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softgrungeprophet · 1 year ago

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*reddit voice* AITA????

i am just gonna post all the comments this person left as screenshots here to give an idea of what i'm talking about (some/many of the comments here are mildly to very NSFW just fyi)

So, there's a person who left some guest comments on Redline (my explicit Peter/Mac hotel hookup fic), who I had a long convo with (~11 comments apiece from each of us) that was variously baffling, amusing, and frustrating.

fairly typical opening comment exchange

this is a smut fic so of course conversations about the sex part are not that weird and i was fine with discussing that for the most part and being honest about why i even wrote the fic. i figured that would be fine.

their response?

brother what the fuck are you talking about, did you even read this fic? or did you just skim the parts where peter sucked dick. i think at this point I was thinking like, well they're a little off-base but i can sort of see why they might come to this conclusion, maybe.

"when they first began their trysts"?? This is their only hookup! It's not like there's a sequel to this fic!

trying to engage reasonably with the things they said that are actually relevant while gently dismissing the stuff that's incorrect.

Literally we're talking about my fanfiction in my AU where I can say with 100% certainty that they have never hooked up before, let alone multiple times, and I already said—both in my responses to this person and in my author notes—that this fic isn't even canon to my AU, meaning actually they don't hook up even once in-universe... i have no idea where they got the idea that this is an ongoing thing because the text makes it pretty clear that this is the first and only time the characters have boned, but sure whatever you want to say. multiple trysts.

also re: the pederasty comment, that's on me for being pretentious I guess, cause I made an offhand mention in the fic itself:

(also to be clear about peter's age, he is 19 here and moderately experienced, he's not like... an underage virgin or anything like that.)

But Also

(cont from comment above)

what?

i think this is the point where i was really just thinking to myself, like, this is getting a little weird. also, weirdly condescending. Like, bro, I know what pederasty is, I don't just toss random fucking words into my fics without knowing what they mean. you don't need to define it for me.

also the everything else.

sorry, between formatting and lengthy comments my reply is kind of long and weirdly laid out in the screenshots (but there is alt text if you need it):

Mostly talking about characterization. Being like, no, Peter would not be impressed, etc. First part non-sexual despite the blatant horniness of their previous comment about weight lifting.

(me, internally: how do i tell them their barbell comment is completely stupid without being a dick?)

In retrospect I probably should have just straight up ignored the comment about spanking and shifted completely to my explanation of the fact that they don't have that kind of relationship instead of explaining peter's masochism.

(cont)

this is just me explaining why they're wrong and adding some context from my AU as part of the explanation of why.

Again in retrospect I probably should have just not added the context about Peter's backstory or relationship to submission even though it was to explain that it wouldn't make sense in-universe but i have a tendency to over-explain a lot

(cont)

again prob just shouldn't have brought up literally any of this and left it at the initial points about their personalities and the point about peter having plenty of adults in his life. but foresight and conciseness are clearly not my strong suits.

also ugh the way i explain it make peter sound so wooby... misleading

Kind of out of left field (felicia was not mentioned in any previous comments or in the fic at all except like ONE sentence in my author's notes (which i have since removed for unrelated reasons)) but okay????

also just... "spidey's outlaw girlfriend and fellow rogue to scorpion" once more explaining shit i already know, as if i don't know who the black cat is. i'm not a fucking idiot.

(cont)

"i would like to think"? great i just told you this isn't the case because this is my alternate universe. And if we were talking about 616 it would be moot because we know they do know each other in 616 because felicia employed mac in the comics several years ago, but clearly we are talking about my AU and i just told you that this isn't true. (maybe i should have said that to them instead)

also as a scenario it's kind of out of left field but whatever, sure, threesome!

me: I am just going to smile and nod.

them: anyway i am going to talk about something else completely unrelated that demonstrates i did not pay attention to this fic despite trying to offer extensive analysis and speculation, and also i am going to end on something completely off-topic and random.

to be clear the word "speedo" was not mentioned even once in this fic but this single interaction is why they even brought it up:

I genuinely don't expect any of my readers to actually know what a dance belt is since it's pretty niche equipment but it would have taken literally two seconds to google it instead of seeing the word "thong" and assuming peter uses a swimsuit as underwear for some reason and then going on an aside about how peter ~canonically~ goes commando.

i have nothing to say about the bald part. i don't know what prompted it. it's completely irrelevant.

