwise she wouldn’t be here. She’ll do everything in her power to fix this just so she can prevent harm...and maybe find peace from whatever past is haunting her.”

Then Minho and Chan stare at each other, a brotherly connection swarming in their eyes as whatever determination Chan has to share makes its way to Minho. The eldest agent then continues with a softer, more apologetic voice, “Jiyeon...is the opposite of y/n, now that I think about it. Y/n reminds you of the mask Jiyeon had, but not Jiyeon herself. That woman...worked in the complete opposite way of what we stand for - what y/n stands for.”

Minho releases a sigh, slumping down onto the bench beside Jeongin. With a groan, he leans his head back and rests it against the wall. Chan chuckles, giving his friend a light pat on the shoulder.

“Jiyeon’s gone, so let go of her now.”

A day later, Jung sends Minho and a small team to a factory site for investigation. He requests your presence as well, as the factory was used for chemical experiments, and you might have additional input as the investigation is carried out.

You sit in the backseat of the car, staring out the window as Minho sits next to you, and despite being on the other end of the backseat, you can feel his warmth radiating from him. Usually, he’d be driving or seated in the passenger seat if Chan was driving. But right now, two other agents were in front, and while Minho was supposed to sit in front, he swapped places with the other agent and sat with you.

Though, if you were being completely honest, you couldn’t decipher why, because right now, the man has barely spoken or looked at you. It’s a quiet ride, and you aren’t sure if it’s because he’s with agents who aren’t his usual circle of friends; you decide to keep quiet as well.

The agent driving parks the car by some trees along with another car before your groups begin to trek up a small hill that leads to a secluded factory building. The other agents go their own way with Minho reminding them to keep things subtle and quiet. The male agent then addresses you, but he does not look your way, “Follow me.”

Not that you really cared, but his indifferent - or more indifferent than usual - demeanor slightly puts you in a confused state, but you follow him nonetheless. Once inside the factory building, you look around and whisper, “Is this an abandoned site?”

Minho shakes his head, sharp eyes looking around, “Technically not. Cle occupied and used this site, but as per intel, they’ve only recently relocated the operations for this place somewhere else. This is now just a backup hideout, in simpler terms.”

You nod your head, and Minho continues, “We’re here to investigate, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Ok.”

With that, another blanket of silence befalls you two, and you find yourselves searching and investigating the room you were in. You both work in silence, and while it has its pros and cons, you can’t help but feel uneasy. On the bright side, you could focus on your task at your own pace and not get distracted, keeping things to yourself if needed. However, you’re slightly used to him asking questions and checking on you every now and then, so you can’t help but think if he’s upset or angry.

Or he knows something about what you’ve been hiding.

Impossible; that couldn’t be the case right?

He’d confront you if that were the case, not avoid you...right?

Unfortunately, there’s nothing of interest and significance in this room, so you tell Minho. It would seem he has the same thoughts because he furrows his eyebrows and gestures towards the rooms down the hallway nearby. “They must have swept this place clean.” he sighs tiredly, “Let’s move on.”

You nod and follow him in silence, the agent carefully and quietly navigating through the confusing halls and rooms of the factory building. Unfortunately, it was as he said; it would seem Cle did a good job in making sure no traces were left for SKZ to pick up on, leaving you empty-handed. The agents communicate with Minho through their communication devices and inform the male that they’ve moved on to the North building which was on the opposite side of the factory compound.

You and Minho head to the last location to scout, and it turned out to be a run-down lab room. The interior and leftover equipment and tables were clean, but you could see specks of rust forming on the surface. You gingerly brush your hand on one of the table surfaces, sighing, “This kind of environment could affect whatever chemicals and substances they were working with.”

“Unless this is a set-up to make it look like they haven’t been doing anything here.” Minho points out, squatting down in front of one the shelves lined with bottles of murky liquid and chunks of...whatever specimens, “Any idea if these will be useful?”

You walk over to him and look at the stuff on the shelf. You sniff the bottles of murky liquid before contorting your face in disgust, “This is just stagnant water. It’s murky because of dust and dirt.”

“But these…” you trail off, tilting your head to examine the containers with whatever solid specimens, “...these are…”

You gulp, unable to finish your sentence as your mind finally registers what those specimens were; pieces of body parts that had long decayed, probably to be used for observational purposes but rotted over time.

Minho notices the way you stiffen, gulping hard as if urging yourself to keep the bile to yourself. He breaks whatever “silent treatment” he had going on, putting a hand to your shoulder to get you away from the shelf. He steps in front of you to block your view, bending slightly just to get to your eye level. “Y/n, just rela - ”

He doesn’t get to finish his words because in a split-second, his eyes leave yours as they fill with urgency. Before you know it, he grabs your shoulder more firmly and pushes forward. You yelp as you land on the ground with him on top of you at the exact same time you see a small dagger lodging itself into the shelf. Your eyes widen and fall to Minho who already has his icy eyes on the newcomer to the room.

He mutters a hurried “get out of here” before getting up and facing off with the stranger. However, you can’t bring yourself to move, frozen on the floor as you watch the stranger lunge for Minho. The two men engage in a frenzied hand-to-hand battle, but it would seem like the man is at par with Minho, keeping up with the skilled agent’s moves.

Minho refuses to draw out his gun to make sure he doesn’t make any noise to prevent attracting attention should there be more enemies around the area. He manages to gain a short upper-hand, sending the enemy a few feet back with a strong spinning kick. He then rushes over to you and grabs your hand so that he can pull you to your feet.

“Let’s go.” he says in a low voice, not wasting any time in running from the room.

You’re both running as fast as you can, hand tightly gripping each other’s as if your life depended on it. You arrive in one of the open-space rooms, and as you continue to run, the wooden floor below creaks softly. The enemy is a quick runner as well, somehow managed to catch up with you two. He reaches out, grabbing your other wrist and pulling you from Minho’s grasp and pulls his fist back to land a punch. The agent refuses to let him do so and turns around, using whatever momentum to pull you behind him just as the enemy’s fist lands on his jaw. The impact causes Minho to let go of you as he falls to the side, and you find yourself yelling his name.

The opponent chooses to go for Minho instead of you, picking the agent up by the collar of his shirt. He bashes his head against Minho’s, and while the agent winces in pain, he grits his teeth and fights back, back to being on equal ground with the enemy. They engage in another physical combat, landing blows on each other here and there. As if nothing could be worse, another stranger runs into the room, grabbing you from behind in a choke-hold.

You do your best to stop him from suffocating you, kicking and trying to elbow the man behind. Minho sees it from the corner of his eyes, clicking his tongue in exasperation. His opponent lunges an arm forward, holding a knife, so Minho grabs said arm and pivots with complex skill, doing some sort of flip and twisting the enemy’s arm so he could end up behind the agent. With the opponent in a similar choke-hold, Minho grabs the knife and skillfully throws it towards the stranger holding you.

Unfortunately, because you were both moving a lot, the blade seems to approach you instead. Your eyes widen with fear, but thankfully, it only shallowly cuts your cheek before lodging itself into the stranger’s neck. He lets go and collapses on the ground with a thud, blood now pooling around him.

However, because of that moment, Minho’s opponent gains the advantage once more, headbutting Minho’s chin, prompting the agent to let go. The enemy is quick to turn to Minho, another knife in his hand to jab at the male who is recovering his bearings. You don’t know how you managed to bring yourself to do it - maybe the adrenaline rush or fear of having Minho killed in front of you - but you pull out the knife that killed the other stranger and run towards Minho’s opponent, stabbing the blade into his shoulder as he was wearing a muscle tee.

You try to ignore the blood painting the enemy’s skin, using the time he takes to get the blade out to rush to Minho’s side. You both then take steps to run away; however, the enemy isn’t too pleased with what you’ve done, shifting his attention to you instead of Minho. As he takes a step forward, however, the wooden floor beneath creaks loudly, and Minho’s eyes catch the subtle splintering around the three of you.

“Minho, let’s go.” you say in panic when the agent seems to be standing still.

Minho’s eyes are stuck to the wooden floor, making some sort of mental calculation in his mind.

One more step.

As the enemy makes one more step, the floor makes a breaking sound and gives out. Minho, however, is able to push you back just in time, allowing you to remain on the unbroken part as he and the enemy fall to the floor below with a sickening crack.

“Minho!”

You see the agent pushing himself to get up with a few coughs, but so is the opponent. The agent then looks up to you, eyes still calm yet with a sense of urgency, “Go now! Run to the rendezvous point! I’ll follow!”

“But - ”

“I promise, just go!”

You bite your lip, nodding in understanding as you turn on your heel and make a run for it. Minho then wipes the blood dripping down his chin and turns to his opponent, a cold and almost cruel smirk playing at his lips, “Now that I don’t need to hold back, I hope you’re ready.”

Meanwhile, you pump your legs as hard and fast as you can, running towards the rendezvous point. Unfortunately, that meant where the cars were parked, but you still had a bit of distance to cover since you and Minho ventured deep inside the building. Just as you’re about to reach the end of the hallway near one of the back doors, you hear gunshots, bullets barely missing you. You try to conceal your screams, ducking down and running into a rather large room, quickly finding a hiding spot behind a cement pillar.

The shooter repeatedly shoots the structure as you cover your ears. Fragments of the pillar crack of and fly here and there, dusting your hair and shoulder with chalky-white bits. After a moment, the shooter stops to reload his gun, and you take the chance to sprint to another hiding spot. 

He begins to shoot just as you drop down and make your way behind an old couch, a bullet barely missing your leg. He shoots without stopping, the couch fillings flying everywhere. Another round to reload his gun, and you grab a nearby ceramic vase and throw it to him as hard as you can. 

The shooter shoots it, but the split-second allows you to find cover behind a desk in the other end of the room. You curl yourself up, hugging your knees to yourself as you take deep and shaky breaths. In the dead silence of the room, you can hear your shooter’s footsteps approaching slowly, the grasp of fear locking onto you as you cover your mouth. You hear the clicking of the shooter’s gun, and you close your eyes, anticipating the worst.

However, when you hear a bang followed by a thud, you don’t feel anything and instead see a body collapse to the side, thankfully facing away from you. A few seconds later, Minho appears, kicking the body away from you and kneeling beside you. “Y/n.” he whispers.

You let out a deep breath, only noticing now that tears have streamed down your face. Minho’s expression softens, eyebrows knitting in concern as he reaches out to brush off the cement particles that dusted onto your hair and shoulders during the shootout. He then moves to wipe your tears with his thumb.

Never have you seen so much warmth in his eyes as he stares at you, eyes never leaving yours as you let out quiet sobs that rattle your shaky figure.

Despite the cuts on his bleeding lip, bruises painting his cheekbone, blood trailing down from his head to the side, and disheveled hair, he still looked familiar, warm and comforting - like a home you’d return to after a hard day’s work in the hospital.

You didn’t know it was possible for him to look like that.

You close your eyes when his thumb stops brushing your tears away, his hand now moving to cup your cheek with a tenderness opposite of how he fought off his opponents. “Hey.” he whispers so softly, only you can hear it like a secret message, “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, still trembling. Minho nods in understanding and helps you up before telling you to wait for a second. He walks over to a nearby window and communicates with the rest of the team, giving them an update on the situation. Meanwhile, you kneel down next to the shooter’s dead body upon noticing a small plastic vial filled with red liquid. Quickly, you swipe it and shove it into your brassiere for extra measure. You stand back up, walking over to Minho.

He finishes communicating with the team before gently taking your hand in his, “Come on.”

Without a word, he leads you out, walking calmly towards the rendezvous point. Once there, it would seem like the team was still on the way from the other building, so Minho sits on the hood of one of the cars, eyes still on the sharp look-out for any enemies. You sit next to him, exhaustion clouding your eyes as you stare straight ahead.

“I’m sorry.”

You hum emptily, “Hm?”

Minho sighs, turning to face you. You don’t pull away when his hand finds your face, thumb gently dancing around the cut you got from the knife from earlier. The blood had dried up, but it made its mark. The agent’s thumb is soft as he strokes the skin under the cut, “Sorry about this. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s fine.” you clear your throat, looking at him for a fleeting moment before turning your eyes to his chest, “You still saved me, so thank you.”

“And you saved me.” Minho responds, offering a small smile.

You can only nod, the impact of the events finally catching up to you. Tears swell in your eyes again, and you feel a light shiver travel down your spine. Minho isn’t new to comforting people; he may say he doesn’t care, but he knows what to do and how.

So he reaches forward, gently tugging on your arm to pull you close to his chest. Once your head comes into contact with his chest and you feel his arms wrap around you, providing warmth and security, you weakly sob against him. He brings a hand up to your head, softly stroking your hair as he whispers against your temple, “This mission wasn’t supposed to go this way. My bad for not being able to foresee these circumstances. Sorry you had to go through it.”

Perhaps today, you put your guard down enough for him to console you. You let yourself believe and trust him. Just for today. Tomorrow, who knows?

You shake your head and clear your throat, “Not your fault. It’s part of the job, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Minho sighs, hoping you don’t notice the way he holds you closer and tighter, “It is.”

Maybe Jeongin and Chan were right.

Loved you? Maybe not that.

Cared about you? Genuinely? Perhaps he sees it now.

But can he afford such a luxurious feeling? Such an emotion?

Last time he allowed himself such indulgence, he paid a cost too high.

[peach-the-owl]

Hi! Hope you are having a great month! If possible can I make a request with a Godling (Godlings from The Witcher) Reader who travel with the Mighty Nein. How would having such a 'powerful' being (child-like) effect their relationship. Also, just as a guilty pleasure how would Lucien react to them-knowing their 'other' self raised/cared for them?

Since there isn’t much seen about godlings a few things will probably be a little more on the headcanon-y side of what I think they’re capable of. Hope you all enjoy regardless 😁

Godlings

Mighty Nein & Godling!Reader

Jester

Her childlike nature was what originally drew your attention to her, enjoying the little pranks she’d pull on unsuspecting folks you watched from a distance at first but drew in curiouser by the day. You were first discovered by the archfey that lingered near her who also liked to stay hidden, making a few rude comments when he practically shoved you into the open for her to see. When you got to know her better, you and Jester spent a lot of time singing songs together or causing absolute chaos, although you certainly were no follower to the "Traveler" and didn’t plan on it anytime soon. You were her new secret friend, always hiding yourself when another member of her party would come along. When you grew comfortable enough you finally decided you would join your friend on her adventures, much to Jester's delight. Everyone else was surprised by your sudden presence in the group, little was known to them about godlings aside from normally living in burrows, you argued that you were just a bird of a different feather.

Nott/Veth

The goblin reeked of an old crone's curse, you making that statement very clear when you hobble out of your burrow, scaring a few people in the group which you appropriately laughed at. At first they thought you could help break the curse on Nott, and while you did have means of breaking curses, this one in particular was cleverly crafted making it near impossible to break aside from the crone who placed it. You agreed to help them locate the witch seeing as you had nothing better to do and they promised food. Nott found you to be quite adorable with those big eyes and tended to be very motherly around you, now you could argue that you were much older then her but you weren’t going to pass up on this kind of free affection. When the curse was lifted you still decided to stick around wanting to see what all this trouble had been about. Newly freed from her curse, Veth still acted as a motherly figure towards you as she had before, and honestly you rather liked it sticking with her and blessing that good life be given to her family.

Caleb

Godlings were secretive and shy by nature yet kind and helpful so long as you gain their trust or you’ve peaked their interest, and Caleb was a very interesting man to you being almost as secretive as you were. When you made your presence known he was shocked to see such a rare being of once presumable myth approach him, but he also didn’t want to lose an opportunity to learn about your kind in more detail. You made a deal, you'd come along with him and he'd get to know everything he wanted about your kind so long as you got to learn more about him and play with the friendly little kitty he had with him. You were a lot more mature then Caleb expected hearing how godlings normally enjoy mischief and merriment, you told him you did like doing all those things but that didn’t mean you couldn’t be serious too. He learned more about you just by watching you interact with everything around you over you simply telling him different facts about yourself, and grew to really appreciate you more because of it. You grew appreciation and learned a lot about him through his interactions too, the stories he told did help some for context on certain things but you much preferred this visual over verbal learning.

Caduceus

You'd been a guardian for the Clay family and their home for generations, providing protection and care where you could, being given food and tools for your burrow as thanks by them. They were respectable folk, caring for the nature of the woods as much as you did. When the strange blight started plaguing your wooded home you did everything in your power to help push it back, but there was something unnatural about it that even you couldn’t hold it off forever. It got so bad that it overtook your burrow, forcing you out, thankfully the Clays were happy to house you, so while most of them left in search of a cure you stayed back with Caduceus still doing what you could to try taming or at least keeping back the plague. When adventurers came along you acted on the defence at first, being calmed by Caduceus to get a better grip of the situation. They were all surprised to see such a rare and normally secretive being like yourself be so comfortable and open once you'd dropped the defensive act, even more so when you asked if you could join them on their travels. Your home needed help, but it certainly wasn’t going to get any if you just sat there and did nothing, you managed to slow the growth of the strange blight hoping it’ll grant enough time for you to locate the cure you needed.

Fjord

Godlings were known to live in more wooded or boggy areas so finding one living by the sea was a rarer sight then your kind themselves were. You liked the sounds of the waves they were calming and you had many pretty seashells to do with as you wished. When you first met Fjord it was because he mistook your sandy burrow as an animals den, boy was he wrong and the reaction he had when you popped out scaring the daylights out of him was priceless. You smelled great opportunity for mischief from this, popping out of nowhere to scare the poor half-orc when he least expected it until one time when you had you realized the ship you snuck onto to scare him was now sailing across the sea, meaning you were now stuck here. Sure you knew how to swim but you had limits to yourself and would never be able to find your way back to shore. With less places to hide you were almost forced to interact with the crew, which Fjord learned made you rather uncomfortable but since you didn’t mind his presence he decided to pull you off to the side and have a privet conversation. Through this conversation you learned a little more about Fjord and started to grow respect for the guy, promising to stop scaring him so much, but not completely give up on it much to his dismay.

Beau

The Cobalt Soul had research on all sorts of creatures and different species that lived throughout all of Exandria, one of the few things they had little to no information on however were the rare and elusive creatures called godlings. They were beings said to have great power but were usual docile unless provoked, they were so rare some thought them to be only creatures of myth. Beau herself used to think nothing much of them until they were assigned to investigate a home that was "haunted" where she met you. Seeing your big bright eyes and pale blue skin was enough for her to see that you were in fact no myth but the real deal. Itching to get more information and payment for ridding the house of its "ghost" problem Beau was determined to befriend you, problem was she could be a bit aggressive and you were a bit more shy then she’d like. However with enough time and patients she was eventually able to lure you out and convince you to leave the home, promising if you came with her she’d be all the protection you’d need. You still didn’t fully trust her but you liked her confident attitude and her more childish side when she was willing to show it.

Yasha

Big, tough and silent, to you the woman was very intimidating, but she was picking the flowers all wrong so you’d have to suck it up and confront her about it. You march your way over to her and freeze when she turns to look at you, she looked confused by your appearance perhaps she didn’t know what you were but what did that matter right now. You start to scold her over her flower picking and to your surprise she apologizes, offering you one as a sorry, you puff out your cheeks and decline telling her that it was sloppily picked, and if she really wanted to say sorry she’d need to learn how to pluck flowers properly next time. To make sure she wouldn’t ruin the poor flowers again you show her the proper procedure to plucking them, when you were done she offered you a daisy, this one having been picked properly you accept and watch as she leaves. You lived life as normal only to one day see the same woman had returned she looked saddened as she plucked up some flowers, you carefully make your way over seeing she was using the technique you taught her. You sit in front of her and just watch until she finally notices you, you first saw recognition for in her eyes, guess she remembered you, but past that you could see pain, like she’d just lost someone important to her. Now that you thought about it she had a similar look to herself when you first met but this was different, it was recent. You pluck up and offer her a forget-me-not which she slowly takes from you and stores away into a little book, the two of you sit there in a silence of understanding before she eventually leaves again, you never even knew her name.

Molly

He discovered you on accident when the circus set up their show tent right over your burrow and you relentlessly caused problems for them. He felt bad for ruining your home so he asked if you’d like to come run away with the circus instead. You were hesitant at first, but his childish nature was oddly alluring and you’d fit right in with all the other crazy colourful characters so you figured why not. He didn’t quite know what you were and he didn’t really care, the two of you enjoying yourselves and causing mischief wherever you went. When the circus disbanded you were saddened because this was now the second home you lost although this group of adventurers were quite the delight in and of themselves. Still all good things come to an end, and losing Molly was the last straw, not only did these Iron Shepherds take away your friend but they kidnapped innocents and one of them actually ate children. All this infuriated you, and once those who had been enslaved were free people saw just how terrifyingly powerful an angered godling could be when the Sour Nest was reduced to nothing but rubble in the blink of an eye.

Bonus:

Lucien

He was almost jealous that the imposter inhabiting his body at the time had befriended such a powerful and mysterious creature. Knowledge on your kind was almost nonexistent, even the Somnovem had little information, this furthered Lucien’s curiosity and uncertainty. He knew his limits but not yours and from what he’d heard this group you were with talk about you could turn from docile to very dangerous if pushed the wrong way. This could spell bad news for his plans if what they said was true, but could also be a useful asset if on his side. Now all he had to do was figure out how to regain your favour…

[nothing-but-dreamy]

ON THE EDGE ~ Pt. 5

Characters: Gavin Reed x fem!Reader; Connor; Hank Anderson;

Warnings: cursing

Words: 2.339

Back in the office, yn headed for the locker room to change some of her clothes and to get rid of the makeup. As she walked over to her desk, a cup of hot coffee and Gavin were already waiting. He handed her the liquid. She was freezing to death but it was worth it. She was able to place the bug as planned. Yn took the cup with a soft smile, “Thanks. That’s what I need right now.”

“You got rid of the makeup already? Too bad...”, Gavin said grinning.

Over the rim of the cup, she looked challenging at him, “Yeah, otherwise, I have to fear you will arrest me for prostitution. And I’m not sure if you really want to see me in handcuffs.”, she whispered with a grin and winked.