For those of you that don't know what a dance belt is, by the way, let me save you a google because I already explained it in my reply:

They did not respond to this at all. hm I wonder why

instead they started a new comment thread to ask a question that was answered in my author's note:

(cw discussion/mentions of child molestation and sexual assault/rape for the next few comments)

choosing to believe they genuinely had forgotten. kind of odd comment but again not that weird so whatever, sure, i'll engage, idk why i didn't just ignore them at this point and just say, "who knows!" or something. the need to over-explain strikes again, i am my own worst enemy, and so on.

(here is where i mention this in my author's note, btw):

...

the dramatic synopsis is genuinely so funny to me like?? this is a comment on gay porn fanfiction... why are you giving me a movie narrator summary of felicia's backstory...

and again the same thing happens and they leave a long hypothetical question—i really should have figured out this pattern by this point huh...

actually this is around the time i realized this person was just gonna keep leaving random unprompted scenarios every time i answered their questions or lightly deconstructed the inaccuracies in their presumptions.

they are right about one thing at least, which is the element of choice.

cue my polite suggestion that they make an account so they can just post fics instead of essentially writing their own fanfiction in my comments, considering how little half of what they've said has had to do with my actual fic. 90% of it is completely unrelated situations of their own devising that have nothing to do with my AU, as you can see by the number of times i've said, "I don't think that applies here" and similar things throughout this extended conversation.

this is where i just give up.

it's like talking to a brick wall, but all the bricks are horny. i should have just said "No???"

after that was silence for a bit, which considering my last reply to them was basically "idk lol" and the previous thread ended with me telling them what a dance belt is and why jock straps aren't practical for acrobatics, is not surprising.

i assumed they were done.

got another comment from someone else about ten days later (3 days ago)

A simple question, my explanation, and... some critique I didn't really ask for. Did I mention that the fic this comment is on... is a porn oneshot? and not a plot-based story? Also was amused/annoyed at the "confuses the audience" comment cause no one else seems to have been confused by it and kita told me she personally read the single line where I mention Mac's scar having not been there before as a way to gauge the passage of time. which was my intent so i'm glad that it comes across, btw, lol

Other than that, the story is okay.

am i being fucking negged???

but, whatever, sometimes you get crit you don't need or want, eh, it's fine

This is the same fucking person, right? This is the same shit? Same style of phrasing (i probably should have realized this when I saw the first comment though, since their initial question about Mac's scars is identically structured to the other questions this person asked before, but like i said, this was like ten days after i thought the convo was over so it's not like i was thinking about it anymore at that point), same sudden segue into power fantasy, pecs and body worship as a previous comment, same mentions of admiration and Manly Masculinity as before—like this comment isn't even a new scenario, it's almost identical to one of the first comments they left which I had already explained wasn't applicable.

The only difference is a guest display name!

but let me tell you after a dozen comments, most of which have had fuck all to do with my writing or story...

as you can see, I am done engaging with this person.

best part? normally i don't even leave guest comments on anyway because i'm self-conscious about my trans flash fics so i kinda leave guest comments disabled for a lot of the fics i post. i just happened to enable them recently on a whim. but at this point i'll probably leave them off permanently lmao

idk

maybe I Am The Asshole for being too friendly and then suddenly getting fed up without offering a previous, less rigid boundary, but also... i already went over the shit they're talking about! over 11 comments! I thought the convo was over by that point, anyway! why are you using a different display name to make a new comment that's almost exactly the same as one of your earliest comments two weeks ago?? do you think i'm gonna give a different answer if i think i'm talking to a different person??????

maybe it's a different person or maybe the response i gave is a sudden ultimatum on my part and i should have, in retrospect, just like... stopped engaging with their random apropos-of-nothing scenarios, but man! hindsight is 20/20 and i'm not very good at interacting with people either, clearly.

sorry if this post duplicates itself on my custom theme on web, read mores seem to play very badly with custom web themes atm...

#long post #arghwrites #arghfic #nadia rambles #there's alt text in all the screenshots btw

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mixelation · 3 years ago

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Submission from @ironicvixen:

Every time I read your story I think about the hypothetical situation that some village kidnaps Tori and tries to get all the secrets of akatsuki out of her with a Jutsu random or a seal of truth, because it would really be very funny.

I mean she would be like: the most secret information that I know about the Akatsuki members is that Deidara and Hidan are divas, Itachi is a big jerk even though he is very handsome, Kisame hates being told the end of the movies, Sasori una vez luchó contra otro tipo por mí en un bar and no matter what anyone else says, Konan is the scariest of all.