Gavin’s heart skipped a beat and he coughed slightly by the picture he got in his mind because of her comment. Yn noticed what kind of reaction her joke had on him but before she could ask, Hank and Connor joined them with a tablet. It was the device for the bug. Gavin stepped back and breathed several times to calm himself while the others sat around the desk.

“Turn it on. Maybe we will already hear something. I hope this thing works as well as the heavy's promised.”, yn said and laid her feet on top of her desk like Gavin used to do all the time.

Connor looked confused, “Heavy's?”

“Our hardware guys.”, Yn explained with a wink. Then JoJo started to talk and all four cops were listening intently.

“Hey Scott.”

“Hey Joker, why are you smiling like an idiot?”, Scott asked. The sound quality was excellent and so, they could differentiate the two men easily.

“Man, I met a girl in the park.”, JoJo said with excitement in his voice.

“Again?”, Scott asked, not impressed at all. It was the fifth time Joker had met a girl … this week.

“This time it's different.”

Yn felt Gavin's sullen expression glued at her. Obviously, she had done her job better than he wanted.

JoJo continued with his infatuation, “She was so incredibly beautiful. You know, like a divine angel with bright eyes and dressed in a blood red tank top. You should have seen her...you know.”, in the way he said it, everyone (except Connor) knew that he was talking about her breasts.

Yn snickered and looked up with a proud grin. She looked at Gavin then down at her top, which was still the blood red tank top, and then back at Gavin. She smirked. Gavin wasn't amused at all. He pressed his jaws together and looked at her with a dark expression. Hank had to bite back a grin as he watched the Detective. Something bothered him and Hank had an idea what it could be.

“And? Will you see her again?”, Scott asked, catching their attention again.

“Of course! She gave me her number.“, JoJo said proudly.

Gavin slammed his hands on his desk and jumped from his seat, “You gave him your number? Are you crazy?”, he called out.

Yn leant back in her chair and grinned. It amused her that he still saw her as a newbie, at least, she thought it was that, “No. Of course not.”, she said calmly.

“Good.”, Gavin said pleased and sat down.

“I gave him the number of your ex. I thought they would be cute together.”, yn said after a moment and smirked devilishly.

Slowly, Gavin looked up, his knuckles turning white again, “You did- what?”

But instead of answering, yn silenced him with her hand. She became serious and looked at the small device, listening to JoJo’s and Scott’s conversation.

“Yeah, yeah...tonight. In the warehouse down at the docks. Like always at eight?”, JoJo asked.

“Eight, right. Be on point this time. You know how much our boss hates to wait.”, Scott admitted.

“Hell yes! We got it!”, Yn called out. She looked at Hank as the oldest in charge, “Observation?”

Hank nodded, “Would be the best idea.”

“I could do that. I won't get tired.”, Connor suggested.

“Perfect! And I accompany you.”, Yn said.

Gavin looked from yn to Connor and back at yn. Everything happened a bit too fast, “What? Why?”

Hank stood up and nudged Connor to follow him, “We go to Fowler and inform him about the newest information.”, he said to yn and Gavin who didn't listen at all. Gavin was just staring at yn.

“What is your problem, Reed?”, she asked, slowly getting annoyed by his behavior all the time.

“You get yourself into danger! That's my problem!”, he argued coldly.

Yn huffed out, looking doubtful with one raised brow, “Danger? An observation? A snail race would be more dangerous than an observation because of all the slime. What shall happen? That I die out of boredom? I also have the handsome Terminator by my side.”, she pointed out, mentioning one of her favorite movie characters.

Gavin gritted his teeth. Looking away because of this comment and the memory of the dream he had of yn and Connor.

Yn saw that Gavin was on the edge… again. Once again, she had the feeling it had something to do with her but Gavin wasn’t much of a talker and liked to keep things for himself no matter how much she would push him, “Gavin, listen. Connor and I are going on this observation. You and Hank get the information in real time and you can plan the operation.”, she said and waited for him to look at her, “The operation I won't attend.”

“What?”

“I will be there to support you. But I will stay away from any line of fire. Therefore, you don't have to worry about me. Okay?”, yn said with a soft smile.

Gavin squinted his eyes and looked suspicious at her. He knew there had to be a twist somewhere. Yn usually never skipped action when it got offered, “What's the catch?”

“Well, I realized if I push you more, this vein on your neck could explode. And I want to prevent that. I still kinda like you, grumpy cat.”, she said with a wink and stood up to get new coffee for herself and Gavin.

**

Later, Connor picked yn up from her home. She had changed into comfortable clothes. To sit in a car, maybe for several hours, didn't demand fancy clothes. So, dressed in jeans and a big, cozy, black pullover she had snatched from Gavin once and prepared with coffee and a bunch of snacks, she entered the black car Connor had gotten from Hank. It would be less striking because it was an older model and looked more suitable for a drug scene.

They drove through Detroit to reach the docks. Soft rock music was playing on the radio but Connor wanted to level up his smalltalk skills. He knew yn would be the right person to train this so he asked: “You really wanna go on observation? I always thought humans wouldn’t like that?”

Yn chuckled, “Yeah, that’s true. For us cops it feels like doing nothing. Even if we do something but … observations aren’t liked by everyone.”

“Like Reed?”

"Yeah, but also Hank. Oh, speaking of, how's working with him?", yn asked interested. She saw a smile appear on the android's lips which let him look more boyish… even more handsome.

"It's improving. I mean, we had a rough start with the deviant case and the revolution but… we grow as a team.", Connor answered honestly. Through the darkness, he saw her staring at him. It wasn’t unpleasant … quite the opposite.

"I like to hear that. Hank is… well, since Cole died, he was too alone. It's good that you can change that.", the remembrance of Hank’s loss was still hurtful for her. She couldn’t imagine what Hank felt but to have a new partner by his side like Connor would help the old man to get back on track.

"Can I ask you something, yn?", Connor asked softly.

"Shoot it."

"How's working with Detective Reed?"

"With Gavin?", yn asked surprised. She has expected many questions but not this one, "Uhm… good as always. Why do you ask?"

Connor searched for the right words, "He's… We had some troubles as I came to the DPD. But you seem to be able to talk back to him without him getting aggressive and stuff."

Yn chuckled, "Oh, he gets aggressive but he knows I would defend myself no matter what he would try. We had been there at this point once. But...I see what you mean. Gavin can be a… how shall I say it-"

"An asshole?", Connor tried to help her find the right answer.

The android’s directness, caused her to laugh, "Yeah, absolutely. But no, I meant something like 'challenging'. Look, he's not a bad guy-"

"I got a different impression.", Connor said dryly.

"I'm not sure what happened between the two of you but... whatever it was, that you're an android is not helpful."

"Oh trust me, I already learnt that he hates androids."

"Yeah, but there's a reason. I don't want to apologize for his behavior but his mother was one of the people who lost their jobs because of androids a few years ago. He was a teenager as his mother got replaced. He had a rough time and he had to fight for a lot of things. Obviously, you, as an investigator, triggered his aggression once again."

Connor raised his brows as he made a connection between the different information, "You mean he thought I could replace you?"

"Me?", yn asked surprised.

"Hank told me that you got injured in your last case with Reed."

"Oh, yeah…”, yn nodded. Her injuries, that she couldn’t work for some time and the fact that an android investigator had appeared in the DPD at the same time might have had some effect on Gavin. Added to the fact that he still felt guilty and that he seemed to be bothered with something else, could raise his temper immensely, “Maybe that might be a reason...sure. We already have android support. But seeing you could have kindled his fear to get replaced by an android as well."

While Connor processed the latest information, the conversation slowed down. Both were following their own thoughts as Connor searched for a good observation spot near the only warehouse at the docks they could find. Suddenly, some of Gavin’s latest behavior seemed to make sense to yn. It shouldn’t be an excuse but Gavin Reed was a good guy … he just lost his temper too fast.

Connor stopped the engine and he and yn were reaching for the radio to turn it off. In the middle, their hands touched and both looked at each other with a sheepishly expression. Under his soft glance, yn felt her cheeks reddening. Connor noticed the color in her face and because he liked the sight, he wanted to see it again, "You're very nice, yn.", Connor said softly.

Yn blinked and looked at her hands, not knowing where these feelings were coming from … and what feelings it were in general, "Thanks."

Connor turned over and leant forward to her, imitating the movements he had seen on JoJo as he was flirting with her, "I really mean that. Compared to Reed, you're pure joy. I like working with you."

Yn looked up into his soft brown eyes. Was he flirting with her? The glance in his eyes, the smile on his lips, what he said, all of it was evidence of a flirty behavior but was this his intention? And … wanted yn that he did that? She liked Connor but … like this? Unsure about the answer to the last question, she tried to ease the moment, "Compared to Reed, a stone is joyful. But thanks, Connor. I like working with you, too."

Before Connor could say something else, a text message on yn’s phone distracted her and the strange moment was gone. She thanked silently for this kind of distraction while she read the message. She was surprised and thankful for Gavin’s timing, What takes you two so fucking long to get there?

"It's Mr Pure Sunshine. Turn on the radio station. Otherwise, he will crawl through the cord on his own to check on us."

Connor followed her instructions and turned on the radio with a not so amused expression.

"Hank? Gavin? We're here.", yn said as the line was free.

"What took you two so long to get there?", Gavin asked harshly, repeating his message.

"You know, I had nothing to wear and Connor helped me to pick out the right clothes as I just left the shower-"

"Yn!", Gavin grunted.

She could hear how annoyed he was, "Hell, calm down. We needed a bit to find a good place."

The hours were ticking by and the observation had been as boring as it sounded until the bug started to transmit. The information were good. The bug on JoJo was still sending a strong signal and so, Hank and Gavin could still hear what the dealer was talking while Connor and yn could see who entered and left the warehouse. As yn watched how a bunch of dealers AND seemingly the boss himself left the warehouse, yn was surprised that they worked so visible. Maybe the android revolution had made all the other criminals a bit more careless because they thought Detroit would have other problems?

“They’re leaving. The boss, as well. That was faster than expected.”, you said astonished.

“Then, I would say we’re done for today. Obviously, in two days there will be another meeting in this warehouse.”, Hank said.

“Good to know. Tomorrow, we should plan out the operation. Maybe we can get Captain Allen’s support. With his unit, we could arrest all at once.”, yn proposed. All agreed on this idea and the station radio got turned off.

[cryinginthebackseat]

initials t.c.

Fandom: Open Heart

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x MC

Words: 7.299 (I’M SO SORRY)

Summary: Tobias Carrick makes Claire an offer she can’t refuse.

Warnings: 50% plot, 50% smut, swear-a-thon, blasphemy

Author’s Note: when the book first introduced us to tobias carrick, the first thing that hit my mind was “okay, but that dude is like the carbon copy of jesse williams and that’s hot” but then, once it reveals who he is and what’s his role in the book i went “interestinggggggg” cause you know, i’m a sucker for morally grey characters and all, and i’m not even ashamed to admit it. also, carrick is shaping up to be such an interesting character with each chapter and maybe one day- okay, maybe this sounds like a pipe dream- but one day, i hope he can be a li (let a girl dream plz) lmao

also if anyone’s interested, i made a PLAYLIST to accompany reading the fic.

the title is inspired by serge gainsbourg’s initials bb

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Cast down off heaven Cast down on my knees I’ve lain with the devil Cursed god above Forsaken heaven

To Bring You My Love - PJ Harvey

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Whenever Claire thinks about Tobias Carrick, admittedly, unfortunately, tragically, she always thinks about his eyes first before remembering what a colossal pain in the ass he is.

It always comes in that order. Like the number 3 always comes before 4, like the seawater dragging back from the shoreline before a tsunami occurs, like pouring milk before the cereal (she honestly didn’t get what the fuss is about until one day Elijah cried ‘oh, hell no you don’t, satan!‘ one morning and proceeded to give her bullet points why pouring the milk before the cereal is considered a sin and more of an abomination than Nephilims’ existence and that there’s a higher probability that she’s a psycho for being a ‘milk first’ kind of person). So apparently, Claire’s a psycho now which explains so many aspects- but she digresses and the point is, the reaction is uncontrollable and she high-key hates how she can’t control her goddamn mind most of the time.

The point is, she needs to stop thinking about him to begin with. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Claire Castelnuovo was born in the summer, under the sign of Gemini. Marilyn Monroe once said that stands for intellect, being a Gemini, but she was too blissfully unaware of this guerdon that she devoted her adolescent years to being outdoors instead. Too many days she spent trampling along the cornfields with her cousins until the skies faded out with brilliant purple-tinged amber and she was carrying a piece of the sun in her skin and smelled like one, stuffing wildflowers inside her boots as she walked around the neighborhood with her dad’s old stethoscope, napping in a hammock with Oasis’ All Around the World on repeat. By the time she hit 15, her black strands had turned brown from repeated sun exposure. She loved it.

But it was a different time, a different place. Somewhere that only exists on the margins of her memories, lost and hidden.

Now, Claire prefers the night.

It’s 9:30 pm when she arrives at a hotel bar in downtown Boston. A newly christened establishment which has somehow become a regular spot for Hemingway’s enthusiasts once the Boston Globe wrote an article about their Hemingway Daiquiri and how, as they wrote it, ‘probably the only place that’s brave and crazy enough to adhere to the 1930s original recipe’ and bourgeois party birds at wee hours during the weekend.

Her eyes are gritty, dry and strange. Her mind’s much worse for the wear- she feels like shit, like in the middle of watching that scene from The Green Mile shit when all is hopeless and you feel like walking out of the theater, but you’ve spent your last savings just to buy the ticket, so you decide to stick through it.

Claire makes a beeline for the bar, tries to flag down the bartender. She orders an Old Fashioned, making sure to specify to double it because she’s not a regular here and he’s not Reggie and that’s how she’s been taking her drink for years.

She knows well deep in her bones that she should be somewhere else. Somewhere more familiar, somewhere where Tim Mcgraw often plays from the subpar speakers, and the rustic wooden bar countertop is gouging and discoloring from the cheap household cleaners and alcohol stains, and her friends are cramming together in the same booth in the back, reveling and laughing until they close the bar down and make a mess all over. Perhaps it’s a mistake coming here, where no one’s a familiar face and the drinks are a tad overpriced for her budget.

But then, perhaps this is exactly what she needs; the unfamiliarity, the visceral feeling knowing that she doesn’t belong here, where no one knows her name and the huge deal of weight she’s currently carrying on her shoulders. Perhaps, she can’t face her friends after what happened, after what Esme has done. Shit, how could any of this happen? Claire knows this all on Esme’s, but her guilt has grown hopelessly tangled with her anxiety. She’s her intern, for fuck’s sake, Claire’s supposed to prevent this from happening in the first place.

Man, where’s Declan Nash when she feels like punching someone in the face?

Claire makes the mistake of drinking her drink too quickly, because it hasn’t been ten minutes and she’s drained half of the content. Then she reaches for her phone in her bag, fiddles with it, absent-minded, equal parts bored before then settles on watching the band performing Art Pepper’s You Go To My Head and immediately thinks of that time she accidentally dropped her brother’s saxophone in a moment of her rather graceless, wine-soaked self with the whole family present.

Someone plops down on the empty stool next to her. Claire’s now scrolling through her phone- again, bored. Sienna commented on the post Elijah shared to the group chat with a few unnecessary-yet-totally-necessary emojis to the already convoluted series of texts and Claire only reads them in silence, not only because her friends’ texting behaviors are too chaotic for her to follow sometimes but she’s not really feeling like talking to anyone right now.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”

Famous last words.

Claire freezes in her seat. Her phone’s still glowing in her hand, alighting her features. She recognizes that voice- too well, that is and it’s enough to set off her flight-or-fight response.

She glances up from her phone, preparing for the worst.

Well, what’s presented before her is literally the worst.

“Of all the gin joints…” she says once her eyes find Tobias Carrick sitting next to her, still in his work shirt, sleeves rolled-up, a few buttons undone, reeking of smoke, soap and antiseptic with a shit-eating grin plastered over his face.

She should have gone to Donahue’s instead.

“Evening to you too, Castelnuovo. Drinking your dinner tonight, I see?”

“What, this? No, this is breakfast. 100% daily value of alcohol and pretty much nothing else. I mean, it’s not the weekend without a bad case of hangover and an aspirin snowglobe in the morning, am I right? You know, like a glass of aspirin? Not a literal snowglobe?” she blabbers, realizing just so by the time she hears him snort. Claire chokes down another sip to shut her mouth up. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m about to commit first-degree murder and burn this whole place to the ground,” he drawls, the ever goddamn sarcastic. “What do you think? I’m trying to get dru-”

“No, I mean what are you doing here, of all places? Can’t you get drunk somewhere else?” she interrupts, her midwest accent does funny things to the vowels and consonants- something that only happens whenever she’s in distress, or at least according to Jackie.

“Last time I heard, this joint’s still owned by the Hilton, not a certain junior member of the Diagnostics Team at Edenbrook hospital.”

“Dude, what do you think of the H in Claire H. Castelnuovo stands for?” Deadpan, trying to keep up with the rolling sarcasm, she retorts. He smirks.

“Horatio?”

“Get the fuck out of here,” she mutters, mid-eye-roll, mid-snickering.

He chuckles, his voice rich and smoky amidst the late-night swing and distant chatters. Carrick doesn’t leave, of course, typically him- if those anecdotes Ethan told her has taught her anything about his character, that is- defying everything, scheming his way to the top, the embodiment of ‘those devilish boys with their heavenly eyes’ type your mother warns you about.

Not that the latter is relevant.

“Or what?” His mouth twitches but there’s a hard, challenging light in his eyes that she knows too well by now.

“Or I’m leaving.“ She shoots him a glare. He’s testing her patience- again, like it’s his finesse. Some things never change, it seems.

“Come on, Castelnuovo, don’t be a sourpuss. The night is young and I can promise you, the last thing I am is a horrible drinking buddy.”

With a touch of irony, she replies: “I’m sure. I bet you asked your friends to fill out a questionnaire every time you went out with them, did you?”

Carrick hums.

“You’re funny.” But he says it in the same tone that someone might say Jesus fuck, you’re probably one of the most frustrating creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on. Also, because the next thing he says is: “A little rough around the edges, but funny nonetheless.”

“That makes one of us then.”

Carrick frowns, which is kind of a surprise because she’s half expected him to flash her that signature cheeky grin of his.

“Listen, I’m just trying to make a friendly conversation here. I know we haven’t really seen eye-to-eye with each othe-”

Claire snorts and crosses her arms over her chest. “That, doctor, is an understatement of the fucking century.”

“Okay so, we’re like Tom and Jerry but sans the background music and a naive little duckling running around calling one of us his momma, but I feel like now’s the time to call out a temporary truce between us.” A beat, then: “I heard about what happened with the intern.”

Something flashes across her face- and Carrick must have noticed it, because his face does this odd thing- it softens, even for a moment. She hates it. He’s not supposed to be looking at her like that, not supposed to see her at her weakest state or saved her ass- And Jesus, why does she have to be indebted to Tobias Carrick, of all people- But god forbid, the last thing she’ll ever do is crying in front of him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she mutters, barely audible, trying to temper her fluctuated emotions.

“Then don’t. We can talk about anything else or fall into some sort of endless, meaningless platitudes. Whichever will work.” As if sensing Claire’s lingering hesitation, he adds. “Tell you what, to sweeten the offer, your next drinks are on me.”

She assesses him for a long minute, eyes narrowing. She’s shaking her head, but her mouth, as if against her will, instead says: “Careful, Carrick, there’s a chance I’ll be abusing that offer and run you dry.”

"Hey, if you want to butcher your liver so bad, don’t stop on my account,” he says. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll make sure to save your ass again this time around. Pro bono.”

Claire looks as if she’s just swallowed a dead rat. “Thanks, but no thanks. Death seems more like an appealing choice.”

“Well, I stopped death from interfering then, I’ll stop it again.” Carrick winks, she pretends to gag again yet remains still in her seat, so Carrick waves at the bartender for their order- she orders for a refill and he, a martini and Claire is this close from asking 'shaken or stirred?’ but then remembers who he is and immediately washes the question down with her drink.

“You know, if anyone told me weeks ago that I’d be having a drink with you tonight, I probably would have socked them.“

Carrick is in the middle of lighting his cigarette, but laughs instead. “The Times They Are a-Changin’, as Bob Dylan said.” A puff of smoke escapes his mouth, curling around his fingers. Claire instinctively looks away. “Which reminds me of that one time your mentor sang Ballad of A Thin Man on the fucking subway when we were 20.”

She swivels her head to his direction, on the verge of choking on her drink. “Hold on, hold on, Ethan Jonah Ramsey sings?”

“Give him a dare he couldn’t refuse and a few shots of whiskey, and I promise you he’ll sing like Sinatra on crack.” He grins, his eyes are all crinkled and bright; she thinks that means he’s genuinely amused. “Ah, good times. We were like- wait, who was it he’d like to say we’re like again?”

A small smile pulls at her lips. “Bert and Ernie.”

“Jesus, he really fucking compares us to some Sesame Street characters, huh?” She laughs at that, loud and bright. He does the same. “Personally, I’d always say we were like Butch and Sundance back then- rebels with a cause, a band of misfits, trying to leave our marks on the world. You know those types. We were young, we wanted so much- I still do. I mean, let’s be real, whoever’s wanted to be defeated at their own game?”

A crease forms between her eyebrows, not quite a frown.

“Nobody,” Claire concurs, hating herself for it. “But was it worth it? Betraying the closest thing you had to a brother or a lover…” Carrick coughs on his smoke from the latter. “or whatever in the process just to get what you wanted?” Claire was obviously aiming for that brash, hard-hitting jab, but it lands gloriously too soft.

The bartender finally places their ordered drinks down on the bar. Carrick reaches for it, taking a careful swig, then sets his glass down. He takes a deep breath.

"It’s nothing personal. It never was. I never considered him as my rival.”

“Yeah, but by doing whatever you did, you’ve made an enemy out of him,” she counters. “Look, Carrick, I know we live in a dog-eat-dog world and I know being good sometimes doesn’t get the job done. Perhaps Machiavelli was right. Perhaps, when necessary, you have to be ruthless, dissembling and manoeuvring- what did he say again? ‘The end justifies the means’? But if any worthwhile end can justify the means to attain it, if everyone outright surrenders to their darker side, then what’s left of our humanity?”