And the people in the village would think he's delusional or something, because come on, as a super powerful S-rank ninja can get frustrated if a movie ending is ruined or because another S-rank ninja would fight for some random girl.

My reply:

My favorite part of this is the implication that she explains Sasori and only Sasori to her interrogator in Spanish. TE LO JURO, she insists. The interrogator still does not know what that means. She goes into great detail on Deidara's artistic preferences but will not explain his actual abilities or what missions he's been or what he might currently be doing or where they're based or what the organization's goals are. She does give them list of movies she has seen.

#sorry i have no idea how to format replies to submissions #and so this has just been sitting in my inbox LOL #fic: plasticity

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worldbuildguild · 3 years ago

Note

You guys okay?

Hey Redliners!

I am so sorry that you've been hearing nothing from us for the longest time now. I don't have many excuses other than art-life and art-school suddenly beckoned a lot more attention than previously.

However, I haven't forgotten this blog. As you know, I and a few other mods run this blog while the rest of the staff run the blog's discord ( which is well alive and you should very much join if you feel like it!)

But as such, it's on me to get the ball rolling on this blog again. To do this i have considered a bit of a 'rebranding' so to speak that would align the blog towards something a little more specific. While the discord will continue to serve as a general help-HUB for artists that provides anything from anatomy help to colour advice.

For this blog, I have been wanting to pull it into a slightly different direction for a while and after conversing with the other staff we have decided to air the idea to you guys here before proceeding with anything.

So if you like the idea, do let us know in the replies of this thread. We would hate to see this blog stagnate completely, so I wholeheartedly hope you will take to this new idea.

The new direction would see the RedLineStation rebrand itself into RedLineStation: BuildGuild

RLS: BuildGuild is of similar format to what RedLineStation has been up until now: that is - a resource-blog and live ask box for advice. However: rather than focus on the likes of basic anatomy and art fundamentals, its content will revolve around topics that partake in creative design. That is Character Design, Creature Design, Worldbuilding, Creative Process, and Advice on the Art-life in general.

Why the change? Since I am currently the Head Mod of the blog while the rest of the staff work on the discord, which still provides critiques on basic anatomy and fundamentals help, I needed to find a way in which I could keep the blog going without falling into the regular time-sensitive slumps that left redlines lingering in limbo far beyond the time of their relevancy. Not only would BuildGuild swap some of the formats from the old blog out for more sustainable routines, but would also lean heavily into a field in art and creativity that I have acquired multiple degrees in at this point, and which is in the interest of multiple staff working on the blog. Furthermore, it's a topic that we haven't encountered much, and would love to open this world of creativity up for you guys to explore.

What could BuilGuild content be?

The team and I have already debated a few options for content. Though we would of course love to hear input from you guys. Nothing is set in stone, and it is likely that the blog will cycle through multiple types of formats as we try things out.

- Live askbox for character design, concept art, creature design, worldbuilding, etc.

- Regular challenges to get you comfortable with the process of designing for art and storytelling

- RedLine events with a user submission

- Design Reacts! and Discussions of user-submitted media or mod recommendations

- How-to blog posts from the Moderators on how to design for storytelling ( Character design, concept art, creature design, worldbuilding, etc )

- Ressources from third-party worldbuilders and authors.

- Transcribed interviews from artists and storytellers on their process.

- Artist spotlights

As you can see, there's plenty of ideas on the table, and we're still looking for more ways that this rebranding could work out exciting and useful for your guys. But of course, we want to know if this is a venture worth pursuing. If you guys aren't interested in the topics that RLS: BuildGuild could provide, then we will of course not waste your time ( or our own for that matter :) )

Let us know in the replies or through our inbox what you think about RLS: BuildGuild, and whether or not you'd be interested in seeing this blog head in one such direction. And remember that RLS: Discord still provides art advice and redlining by our beautiful staff and community here: https://discord.gg/EshJ3ta

And of course, all posts from RLS original will be saved in a tab for you to access easily so that nothing is lost from the OG run.