For an interminable moment, there is only silence. He simply stares at her, as if she’s a walking, talking Rubik’s cube he can’t solve or a book that he has opened and now he’s got to know so much more and she feels pinned under those warm irises, uneasy.

Suddenly, his mouth begins to take shape; the corners hike up, stretch and then he does the unexpected.

The bastard fucking laughs.

“Excuse me?!” she spits, white-hot anger lacing each word. Carrick laughs harder- the audacity- despite Claire’s growing razor’s edge stare. “Did you just laugh at me? I was being fucking seriou-”

“Sorry, sorry.” Wiping an imaginary tear from his left eye. “I was just remembering Harper’s words. She’s right, you really are on the side of the angels, aren’t you?”

She points at him with her glass, snarling. “And you, mister, are the devil himself with a medical degree and an egg head- and I don’t mean the slang for a highly academic person.”

“Ouch,” Carrick says out loud, still kind of laughing, borderline frowning. “Okay, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“Damn straight. Though you have a lot to apologize for.”

He groans. “Don’t tell me you’re still pissed about that one patient I stole under your nose?”

“The North remembers, ser,” she says, mean-spirited.

“Then does the North remembers that I saved her life?”

“Oh, so you’re discrediting the efforts of the other doctors that helped you make the cure?”

“Alright, alright. You win.” Carrick holds up his hands, the universal gesture of defeat and takes one final drag of his cigarette. He stubs it out, all the while keeping his gaze on her.

“So, how exactly can I make it up to you?“

Claire blinks- once, twice, thrice, realizing his intent. His voice drops an octave and he’s leaning in, close enough for her to notice the constellations of freckles splaying across his face and the way his brown eyes glinted like two shots of whiskey under a stream of light, intense and all-consuming. She feels her mind races, her brains feel as if they underwent a short-circuit and get caught on fire, and the fact that her mind’s on the precipice of exploring the idea is not helping.

A burst of laughter erupts from her throat, not that it’s funny- there’s nothing funny about the situation, but someone ought to diffuse this shift of tension between them, or that was her aim, at least.

“What, you wanna pay me back?” she asks, trying to keep her voice from cracking but failing miserably. Fingers trembling against her glass as she chugs nearly a quarter of her drink in one go.

He notices that.

"A Lannister always pays his debts, does he? If you think that I owe you one, then I’ll gladly pay.” His eyes flick back to her face, searing into her. The air crackles between them. The band is playing a different song now, a sound that only exists on the margin of her attention. If they’re in, say a mid 2000s rom-com movie, someone would probably interrupt this moment and save her from this. But this isn’t a movie.

Claire licks her lips, a candid reaction which encourages him to inch closer- or is it her? She can’t tell anymore. Tracing odd patterns on the palm of her hand with his finger and oh god, this is Carrick, the bane of her fucking existence, she’d shoot him first before she kisses him. But something about the prospect of fucking this bastard twists her insides deliciously into a confused mess.

“How? By fucking me?” she inquires, feigning scandalized- all that Catholic guilt bullshit.

He grins, all-teeth and wolfish and shrugs as if they’re talking about his life insurance policy or shit. “Well, that’s the idea.”

“But you don’t even like me.” It should come out as I don’t even like you, but even she knows that’ll be just another lie she tells.

“On the contrary, I enjoy our rivalry far more than I should, Castelnuovo,” he purrs and places a hand on her knee. Her throat bobs. She’s wearing a skirt, it didn’t seem important then, but now his hand feels warm against her skin, dangling on the edge of impropriety. Like gravity, all it takes is a little push for him to cross that line.

“I should be disliking the way you talk to me, challenging me and putting me on the back foot every goddamn time. I should be focusing on taking you down a peg, but the more I see you, the more I realize you have an attractive kind of power. And I’m just one man. And if there’s anything I learned, the only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”

But then his movement suddenly ceases. Claire almost asks why.

"However…”

“What?” she stares up at him, eyes wide, breath hitching.

“However if you only accept alcohol as the currency for transactions, then I’ll tell the bartender to get us another round instead,“ he tells her, offering her one last chance to back out from this, from making this mistake with him.

Claire stares into her drink, actually mulling this over. Her mind tells her no, but the other part- the alcohol-infused part of her mind- whispers otherwise. She imagines if Ethan or any of her friends are here, they would probably grab her shoulder and shake the living hell out of her for even reconsidering his offer.

But then again, intelligence, alcohol and desperation have always had a bad history of getting along together.

“What about June?” Claire asks against her better judgement, after a long, considerable pause. Carrick raises a confused brow.

“What about her?”

“I thought you guys…” she trails off, makes a face, feeling all-kind of flustered and aroused and wow, she’s really doing this, huh? “I mean, I don’t know- I don’t wanna get in between you guys.”

“Nah. It was only a three time thing, but there’s never been anything between us.” He chuckles at Claire’s askance look. “If you don’t believe me, you can fact-check it with the woman herself,” Carrick adds, looking at her dead-on with his eyes like he wants to get the message across.

She regards him silently for a long second, and maybe she’s a touch drunk now, maybe the bartender put something in her drink, or maybe she just needs to blow off some steam after what’s been happening in these past few weeks and Carrick happens to be a decent warm body for the occasion, but Claire finds herself shifting closer.

"Then I want you to pay me back.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” she answers, more sure this time, more determined.

Her nose bumps his, his breath fanning across her face all the while Carrick’s slightly pushing her skirt up, letting his fingertips travel higher. His eyes keep darting back and forth from her eyes and lips, checking for her reaction. There is no inhibition here, not anymore. People might be watching- heck, they could be already watching and it terrifies her that she doesn’t give a damn about it.

“But if you tell anyone about this, I swear to god… ” she warns and a shadow of mirth passes across his eyes, making her almost regretting this. Almost.

“Claire, darling.” It’s the first time he’s ever said her name and her stomach does a tango. “Your secret is safe with me.“ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

He gets them a room in the hotel, it’s on the twentieth floor. Carrick handles the accommodation- he can afford it, apparently, which is not really surprising and the nuisating check-in procedure while Claire only waits in the lobby like a beautiful, agitated china doll amidst the turbulent sea the whole time until he comes back, flashes the room key at her and beckons her to follow.

She goes ahead of him, but he catches up. His body heat sends her anxiety rocketing sky-high through the roof as they walk next to each other, hands briefly brushing against one another but she ignores that (or at least she tries).

They are silent in the elevator, they are silent even once they reach the designated floor and walk down the hall to their room where the dim and shadowed lights follow their steps like vultures.

Carrick holds open the door for her and she enters, taking in the windows and the striking view of Boston skyline peeking behind the curtains, the TV and the queen-sized bed. The latter does nothing to assuage the anticipation that’s bubbling in the pit of her stomach, by the way.

Claire hears him shut the door, locking both bolts. She peers at him over her shoulder, half-turned, one eye on him. Their eyes meet, neither speaks. He’s taking off his black peacoat, back against the door, he’s looking at her as if wanting her is his full-time occupation and the realizations comes in like a mule kick, how that tiny voice inside her head, the one that tells her that this is a bad idea and she’s better off leaving never comes.

The room is not considerably huge (with $110 per night, you would have expected you’d get a bigger room), he could easily have her in six large steps, yet he stands there. Sizing her up, smirking rather devilishly, handsomely as if challenging her to make the first move. It’s another fucking game with him. A display of power, waiting who would fall first.

Claire finally turns around to face him. With a renowned determination, she removes her coat, letting it fall unceremoniously onto the carpeted floor. Her blouse follows next and her skirt, which she tugs it oh so slowly down her legs.

Carrick’s eyes widen, if she doesn’t know better, she thinks he’s speechless. He takes a deep breath, his gaze religiously following every movement as she twirls around once more to unhook her bra. His jaw clenches and unclenches. He’s having a hard time keeping himself in check which she takes an immense pleasure in. Claire just wants to see the man squirm for a change, even if she has to shed every article of clothing she wears.

By the time she slips off of her underwear, she is breathing raggedly. He hasn’t yet approached her so she crawls onto the bed, lying on her back with one elbow props her up, legs crossed. She kicks off her heels, rolls down her stockings with a bit of that noir come-hither, Lauren Bacall-esque heavy bedroom eyes.

Finally, Carrick steps closer until he’s only a hair’s breadth away, like a target, filling her line of sight. The tension in the room is hot enough to send the thermometer reaching its maximum limit and she’s burning, burning, burning right through the core.

Claire cranes her head up to meet his gaze, noticing the way he’s drinking in her body like a pirate ogling a bottle of rum. High-strung, tense, Carrick lowers his head to her, his fingers carding through her long hair. Dimness consumes him raw, his silhouette is starting to find its place amongst the shadows except for his eyes. Never does the fire in his eyes falter, merely alight.

They are already nose-to-nose when Claire suddenly raises her hand over his lips. He withdraws from her, looking confused and hot and bothered.

“Take a seat over there, will you?” She motions to the settee near the bed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

He smirks, but she can see his bravado if faltering. “Ordering me around in the bed now, are we?”

“Didn’t you say tonight is about you making it up to me?”

“Touche, touche.” Carrick straightens his posture and makes his way to the settee across from her, shifting uncomfortably in his seat given the growing issue in his pants.

With eyes still trained to his, Claire cups her own breast, fingers pinching her pebbled nipple before the same hand travels lower down her stomach, her thighs. Carrick leans forward in his seat, obviously liking where this is going before Claire slowly and teasingly part her legs for him to see.

A surprised groan escapes him.

“Jesus, Claire,” Carrick hisses. “Fuck, I didn’t know you’re a goddamn tease.”

She doesn’t bother replying to him, but a winning grin finds its way across her face as she lays on her back, her shame and modesty are distant, knees pulled up so he can have a clear view of her. With two fingers, she runs them along her folds, dragging them slowly up to her clit. Claire imagines they are his fingers- which once upon a time would have horrified her, but tonight, as she repeats the motion over and over, knowing that he’s sitting there, watching her without being able to get his hands on her, she decides to submit to this newfound fantasy.

A rustle pulls her back to reality. He’s undoing his own pants, palming his cock, runs his fingers over the leaking head.

A low moan catches in her throat at that, her gaze snapping up from his erection to his face where his irises have darkened and pupils dilated. He wants to show her, that’s he’s as depraved as her when it comes to wanting, that he fucking wants her and in spades and she fails to think like a normal human being anymore.

Claire uses that image to work on herself harder, faster, feeling the intense pressure beginning to build beneath her fingers. She’s so wet now, despite him being able to see that, she wants him to hear it as well as she uses her idle hand to tap against herself. Carrick growls, his pace matching the rhythm she’s setting.

She slips her fingers inside her, drops her head back against the mattress and bites a loud moan that threatens to escape her lips. Flushing scarlet all over her abdomen, her breasts and up to her neck. Her blood thumping louder than bombs in her ears, her breaths begin to come in gasps.

Another fast and hard thrust from fingers, and Claire finds herself sighing his name.

“Tobias…”

And every last bit of his self-restraint snaps.

In just a blink of an eye, Carrick is already on his feet, grabs her waist, harshly, and tugs her down onto the edge of the bed where he’s now kneeling before her. He doesn’t bother with the teasings or soft kisses or caresses, and even before Claire has the time to register what’s happening, he crushes his face between her parted legs and eats her out.

She gasps, high and fleeting, twisting the bed sheet between her fists while his tongue flicks over her, moving back up, back down, lapping along her folds in the same motions she showed him with her hand, how she likes it. Claire forgets how to breathe. It just occurs to her just how arousing the sight of him on his knees like this, sending her mind hitchhiking into outer space.

“Oh, fuck.” She breathes, back arching on the bed with a drawn-out moan. “Fuck, Tobias!” Her hips gyrate over his mouth and she presses her heels against his shoulder blades. She’s so close. All she needs is a little push to send her careening into oblivion and it seems that Carrick can sense it because he brings two digits to her entrance and slides easily inside her, setting a ruthless pace.

With her hands reaching out to the back of his head, Claire cries out his name and trembles violently. Encouraged, Carrick curves his fingers inside her, hitting that exact spot that finally undoes her as she comes, long and hard, around his mouth and fingers- the kind of orgasm that you can feel deep in your bones- and watches as fireworks dance behind her lids.

When she finally comes down from her high, everything is hazy. It’s like waking up from a deep slumber after a decadent soak in a scented bath and she loses all orientation, until she feels him nipping the inside of her thighs. She hisses, glances down, heavy-lidded eyes finding Carrick is leaving bruises after bruises all over her skin like some kind of a lewd memento of his work, like he wants her to remember this the next time she wakes up in her own bed and he’s not there.

"Are you trying to turn me into a Na'vi, doctor?” She asks, still kinda breathless, feeling surprisingly conversational despite having just experienced, if not, one of the best orgasms in her life. He smiles against her thigh and withdraws from her, only after her thighs are sufficiently bruised enough, licks his fingers clean and stands up at the end of the bed.

“Maybe. You’d make a cute blue extraterrestrial creature, though,” he replies cheekily, then undoes the button of his shirt, showcasing his naked torso.

Claire feels her cheeks heating up again, but forces herself to stare; eyes following his pectoral muscles, down to the toned lines of his abdomen while he slides off of his pants. The man is one fine specimen, alright, and he knows- smug bastard- and she thinks it’s such a shame that Carrick is… well, Carrick. If the man learns how to shut up for one minute or avoid trying to sabotage everyone’s career at Edenbrook altogether, maybe, just maybe, she’d consider him.

“But honestly, I just wanted to hear you say my name again,” Carrick continues, crawling his way up to her, pulling her out of her musings. He settles between her thighs. His lips finding her ear and nibbling at the lobe while his fingers pinching and pulling at her nipple. Claire shivers. Nails scraping along his skin, raising angry marks that would certainly be there tomorrow.

When they kiss, it’s so good that she can’t help but curl her toes. He kisses her like he’s trying to steal her breath or her name. She can taste herself in his mouth, which sparks so many feelings inside her. Her mind’s foggy, sweat pooling on her forehead. Carrick is but shoves his tongue into her mouth, lapping at her, biting, sucking and she leans hard into the kiss, retaliates by scraping her teeth against his bottom lip. It spurs him on. Making his cock twitch against her thigh and Claire decides she can’t wait anymore.

Claire rolls her hips at him. He takes the hint and rolls over to grab a condom from his pants. Then he’s back on top of her, his weight and heat crushing her most deliciously and brings her body further up the bed with him; she drapes her legs around his hips, hands gripping his arms. Her lust and anticipation collaborate to the point of near madness.

Carrick nips the taut line of her jaw and drives himself into her.

They both groan in unison.

“Oh, fuck.” Carrick mumbles between shaky breaths, his face pressed against her throat. “Fucking hell, Claire, you feel so warm.”

Claire, on the other hand, goes rigid under him. Her mouth hangs open and her world narrows down to the feeling of his cock inside her and the pleasure that builds up again in her abdomen.

This is happening, she thinks, he’s inside her and it feels so amazing. She might as well be crazy for agreeing to do this with him in the first place, but the promise of the thrill beats the doubts.

He starts slow, just the smallest fraction of hips, gently thrusting back and forth in shallow motions. She whines, frustrated and impatient, raising her own hips to meet his, but Carrick’s weight pins her onto the mattress and she can’t fucking move.

“F-faster,” Claire stammers, her molars grinding like toothache.

The bastard smirks, like he’s been anticipating the word coming out of her mouth.

“Beg for it.” His words are punctuated with every unhurried stroke he’s giving her, teasing her and if she’s not in the middle of being fucked right now, she would have kicked him in the balls.

Growling, she swallows her plea by pulling Carrick down for another kiss. This time, she’s the one who does the biting and the sucking, making sure he’s distracted enough and then just like with all the things she does in her life, she takes the matter into her own hands.

With all her strength, she scrambles up, pushes him off of her and knocks him onto his back flat on the bed. When she swings her legs to straddle him, his eyes pop.

“Holy shit, you are feisty.”

“Only cause I’m angry and horny,” she bites off. Angling herself above him and with one hand, guides his shaft back to her opening. “And you- you weren’t doing a proper job fucking me.”

He smirks. “I was trying to wind you up.”

“Fuck you.”

She lowers herself and sinks back onto his cock, relishing in his moans and growls.

“Baby, you’re doing it.” His hands curling around her waist, his head falls back onto the bed, exposing his throat and Claire is so hard-pressed not to bite him there.

Claire ignores his smartassness, naturally, and lifts herself, drops back down. Slamming her hips into his until she’s bouncing on him. Nails clawing at his chest. Finally be able to set a pace she desperately craves for, finally wiping that smirk off of his face.

Under her, Carrick is biting his lip in an effort to not to lose control. His hands are everywhere now; her stomach, her breasts, her neck, her cheeks. Leaving fire on its wake. She might still hate him after this is strange, little arrangement is over but at this juncture, he’s exactly the remedy she needs after everything.

Then Carrick wraps his arms around her and picks up the pace, thrusting into her hard and fast. Claire shakes. She can’t catch her breath, her forehead pressed on his shoulder, her teeth latching onto his skin. Breathing a string of 'fuckfuckfuck’ while he squeezes her ass and continues to fuck her with careless abandon.

"Tobias.” Her moans amplify. She’s close to climaxing again, her legs quivering. Eyes wide shut. “Please, please.” So much for not begging.

He pulls her to him so their foreheads meet. Their lips brush against each other, but they aren’t kissing, merely trading breaths. A hand touches her cheek and her lids flutter open, finding his eyes- those depthless, amber eyes that pretty much lead her to this point, are watching her, pulling her in.

“Say it again,” he encourages darkly, face twists in pleasure. “My name. Say it again.”

She does it again, it comes out as a groaned whisper, repeating it over and over again like a sacred mantra.

Her second orgasm sweeps through her, making her spine arches, it tears a winded moan from her throat and it’s more than enough to trigger Carrick’s own release; fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, groaning gutturally.

Panting, sore but sated, Claire collapses on top of his chest, his arm still drapes around her. The rise and fall of his breath lull her to sleep. Before she knows it, he gently rolls her to his side, pulling the covers for them and kisses her on the shoulder, which comes out as… odd for her.

The bed moves and she feels him leaving.

He’s leaving.

He’s leaving.

She doesn’t know why it stings, but it does. But also Claire opts not to pay no mind to it and forces her mind to surrender to sleep that once again tries to take hold.

Claire wishes she doesn’t dream of him that night, but she does.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s way past midnight when she wakes up. The room is dark. The curtains are closed. She’s still naked and sore under the covers, mind reeling in from what has just transpired.

One might ask in which universe does Claire Castelnuovo agree to sleep with Tobias Carrick? Well, apparently they did it in this one and oddly still, she doesn’t regret it. Though she’s still low-key sad that he left her straight after sex, but hey, what can she do about it? This arrangement itself is nothing but a means to an end, anyway, a perverse alternative for him to pay back what he allegedly owes her, she shouldn’t be surprised if he left after the ‘debt’ is paid.

Feeling her mood somehow takes an unexpected dip, she gets us from the bed and gathers her clothes on the floor.

She’s in the middle of zipping up her skirt when the bedside lamp flickers and comes on.

Claire turns around. Carrick, rousing from sleep, looks at her, rubbing his eyes and stifles a yawn. His lips still tinged from her kisses and bites.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks, voice still raspy from sleep and Claire thinks her mouth is hanging open, standing rooted to the spot like a spider on an icicle; frozen in time.

For a moment, she does nothing but stares at him, being rendered speechless. For many times, Tobias Carrick never fails to surprise her. Just when she thinks she has him all figured out, he comes sneaking in through her windows like a thief in the night and it just strikes her, how he really is an uncharted territory for her. Despite her having him pinned under her, exploring the hard planes of his body under the touches just a few hours ago.

The man is like a fucking myth, at this point. She knows him only from stories and her limited time around him, but who is exactly Tobias Carrick? Is he the competitive doctor at Mass Kenmore, the Machiavellian asshole that severed his friendship/relationship with Ethan for the sake of his greed and ambition? Or is he, Tobias Carrick, the man who saves her life, makes her laugh and kisses her shoulder in the afterglow?

She’ll probably never know.

“Yeah, my roommates will probably deploy a search party if I don’t come home tonight,” she replies, distracted, finally finding her own voice back. He nods, feigning disappointment- or is he not? She clears her throat and continues putting on her clothes. “I thought you left.”

He chuckles at the absurdity of her deduction. “And without saying goodbye?” Carrick rolls off of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s already wearing his pants- thank fuck for that- and approaches her. “I may be an asshole, Castelnuovo, but just so you know, my mother raised me better than that.”

So they’re back to their usual last name basis perimeter. That’s good, right? After all of this, she thinks a little familiarity would be nice for her sanity.

“Good to know, then.”

Silence encompasses the room. It’s awkward and overwhelming and it throws her a little off-balance. At the bar, they seemed to know exactly what to say to each other- especially him; but now, even she can sense the hesitation in his gait, at the way he’s looking at her and a faint alarm is trilling her head. Because if he’s making this awkward, she can do a whole lot of worse.

"Oh, before you ask, that makes up for pretty much everything, yeah. I mean, it’s alright.” You fucking dumbass, she thinks to herself, averting his gaze while a smile blooms on his face.

“Good to know, then.” He parrots her words and she huffs a laugh, freely and sweetly, like she’s currently not knee-deep in her problems or she’s just fucked the most incorrigible man that ever exists. He does too, but his gaze lands on her mouth before going back to her eyes.

Another silence passes. It’s time to go.

“I have to go now.”

He nods mutely and moves away so Claire can step past him.

She wears her coat. In the mirror, she still looks thoroughly fucked; her hair’s dishevelled, she smells like him now, but she really needs to go. She promises herself that this will be a one time thing because, Jesus fuck, she’s supposed to be smarter than this. She’s not fifteen anymore, and this is not the summer where she can watch the sunset from the cornfields with her cousins even though his eyes possess the same color.

Yet she walks toward the door in a daze, like she’s forgetting something but can’t pinpoint what it is.

“Can I-”

“Hey, do you-”

She stops, mid-turning, and closes her mouth. She doesn’t realize she’s interrupting him.

“Oh, sorry,” Claire says, embarrassed. “You go first, it’s alright.”

“Can I have your number?” he asks, uncharacteristically hesitant.

She thinks he’s joking or maybe he’s just feigning interest, but one look at his eyes and she can tell that this isn’t smoke and mirrors.

The eyes, chico. They never lie. It’s dumb, but that line from Scarface is the first thing that comes to her mind. That’s why when she hands him her phone, her hand is shaking slightly. She has to bite her lip to stop herself from grinning like a maniac.  

Claire takes a cursory glance at her phone once he returns it. He saved his number solely as t.c. with the water drop, the syringe, the ghost, the eggplant, the firework emoji and she chuckles endearingly, questioning the universe how he can easily get both a rise and a laugh out of her.

“I’ll text you?” Carrick asks again and she nods a little too enthusiastically at it, but what the hell?

“Sure.”

“Alright.” He takes one look at her, steps closer and for a moment, she thinks he might be going to kiss her.

“Goodnight, Claire,” Carrick says instead and she nods, admitting the fact that he’s not going to do it.

“Goodnight to you too, Tobias.” Then pauses at the doorway, feeling surprisingly bold. “I gotta give it to you, though, for someone who’s become the bane of my existence for months, you’re a damn good lay.”

He barks out a laugh, obviously, that Claire can hear all the way down the hall. And she thinks she can get used to the sound.

                                                         fin.

Tag list: @villain-fuckarooni @beckaroo @arfeiniel​ @this-person-is-busy @colossalpainintheass​ @drethanramslay @hatescapsicum @theeccentricbibliophile

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Cruel Summer Pt. II

Summary: Based loosely off of Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift. Huge muse for this part was also Resentment by Kesha. After what was considerably one of the worst nights to ever be lived, things just seem to keep getting worse. Or will they?

Word Count: 2634

Warnings: Angst, lots of fucking angst, the reader talking a lot, manipulative speech, very slight age gap, anxiety, almost ddlg elements but not quite (Please let me know if I missed anything, I will be happy to add on)

A/N: Tags are at the bottom I know this had been long awaited and I’m so sorry it took so long. I had to rewrite the beginning so many times because the first part just seemed to flow so beautifully and I was having troubles encapsulating the grace. Will be added to AO3 at some point. NO spoilers, takes place before the events of Knives out. Read Part One Here

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs, likes, comments, and constructive criticism welcomed and highly appreciated.

Golden rays of sunshine creeped over rooftops, illuminating the room as it fought the cold of the night out that had settled in every crevice - a cold that was a constant reminder of the half empty bed. Soft sheets and expensive pillows that we no better than the pictures that were facedown on the dresser. A light snore and ball of exuberant warmth curled at the end of the unnecessary king size bed that somehow managed to ignite joy while drowning the feeling with sorrow. Even in the early morning hours, just minutes after the sun had risen, there was only one thing to be thought about, one person; Ransom. 

An insistent vibrating disturbed what little peace had fallen over the room, uncharacteristically early to the weekly norm. Even after it would stop, moments later it would begin again and it seemed that it wasn't going to go away anytime soon. A crack in the foundation, a rumbling earthquake that rocked the stability and what had started becoming a little better everyday was ready to crumble and fall. 

Paying attention to details should be a strong suit for someone who had two books published and one in the works - it was a talent that was nearly mastered by this point. But, emotionally drained and foggy brained from the expense that was a Thrombey family dinner, one that would surely be the talk of the family for months, and a restless night filled with discomfort and anxiety left any common sense buried under endless amounts of exhaustion. 

A quick swipe of a thumb, the light press of the cell phone to your ear, and suddenly everything froze. The feeling as if suddenly bathed in freezing water while fiery coals scorched your feet, butterflies lifting your chest higher to cloud nine while a pit opened in your stomach, heart racing with some wild mixture of dread and excitement; "My house at 3. Don't be late, baby girl."

That godforsaken drawl, the smirk that was evident in his voice, the fucking nickname. The line went dead, a heavy silence flooding the room like a tsunami. Thoughts raced in circles, picking apart and trying to guess what he could possibly want. 

Was he going to rub it in your face that he got under your skin? Made your blood boil? Of course he knew how he affected you, he knew you too well, better than anyone would like to admit. An apology? No - that's too far fetched, even after everything Ransom never was the one to apologize, even if he also knew it would be best. Possibly he had gathered the rest of your things, finally ready to rid himself of them. It's not like you took much when he told you to leave, and it was unlikely he would have taken the time himself to go through everything. He probably paid the maid extra to do it overnight so he wouldn't have to.

Either way, after last night, Ransom was the last person you wanted or expected to hear from. The sting of the incident, salt that was rubbed roughly in an aging wound, still fluttered deep in your chest. His words, the family's reaction, the countless notifications still untouched. Nothing anyone could have told you or showed you would have prepared you for what you had felt in that moment. 

Heavy limbs moved numbly but swiftly, mind working like the rusted innards of a clock, slow and almost confused. It didn't make sense as to why he would want to see you, he had done enough damage as is. The confusion quickly boiled over, simmering down to a fluttering anxiety of constant what ifs running their courses through your mind. 

The growing pup stirred at the feel of you moving from the bed, quickly laying his head back down when he saw you trudge into the bathroom. After a much longer than anticipated shower, the feel of the too warm water running down your skin and feeling as though it was washing away every single issue and emotion, a wave a vague normalcy set in. 

For at least a little you could believe this was normal, that it was just like last summer. Get up, get ready for the day, get some work done, then pamper before heading over to see Ransom. Just this time, there was a slightly different agenda. It wouldn't be all heated kisses, starved touches, and craved intimacy, it wouldn't be whispers of sweet nothings and the comfort of a protective embrace - even if every fiber of you craved it like a bad drug, it couldn't happen again, at least not that easily. And who was to say that was even his plan.

Anticipation made the hours go by slower than what was deemed truly plausible, and no matter what the possibilities of what was to come just wouldn't stop taunting every corner of your thoughts. Embarrassingly so you found yourself preparing much earlier than necessary, restyling yourself a handful of times to make sure stunning couldn't even come close to describing how effortlessly perfect you looked. If Ransom wanted to play games, you were determined to have the ball in your field for as long as possible. And to top it off, you made sure that nothing you had on was bought by him. 

But you could only hope that your efforts weren't in vain as you made your way to his house, a place of memories in the middle of pretty much nowhere. An almost 40 minute drive making way for doubts to slowly creep in and settle in the back of your mind. What if he could tell you tried too hard? He could so easily read you, it was as if you were one of your books. Or what if he thought you were trying to impress him? The only time you ever went out of your way to put much effort into your appearance was when you wanted him to really notice you or if he was taking you out. Maybe going in general was a bad idea and this was just some sick joke of his. 

But there was no time to back out as you pulled up in front of the house, his sitting silhouette evident through the glass window. Ransom noticed you immediately, moving to sit whatever was in his hands down and made his way to the door, already standing on the porch before you had even gotten out of your car. 

A slight uneasiness settled between the two of you, his arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows raised as he watched you, almost expectantly. The look was reminiscent of how your parents would stare you down when you were younger, when you had done something wrong. 

You stood outside your car, staring at him and matching his stance, only adding to the annoyance that was written on his face. "What do you want, Hugh?" The irritation in your voice was evident, and you were more than thankful your words didn't fail you. Stomach twisting in intricate knits, chest fluttering, palms becoming clammy; it was a genuine miracle you hadn't tripped over your words. 

His set jaw clenched, nostrils flaring as he registered how you spoke to him, how you addressed him, "Just get in here. We need to talk."

A scoff fell from your lips as you made your way inside, "Always the gentlemen, aren't you," you spat, rolling your eyes as you walked towards the kitchen. Despite not intending on staying long, you threw your belongings on the island and leaned against the marble countertop, watching him as he stalked towards you, a nearly predatory look in his eyes. "What exactly do we need to talk about? I feel like last night made our positions pretty fucking clear."

He tsked, shaking his head. "You just don't get it, baby girl, dya?" 

Ransom opened his mouth to talk again but you cut him off, agitation finally bubbling over and bordering on rage, "I don't get it?" The words were hissed out and soaked in utter disbelief, "What exactly don't I fucking get, Ransom? The fact that you like to start shit? Or the fact that months after you told me to get the fuck out, you show up to a dinner you don't ever go to to cause a fucking scene, then tell me to meet you at your house the next day? What twisted memory of yours triggered you to suddenly act like you care about me? Why the fuck couldn't you just leave well enough alone?"

The taught muscles of his jaw twitched, intense blues boring into your own gaze. "You're such a spoilt fucking brat," he groaned out. "We had an agreement. No one was supposed to find out, but you had to go and-"

"I had to go and what?" You cut him off once again, only fueling the tension between the two of you and prodding the beast of emotions that was storming inside both of your bellies, "You are the one who opened your mouth, you are the one who fucking started this, all of this. From that night in the fucking bar, to you telling me I was the best thing to ever happen to you, to opening up your mouth last night. You always start it. And you're just pissed I finished it before you could get me to break in front of you."

A lump in your throat was beginning to form, jaw clenching as you swallowed, a feeble attempt to keep your emotions from getting the best of you. The rage was quickly turning into sorrow and hurt, the fire in your chest turning into an ache that couldn't be ignored, "You're just disappointed I waited until I got home, got away from you, to break down. Because you didn't get the satisfaction of seeing the pain you've caused."

There was a sudden twist in the atmosphere, hurricane breaking for a moment of relief before harsh waves continued to crash against the shore, "You act like I wanted to hurt you," his voice was grim, face painting in slight disgust, "Everything was great between us - You are the one who broke the rules. Not me." 

Ransom's head cocked to the side some, gaze moving over your features quickly, examining and calculating, "And even now," a small huff in disbelief as he shook his head, large hand moving to run through his hair which you had just noticed was free of any products. Odd, even for him. "Even now, you still came, you're still here. And I'm still thinking of giving you another chance."

Something buried deep within you snapped, a flood of pain filling every nerve and forcing tears to well in your eyes. "You're giving me another chance?" Any illusion of resolve and strength that had been built up had disappeared as quick as a snap of fingers, uneven breaths doing their best to keep the floodgates closed. "Ransom, you broke my fucking heart," each word filled with more hurt and distrust than the last, each a cut to the man who stood before you, his face softening as he watched you, "You're not the one here who should be giving out second chances, you're the one who should be receiving them."

The realization hit him, a douse of cold water to the face as his mind worked. Silence, albeit slightly uncomfortable, fell between the two of you as the gravity of the last few moments came crashing down. Just as it became too much to handle, lip quivering as the overwhelming urge to cry started becoming harder to fight off, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into him. 

Time seemed to slow, a few broken sobs slipping out, body shaking with the force of each one. The natural scent of him filling your senses, no expensive cologne, the feel of the soft sweater an unwanted comfort. Ransom's arms hugged tighter, lips going to your hairline, and staying like that until reality hit you. A weak push, one he could have easily ignored and overpowered, and he stepped away, his features much more readable, looking far more vulnerable. He was much more vulnerable, much more vulnerable than you were ever used to.

Shaky breaths fell from you, trying to clear the fog that was beginning to form over rational thoughts. Wiping your eyes you looked at him, "What exactly is it that you want, Ransom? Why did you really ask me to come over?"

He looked almost taken aback, confused and dazed by the question, but more so by his own train of thought. His mouth opened then closed, repeating the action a few more times before groaning out exasperatedly. "I don't know, for things to go back to how they were?" It sounded far more like a suggestion than an answer. "Come on, (Y/N), we were good together." 

The words came off as if he was trying to convince himself that this was what he wanted. You waited, seeing if he would try to convince you, persuade you like he believed he so easily could, how he used to. "I- No," you shook your head, "I can't do that to myself again, I can't let you do that to me again."

"Do what?" He practically snapped, jaw setting as agitation made home in him once again. He didn't expect it to be so damn hard. He no undoubtedly assumed that he'd immediately have you wrapped around his finger like nothing had changed. "Treat you like a fucking princess? Treat you how you deserve to be treated? You and I both know that you're never gonna be able to find someone who can give you what I gave you, nothing that's going to have that same thrill we did."

Shaking your head you grabbed your bag, throwing it over your shoulder. "See Ransom, you're the one that doesn't get it. I want that more than anything. I want the spontaneous trips and heartfelt gifts. I want the late night conversations and finishing each other's sentences. I would give anything to be on your jet flying to whatever place you're insisting I need to see. I want it all," your voice was practically a whine by the end of it, "But I don't want the sneaking and the hiding. I don't want the separate houses. I don't want lying to everyone."

Running a hand through your hair, you took a shaky breath, trying to calm your nerves. "I need someone who isn't going to just care for me behind a closed door," the calmness of your voice even scared you in the moment, and seeing that Ransom practically froze you could tell he was feeling the same, "I need someone who is going to be there for me how you were, but isn't ashamed of it. That won't get mad when I take cutesy pictures of us on the beach, that won't pretend to hate me in front of their family and friends, that I don't have to pretend is someone else when I'm talking about them. I don't want things to go back to how they were, I want them to be better than they were."

You walked past his nearly frozen stature, heading for the door. "I love you Ransom, and probably always will. But I love myself more than that and I can't let myself be hurt like that again." 

The words echoed off the hallway, ringing in his ears and sitting like a heavy weight on his chest. Your reached for the door, stopping suddenly as his voice reached back out, "Wait - I- fuck," he let out a shaky breath. "Don't leave. Not yet at least. Can we sit and talk over dinner? Please."

Taglist: (Slash through means unable to be tagged)   @sweetlittlegingy @star-spangled-steve @jessiejunebug @fresa-luna @thegirlwithpaperheart @jesaigne @introvertedmouse @sinner-as-saint @sp2900 @qrndevans @dammitcaswhy @livsheph @darcia22 @paranjaperiyauniverse @dramaticsassmaster​ @rose-k @lovemesomeavengers​ @steeeeverogers​ @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​ @bemysugarbean​ @dreamlesswonder86​ @ambrosixx​ @heyiamthatbitch​ @daazzeey​, @fresa-luna​ @bitchcraftandwitchery​ @thatoneslytherinbeater​ @breezyfreezey @quesadellacatburglar @renxzs​ @imsonick​ @sambucky8​ @honeybabybubba​

[godkilller]

@izzabizz139

I wanna hear you rant about the Gin vs Hitsugaya anime fight bc I love seeing your pov and you clearly write better than whoever extended that scene :) pretty please

          out of character.  DON’T ENABLE ME SO MUCH !!  No but I cackled when I first saw this ask because oh my god, clearly you saw a taste of my annoyance about the anime adaptation -- no, adaptation implies it was accurate, I’ll say the anime’s take was “inspired by” the manga’s quick run-in. I’ll start by saying this moment is supposed to be a bit important considering, via the audience’s point of view, THIS IS THE FIRST WE SEE OF TWO CAPTAIN-RANKED SHINIGAMI CLASHING. The only other captain-involved fight we’ve seen thus far in the manga is Kenpachi  ( who is an outlier and should not be counted... no, I joke... but, still, Ichigo was not an equal to him, his sword was sliced through like butter. )  The whole reason I enjoyed this encounter between Toshiro and Gin was simply this; it wasn’t some fancy multi-chaptered fight. IN THE MANGA, THERE ARE ONLY TWO BLOWS MADE. One, by Toshiro, to begin the fight. The second, to end it, is Gin’s strike.

          I want you to know that I’ve rewatched this specifically to answer this ask, and only due to this, as I wouldn’t have ever sought it out otherwise. HONOR MY SACRIFICE.

          Read more for length. I’m merciful.

          In the anime, they monologue at each other, and it’s mostly a combination of Toshiro making three separate death threats  ( he starts this off by saying “I’ll kill you before Hinamori arrives” and then goes on rewording it each time, and then also repeats the death-threat he gave Gin prior to this conflict about “I’ll kill you if Hinamori bleeds” )  and then also Gin and Izuru talking about how truly powerful and amazing Toshiro is -- no, this isn’t me being bitter or petty, I literally shit you not, Gin has a line that is legit “AS EXPECTED FROM HITSUGAYA TOSHIRO, CAPTAIN OF THE TENTH DIVISION, A CHILD PRODIGY OF TH' SORT THAT ONLY COMES ALONG ONLY ONCE EVERY FEW CENTURIES. HOW VEEEERY DANGEROUS. YOU’RE SERIOUS, AIN’T YA?” like don’t get me wrong, love a good sarcastic little shit comment like that, but the amount of times the anime pumps Toshiro up like he’s their shinest new cash cow ( and he is, at this point, it is not even 50 episodes into the series and they’ve realized everyone likes him and he’s jumped to high ranks in popularity polls... earning him filler spotlights, and eventually his very own non-canon movie )  so everything coming out of Gin’s mouth feels like more bullshit than necessary. Izuru’s already literally monologued, internally, how powerful and amazing Toshiro is anyways. Why this ?

          Not to mention that, prior to saying that long-winded shit, Gin’s haori changed length three times  ( and once it was longer than his entire body by several feet, and no not in a ‘to show motion’ way )  and most importantly Shinso was drawn, consistently, at katana-length for the duration of their little spat where the following, too, happened: Gin frog-leaps after doing a backflip, Toshiro gives Gin two (2) haircuts, Gin ruins some floorboards and gives Toshiro at least one splinter in his arm, Toshiro whilst wearing socks lands on Shinso’s blunt edge and pushes the sword down with his footsie because that’s how that works, there’s another backflip somewhere in there that Gin doesn’t need to be doing, twirl, twirl, and ballet, Gin’s face elongates until his chin is bigger than his face, Gin spends ten+ seconds purely dodging very close strikes to his face as Toshiro is the only one making breathy growly and ‘tsuuaaah’ sounds, there is a brief moment of no gravity as Toshiro keeps hacking at Gin midair and Gin blocks it over and over again but they still stay in the air but they’re not standing or jumping or using reiatsu they’re just like, momentum-locked I don’t fucking know, Gin frowny faces as he blocks because like somehow this kid who doesn’t even have more reiatsu than him, whose arm strength should not be an issue, is like. making him nervous?? as sword sparks fly. if you know me at all you know I hate when they fuckin’ firework sparkler-ify swords clashing.

          Anyways, all of this happens whilst Shinso is the wrong length and Gin’s hair is getting purpler by the second and this entire thing is somehow a big jack-off to Toshiro’s immense strength even though he’s screaming and wailing at Gin like a child and Gin’s just a vessel at this point to Enhance Toshiro, which, fine, okay, but at least be more accurate with it god damn. ANYWAYS,

          THEY JOUST. They literally run at each other, swords centered, and run past / to the side of one another. Jousting. “Cause that’s how that works. No slashes, no cutting motion. Just swords centered, because the animators were like “no worries guys I know swordfighting basics that’s a legit pose” yeah it is WHEN STATIONARY. Not rUNNING IT DOWN.

          And then Gin’s sleeve is cut, somehow, from the Jousting, because wow Toshiro wow wow wowowowow, and then Toshiro comes back and starts wailing at Gin again and Gin blocks it, again, and it’s all very annoyingly repetitive, and Gin’s frowning and sparks are flying and Gin’s using Shinso, the katana-length wakizashi I guess, with two hands because like I said, the animators knew basics and basics are “katana are used two-handed” like. Okay, you’re not wrong, but I cannot stress this enough: SHINSO IS NOT A KATANA. It’s shorter and meant to be used single-handed!!!! sTop!!! So then Gin rips off the tattered part of his sleeve and throws it at Toshiro, who swipes it away from his face using his Zanpakuto because that’s intelligent and a piece of cloth was definitely threatening enough to use your sword to bat it away  ( btw, Hitsugaya wasn’t holding his sword with two hands at this precise moment, so he could have just... used his other hand )  and then Gin goes in for the classic “stabby stabby rapidly at you while the animation gets a little breather because we repeat this cycle a few times with flashy bgs and phew money made” ... WE ARE FOUR MINUTES AND THIRTY SECONDS INTO THIS FIGHT BY THE WAY. Gin does this for seventeen (17) agonizing seconds straight. Yes, I counted. That was sixteen and a half too many seconds for me, personally.

          Toshiro somehow lassos Shinso whilst Gin is stabby stabby-ing with Hyourinmaru’s chain component. I say component like it’s somehow some type of beauty guru’s lipstick holder, but really am I that wrong ? When else has he ever used this feature ? Anyways, he lassos Shinso because yeehaw I guess, god I’m falling apart at this point can y’all tell????? I need a drink.

          and so, because now Toshiro has Gin’s sword somehow trapped with chain even though it’s just looped around it, he backflips over Gin for a cool trickshot, no blow issued, just vibes, and Gin uses a big brain moment to tug Shinso and the chains slide off. okay now what. We’re past five minutes into this fight, nonstop.

          SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD TIME FOR GIN TO PAUSE AND APPRECIATE TOSHIRO AGAIN! “I see, I shouldn’t have underestimated you, HItsugaya Toshiro” I’m starting to have a feeling Gin’s VA was told to just wing these lines because the amount of times he fills silences / Gin’s mouth movements with Toshiro’s long-ass name is astounding, he’s definitely drawing blanks here but he sure as hell knows one thing: that damn ice-boy’s name. He continues by saying “I suppose I’ll end up regretting it afterwards.”

          Toshiro says that’s not enough, and it’s really dramatic and cool. His eyes even glow all icy and blue and pretty, like his flowy reiatsu. Aesthetic points were gifted entirely to Toshiro’s animations in this scene. Gin was finished in MS Paint and each new scene they had to draw Shinso from memory and try to remember what hue of purple his hair was at gunpoint. Toshiro lets off a big wave of reiatsu and then it vanishes, and he jumps up reaaaally high. like this guy’s flying. his eyes arent glowing anymore that’s sad. Bring Back Glowing Eyes For Strong Shinigami 2k21.

          Toshiro releases his Shikai, and it’s badass, the sky darkens, Izuru looks distinctly more worried than usual, and Gin’s frowning with his teeth out like Bugs Bunny’s having a bad day, all is right in the world. Toshiro and his released Shikai have a nice moment for the Pics, and a big epic freeze frame blur moment happens with it all coiled and swirling around him. Wrow!  ( click the ‘wrow’ it’s a link to my exact reaction )  Izuru narrates for the third time about how powerful Toshiro is, his reiatsu, his Zanpakuto being a deity who is only unlocked every few centuries. The strongest ice-type sword. Pardon the pun, but that’s... you could say, so cool.