Hope to hear from you guys, miss you loads <3 - Mod Wackart

#mod wackart #announcement #admin #blog announcements #theredlinestation

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lovieebby · 5 years ago

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dreaded corner

a/n: i know this isn’t the oneshot/fic i promised but here’s something i whipped up! i thought since i’ve imagined for a hot minute that id just spit it out. thank you @viking-raider for rereading this for me 😂 ily & also i apologize again bc im posting this thru my phone so im sorry if the formats funky!!

summary: you thought you could be a big girl, instead its sassy and rude and daddy is fed tf up.

word count: 2.2k (wowza)

pairing: henry cavill x reader (y/n)

warnings: um henry himself? implyed smut, sub!reader, daddy henry is fed up, description of readers pussee, i made a bad pun, that cursed blue tank top

tag list: @hell1129-blog 😘

you and henry have been dating for some time now and your sex life was off the charts, but about six months ago you both had started dabbling in the bdsm dynamics as a couple. henry already knew what he was doing, you, not so much. you had an idea but you never really completely understood how to be a submissive, you where naturally that way in the bedroom but anywhere else outside of that felt off to you and plus you never had a dom that was as strict and as serious in this lifestyle as henry, your past partners just in it for the hype of the kinky sex.

you loved being his submissive but it was hard at first, you had always looked out for yourself and so it became a habit to take things into your own control and set up walls. but after time and love henry slowly took down those walls and you where able to trust him with your whole being. after a while, you really loved being taken care of and being able to hand the control over to someone else, it feeling like you could finally breathe.

you felt like you where a genuine good submissive, theres never really a right or wrong way either, henry had told you, easing your mind when you had gotten concerned. most days you listened, wanting to please him and get praised for it. you lived to be a good girl for him, but some days where more rough than normal. some days you just wanted to be independent and in charge of yourself, doing what you please, and more often than not, henry caught on to it fast and put you back into your place.

you stood in the kitchen, standing by the fridge trying to figure out what to drink. you rubbed your ass, stinging still from the spankings you got earlier. ten hard swats on each cheek and you didn’t get to orgasm once the first punishment was over, no orgasm was your second punishment.

bummer.

henry sat in the living room, on his laptop replying to an email. he wore his blue tank top with his sweat pants, feet perched up on the ottoman. he had started an email once he had given you the much needed aftercare and reassurance. you both had cleaned up taking a shower together and getting into your lazy day clothes.

henry heard the fridge being closed roughly and the shelves within it shaking. he had talked about this with you time and time again, you used to do it at your own home, but now you two lived together, so that meant respecting your surroundings. what was so hard about that?

“don’t slam it, please.” he had said, making eye contact with you when you spun around to look at him.

“i didn’t! it was the suction from the door!” you explained, getting a little snappy with him, not wanting to get caught that you did, in fact, do it again. you turned around, not wanting to be called out, and made yourself busy looking in another cabinet for something to snack on.

henry looked at you questionably that quickly turned into a stern disapproving glare, “don’t talk back to me,” he sighed out, turning back to his email. he thought your attitude dissolved, clearly it just doubled.

“i’m not, im just defending myself,” you sassed out quietly, making a mocking face while you searched in the cabnet.

“excuse me?” his voice boomed out. he pressed hard on the send button, sending the email, he didn’t bother double checking if everything was typed out correctly. henry moved the laptop over to the empty seat. he crossed his arms, frowning at you, surprised at your returned attitude.

“did you fart?” you sassed again, closing the cabinets, you spun around and crossed your arms. coping him while leaning on the counter arching your eyebrow, biting the inside of your cheek.

bad move, bad move (y/n).

henry was baffled, you just got done with a punishment not even an hour ago. he had beaten your ass pretty well, and he rarely had to do that. he thought if you wanted a challenge, you would quickly lose. he stood up from the couch, and slowly walked to you, once he got the the kitchen island he put his hands down, spreading his fingers out. he towered over you even if it was a couple feet away, his eyes piercing into you, daring you to continue your attitude.

he’s never had to punish you multiple times in one day, but if it was needed, he was going to.

“little girl,” he started, his voice dropping an octave, “drop the attitude, i won’t tell you again.”

“fine.” you snapped, you where definitely not going to. “but i didn’t slam the door.”

“(y/n), i don’t care,” he punctuated each word, leaning forward.

“i didn’t though! i’m not lying!” you threw your hands down, almost stomping your foot on the floor.

you where acting out, you knew he was getting back in his dominant role, but you where serious too! you didn’t want to be dominated at the moment. you didn’t want to say your safe word, it wasn’t needed, you were just being a brat. you just wanted to be you for two seconds, not henry’s baby, you felt big.