          It can even control the weather. So hey, next time it’s rainy, cold, icy, or snowing and you’re unhappy, it’s time to direct a big fuck you at Toshiro.

          Gin dodges the first dragon, and blocks the second with Shinso because blocking water and ice with a sword makes sense right? This actually takes a solid amount of seconds as Gin cuts through the entire length of this ice dragon noodle. Things dissipate, and pause, too, to really drag this out. Surprisingly, this reveals that Gin’s made a boo-boo, his left arm’s frozen, which doesn’t even mean anything because Gin is right-handed, and Toshiro teleports himself behind Gin in true fighty fashion.

          We have arrived at seven minutes and just under twenty seconds of this fight, and Gin turns, DOES THE UNTHINKABLE, gasp! He opens his eyes. His red, dull, evil, gray-eyebrowed with purple hair eyes, and shoots Shinso through its hideout spot behind his haori. This nearly takes off Toshiro’s eye and upwards of his head, but the little guy dives down fast. The rest happens in slow motion, supposedly, because it takes an eternity and people talk entire full sentences in its span of time.

          Gin asks Toshiro if he’s sure he’d like to dodge that  ( it’s a little late for that ) and says that Momo’ll die if he does. SHINSO SCRAPING ALONG AGAINST HYOURINMARU STRANGELY MAKES NOT A SINGLE SOUND. Mute. Even though before they had no problem animating and adding sounds to them smacking blades earlier. There are soundless sparks though, so there’s that. Yay. Can you tell how exhausted this’s made me? I need a nap.

          Shinso is already more than halfway towards Momo, still unconscious, she most definitely has a serious concussion via Toshiro backhanding her midair consider she’s been unconscious for longer than ten minutes. Toshiro has time to get up off the floor where he dropped to dodge, realize with a shocked gasp, turn, shout her name, and watch as Rangiku arrives in a random glow of gold which never happens ever again and blocks the attack with Haineko. Haineko almost cracks on the impact, and continues growing in damage as Rangiku holds Shinso there, implying that she’s stopped it from reaching one-hundred sword’s lengths to pierce Momo. Yes I’m including that implication / note in here because we love to see Rangiku succeeding in life and being Not-Helpless, all while potentially damaging Haineko severely if it wasn’t able to hold him off. Yikes, Gin!

          Rangiku threatens to join the fight if he doesn’t withdraw his sword. Gin smiles, withdraws it, and then Shunpos away.

          Whatta mess. Oh, and the anime fight was pretty fucked up, too.

          This is a long post, but here’s the manga version:

Toshiro leaps into the air,

This is where the fight actually starts between them:

And end. 

Five pages. Two blows. Does not equate to ten minutes of non-stop fighting and monologues. Sometimes, and I mean this in the most unbiased way possible, less is more.

[hollenka99]

The Mediary

Summary: Jameson suddenly arrives in the next century and is caught between a feud.

Jameson kisses Madeline goodbye as she wishes him good luck with his audition. On the calendar, showing November somewhat prematurely, a wedding date is marked. He heads out the door, oblivious to the fact he'll never walk though it again. At the audition, he is tasked with demonstrating how to carve a pumpkin. Nothing intricate, just a test to see how he'd go about instructing others. Jameson feels it goes well until he accidentally nicks his finger with the knife provided. Those observing offer him a tissue to help staunch the bleeding. He gladly accepts. However, he feels himself spacing out for a few moments. Odd. He was never affected by the sight of blood before. For god's sake, he'd been a soldier long enough to reach the rank of captain. So why had he experienced such a reaction to a small cut? Never mind that, he had an audition to finish. He mentally brushes himself off and carries on as if there was no accidental injury. He tried his best. However, he doubted he'd hear from these people again. Oh well, there was always another role he could try for. There is no reason for him to be suspicious when he steps out of the exit. He is expecting to be greeted by cuboidal automobiles. The street outside the studio had been rather teeming with pedestrians when he'd entered too. His main concern had been avoiding accidentally getting in someone's way as he left. The gentleman doesn't quite understand how he found himself at an unfamiliar doorstep instead. He should not be here. Best to leave before the occupants noticed his trespassing. He is spotted before he get the chance to make his conspicuous escape. "Hey, are you new?" A man who shares a remarkable similarity to him approaches. 'I may be.' A screen appears, startling the both of them. 'What-?' "Don't worry, you're fine. Just talk normally." He speaks again but the screen intrudes the space between them once more. What on earth had happened to his voice? It was simply... gone. This made no sense. He had only been speaking aloud minutes before. Now suddenly the ability had vanished as soon as he'd left the studio. He begins signing but the stranger returns a slightly confused look. Alright, he supposes that was fair. He only knew the language himself because of Eddie. Jameson opens his palm and acts out the motion of writing on his hand. The man understands he's asking for a pen and paper yet apologises for not having any at his disposal. Damn it all. Fine. As much as he hates it, he resorts to allowing the floating screens to transfer his speech. The sooner he could find himself in a position where he could communicate via British sign language or writing, the better. 'I'm sorry for intruding. I don't know how I got here.' "No, you're cool. I don't live here. But I'm here to collect you. I'm Jack, do you have a name yet?" '...Jameson.' It's intended to be spoken warily but the most his message does to convey this is place an ellipsis directly in front of his name. "Well, great to meet you, Jameson. My house is that way if you'd like to talk more without us freezing our asses off out here." Jack points behind him with a thumb lifted over his shoulder. Jack tells him to make himself feel at home once they arrive. He introduces his Danish girlfriend, Signe. Jameson gets the sense she does not exactly want him in her home. Perhaps she is being polite and hospitable for the sake of humouring her partner. Jack provides a notebook for Jameson to write in. He asks his guest about his life and seems fascinated by the little Jameson discloses. As he and Jack chat, his host explains how there were characters known as the egos. They all shared the same face, albeit how they expressed their appearance varied. The problem was that the majority of the egos harboured great animosity towards Jack. He'd made some mistakes he'd rather not delve into which caused them to feel that way. Unfortunately, these misdemeanours had cost him everything. This was why he had created Jameson, who himself was another ego. Jack had decided to challenge himself by attempting to create someone who was even more fleshed out than the others. So, that was all he was, a work of fiction? All his memories were falsely implanted and never truly happened? No, Jack assures him with vigour in his eyes, he was as real as anyone else. In fact, he was further ahead in that regard than any other of the egos. The following day, there is a forceful knocking as Jack shows him where to find potential sandwich fillings for lunch. Jack seems to have an inkling as to who the visitor may be. With a frustrated sigh, grumbling about requiring more time, he heads to the front door. The visitor sounds unhappy from the fragments of speech Jameson overhears. Despite this, Jack lets the stranger in and directs him to the kitchen for introductions. "Chase, this is Jameson. Jameson, Chase." "Great. Progressed to kidnapping the newbies now? Just when I thought you couldn't screw us over any more." The moment Chase lays eyes on him, bitterness begins to infect Jameson's new life. He berates Jack, calling him Sean, for intercepting Jameson before he could enter the egos' house. Ah, so that's who lived in the building he had appeared in front of. After a brief argument, broken up with Signe's intervention, Chase is granted permission to take Jameson where the aggravated stranger believed he belongs. It is not surprising when Jameson is returned to the house. "Asshole said he was Jack and took him home." Chase announces as they pass through the door. "He what?!" A man with shoulder length hair dumps the cat he was cradling back on the sofa at Chase's return. Chase rants to the other ego about Sean. The tour of the building he gives is rushed, as if Jameson wasn't worth the time it took to provide a decent one. There was the living room, kitchen and the bedrooms which were scattered around the building. Jameson stops him to furiously scribble on the notepad. 'Why do you despise Jack so much? He was more than happy to accommodate me.' "Accommodate, my ass. You wanna know why we all think he's a prick? I'll show you." Chase grabs his arm roughly. Through hallways, they travel to a section of the building he can tell is some sort of infirmary. Laid on a bed is another ego. Around his mouth is a mask which presumably aided with breathing. The only part of him that moved was his chest, steadily inflating and falling along with his lungs, which was only just visible under the bedsheets. "This is Jack. He's a prime example of what happens when you keep trusting Sean and believing he actually cares. We're not shitting on Sean for the hell of it. We do it because he's a dick and we'd rather not force anyone else to lose their friend." Jameson has been here before, caught in the midst of Us versus Them. The gentry against the rest of the population, a son who behaved desirably and his less favourable brother, the British against the Arabs. He has been told which side to be loyal to for the entirety of his life and he is tired of it. He will stay in the middle if that's where he wants to be. And as such, there was someone whom required a visit. Sean sounds defeated when he lets him in. "Let me guess, they told you all about how I'm a terrible guy, worse than Satan or whatever." 'They certainly didn't paint you in a good light.' "I bet they didn't." Sean grumbles. 'There is one thing I cannot understand. Why deceive me regarding your identity? It would not matter whether you were Jack or Seán, I would not know the difference. Or, in fact, that there was a distinction to be made in the first place.' "Yeah, I know." He sighs. "I guess I got so used to them acting as if Jack came from above, I assumed the very mention of his name made you lot trust him immediately. To her credit, Signe did tell me it was a stupid idea." 'It certainly was.' "The only thing I lied about was my name. I can promise you that. And I only did it because the rest of them act like they're hardwired to instantly listen to him. Besides, I was known as Jack long before he ever came to exist. I gave Jack my nickname and he made it his own." 'A manipulation tactic then?' "I... I wouldn't go so far as to call it manipulation." There is a pause where he returns eye contact to Jameson. "Listen, once again, I messed up in a big way. It keeps happening to me but I am doing my best to do right by the egos, which includes you now. It was wrong of me to try force you to side with me without hearing from the other half of the argument. For that, I am sorry." 'As I understand it, you feel you are frequently at a disadvantage when it comes to them?' "Constantly, yeah." Jameson considers his next comment thoroughly. 'As it turns out, your welcome was much warmer than your reputation would have me believe. So, for now, I am willing to accept your apology and move on from this bad start.' And with that, Jameson lets bygones be bygones. He did not have it in him to expend such nonsensical energy on that cause. He has a room in the egos' house and therefore makes himself comfortable. There was a window to allow a good amount of natural light in. A model of radio he was familiar with was provided, as was the clock hanging on the wall. He could certainly admire the craftmanship of the wooden pieces of furniture. This was his last remaining slice of the era he once knew. An Irish painter of dolls who went by the name of Shawn Flynn naturally gravitated to him as they both came from the 1930s. As with all of them, there is a language barrier between the two men. However, with enough ink on paper and newly learned yet limited British sign language, they are able to sufficiently communicate. Shawn even had a television like used to make them in his room. In addition to this, a projector and camera to show Bendy cartoons. They spend an afternoon going through the catalogue Shawn has. Sean recruits a reluctant Chase to his side in November. The two of them co-operate on the channel's videos. Apparently, second in command had once been Jack's role. This also allows for Chase to soften slightly towards Jameson as he gets into the swing of his new schedule. It's a good thing too, given that Chase's friendships were negatively affected by his new affiliations. It hadn't taken long to discover any positive affiliation to Sean caused a demotion in the house's social hierarchy. At the top were those like Marvin, Chase and Jackie whom had a specific introductory video, not to mention were popular with Sean's fans. Then came those who mostly owed their existence to the audience and remained in the good graces of the others. And at the bottom were those like himself who didn't care for this feud with their creator. Perhaps their should be a Tier Zero which solely housed Marvin, apparent ringleader of the anti-Sean cause. It's during the middle of Adventide that Jameson has his first indirect introduction to Anti. It is astounding to see the difference fear could cause in everybody. Jackie, who frequently had a hint of venom about him, was trembling in a manner akin to that of a shell shock sufferer at the sound of Silent Night. Marvin follows Chase's lead as his protective instincts express themselves through comfort rather than defence. This was madness. As far as Jameson could see, it was simply a case of malfunctioning pictures and the carol playing faintly in the background. Chase takes a moment to check Jameson and anyone else unfamiliar with Anti were okay. He was largely unaffected personally by tonight so yes, he was fine. Except... there was a common enemy that seemed to surpass Sean on their antagonist scale. And somehow, deep within himself, Jameson knew that unnerved him more than anything else that happened that night. Christmas is a calmer affair than the charity stream of a fortnight prior. Marvin and Chase had discussed Jackie's wellbeing between themselves. Following explaining their intentions to the rest of the household, they surprise the youngest ego with the generous suggestion. A service dog could be beneficial to the young man. However, there would be a lot of preparation and organisation before this idea could come to fruition. It is wonderful to see everyone do their best to maintain high spirits after what sounded like a dreadful year. When Dr Jacksepticeye finds himself becoming corporeal, Jameson and Shawn are the only ones who welcomes him warmly. It is a bitter household to be brought into. Any alliance this doctor could form would serve him well. The others made it clear they would accept only one doctor as their kin. It went without saying that this doctor was the one Jameson had never met. The outcasts had to stick together. God forbid those against Sean spared any kindness to those who held anything less than hatred towards him in their hearts. The doctor quickly sets off on his duties as the new resident medical professional. He is soon referred to as Jase in casual situations, derived from the JSE abbreviation. This naturally transforms into Jason. Chase wins a personal victory in March when it is agreed that he would see his children during the weekend. Given that this aspect of his life had caused him much strife, there is all the more reason celebrate the good fortune. He volunteers to prepare pineapple upside down cake for the party, to which none of them seemingly object. Chase is completely flattered by his friends' gesture. With the table filled with a variety of good food, they all enjoy the afternoon together. The father deserves it. In early May, Shawn opens the door to a dishevelled man in blue scrubs and a white coat. Jameson witnesses their exchange as he happened to be stood in the hallway. It was him, the missing doctor. The painter of toys offers to lead Henrik upstairs to where his friends were. Jameson, meanwhile tasks himself with procuring water for the new arrival. At the appropriate moment, he delivers the drink to the doctor. As the days pass, Jameson gets the opportunity to acquaint himself with Henrik. There is an obvious language barrier but it is easily resolved with Shawn's presence or, failing that, writing his responses by hand. He comes across as a decent man. Even better, he does not seem so hostile against those whom didn't share his views. Given the evil he'd survived for the past 9 months, potentially instigated by a significant lack of judgement on Sean's part, Jameson appreciated that openness. To the surprise of most, Henrik harbours no animosity towards Jason either. In fact, he is relieved there had been someone even remotely qualified to care for Jack during his absence. The tension the others had felt towards the second doctor gradually reduces after this point. It is little over a week later that the renewed happiness amongst his housemates is shattered. Chase leaves to return his daughter's toy to her then Jackie is discovered to have secretly slipped out. Only one comes home that night. Marvin is too beside himself to properly chastise Jackie for worrying them. Jameson heads over to Sean's home to check in on him. He and Chase had been more than professional collaborators, after all. Unsurprisingly, he discovers the egos' creator is beside himself with stress. As much as Jameson tries, he cannot console his friend. Anti had broken into the home of Chase's children and kidnapped the father. That was plain to see from the video evidence. Sean looks Jameson in the eyes and admits he has no control over the demon. Likely never did. He needed to work out how to rescue Anti's third victim and fast. Jameson had faith that the creator could figure something out. However, he did secretly agree that this whole bleak affair seemed hopeless. Marvin is rarely seen outside of his room. Henrik, who also shared a close friendship with Chase, struggles noticeably with these turn of events as well. The 17 year old superhero acts like a delinquent which certainly doesn't help matters. Jameson knows his parents would have never tolerated such unacceptable behaviour from him when he was that age. Still, everyone reacts to tragedy differently. Marvin, Henrik and Jackie may have been the worst affected by Chase's disappearance but they weren't the only ones missing him. An odd newcomer arrives in June. Sean had been playing a game set 30 years into the future in Detroit. Due to this, an automaton enters their lives. It takes a lot of getting used to on Jameson's part. First he had to accustom himself to the 2010s. Now a piece of the 2040s was showing up too. He's fascinated nonetheless. Chase is a shell of himself when they see him again in July. Whatever had happened to him during those three months, it had caused him to retreat within himself. Worse than Jackie ever did, Marvin claims. Chase's only motivator for leaving his bed is to restock his supply of alcohol. The state he is in can only be described using words such as abysmal and disgraceful. While the rest are mourning on the anniversary of losing Jack, Sean doesn't help his cause by playing a guessing game. He starts off with fictional characters from video games. However, the video's last round centres around Jameson himself. When Sean answers yes to questions such as 'Is your character real?', he is able to brush it off. After all, he is fictional in Sean's world. And if Sean believed he'd enjoy the game, he would have to introduce Jameson to Minecraft. That said, the way Sean obfuscates while answering two certain questions is a major cause for concern. Now, Jameson could understand Sean wanting to respect what his friend did while serving was private and protect that privacy on the internet. However, Sean could have easily picked no and moved on. Furthermore, he was not a puppet. His days of serving a purpose for others were long over. Oh, but it's all for show, isn't it? That is what their lives are, entertainment for the masses. He was different from the others though. While all the rest had fragments of an identity pre-creation, he had 28 years worth of memories. It was what set him apart from the others, regardless of personal ties. As terrible as it sounded, he had hoped his status as Sean's most detailed creation would provide better protection from threats such as Anti. He considers speaking to Sean about it. The part that doesn't want to know if his concerns were valid wins. A German Shepherd joins the household in late August. As far as Jameson understands, she had spent her formative years being trained to help those in need of it. Those like Jackie, to put it plainly. It takes time to adjust to the dog being around. However, she dutifully stays by Jackie's side. In the coming weeks, she gets used to her ward's individual habits and needs. Despite remaining distant from most of his neighbours, Jameson is happy to see potential improvement on the horizon for Jackie's wellbeing. Months of Jackie and Henrik debating the matter between themselves comes to a conclusion. Jackie was to lose his legs. Whatever was below his knees, at least. Jameson joined the rest of the egos in wishing their youngest member good luck with his surgery. The hours drag as they await news of success. It does eventually come. Jackie recovers well from the procedure. However, this was apparently far from the end of it. There were still the matters of physical therapy, prothesis and the teenager adapting to his new life as an amputee. The rest of them vow to support him every step of the way. As Halloween, and for that matter his birthday, approached, the atmosphere in the house grows increasingly wary. Sean promises there will be no pumpkin carving video that year. In fact, he'd really gone off of the concept since the past two attempts had only resulted in disaster. Jameson doesn't see what all the fuss is about. They couldn't permanently die. There was no risk in celebrating the holiday. Should any harm come to one of them, the effects would only be short term. Besides, surely the others could focus on other things that day if they so wished. He hated bringing unnecessary attention to himself but well, his birthday was a source of positivity, wasn't it? "Okay, if we're going to let shit slide on any day, your birthday seems like a good one. We wanna hear about your past life." Jackie unexpectedly announces at the dining table on the last day of October. Well, he'd be happy to oblige. Why not? He could certainly tell them about his family. There were his parents, the British military man and his resentful Irish wife. He had a brother and sister too. Eddie had been 4 years older while Jameson recalled being 7 when Rose was born. For a short while, he deviates on tales of Eton before brushing over his path to becoming a captain. He'd love to talk about Madeline but they didn't need to know every detail. The long and short of it was, he'd been of higher birth, obeyed the path his father had encouraged then planned to be a civilian peacefully following his discharge. His arrival in the present had severely affected those plans of a quiet domestic life. With the arrival of November comes the 100th anniversary of armistice. If the majority of the others had limited respect for him due to his friendship with Sean, then so be it. However, he was not prepared to stand by and allow them to disrespect the significance of this occasion to him. He wants a quiet day of reflection alone. He may not have been old enough to serve during the Great War like his brother, nor did he live through its sequel. However, he still had been in the military and had personally known others who'd chosen that path too. Jackie interrupts his time alone but for good reason. He leaves him speechless once more, pulling up a Wikipedia page about a woman named Madeline Grant. "This is her, isn't it?" And oh, it is. The photograph attached to her profile is from 1954 so she's older than he once knew her but there is no doubt about it. That is his Madeline. He dedicates a portion of his afternoon to reading the article in its entirety. She'd managed to be a successful journalist, written a handful of novels and travelled to far off lands. She'd also found someone else to marry. Most importantly, it sounded like she had been happy. And that was all Jameson could have asked for. He attempts to thank Jackie for his thoughtfulness. The most he gets out of the young man is a non-committal shrug and mumbling. The day after, he tells Sean about Jackie's gesture. Sean's certainly had an eventful 2018, allowing him very little time to allocate to learning BSL. It's not much of a bother to Jameson. So long as Sean is willing to learn, he's happy. As he talks about how he wouldn't mind trying to locate some of Madeline's books, it is clear Sean is a little uneasy. "You... do understand she doesn't exist here, right? On this side of the doorway, nobody you knew personally was ever born. You weren't either. I'm sorry for sounding so blunt. I just thought you already knew that." 'I do! I simply must have gotten carried away.' "No, you're good. Maybe you could do some searching over on your side." Sean's mood perks up suddenly. "Hey, you know what? I don't think I have much else to do or prepare for today. I wouldn't mind learning more about her if you're cool with that." On the morning of Sean and Jack's birthday, the egos collectively agree to confront Sean. When the five of them arrive at his doorstep, they are invited to share cake. The discussion results in their creator agreeing to wake Jack up for their joint birthday. The other egos are not subtle with how much they cannot wait to see their friend conscious once more. It is wonderful to see their joy. Angus, as fatigued as he often was, had run when Chase informed him of what was occurring. Jameson spends the whole day astounded. It's almost like he's surrounded by people slightly different to those he usually knew before this. Jack shows signs of becoming overwhelmed numerous times over the course of the day. It is, however, subtly hidden for the sake of the others. Rounds of both cake and pizza slices later, the sky has long grown dark. Jameson signs throughout the entire evening, talking to Jack while Chase acted as translator. The original ego is fascinated by his memories of a life prior to official creation. Jack offered insightful contributions to the conversation. It is incredibly refreshing to be listened to, free from the other party's grudges. He wonders whether Jack would judge him for his connection to Sean. Then again, it would appear the temporarily conscious man was unaware Sean was the one to orchestrate his coma. A few members of the group have retired to bed by the time Jack begins feeling peculiar. Henrik takes charge of the situation immediately. He is soon escorting his patient back to the medial bay. It is a shame for the night to end with such a low point. At least they can be confident that he is in good hands. The mood the following day is understandably low. A number of the egos had kept him at arm's length since his arrival over a year prior. Then there'd been this enigma, the one everyone talked about and was on their minds frequently. He had accepted Jameson without any hesitation. For the limited hours he'd been granted, it had been a pleasure to get to know the original ego. This home had finally known tranquillity for the first time in too long. If only it could last in Jack's absence.