“alright, get over here.” he stood up straight, walking away from the counter, clinching his jaw. he was fed up, you had no reason to act this way and he was quickly going to put you in your place.

you suddenly realized that you became a big mean brat more than a big girl, now you wanted the floor to eat you whole, like right now. utterly embarrassed that you thought you where so confident about yourself and your actions. you didn’t want to move, frozen under his glare, you where already thinking of what he was going to do, and you where praying he wasn’t going to swat your ass again, his spanks weren’t light and your ass was as rosey as ever.

“move it missy,” he said, snapping his finger down in front of him where he wanted you, “now.”

you slowly moved to him, your confidence completely leaving your body as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. you stood in front of him, not making eye contact, his eyes too intimidating. if you looked at him, you’d beg for forgiveness, but at the moment you where still trying to hold on to a useless lie.

henry breathed in deep and let it out slow through his nose, he knows its hard for you sometimes to comply and completely listen but you both agreed to the rules henry had set. he let you stand there, making you think. it also gave him a moment to calm down, he didn’t want to just lash out and show his frustration, but he still wants you to know who’s the boss.

he honestly just wanted to sit down with you and junk out after getting his business done, but clearly he needed to punish you again because apparently you didn’t get the memo the first time.

“we agreed on the rules, did we not?” he questioned you, crossing his arms. he looked out at you, you looked anywhere but him.

you nodded your head, agreeing with him.

“oh, now you have nothing to say?” he taunted, ticking his jaw. “you had so much to say earlier.”

“we did.” you whispered, looking down at your fidgeting hands.

“look at me when i’m talking to you,” henry gripped your chin, tilting your face up to him. you whimpered dropping your hands to your side, his grip making your bottom lip jut out.

“if you don’t agree with the rules, you know what to say, if not, shut it,” he sternly watched you, waiting for you to say something, putting a little more pressure into his grip, shaking your face a bit, waiting for you to say the word. when you didn’t, he continued, “now i don’t know what got into you, to think you can speak to me like that, but that needs to end. quit your shit and stand in the corner, hands behind your back.”

you frowned, opening your mouth in disbelief, now you where upset all over again, the submission leaving your body. you’ve been put in time out a couple times but right now you weren’t feeling it, this is dumb!

“like a kid?!” you loudly questioned.

“yes! because you’re acting like one!” he let go of your face and with one hand he pushed you to the corner by the breakfast table with his other, he pointed to the known corner.

you picked up your feet and scoffed, this was unfair, you weren’t a child! you clinched your jaw when you got the corner, so frustrated you screamed in your mouth.

once henry heard you whining and carrying on he walked up behind you and smacked you ass, harder than he intended but it worked, he needed to make a point. you gasped and jolted forwards, bracing your hands on the wall, your ass was still tinder. he stood behind you, putting his hands up on the wall caging you in. he put his mouth right next to your ear.

“you did this to yourself, so take your punishment like a big girl and shut up. i don’t want to hear you.” he said, leaning into you, making himself known, “you don’t run shit here missy, and i’m here to remind you of that.”

he pushed off the wall, backing up from you and smacked your stinging ass again, giving a warning. you held your whine in and closed your eyes tight.

he turned around and stood by the counter, he looked down at his watch and set a timer for twenty minutes, he could probably get some small chores done, so he could waste time waiting on you. he didn’t want to stand there and watch you because you’d notice and probably say something and he just didn’t want to hear it. you where always so good, but when you got bratty and sassy, he nipped that shit quick, not wanting it to happen again. as he was leaving the room and gave kal a quick pat to follow him, he doesn’t need you petting him while you’re in your corner.

you were embarrassed to say the least, you were in a corner with your hands behind you, flustered in an uncomfortable wetness from your arousal. henry made you flustered on any given day but when he became daddy, it was so much more worse. you where still soaked from the first spanking and from the rough sex you just had earlier.

you moved side to side discretely, you only wore an over sized cotton tee with your soft sleep shorts with no panties, not wanting any extra material on your bum, the shorts already a little scratchy on your bruised cheeks.

regretting your attitude, you wanted to apologize, but you knew if you spoke up, you would get reprimanded from henry. so you stood there, trying to pass the time by trying to find shapes on the textured wall.

after some time you noticed you haven’t heard henry, you perked up and peeked over your shoulder, you didn’t see henry anywhere not even kal. usually if you tapped the wall kal would come over and you could at least have some type of company. you tapped the wall a couple times, but no response from the pup. you turned back around to the corner, trying to patently wait, wanting to be good for your daddy.

what felt like hours, you finally heard henry come back into the kitchen, pulling a chair out from the breakfast table and assuming, sitting down in said chair. you wanted to apologize so bad, you weren’t ever bad like this before, you felt terrible for being snappy and bratty at him. but you stayed and waited for him to tell you, you could come out.