[har-rison-s]

teenage dirtbag

request: Can you make a thor oneshot where the reader is teen and has a big crush on him and she or he is always trying to impress with modern culture but one day he reads i dunno her diary and finds loads of pictures ( that he didn’t even knew existed)of him and writings and he confronts the reader

A/N: This is so cute! And I hope I made it as cute as I hoped to. Really interesting to write Thor. I've never done that before. And I love Thor. He was the reason I even started to watch Marvel movies. And I love him. Many injustices were done to his character arc and development, but um... TAIKA WAITITI PLEASE DIRECT THOR 4. I love Thor Odinson. PLEASE SEND MORE REQUESTS WITH HIM!!! Happy reading!

main masterlist

mcu masterlist

Dear diary,

why do I even start my writings like this? It's stupid and sounds like I'm a helpless romantic girl in some movie. But if I would be in a movie, maybe my dreams would come true...

Yesterday I told Thor about Youtube and he couldn't understand it, not at first. But, when I showed him a couple of cat and fail videos, he found them amusing, and so the idea of using Youtube. He even asked me to help him set up an account. He said he wanted to “capture” the team training or having a fight. A succesful lesson of modern culture for him, that.

Said I'd help him do it tomorrow, which is today and I'm bound to help him whenever he asks. Now I'm going to have a shower and then join the others for breakfast. After that, me and Thor will make him an account on Youtube. I can't wait. Finally, for the first time, I'm going to be alone with him. Me and Thor. Only us two. I can't wait. I already said that. Well, whatever. 

Okay, then. I'll return to you later. Hopefully, after a succesful time-spending with Thor. 

Thor looks up from the notebook he was reading. His eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes squinted. “So, is she just writing here whatever she thinks? Is that what it's for? And why is almost everything about me?” He thinks.

Thor looked so good today. - June 15th

I miss Thor's long hair, so beautiful. Especially when he tied half of it behind his head. Maybe I should ask him for his hair routine, it's always shiny and flawless... - April 30th

Told Thor about 'yeet' today, in front of others. They made fun of me. And they always do. It's started to get on my nerves. I'm just a kid. Maybe that's exactly why they make fun of me. But Thor didn't. He thanked me for teaching him Earth's modern language. - November 16th

Training with Thor. First time for me. And I couldn't concentrate. One of the most stupid moments in my life. Couldn't stop staring at his muscles that were about to burst from underneath his Tony-given tank. Christ, I still see them now. - March 7th

We had Netflix & Chill today, with the whole crew. My idea again. We started watching Stranger Things, season one. Thor was silent through the episodes. Did he not like it? Was it confusing him? Too colorful? Strange things, if I must say so myself. - July 12th

So many mentions of his name. It seemed weird. And what was even weirder than that were pictures of him. Ones he didn't know were taken. But then again, he never knew when pictures are taken of him. But these ones... These were not taken in public.

One was of Thor in the kitchen, talking with Tony. He remembers that. They were still talking about what's worthy enough to hold Mjolnir. Steve Rogers came into the room later.

Another picture was of Thor smiling, surprisingly, sitting in the sofa, a drink in hand. Thor was remembering another childhood prank he played on Loki to get back at him.

There were some group pictures, with some small doodles around Thor's head. Hearts? Butts? A picture of Y/N and Natasha, a picture of Y/N and Steve. A picture where Y/N is photographed by someone else. And, taking the words underneath the picture, it was Sam Wilson who took the picture.

Then, there are some pictures of Thor in the gym and some with him just practicing with Mjolnir, some with him talking to Vision. Lots of different ones, but mainly with Thor in them. 

Some of the pictures looked like... printed chap-snats? Chat-snaps? Snapchats. Yeah. An application in the cellphones that Y/N showed him one day. Thor liked the funny effects the application put on his face.

What was this all about? The pictures, the writings, the doodles? Some sort of... obsession maybe? Or, maybe she's a big fan of him. Either way, the pictures were disturbing Thor only a little bit. So he had to ask her what's that about. They've got to stop, whatever it is. Secretly taking pictures is clearly a violation of privacy, even to a self-loving and loathing god like Thor.

Thor puts the notebook back down on the desk it was laying on before he picked it up. He was actually waiting for Y/N in her room so they could set up the “You-tube” account. Thor was actually excited for that, but what he'd found in the notebook lessened his good mood a bit.

He leans, slightly sitting down, against the desk and waits for Y/N to come in. She will be, he knows that. Thor only left breakfast early cause he wanted to see Y/N's room for himself first. He was afraid, though, so he didn't want to freak the kid out with his reaction. Anything could be in a teenager's room, it could look like a portal to the Dark dimension or just look like a battleground.

But her room is nice, very pretty, fitting to herself. Soft tones, black bed sheets, pretty curtains, shelves full of books and sketchbooks, flowers by her bed and on the desk. There's even a small plush bunny on her bed. Very cute. Thor smiles when he notices it. She must have had it from her childhood. 

Y/N walks into the room and stops dead in her tracks. “Thor.” She mumbles, eyes wide. She's actually eating some nuts she took from the kitchen, they scrunch beneath her teeth as she looks at Thor, eyes frozen on his. She's practically hypnotized. 

“Y/N.” Thor greets, nodding. “Still enjoying earthly breakfast?” Y/N nods. “Some foods here are good, but nothing like Asgard's was, I have to admit. But,  still, you people eat it and you're not dead yet.” 

Y/N laughs. Something no one else would do at Thor's strange comments, and it makes him glad someone appreciates his thoughts, someone hears them and doesn't think them weird. Well, at least that's what he thinks she's reacting like. 

“God, I always forget to give you Belgian waffles or French Crepes. They're the best, honestly.” She says and walks past him, her posture a bit strange. “You taste them and you have no doubt about our food being at small bit bad.” Thor hums. “So, you came here to set up your Youtube account?”

“Yes, yes, of course. I was waiting for you, lady Y/N.” He responds. “But I, uh, well, I have many questions on my mind, but one of them is uh...”

“Ask away.” Y/N says, opening her laptop. Her eyes are trying not to look at Thor every once in a while. Though, it's very hard. 

“What is your blue book for?” He asks, turning slightly to the young girl. She glances at him briefly. 

“What? This one?” She points at her diary on the desk next to her laptop. Thor nods. “Oh, it's um, it's only for... Well, not only, I... I leave pictures there and uh, write down whatever I want to. Nothing interesting, really.”

“Nothing interesting? There were some things that intrigued me there, I must admit.” Thor says, boldly, without faltering. 

Y/N hums, and only a second later does she realise what his words mean. “Wait, you went through my diary?” She asks, voice full of shock.

“A diary?” Thor echoes. “Yes, well, I did. I thought it... Well, I didn't really think anything, I was just interested cause it... looked pretty.”

Y/N chuckles, but quietly. “Wh-what did you, exactly, see—uh—read in there?” She stumbles over words. Her crush on Thor is about to become very evident, if it wasn't already.

“Oh, uh, your writings and pictures,” Thor says, “May I ask some more questions?”

“Uh-huh.” Y/N says, her voice high-pitched and worry-laced. 

“Why do you have pictures of me in your, uh, diary?” He asks and Y/N's entire being freezes. “I assume you're the one taking them.”

Y/N clears her throat. “I, uh, yes, I... I like to take pictures of, uh, of everyone.” She gives her best white lie. 

“Do you have, maybe, pictures of others? Like, Captain Rogers or Stark or Natasha? Just them?” 

“Natasha, some of her.” Y/N squeals. “The others, I don't... I don't find quite interesting.”

“Not as interesting as me?” Thor clarifies. “I'm flattered, Lady Y/N. But... why draw hearts around me? Do you draw them because you think I'm more interesting?”

“Oh, no,” Thor hears Y/N mumble as she throws her head in her hands. He looks at her with concern, worried if she's sad or anxious, “okay, I'm just gonna tell you and embarrass myself in the process, but at least I'll get it over with now and quick.” She rambles, looking into Thor's eyes. The god nods. “I, uh, I just... I kinda... Well, I like you more than the others. We call it a crush between teenagers. It's when you...”

“Oh, I understand.” Thor says, nodding. He looks away and Y/N anxiously watches him think it over, what she said. Oh, crap, he's going to laugh at her. He's going to laugh and then tell everyone else. Maybe she should not have said anything at all. “That's completely okay, Lady Y/N. Thank you for telling me.” He says. “It's all okay, but... you're just young. And returning those feelings wouldn't be right.”

Y/N nods. 

“You look sad, miss Y/N.” Thor says after they both nod in silence to each other. “Let me give you an embrace.” He opens his arms to Y/N and she nods once again before letting herself fall into the god's embrace. He rubs her back comfortably, but finding it strange that she's quiet, not saying anything. He has to make her feel better. “Can we watch the cats dancing again?” Thor asks and hears the familiar sound of Y/N's giggle.

Permanent taglist: @v0idbella @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @works-of-fanfiction @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @stfxlou @ur-gunna-h8-ths @one-taylor-one-vision@empressdreams @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie @deardeacy @fvckyeahbenhardy @thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16 @mrsmazzello @benhardyseyes @langdonzvoid @intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131

[onepunchmiss]

OPM s2e12 Live Blog

“The Wiping of the Disciple’s Butt”

The season finale. I’m nauseous. Lets begin. 

As always, I’m watching from the perspective of someone who has read the manga and webcomic. 

Right where we left off. Again I love the music. I’m just like, really calm right now actually. hhhhhhhhhhhokay. OOF oh god all the crunching sound effects oh no, this is already so weird watching Garou get his ass handed to him since he’s pretty much curb stomped every other hero in battle thus far, or at the VERY LEAST avoided taking so many hits. This. is so uncomfortable to watch. WOAH ????? THESE SHOTS WERE ONLY THERE FOR A SPLIT SECOND BUT??? HOLY SHIT???

GAROU’S HAIR OH MY GOD 

Oh god oh god Bang is relentless this hurts please stop guys GUYS PLZ  HAS NO ONE REALISED THAT NOT ONE HERO HAS DIED CMON PLZ IT HURTS calm down stop trying to kill him plsplspls OH

THIS 

IS WHY

WE STAN GAROU

HE SAYS FUCK DEATH HOW ABOUT I JUST GET STRONGER INSTEAD QUE EPIC THEME MUSIC

oh god damnit him legit running on all fours right there just looks goofy tho F “preposterous style” Bang you aint lying asdfghjkl really though OH MY GOD EVERYONE IS DRAWN SO BEAUTIFULLY THIS IS SO BLESSED 

WAIT 

NO OPENING THEME???????????????????? WHAT?????????????????????? WHY????????????????????????? ONE, I WANTED TO SEE THE CHIBI OF THE WEEK AND 2 

I WASNT PREPARED FOR MY FAVORITE DOPEY BIRD MAN THE FUCK PHOENIXMAN PLS NO ILY I know people hate him a lot but I just really dig how he feels like a fleshed out character compared to most other monsters, like he’s legit lookit him being all smart and stuff plz I just,,,,,,,,,,,, want to hug dumb fluffy birb ;-;

Woah again I’m being blown away by the animation??? Garou getting smacked around is really fluid and this just looks really cool in general?????

FUCK I CANT DO FLASHBACKS MAN JUST HEARING THE KID VOICE MAKED MY STOMACH LURCH OH NO 

OH NO I SCREAM OH NO I CANT OH NO GIMME 5 MINUTES PLEASE I CANNOT BBY NO I FORGOT ADULT GAROU IS IN THE FLASHBACK WATCHING THIS TIME PLS NO 

LIKE???????? I got kinda a comedic vibe watching him comment on it in the manga but the slow music and shit is just FUKKIN ME UP RIGHT NOW I HATE IT THANKS IT HURTS

oh god his face he has the seething thousand mile stare of quiet rage and its burning a hole STRAIGHT THROUGH MY ENTIRE BEING “But me I was the loner kid. Always gloomy and without friends” STOP. YOU STOP THAT RIGHT THIS INSTANT. IM CRYING AT U RIGHT NOW STOP

NO DONT HOLD HIM LET HIM GO S T O P OR SO HELP ME i can’t watch this what the fuck “I was always the loser” SHIT this legitimately hurts me “I dont want to be the monster anymore” GArou hey did you hear that part?? hEY GAROU DID YOU HEAR YOURSELF THERE??? 

WHAT DID I SAY WHAT THE F DID I JUST SAY STOP HOLDING HIM STOP STOPPIT  THE HELL MAN What if……….. I just go BACK IN TIME AND ADOPT BB GAROU CAN I DO THAT IS THIS POSSIBLE IS THIS ALLOWED ? ?? ?

oh my god it keeps getting worse. I mean. I already knew garou was being disproportionately reprimanded for what he supposedly did, but watching this scene just fucking kicked me in the teeth. As if my stomach wasn’t already in knots. The fuck . why does this hurt so much more watching than reading the frustration in seeping into me ffffff.

This looks really cool but, i can barely focus on that because im pretty much being exsanguinated on the floor over here by this whole sequence look at him crying. do it for me cause I sure as hell can’t 

“I want to strike a blow for the little guy”

Fukkin GETTEM GO GETTEM 

HOLY SHIT HIS VA IS GOING T F OFF 

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH LOOKIT HIM ILY SO MUCH SAVE THE DAY BIRB SAVE 

ASDFGHJKL THIS IS SO INTENSE EVERYONE IS SO INTENSE I KNOW WHAT HAPPENS BUT HOLY SHIT FUCK IM SCREAMING GAROU IS SCREAMING BANG AND BOMB SCREAMING GENOS AND EVEN PHOENIXMAN EVEN THE MUSIC IS SCREAM WE ALL JUST SC R E M

OH MY GOD AND THE LITTLE HEAD NOT GENOS AND BANG GIVE EACHOTHER SAVING THE HEROES OH MY GOD OH FUCK AND THE WAY THEY ANIMATE BANG JUMPING AROUND IS DOPE AS HELL AND ALSO HOLY SHIT ELDER CENTIPEDE I MISSED THE UNSETTLING SMOOTH CG LIKE ANIMATION FOR THE CENTIPEDES EVERY CELL IN MY BODY IS JUST SCREAMING RN I AM OVERLOAD HELP 

Garou flailing in the air in Phoenixman’s grip is … really adorable oh my god. “It’s your fault for not finishing them” ooooooo that shut him up didn’t it oof. Also nice cameo by Tatsumaki there 

ASDFGHJKL THE MUSIC AGAIN I LOVE IT I LOVE THEM LOOK AT THEM OH MY GOD 

THIS IS SO BAD ASS

EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS SO BADASS

Genos’s eye static, The brother’s fists swirling, THE FUKKIN CARAPACE SHATTERING 

THIS FIGHT IS SO WILD MY COMPUTER CANT EVEN TAKE IT. ITS GLITCHING AND FREEZING UP HOLY SHIT

oh god ok the face coming out of the face was pure nightmare fuel alright then

WAIT

I FORGOT GENOS IS A SELF SACRIFICING DUMBASS. NO IM NOT READY GENOS YOU DOOF LISTEN TO KUSENO LISTEN TO HIM 

oh no 

oh no

im crying oh no

this animation is beautiful first of all and the music like im just here this is where I’m at and I’m crying oh no 

He’s an angel. A literal angel. Look at that and tell me he doesn’t look like a fucking angel in the sky with the rays of light casting shadows around him. 

Genos you are too good and pure for this world but that DOESNT MEAN TRY TO GET YOURSELF KILLED 

Shit they really made it look like he was gonna self destruct there for a second which MADE HIS LAST STAND EVEN MORE INTENSE OH MY GOD SWEETHEART Y’all ever get into a show because you keep seeing one character that catches your interest, and you keep seeing them pop up on your dash or wherever until you finally decide ‘well fuckit, this is the asshole that’s gonna get me to finally watch the show’, cause you’re already invested in them anyway? Genos did that for me with OPM. If this fool didn’t exist Who knows how long it would’ve taken me to get to watching OPM, if ever. And shit like this is why I STILL love him. I usually move on to new faves 90% of the time but nope. Genos earned his spot and is keeping it. Look at this insane shit. My heart. Uhg

Enough gushing asdfghjkl ok but Genos, you just went INTO THE DAMNED THING’s STOMACH,,,,, and you’re SURPRISED that there’s STOMACH ACID?? But real talk. What the EVERLONG FUCK is that thing’s insides made out of? How did it NOT DIE. the FuCK

asdfghjkl Phoenixman’s chuckle???? I love 

Oh Bang no, this is wrenching my heart like I know that he doesn’t actually use his power but its built up so intensely like,,, would he be ok if he did??? and actually more concerningly since it even WAS brought up that he has some hidden true strength, will we EVER get to see that??? Oh Shit well when they word it as “All the power left to me in this life” then yeah, that seems pretty life or death ish???? THE FUCK 

Oh thank god comedic relief is here I feel like i’m about to have a heart attack my chest is so tight hhhhhh ok breathe WAIT THIS ISNT COMEDIC THIS IS BADASS AS HELL JEEZUS witht he flashbacks to the Saitama encounter and THIS LOOK

The Anime is really fucking with the audience huh??? Making it look like KIngs about to throw hands like???????????? OH SHIT AND THIS MUSIC IS DOPE AS HELL TOO IM JUST laughing I have so much excessive energy right now???

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHZAHAHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASDFGHJKLJHGFDSWERTGYHUIUJHGFDFGHJKJHGFRE THE FUKKIN SONG THEY BROUGHT IT BACK THE ULTIMATE SONG I GOT THREE NOTES IN JUST THREE NOTES AND I KNOW IM SCREAMING I GOTTA GO RUN BRB 

IM STILL SCREAMING FADFJSAGFJDSLKAHVFSKLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OUR MAIN MAN THERE HE IS THERE HE IS IM GONNA THROW UP 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

OH MY FUCK THATS WHAT THE OPENING SEQUENCE EXPLOSION WAS FROM OH GOD OH FUCK BEAUTIFUL THIS IS BEAUTIFUL OH FUCK OH GOD 

The REPRISE oh no oh NO OH NO OH NO NO ITS NOT OVER im not ready its not I cant no no no i dont want to press play cause if I press play it will end soon no no no Oh my god and at the end there isnt gonna be a title card for the next episode because THERE IS NO NEXT EPISODE no non o nonononon on on on ono no no no 

NO 

HEY IVE BEEN RIPPED OFF. WHERES THE FACE WITH HIS HAIR BLOWN BACK??? ASDFJKL fine I cant even be mad everything else was tooo  ofdbghjfshkggfhsjgbfhjka

KING WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT REACTION ASDFGHJKL W H A T 

WAIT THEY ARE DOING THE OPENING THEME AT THE END NO I CANT HANDLE SEEING EVERYOONE NOW OF ALL TIMES GOD DAMNIT WHY ok yknow what. I knew it would be king. I dont know how but i did 

Wha

wh

fkin cliffhanger no please no 

I.. I’m kind of at a loss for words. I’m. That’s it, huh? It’s really over. It doesn’t FEEL over. There’s so much unfinished business. Well, the only way to really neatly wrap everything up as neatly as S1 did would have been to get ALL THE WAY through the Garou arc, which obviously wasn’t going to happen, but this is not a great spot to leave off if we’re going to endure another few years hiatus. My hope is that, with biweekley manga updates, we should wrap up the Monster Association/Garou stuff (assuming it doesn’t diverge from the web comic too much) some time next year, and I’m HOPING that s3 is already being planned accordingly along side manga publications. So MAYBE it will at least be announced around that time 2020. That’s my wishful thinking at least. I don’t think I can survive 3 years. anyway

You could really tell JC Staff poured their hearts and souls into these last 2 episodes. Absolutely gorgeous, paced well, so completely satisfying and making every second of s2 worth while. For me, at least. I’ve already seen people still complaining and I’m just sorry they didn’t have as much fun as I did. 

Seriously, thank each and every one of you guys. This has been a wild ride, I’ve barely had this blog a few weeks before season 2 started airing (and honestly just got into opm maybe a month before that?), so I owe a lot of the success on the blog to the anime I bet. This was the first series I’ve never tried live bogging, and I honestly can’t believe that they were as popular as they were? Especially since I never have any idea what I’m doing but yall listen to me ramble anyway?? Yall are crazy thank you so so so much. Now my tuesdays are gonna feel really empty… next week is gonna be weird as hell. Though I’m gonna get mad nostalgic good vibes rewatching this season in the future in no small part from sharing my experience with everyone who's stuck around. I can’t say see yall next week this time, but, see you next season whenever it may be for sure.

[geewithluv]

◁ comforting each other ▷

Ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ：Maknae Line X Fem!OC

Ｇｅｎｒｅ： angst and fluff

Ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ：crying, anxiety, mention of parental death (takes place in the past), hate comments, references the Jungkook tattoo and tattoo shop incident.

Ｒａｔｉｎｇ：PG

Ｗｏｒｄ Ｃｏｕｎｔ：1.7

Ａ／Ｎ： «this belongs in my headcanon universe and you can read the other parts in the masterlist, the description of the characters is [here] so you get a summary of who they are. (hyung line version here) also Jimin’s is short compared to the other’s, sorry! »

ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ

ｊｉｍｉｎ

Everyone knew Jimin was head over heels in love with Harlow. It was pretty obvious and it was only a matter of time that it got a little too obvious and the public found out.

It was a no-brainer that Jimin and Harlow were going to be together for a very long time.

 At least it seemed like a no-brainer. Harlow didn’t mean to overhear a conversation between a couple of the makeup artists and she definitely didn’t mean to freeze in her spot long enough to hear them say everything they thought about her and Jimin. And most of all, she didn’t mean to spend so much time in a bathroom crying that Jimin busted in looking for her.

 So now, they were in the bathroom right after Jimin’s performance, holding each other as Harlow cried. She wasn’t quite ready to talk and Jimin, though understanding, was becoming a bit impatient due to his worry. “You’ve gotta tell me what happened so I can fix it, baby.” He tried to coax her into talking. One more loud sob made Jimin think it was a hopeless attempt but soon she started explaining.

 “Some of the girls were talking.” She said. Jimin knew who she meant immediately, it wasn’t like there were many women on the staff and Harlow didn’t know many well enough to refer to them outside honorifics. “They were saying we shouldn’t be together.”

 “Why would they say such a stupid thing!” Jimin’s eyes widened. He had known quite a few of the makeup and hair crew for a while and wouldn’t think they’d doubt his relationship like that.

“They said you don’t love me.” She muttered, trying not to start crying again.

 “You know that’s not true right.” His body stiffened. Harlow doesn’t respond. “Look at me.” He demanded. Her gaze quickly found his. “I love you so much.” He said as seriously as he could without becoming angered. “Anyone who thinks otherwise isn’t worth the energy it takes to hear their opinion.” Harlow nodded, rubbing her nose. “Now, let’s go where those dumbasses aren’t anywhere in sight. We can order some food and cuddle, how does that sound?” He asked.

 “Sounds great.” Harlow smiled. Jimin pulled her into a tight hug.

 “I’ll take care of them later, alright? For now, just know that I love you more than anything, baby.”

ｔａｅｈｙｕｎｇ

Taehyung had wondered, on more than one occasion, if he could shut twitter down. Of course he knew it’d take a lot of planning and money. But he’d do it if he could. Maybe just the trending page. That’d be a good start.

 Between the hate tweets from those who couldn’t name a BTS song, the hate tweets from those who liked the other 6 members better, and the hate tweets from those who only liked him and resorted to being hateful to his best friends, Taehyung felt so surrounded by negativity.

 As much as he knew, and told himself, that he was just going through a rough time and was having difficulty seeing anything but the positive, that didn’t make it easier. He knew that his life was good. He was safe and secure, loved by so many, good friends and family. He knew all was well. Which is why he hid the feeling for so long. He didn’t want to seem selfish.

 The boys noticed, of course they did, how could they not. It was only a matter of time before Bang PD noticed or was informed. They didn’t say anything, not yet at least. They hoped he was working on it. He knew he had a couple days to get it together before they confronted him.

 He didn’t need it though, because Claire noticed and confronted him immediately. “Tell me what’s wrong.” She said as they ate dinner. Taehyung looked up at her a little confused.

 “What?”

 “Something’s wrong. Don’t pretend everything is fine when I can tell it’s not. I don’t want to argue about it, so just tell me so we can work through it.” She set her fork down. To most people she might have seemed a little harsh, maybe pushy. But Taehyung admired her blunt “straight-to-the-point” nature.

 “Social media is kinda getting to me.” Taehyng ran his fingers through his growing hair, a little annoyed as the longer length had recently become a target for the hate. “It’s just a weird moment. Maybe the planets are doing that thing again. Retrograde?” He suggested an explanation. 

 “Have you talked to the guys? They’ve all gone through something similar, right?”

 “Yeah…” He sighed. “I haven’t talked to them, yet.” He felt kinda bad saying it outloud.

 “You don’t want to worry them, I know.” She explained. “But you need to tell someone. You can’t keep it all inside, insisting it’ll be okay and blow over eventually.”

 “I know,” Taehyung grabbed Claire’s hand from across the dinner table, “I’ll talk to someone. I promise.”

 “My dad never recovered. It’s been almost 20 years and he’s never gotten over it. My mother’s parent’s hardly talk to me because I remind them of her. Everyone tried to help her, but in the end no one else’s help mattered but her own.” Her eyes watered as she held his hand tighter. “I know you think I’m overreacting. That I’m taking it too far. But I’m worried about what happens if I don’t.” She kissed his knuckles softly. “Do what my mother didn’t do for herself, Tae. Before the storm gets too loud.”

 It was as open as she had been regarding her mother’s death. And in a weird way, Taehyung found a sense of comfort in her tears. Her tears and worry for him reminded him of how much love people feel for him. “I’ll call Bang first thing in the morning.”

 “You should call him now an--”

 “Stay the night.” He interrupted. “Stay the night and make sure I do. I won’t even leave the bed before calling.” He compromised. Claire nodded. “I love you, I’m not going anywhere, baby.” He reached over to kiss her lips.

 ｊｕｎｇｋｏｏｋ

Finally, Jungkook did something for himself. He had spent nearly a decade having to worry about every decision he made and how fans and press would react. Finally he did something for him. On the month long break he got tattoos. Something he wanted for so long, he finally did it. He was expecting some backlash from it. He knew some people would be upset but he wasn’t quite expecting some other headlines. First, were the CCTV photos and people thinking he was dating the woman next to him.

 Jungkook was upset, upset that his privacy had been invaded, upset that his friend had been dragged into it, and upset that his actual girlfriend couldn’t say anything about it. He apologized profusely to both women, more to Emmie of course.

 Second, a woman he thought he was friends with, a woman he let tattoo him, decided to take to social media. BigHit said to let them take care of it. Jungkook trusted them of course but there’s only so much you can do to silence someone. And unfortunately, this woman was out for him.

 “Jungkook does have a girlfriend, but it’s not me :)” was a caption on an instagram post. Jungkook felt his world collapse when he read it. He hoped, for a moment, that people wouldn’t believe it. He hoped that he could continue living a life with Emmie separate from the fame. But all hopes were crushed when she posted a photo of Emmie and Jungkook together. No way to say it was photoshopped, some people recognized Emmie since she designed for them a couple times. This was all wrong, everything was going wrong. He was supposed to reveal it on his own terms, or never. Never seemed like a better option after the initial reaction from fans. 

 Emmie turned comments off as soon as she found out, she would’ve gone private had she not been a verified account. She told her assistant to hold any calls for the next 48 hours as she would be turning her phone off. Her assistant understood but not Emmie had to worry if she would still have a showcase in a week. She wondered if her business would go under. She worried if Jungkook would leave her.

 They sat in silence at the Bangtan dorms. Too stunned to talk to each other or anyone else. The guys gave them some space. Only getting updated that the news was confirmed by BigHit and now they wait till it blows over.

 Emmie cried first. Both tried so hard to hold it together for the other. But she broke first. Jungkook shortly after. As soon as he heard the sob he lunged to wrap his arms around her. “Why can’t we just be a normal couple.” She cried into his chest, marinating his breaking heart with her tears. 

 “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating. Holding her as if he was afraid she’d disappear if he didn’t.

 “It’s not fair, Jungkook!” She yelled, not at him but the situation. She broke free from his grasp. 

 “Emmie, Emmie don’t--” He started worrying without her in his arms.

 “Why won’t they let me love you! Let you love me! I’m just supposed to be the most hated woman in Korea, maybe even the world right now, cause I fell in love!”

 “I’m sorry!” He yelled.

 “Don’t you dare apologize!” She said, the guys debated on leaving their rooms to calm the situation. “It’s not your fault.” She softened. “You did nothing wrong.” She walked back over to him, taking his face in her hands. “You have done nothing wrong, Jungkook.”

 “I’ll do anything to be with you, to keep you safe, to keep loving you. I’ll sue every single person who says something bad. I promise. I’ll make them open a whole department in BigHit dedicated to stopping the hate. I’ll do that. I need you.”

 “We’ll figure it all out.” She told him, sniffling. “Right now, I just wanna be with you. In this way too silent apartment, holding you, pretending it’s not a warzone out there. That’s all I want right now.”

“I can do that. We can do that.” He said, and so they did. For two days they stayed in their happy place. Away from anyone with anything negative to say.

I know I said I’d finish soon, but a month slipped away from me because I moved, then moved back home because of some horrible stuff so I haven’t been writing or reblogging. I’ve been up-to-date thanks to twitter lol! Just not reblogging here. Hopefully I’ll be more available and stable (in terms of housing) to write lol. Thanks for reading, I don’t think Tumblr likes me anymore because I don’t show up in tags ;( if you see this give it a like! Or message me! I do take requests! This is getting long, sorry! Thanks again!

[dimples-of-discontent]

Don’t you think Jensen always denying that dean is bi is because it hits close to him? Like Dean’s behaviour around men and Jensen’s around Misha is kinda similar so?

Hello Nonnie,

Whew, oh boy! Ok, I got this ask in a few different forms so hopefully one answer can serve for them. 

The first thing I’m going to do is remind everyone that Jensen has never commented publicly on his sexuality at all and that, therefore, it’s none of our business. It never is, actually, unless someone brings it up themselves and indicates that they wish to discuss it. That’s just a rule for life. Private is private, even if you’re an actor. The second thing I’m going to do is assume that you know what kind of blog this is and that I backstroke through the garbage fire pretty regularly including speculating about Jensen and Misha. So, yes, I am guilty of engaging in this type of posting. 

But there’s rules! The main rule being that these things we say for our entertainment (curiosity, whatever) in fandom spaces are never in a billion years to be brought into the actors lives in any way. Do not ask them about it. Do not show them posts or fic about it. Do not tag them in Twitter posts about it, even if those are adorable posts collecting all the Cockles cheek kisses or whatever. Fandom spaces are ours; they’re imagined communities and we behave differently in them than we would in the real world. 

Plus–again this should be obvious–we’re just posting shit we infer from a very limited viewpoint. Jensen and Misha give us a lot to work with (hoobooy they do!) but we’re seeing them in the public eye, at cons mostly or on livestreams. We have no freaking clue what they are like alone…and that’s how it should be.

And now that I have attached that upfront (I know I do this all the time and that if you read a bunch of my posts you may be getting sick of it…apologies, but RPS is very tricky and I feel like I need to foreground some of the boundaries for newcomers) let me put a cut below which you will find my thoughts on this.

It’s no secret that Jensen has a very high degree of character bleed with Dean–he straight-up admits that. I wrote a long post that’s been going around about how Jensen views Dean very experientially, knowing what Dean knows and doing what he thinks Dean would do, and about how that makes it tough for him to distinguish what he thinks of Dean from what DEAN thinks of Dean. Dean is a part of Jensen, as he has said.

What’s slightly less obvious, though intuitive, is that Jensen is a part of Dean. The vulnerability that Dean has had from the beginning is, to my mind, all Jensen. A lesser actor, or a lesser sweetheart, in that role would have made Dean pretty unsympathetic with his sarcasm and his machismo and his dumb, smirking face. To me, this is the same thing that happened with James Marsters on “Buffy.” He was supposed to be a straight-up villain, in just a couple episodes, but audiences went nuts for him. He got more episodes but Whedon still wanted to keep him a villain…except that James couldn’t keep that vulnerability and uncertainty and humanity out of the character. So instead we got a love story and a big, ol’ redemption arc. (I realize that it also sounds like I’m describing what happened with Misha and, in a sense, I am.)

Now, Jensen is a better actor than James Marsters (even though I think James is an amazing actor…and I love that he dropped out of Juilliard), but I’m willing to bet that what James did with humanizing Spike was more deliberate than what Jensen did with Dean. I think Jensen feels things intuitively about Dean and that he just goes for it without additional self-reflection. That’s why when he’s called out on something that he hasn’t deliberately chosen to do–like many of the bi!Dean or Destiel moments–he’s confused and slightly defensive. He makes some deliberate choices, obviously, but especially at this point he’s going on mostly instinct and doesn’t HAVE to examine those choices.

That is, unless we ask him to. I think often his encounters with questions about playing Dean a certain way (bisexual, in love with Cas) DO ask him to reflect on himself and ask himself why he made particular choices. And that’s not easy to do, especially onstage and in front of a crowd!! It’s like we’re always going, “Ok, Jensen, so clearly your instinct is to [insert non-hetero thing here]…why IS that?”; no wonder he will freeze-panic and sometimes say something thoughtless and/or rude! (Personally, I would like us to stop asking, largely for this reason.)

So, I suppose my answer to your question is “yes, exactly.” I think Jensen is an intelligent, meticulous, and thoughtful actor. I also think, subconsciously, he channels a ton of himself into Dean and that his being defensive of certain aspects of Dean (e.g. his sexuality) is indeed also his being defensive about those aspects of himself. Look at how much more easily the other cast members are able to analyze their characters, including comments about their sexuality. Just this weekend (at Jaxcon) Rich pretty much confirmed that he sees Gabriel as non-straight (pansexual?). Jared has said that he sees Sam as straight but that it’s ok by him if other people don’t. Ditto Misha about Cas (though he usually gets asked about his being Ace). And, yes, that is Jensen’s party line on the Dean question too. “You have your version and I have mine.” But his reactions to it are, to me, notably different from the rest of the cast.

I haven’t mentioned Misha yet but, well, if there’s any time we see Jensen acting non-straight it’s around Misha (in character or not). I’m not fully on the train for “Destiel is Cockles’s fault” because “Destiel” is a complex phenomenon 10 years in the making. But I’m not ever going to deny that their chemistry was a huge part of it taking root and growing. And it’s impossible–absolutely fucking impossible–not to notice the overlap between the trajectories. The first time Jensen met Misha was the first time Dean met Cas; they were both freaked out by this kind of alien being as much because he inspired “weird” feelings in them as because he was so “weird.” Jensen had Misha’s handprint applied in makeup before he met him just like Dean was branded by Cas. They had kind of an enemies-to-friends-to-lovers thing. They experienced some kind of betrayal and breakup and then a tentative reunion. They’re basically married now. 

So, yeah, when Jensen is asked about Dean’s sexuality I do think he experiences it as a question about his own sexuality. And when he’s asked about Cas I do think he experiences it as a question about Misha. And, as others have said, either he’s been subtly playing Dean’s attraction to guys (including Cas) the whole time or he’s kind of lost control of himself and enabled his own attraction to men, and particularly Misha, to creep in unintentionally. (Note that I don’t think that makes him a “bad actor”; like I said, I think he acts Dean very intuitively at this point so his decisions may be unexamined but are not “bad” choices.) 

This is already long, so I’m not going to comment here on what I think of Jensen’s sexuality. Well, actually, you’ve stayed with me so long that I feel I owe it to you. The short version… I do think that Jensen isn’t straight. I think he’s a guy who thinks of himself as straight even though he sometimes hooks up with dudes. The fact that that is inherently not straight doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t think it’s a big deal (though he used to, and that panic can still get activated). He doesn’t care about the labels and he finds the idea of seeing himself in the LGBTQA acronym ridiculous. 

He and Misha may argue about this. It is, after all, a form of enormous privilege as an incredibly attractive, cis-het, white dude to just choose not to join a marginalized group. I do think that’s one reason he and especially Danneel support a lot of LGBTQA causes. (I don’t think she and Misha are straight either and I think they probably don’t self-identify that way.)

Maybe in another post I’ll go more fully into the long version of sexuality speculation. It’s such a delicate thing to do and I want to do it as respectfully as possible and I just don’t have the energy at the moment. I have written about this before, though, if you’re looking for more; I have a tag for “jensen is not straight” and (I think) “jensen is bi” although I dropped that b/c it was too definitive. There’s also one for “sexuality speculation” and “misha is not straight” and “misha is bi” (same reason for the tag change…too definitive.) 

Remember the rules, though, and keep everything respectful and confined to our own lanes.

[minuzu]

『 BTS reaction 』 • to their s/o being tall and is insecure about it

requested by @iliveforkookie “Can I get bts reaction to their s/o being tall(like 5'8) and she is insecure about it because she is getting remarks?”

comments/warnings: this was so heartwarming to write, thank you for requesting it (“:

kim namjoon — He took your hand in his and begins playing with each individual finger, curling one over to inspect your manicured nail then wiggling it around as if he gets some sort of satisfaction from the action.

“I think I’ll name this one pointy, because it’s an index finger.” A chuckle bubbled from his chest. Then moving on to your middle finger.

“And this one will be...taller-ella.” you stared at him for a few seconds until a fit of laughter erupted from you, causing the boy beside you to smile in fondness, until your bellow of giggles suddenly came to a halt.

“Babe, what’s wrong? Did I say something bad?”

You shook your head from side to side as you begin to explain what had happened this morning prior to meeting him. His face blanked out, then replaced with sorrow and anger. Pulling you into his embrace, he hushed your “it’s okay though!” and caressed your hair.

“You shouldn’t be insecure about what you were born with, about what makes you, you. Anyone that says otherwise can deal with me.”

kim seokjin — Jin satisfactorily sighed as he slumped over the couch he has already been sitting in. Had just finished making his Mii character, he moves the cursor over to the “Save Mii” button and clicks it.

“Okay, let’s make yours now” He hovers his cursor over the create a mii button and begins giving your character similar eyes, nose, lips, and hair. It looked almost exactly like you, though it was missing one aspect.

He moved his cursor over the height bar and slid it to the right, increasing the height of the Mii. You took the gaming device away from him and shortened your height by a bit.

“What? You’re not that short though y/n.” he asked in confusion, unsure why you would change it since he had correctly inputted your height. You then gave it back to him.

“Jinnie, I don’t like my height. It looked really weird on that Mii.” you buried yourself behind a plush pillow, watching the little character model bob from side to side.

“Y/n, that’s how you look though. I don’t see anything wrong with your height.” he tried to convince you, straying you away from the thought that you don’t see yourself to be perfect because of how tall you are.

You shrugged clicked the save button for him.

“Hey, I mean it. You don’t see yourself as beautiful because of that?” he questioned, getting obviously irritated. Numerous thoughts sped through his mind about how stunningly beautiful you are — he doesn’t see a single flaw on you. You shrugged at his question.

“It’s not something you can change. You’re beautiful the way you are.” He pulled you to him, sliding his arms around your form. A smile snuck out, you weren’t able to stop it even if you tried.”

“Ah, fine. Go to edit mode and I’ll change it.”

min yoongi — Clicking his chopsticks, he delves into his takeout box of Chinese food as rapidly shoves the oily strings in his mouth like a man deprived from food altogether. As he slurps them, he notices one long noodle endlessly rising up. Cutting it with his teeth, he pick it up using his chopsticks; inspecting it.

“Wow, you’re a tall one aren’t you.” still holding it up in the air, showing you the long noodle. You sighed in response whilst corking your mouth with a huge ball of noodles.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Yoongi notices the sudden change in your mood, lump in his throat he scoots his chair closer to yours. Your orbs met with his, a thin veil of fog placed over as you recalled what had happened earlier while getting food for the both of you.

“He did what? Which one did you go to. I promise you I’ll get his ass fired.” Vexation burned through him upon hearing what the worker had said to you. Standing up, he put his jacket on and grabbed his keys

“Let’s go.”

“Yoongi it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“No, listen y/n, he should’ve kept his mouth shut while making the food. You shouldn’t have to feel insecure over something you have no control over. Let’s go.”

jung hoseok — “Hobi.” your voice echoed in his studio. Turning around, his heart palpitate once his eyes met yours. His lips crinkle into a smile.

“Yes, love?”

You stride towards the couch right next to him and sat comfortably. Inhaling, you ask him what’s been on your mind lately.

“doyouthinkimuglybecausei’mtall?” you rushed out, voice brittle as you move your eyes towards his miniature succulent, avoiding his overall expression.

He didn’t know what to feel right at that moment and he didn’t know why you would ask something as ruinous as that to your boyfriend of 4 years. Choosing his words carefully, he scoot his wheeled chair towards you and cupped your face with his hands, making you look at him.

“I think you’re the most stunning person I’ve ever met. Your height doesn’t make you ugly, it only further beautifies you. Why would you ever ask me something like that, I love you no matter how you look.” liquid seeped from the corner of your eyes. You shoved his hands off your face and pull him to you, arms wrapping around his neck as your head lay between the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

“Thank you, Hobi. I love you so much.” whispering into his neck. In response, Hoseok tangled his arms around your waist, tightening his hold, keeping you both there for as long as he wanted.

park jimin — “Ah man, I forgot to bring condiments.” Jimin sighed in frustration. He wanted today to be perfect, so he decided for you two to have a picnic but forgetting the condiments dampened his cheery mood.

“Don’t you think condiments are overrated?” You jokingly asked, trying to lighten the mood. Extending your legs making sure the sizzling sun warms your legs

Jimin looked up at you, his lips twitching in attempt to not release his smile, though poorly putting up a fight as his perfectly aligned teeth shone through.

“Yah, y/n,” he started, holding his hand out, inviting you to lays yours on his as well. “How did I get so lucky with you?”

You pull his hand and laid your lips on one of his knuckles. “I could ask you the same thing, Minnie. But I have to say, you’re not embarrassed to be seen with me because of how tall I am?” your voice slightly quivered. This time, he pulled your hand and laid his lips on your palm, keeping his eyes on you.

“How could I be embarrassed of such beauty, if anything, It makes me want to go out in public with you everyday just to show you off. Why do you ask?” every word he spoke let out a tiny breath of air, tickling your palm. You looked off to the side and nodded your head at a couple who had recently been staring at the both of you.

“They’ve been staring at us and that question popped into my mind, I just wanted to ask you.” you say as you curled your legs towards you, hiding their length. Jimin stared at the couple, balling a fist to control his anger, making sure they knew that he was staring as well — two can play at this.

kim taehyung — His finger sliding in an upwards motion as he skips every restaurant listed in the results, until he found one that piqued his interest.

“Y/n, I found a good restaurant, I’ll make a reservation now.”

before he was able to tap the phone number displayed, you put your hand over his and suggested to just eat whatever’s in the fridge.

“Y/n? this is our 2 year anniversary dinner...” his face drooped, you didn’t have a problem with it last year, so he was suspicious as to why you didn’t want to go out this time.

“Tae, I can easily cook us something.” you forced out excuses as if you were a running faucet.

“What’s going on?”

“I know there’s some meat in the fridge. Let me go check.”

Taehyung grabbed your wrist, halting you from going to the kitchen. He looked deep into your eyes, trying to find out why the sudden urge to not go out with him was plaguing your mind. You sighed.

“Tae, I’m nervous, alright.”

“About what?”

“About me, about how I look. Come on Tae, I always get stared and remarked at every time we go out.” His eyes softened.