“come here baby,” he said, patting his thigh.

you looked over your shoulder, shrinking into yourself a little apprehensive about moving, “you sure daddy?” you softly asked, you didn’t even know if you wanted to leave the corner, you where rude.

he chuckled softly, he patted his thigh again, “yes i’m sure baby, come on.”

you turned around and stood between his legs, you put your left hand over your shoulder, messing with the hem of your tee shirt. “i’m sorry daddy, i was rude and i really did close the fridge hard.” you said as you rose your head to look at him.

“i know, you don’t lie very well,” he smirked, rubbing the back of your thigh, loving the feeling of your warm skin. “you know why you went into your corner, right?”

you breathed in, sighing, “because i got snappy with you,” you said, henry blinked and gave you a knowing look, waiting for you to continue, “and that i lied.” you quickly said the rest.

he hummed, nodding his head, “good job baby, you did good.” he squeezed your thigh, as you relaxed and put both of your hands on his thighs leaning into him.

you smiled sheepishly and leaned all the way down to give him a kiss. when henry kissed back, he put his other hand on the back of your head, softly intertwining his fingers to massage your scalp.

he pulled back, looking at you intently, “don’t lie again, i like having my good baby.” you nodded your head and gave gave him another kiss.

a/n: thank you guys for reading, feedback is always nice so dont be afraid to say something 🥰

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill x yn #henry x reader #henry x you #daddy!henry #sub!reader #d/s dynamic

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professionalsimpfor2dboys · 4 years ago

Note

If your requests aren't open you can ignore me, but imagine mc playing around and just doing the classic 90s anime vilian stance while yelling "SILENCE BOTTOM!"

hahaha, oh the boys’ reactions would be very diverse. I hope ya don’t mind me doing some short headcannons for the oldest four brothers because I don’t wanna be too repetitive + I feel like I’m taking too long to answer your ask haha sorry about that 😅

Some are implied nsfw ;) haha

“SILENCE BOTTOM!” Brothers’ Reactions

Lucifer

The brothers and MC were having their usual biweekly game night in MC’s room when said human thought it would be a good idea to bring out their stash of alcohol smuggled in from the human world (much to Lucifer’s disappointment) but failed to realize demons aren’t affected by human alcohol...which left only MC drunk out of their mind.

Of course, to be fair, Asmo brought in a bottle of demonus for the seven of them to pass around but it was too small of an amount to leave anyone more than a little tipsy.

With every shot MC took, their face reddened more and their volume increased as everything sent them into a fit of giggles, which the boys found cute. They wrapped their arms around Mammon’s neck and blew into his ear teasingly as said demon’s face became ruddy.

“O-Oi, what are ya doin’?” He protested, but didn’t push them away.

“What? Can’t I hug my ‘first’ demon?~” MC laughed before falling over, basically body-checking Mammon to the floor along with them as he yelped out of surprise.

“Alright, that’s enough. They’re obviously inebriated,” Lucifer said, standing up. “Time for bed,” he continued, ushering the others to hurry up and leave. The others began cleaning up, getting ready to leave but MC was quick to get off Mammon and stand up with wobbly legs.

“You jealous, Luci?” They giggled as the brothers looked at them with small smiles.

Lucifer ignored them as he continued commanding his brothers to clean up faster. Beginning to berate them for letting his human become so drunk. “You know humans are frail beings! The fact that you didn’t listen to me when I told all of you to stop giving them more shots is completely-“ his scoldings were giving MC a headache so they were quick to shut him up.

Posing so quickly and suddenly that they saw stars in their eyes for a bit, MC opened their mouth with a glint in their eye before shouting: “SILENCE BOTTOM! MUAHAHAHA” successfully shutting up the eldest brother.

Everyone was silent. MC stood still in their pose before doubling over from laughter as Lucifer watched with widened eyes.