“You shouldn’t care what other people think of you. There’s nothing wrong with you and your height.”

“Yeah but-“

“No, you’re so amazingly beautiful, okay? I chose to be with you because you stood out from the crowd and your personality is incredibly adoring. I love you for you and you should love yourself because you’re perfect.”

His confession brought a smile on your face, boosting your confidence.

“Thank you babe. Go make that reservation.”

jeon jeongguk — His orbs softened as they focused on your face while he was feeding you his last spoon of ice cream. You shuddered from the chill, causing an instant brain freeze.

“I’ll go get you another one, wait here.” You bounced off of your seat, striding to the already long queue. Jeongguk admired you in every way, from your smile to your dashing personality. He always considered himself lucky to be tied down to someone like you.

“Oh my god, do you see how tall she is?” One woman loudly whispered to the other.

His head jerked to the voice behind him as he peeked at the two women conversing. His eyes then wondered for you, until he spotted your head drooping low, face contorted in sorrow; you clearly heard what they said, and you knew it was about you.

Jeongguk turned around to the chatty women, having enough.

“If you two are going to be disgusting, go outside and do it. Learn to love yourself before judging other people.” he spat.

He rose from his seat and dashed towards you, leading you out the shop. You protest about the ice cream but he just kept on walking, dragging you with him while he fumes in anger.

“Who cares about the ice cream. I won’t let you be subjected like that.”

©️ 2018 by minuzu

[the-warriors-heart]

Hot Tea

Summary: The reader becomes sick and gets taken care of by her favorite dwarf.

Pairing: Bofur x reader

Rating: T

Warnings: fluff, sick reader?

Word Count: 2650

A/N: Here it is, the first story of my own to be posted on Tumblr! This imagine is for @tea2go who hasn’t been feeling well and wanted a story of one of her favorite characters taking care of her. I hope you enjoy the story and that you feel better very soon!

Another sneeze forced its way out as you stopped for a moment to regain yourself. You had done a good job, or at least you thought, at keeping the fact that you were sick a secret. It had been about three days since you had awoke to a profound burning at the back of your throat. At first you’d shrugged it off, thinking your throat was just dry. After several hearty mouthfuls of water you knew that was not the case. Instant panic consumed your brain, would they leave you behind? This quest was too important to the dwarves didn’t have time to stop and tend to the ill. Yes you decided, Thorin would leave you. It was at that exact moment you’d decided to keep it to yourself.

Now on the third day of your illness you were starting to think that may have been a bad idea. While everyone still continued to trudge through the forest you could feel yourself becoming fatigued very quickly. It was taking all your energy to keep up with the company and no one knew when Thorin would call it quits for the day. The sun burned bright in the sky, causing a few stray wisps of light to cut through the branches. The warmth of the sun did nothing however to counteract the chill that had set into the forest. If it was this cold now, tonight was certain to be freezing. Pulling your coat tighter around your body you glanced up to see you’d started to fall towards the back of the group.

“Did ya have a rough night lass?”

Whipping your head to the left your eyes fell upon the bright smile of none other than Bofur. How the dwarf always seemed to be so happy and full of energy you’d never know. You would be lying though if you said his smile wasn’t the highlight of your day. When things were getting rough or tensions were high he always seemed to lighten the mood. Some days it was a quick parting joke or a song, other days it was an elaborate story that you were quite sure couldn’t be true. Well at least you hoped some of the raunchier stories weren’t. It was this sanguine nature that made your heart beat a little faster when he looked your way. Now with his russet brown eyes focused so intently on you, the light pitter patter of your heart started to race.

“Yes,” your voice came out hoarse causing you to wince. The word alone felt like nails being dragged down your already sore throat. The drastic change in your voice clearly took Bofur by surprise as his eyebrows pulled together tightly. Clearing your throat you tried to quickly fix this mess. If Bofur knew you were sick, everyone would know. He was such a kind and caring dwarf, you knew he’d cause a ruckus trying to take care of you. “For some reason last night, I kept waking up.” The response wasn’t a complete lie. You had struggled to fall asleep last night, however it wasn’t the cause for your change in behavior.  

“That’s odd, when I was on watch your snoring coulda rivaled Bombur’s,” Bofur tossed his head back in a exuberant laugh clearly enjoying the situation. His pigtails seemed to dance as he looked at his fellow dwarves, a couple laughing along with him. It had to be because of your stuffy nose, no one had ever commented on you snoring before. Still it didn’t stop your cheeks from flushing a bright shade of red at the jab. Glancing away from the hat wearing dwarf next to you, you looked forward only to catch eyes with Dwalin. A strange look crossed his face before you were drawn back to your neighbor.

“Didn’t mean anything by it Y/N, ya just aren’t acting like yourself. Thought ya might need some cheering up!”

Still chuckling Bofur clapped his hand your back. The friendly gesture normally made your heart swell, today however it took you completely off guard.You stumbled forward from the force, arm reaching out frantically to brace yourself before you fell face first in the dirt. The shock caused several coughs, you’d been trying to suppress, to slip past your lips. A low grunt barely registered in your ears as you tried to regain your composure. As the last couple coughs finally died off you looked to the source of the grunt only to, once again, feel your face growing hot. It seemed you’d broken your fall by grasping tightly onto Bofur’s shoulder, what you hadn’t expected was to have his hair caught in your grip as well. With his head tilted to the side, Bofur was trying to turn his grimace into a smile but seemed to be struggling.

“Lass I’m gonna need ya to let go of my hair now,” his voice had lowered several octaves and was much raspier than you remembered. Something about this tone made your nerves ignite with fire. As the warmth spreads and your stomach begins to twist you become painfully aware of how close he was. Had he been this close the entire time? Quickly you released his hair from your grasp, pulling your hand to your chest.

“B-Bofur! I’m s-so sorry.” Stumbling over your words you quickly made your way as far from the dwarf as you could. Could you embarrass yourself anymore in one day? The company had made it perfectly clear early on how important hair was to dwarves, and here you were yanking on his pigtail. It just had to be Bofur too. If it was any of the others you doubt you would be nearly as flustered. The self-depreciating groan you let out caught the attention of Dwalin again.  Thankfully he didn’t seem concerned enough to question it, and continued along the path. Glancing behind your eyes quickly met with Bofur’s who were intently watching you. Whipping your head back around you sighed softly, hoping Thorin would call it a night soon.

It wasn’t too much later Thorin decided it was time to set up camp. Everyone quickly scrambled about working on their assigned tasks. After you had collected fire wood like Thorin had said you sat down on an old stump. It felt so good to get off your feet. After a long day wading through the woods your body felt like lead and your head was throbbing. Being sick on top of it was not helping. That and you couldn’t clear the situation with Bofur from earlier from your mind. Every time you thought of how gruff his voice had become or how close his body was to yours, the fire in your belly started to burn again.

Bilbo quietly sat down next to you, he was fidgeting with something but you weren’t paying attention. Across the fire from you Bofur was still staring intently at you from where he sat next to his brother. When your eyes met you quickly looked for a way to distract yourself. Had you upset him that much earlier? He had to know it had been an accident. With all the thoughts in your mind, your head started to pound harder. It felt as though with every breath you took the pain grew worse. Bombur dropped the pot not far from you, the loud clang made you wince. A soft whine escaping in reaction before you could stop it.

“Are you quite alright?”  Bilbo asked from beside you. His mouth was turned down in a deep frown, worry clouding his eyes.

“I’m fine, just tired is all.” The lie felt thick hanging in the air, and not just because your stuffy nose was deepening your voice. It was very clear to yourself as well as those around you that this was not a case of exhaustion. Sniffling quietly, you knew they weren’t going to buy it. Your voice was more hoarse than this morning, you couldn’t stop shivering and pain was painted all over your face.

“Tired? Ya haven’t seemed like yourself all day!” Bofur said moving around the fire to stand in front of you. It hadn’t occurred to you that he was listening to your conversation with the hobbit until now. His eyebrows were furrowed and he wore the same look of concern as Bilbo. As he moved closer you couldn’t help but rise to your feet.

“Are ya sure ya aren’t coming down with something lassie?” Bofur continued to move closer to you until you were sure there was no space between you. Between the close proximity of his body and the pounding in your head it was getting hard to think straight. He had asked you something, you needed to answer. Pushing through the fog in your mind you tried to answer.

“Truly! I’m sure it’s because-” before the sentence could finish leaving your lips Bofur had his hand against your forehead. It wasn’t until his large palm was resting against you that you realized how feverish your skin felt. His hand was so cool in comparison to your boiling skin you couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh of relief.

“Y/N you’re burning up! Come now lass lets get ya taken care of.” Bofur wrapped his arm around your back, placing his hand against your low back. Another round of shivers passed through your body, completely unrelated to the illness. As he led you to the spot he had once been sitting in next to Bombur, Bofur turned and spoke to Bilbo, “Laddie could ya go find Oin for me? Need ta see if he has something to get the lass feeling better.”

Nodding his head Biblo quickly scampered over to where Oin was having a lively conversation with some of the others. You had been so distracted watching as Bilbo became more and more frustrated trying to explain to Oin, that you hadn’t notice Bofur wrapping the blanket around you until he was tucking the edges. Taking the chance while he was distracted you let your gaze wander over his face. Chestnut brown eyes were squinted, the worry causing the lighter lines on his face to stand out in the light from the fire. The typically large smile was replaced by a slight frown making his mustache seem listless in comparison to usual. The jovial dwarf you’d become so fond of was worrying like a mother hen. When you thought he couldn’t steal your heart more, he did just that.

“Ya should have told me sooner.”

Locking eyes with the hat wearing dwarf you simply nodded your head. At this point you were in too much pain to argue. Maybe if you hadn’t kept it to yourself, you’d have been better by now. Which is exactly what Oin said to you once he made his way over. The entire time he checked you over he lectured you. It might have been endearing if his voice wasn’t so loud.After his assessment he left suddenly before returning with some kind of leaves. Chewing them like he instructed the bitterness made your face scrunch up. Why did everything meant to heal, taste so terrible? After you’d finished the leaves he said he’d brew you a tea in the morning that should help knock the illness the rest of the way out.

Thanking the old healer you watched as he made his way back to his original seat. A loud sigh next to you caught your attention. Bofur was still missing his usual smile as he sat down next to you. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small piece of wood he had been working on earlier that night. His leg was pressed firmly against your own and you could feel the slight movements of his arm as he worked. It was unusual sitting so close to the dwarf but you felt yourself relaxing as time went on. Eventually curiosity won and you found yourself leaning over to get a better look at what he was working on. The sight took your breath away, in his hand was a perfectly carved fox. Currently he was working on the face, carefully carving the eyes in place. You continued on watching him work until you found yourself leaning against the kind dwarf. He smiled brightly at you as you relaxed your head onto his shoulder. Perhaps it was the medicine Oin had given you or maybe you were just tired but you felt your eyes slowing drooping closed. The last thing you remember before drifting off was something soft pressing against your forehead.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was how easily you could breathe. After days of having a stuffy nose it was relief. The next was that somehow you were in your bedroll. Strange. The last thing you remembered was sitting with Bofur when you’d dozed off. Sitting up you ran a hand through your y/h/c hair before feeling something tumble off your stomach. Glancing down you saw the wooden fox Bofur had been carving last night. Picking it up you let your fingers glide over the smooth wood. It was beautiful, he’d taken the time to carve out every intricate detail. It looked as though it could come to life in your hands at any moment.

“Good morning Y/N.” Now wearing his characteristically lighthearted smile, Bofur stood before you a steaming cup in his hand.  “This is the tea Oin wants ya ta drink. Are ya feelin’ any better lass?”

“Yes I feel much better, thank you!”

“I’m glad, ya gave me a scare.” Carefully you placed the fox in your lap before taking the cup from his hands. He sat down next to you a soft smile gracing his lips as he watched you drink the tea. You couldn’t help but sigh softly, the warmth of the tea managed to soothe the remaining scratch from your throat. Bofur was fidgeting next to you, a nervous expression hiding behind his smile.“Do ya like it? I made it for ya, the fox I mean.” Y/E/C eyes widened in response, looking back down at the fox in your lap.

“It’s for me?”

Setting the cup down you looked back at the sweet dwarf beside you who was slowly nodding his head. You’d never seen him this nervous and it was an endearing sight to behold for sure. Gently picking the fox back up you examined it closely before looking back at him.

“Bofur I love it!”

Without thinking you flung yourself at the dark haired dwarf, wrapping your arms around his neck. The sudden embrace knocked him onto his back but he quickly started chuckling before wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. Caught up in the moment you pulled back and placed a chaste kiss on his lips, causing butterflies to erupt in your belly. Pulling away you saw the look of shock on his face before another brilliant smile pulled at his cheeks, Sitting both of you up he pushed stray strands of y/h/c from your face before gently pressing his lips to yours. One of his arms was still tightly wound around your waist, while his free hand was gently cradling your face to his.

The kiss was over as quickly as it started; but you stayed sitting on Bofur’s lap, foreheads pressed together. You could feel his thumb drawing lazy circles into your hip and couldn’t help but smile. “Lass I’ve been meaning ta,” Bofur started to say before he quickly pulled away from you. Surprised you saw his face crinkle up before he was covering a sneeze with his hand. Shaking his head lightly he turned back to you, “Anyway I’ve been meaning ta-” the dwarf once again found himself sneezing. Clearing his throat a few times he turned back to you, an impish smile on his face.

“Bofur..are you getting sick?”

[angelicspaceprince]

Catching

Author: Anna

Title: Catching

Character/s: Balthazar, Gabriel, Sam, Dean, Cas

Pairing: Balthazar/Reader

Word Count: 1, 767 words

Warnings/Tags: Pranks, upset Balthazar, established relationship (married), no smut but if you want me to write it in, lemme know and I'll make a part two with the missing scene

Summary: Balthazar can't get that fucking tune that you've been humming for days on end out of his head. And when he figures out what the song is, he's definitely less than impressed. - Based on the Disney Quote (#5) - 'If you start singing, I'm gonna throw up', Moana, 2016.

Notes: This is for thewhiterabbit42's Disney Challenge to celebrate 1000 followers and you guys should totally check them out because their stuff is amazing! The song that the Reader is humming is this, which I've been listening to non-stop all day because I love it, and it's the only version of that damned song that I'll listen to.

Tags: @thewhiterabbit42, @elyshakate, @oddone92, @bethisaghost

Buy Me a Coffee

Catching

You and Balthazar has been married for two years, something that everyone you met believed to be quite a feat. You were the first to admit, if someone said to you three years ago that the arrogant tosser of an angel would eventually be your husband, you would have laughed until you passed out.

But, it worked out. And the both of you were happy.

Don’t get me wrong, Balthazar was still a massive dick and looked out for himself above everyone else (except maybe you), but you usually ended up not being in the line of fire. Which meant you could get away with so much more than the average human.

So, when you found a certain video on YouTube, you and Gabriel hatched a plan to see how long it would take for your beloved to crack.

You started simple, humming the tune of the song in question whilst cooking, reading, researching, cleaning and even, as you had reliably informed, in your sleep when you took an impromptu nap in the library. Gabriel was, of course, helping you from the get go, humming around the Bunker and even programming the boys alarms and ringtones with the tune.

Sam was the first to catch the song, and he soon was humming along with you under his breath. He didn’t even seem to notice he was doing it, when you pulled him up on it he just looked at you like you had grown a second head. So you left it.

Dean quickly followed, humming the Postmodern Jukebox song wherever he went, replacing his usual Metallica and Led Zepplin when he drove. He, too didn’t realise what he was doing, which was mildly amusing to you.

Even Cas eventually cracked, and watching the usually serious angel humming as he worked was something that caused Gabriel to zap the two of you out of the room to hide the laughter that followed.

It took six weeks of dedication, but the one person you wanted to crack finally did.

Balthazar was, of course, the last to crack. He was already suspicious of the amount of time that you and Gabriel had been spending together, and one of your more explosive arguments – mind you, they were all explosive – was about that fact, and that he had basically said you were cheating on him so that gave him the right to find someone else to fuck. It was two weeks and a weekend of non-stop, uh, exercise, before you were back on good terms, but even Balthazar could tell you were still hurt by his comments.

But eventually, he did start to hum and even whistle along to the tune you had started humming six weeks prior. When he caught himself humming it, the look on his face was hilarious when he couldn’t place the tune, and then hysterical when you could see him trying to figure out where the hell he’d picked it up.

Then, the race was on.

You had informed the boys of your and Gabriel’s plans, and bets had been placed.

You: Two weeks

Cas: Three months

Sam: Three days

Dean: Never (which you all laughed at because he would eventually crack, but you could all hear the ‘I really could care less’ accent in his voice)

Gabriel: A month

All of you started watching him like hawks, all getting ready whenever to open his mouth to declare themselves the winner, but the sentence that you all wanted him to say never seemed to appear. You all continued to hum the song to keep it stuck in his head.

Sam was miserable when four days passed and nothing happened, he was sure Balthazar wouldn’t last. But you knew your husband well.

Day fourteen started and, just like you predicted, Balthazar snapped.

“That fucking song! What is it?” He cornered the five of you in the library, all of you looking up from your books to look at the pissed angel, each one with various levels of amusement.

“Whatever do you mean, B?” You ask sweetly.

“The song you’ve been singing for two months that you’ve gotten into my bloody head!” You bite your lip to try and stop the snickering as the boys pull out their wallets and start getting the money out to pay you.

“It’s a remix of possibly the most catching song of all time.”

“Happy?”

“What? No?”

“Shake It Off?”

“Oh, fuck no.”

“Hotline Bling?” You simply raise an eyebrow.

“I’ll play it for you, hang on.” You pull out your phone and start the catchy music.

It takes him until the third line when he realises what song it is, and you smirk when realisation strikes, accepting the money pushed over to you.

“Y/N.” Balthazar states simply. “Seriously?” You shrug.

“Well, I don’t know, its my new favourite song.” You send him a smile with your lips still held between your teeth. “And, it’s not as annoying as the original?”

“It’s still a bloody horrible song!” He protests.

“You didn’t think that when you were humming along to it.” You retort. “It’s really catchy don’t you think?” Balthazar glares at you before flying off. You roll your eyes and look back down at your book.

“Well, that went better than I thought.” Dean chimes in after a few seconds of silence.

“He’s still recovering from our last fight. Trust me, it’ll be brought up again.” You smile over to him before all of you return to your research, your pocket now $200 heavier.

Balthazar was clearly less than impressed about the fact you had tricked him, and spent the majority of the next few weeks sulking, avoiding you at all costs. You were slowly beginning to feel bad. So, you tried to romance him up, especially with the news you had to share with him.

Wine, food, sex. Those three generally speaking worked. And you were hoping you didn’t fuck it up so badly this time for it not to work.

Convincing him to go out was the first challenge, you practically had to drag him out the door. When you told him where you were going, he seemed to perk up. The small, intimate restaurant where the two of you met during a case for the Winchesters had become his favourite. He always claimed it was due to the fact that he met you there, but you knew it was also because they stocked his favourite wine.

So, he was already warming up to you, even more so when you told him you were paying.

He ordered the same thing he has ordered for the past three years whenever you went there, and you ordered something you knew he would never eat with the intent to snatch some of his and him not be interested in yours.

Conversation flows easy, as it always does, and snark and sass takes over the majority of the conversation, as it always does. You made a point of only drinking soft drink, wanting to make sure you were more or less sober for the rest of the night. Balthazar, however, was already on his second bottle of wine. Damn him and his inability to get drunk. The bastard.

By the time you two had left, you were humming the same song that had tormented him for weeks.

“Seriously?” He asks you in disbelief. You shrug.

“I genuinely like it, B.” You apologise. “Sorry, I’ll try to keep it for when you aren’t around.”

He huffs. “Just make sure you don’t start singing. If you start singing, I’m gonna throw up.” You snort.

“Of course, dear.” You bump into him. “Remember our first date?” You ask with a small smirk.

“How could I forget?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Remember what we did after we left the restaurant?” He smirks back down at you.

“I’m not sure I do, care to rejog my memory?”

~~~

You roll off Balthazar with a thud, your hair messy, body sweaty and your chest rising and falling harshly as you pant loudly, B clearly pleased with himself as he pulls you close. “Enjoyed yourself?” He asks, cocky with his ability. You hum.

“Not really, I mean, it was basically thirty minutes of you trying and failing to work me up. Need to get some sex tips.” You can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Yes, I enjoyed it you twit.”

He kisses the top of your head softly, keeping his head there as you shift. “Next time though, you are the one being tied up.”

“Want me to call you mistress too?”

“Queen of Everything Past, Present and Future would be more adequate.” You correct him causing him to snort.

“Sure thing, your majesty.” A comfortable silence falls over you before you clear your throat.

“B, I have some news for you.” You start carefully.

“You did cheat on me with Gabriel.” He says with conviction. “It’s okay, love, I get it. Clearly, you got bored with my skills and wanted something diff-” You manage to knock the wind out of him when you hit him in the stomach.

“No, you asshole.” You respond. “Don’t be a twat, I wouldn’t change our relationship for the world, and I definitely wouldn’t cheat, so get it out of your head.”

“Yes ma’am.” The small kiss he presses against your lips works as an apology as his hands move to rub the sides of your arms. “What did you have to tell me?”

“I’m pregnant.” You look up at him, gauging his reaction. His face freezes. “I’m twelve weeks, I found out on Tuesday.” You explain gently as the news sinks in. “B? You’re scaring me? You okay, beloved?”

Finally, he nods and swallows. “I’m going to be a father.” You nod. “What if I fuck up?”

“You won’t. And even if you do, it won’t be so bad. It’s not like babies are born with a manual.” Worry seeps in. “Are you…are you okay with this?” His eyes lock onto yours.

“Okay? Okay? I’m overjoyed!” Finally, the excitement sets in. “I can teach them to prank the hell out of their uncles and share all my seducing techniques and-”

“Seducing techniques? Like they exist.” You interrupt his rant, causing him to look down at you with a small smirk.

“They seemed to work on you.”

“I just joined on for the sex, if I’m honest.” You tease before giggling as he rolls over to straddle you, purring his next sentence before moving to initiate possible the most heated kiss either of you had ever shared.

“Well then, allow me to seduce you again.”