“Everyone out, now,” Lucifer ordered, waving towards the door which they were quick to oblige but right as the door closed he heard quickened footsteps down the hall before an uproar of laughter resounded from his brothers. He’d deal with them later.

Sighing as he picked the human up from the floor, who’s laughter had eventually died down as sleepiness fit them full on, he laid them on their bed before brushing aside their askew hair accompanied with a chuckle. “That was a surprise, love, but I’m sure you know I’m far from what you call a bottom,” he chuckled, tucking them in. MC had long since passed out, mouth slack and cheeks still red. “You’re definitely a strange one, but mine nonetheless. I hope you know you’ll be facing the consequences of your words in the morning,~” he whispered in their ear, making them shift, before he kissed their forehead and shuffled beside them for cuddles.

Slight revenge sex in the morning once they’re sober for embarrassing him in front of his little brothers since he is the avatar of pride after all.

Mammon + Levi

these boyos scream switch to me soo you might know where I’m going with this

after a day at R.A.D, MC had walked with Levi and Mammon back to the House of Lamentation and they started another one of their arguments yet again.

“Mammon, you literally stole money from me last night after putting a bookcase on top of the door to my tank and watching me panic! What kind of older brother watches their younger brother almost drown???” Levi screeched, clasping at his neck dramatically.

“Wait, you can drown? I thought you were some weird sea monster thing,” Mammon retorted with a laugh as they entered into the living room. MC just face-palmed.

“Does it look like I have gills to you?? Ughh, you can just be so infuriating sometimes!” Levi groaned, running his hands through his hair in a frustrated manner.

MC shuffled to his side, whilst rubbing circles on his back as they cooed:” aw, it’s alright Levi-Chan~how about we go have a marathon of Ruri-Chan’s limited edition dvds you got in the mail the other day?”

Levi’s face lit up with both excitement and embarrassment. “You’re right! I almost forgot about that! Let’s go!” He exclaimed, grabbing ahold of their hand before pulling them towards his room but Mammon was quick to grab MC’s other hand and pull them the opposite way.

“Nuh-uh, where do ya think you’re goin’ with my human, huh? They’ll be staying with me because I ain’t watchin’ no Riri-Chan DVD’s,” Mammon shook his head, pulling MC closer but Levi countered it with a tug of his own.

“It’s Ruri-Chan, thank you very much and MC offered so it’s not your call whether they go or not, numbskull,” he retorted as MC was losing their patience being pulled around.

“Ha! If you think I’m gonna let ya get your hands on my human then you got another thing comin-“ it was in that moment a cheeky grin appeared on MC’s face before they ripped themselves from both of the demons’ grasps and posed dramatically.

“SILENCE BOTTOMS!” They bellowed, leaving the two speechless before faces turned red quickly. MC got a good laugh at their reactions before Levi spoke up.

“Th-that was kind of t-tantalizing! P-please do more! I’ve only heard it in animes and thought it was funny before this...” He begged, pushing both his pointer fingers together sheepishly.

“H-huh? What do ya mean tantalizing?” Mammon stuttered out, equally as embarrassed. He enjoyed it too, but wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it.

Well, looks like they found out something new about themselves.

Satan

Oh boy, calling this man a bottom? hmm possibly

MC was helping him study human culture for a test that was coming up and decided to take a short break.

“So, how about we talk about some things that won’t be on the test?” Satan suggested, looking up at MC from his book.

“Like?” MC questioned.

“Hm, I would like to learn some human slang in order to use it for confusing my brothers,” he replied, a hand on his chin as he thought. “All I know of is the dance phenomenon called the dab? Levi was quite interested in doing it at every given second for a fleeting period of time,” he continued, deep in thought which made MC laugh.

“Well, lemme think,” they began before one popped up in their mind. “Ooh! Do ya know what a DILF is?”

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that. Of course demons know what DILFs and MILFs as well,” he replied, chuckling which made MC pout.

“Well, do ya know Lucifer is a total DILF to me?” MC retaliated, knowing that would rile up Satan. He visibly gagged at her words before slamming his book shut.

“Please never say those words again,” he hissed, closing his eyes.

MC chuckled at his reaction before another idea popped up in their mind. “Ooh, how about...” they began before bolting up and waiting.

After anticipating for a bit, he cocked his head at their silence. “How about what-“ he was quickly cut off with a loud “SILENCE BOTTOM!” From MC which he jumped at.

MC watched his reaction before bursting in a fit of laughter. “Pretty funny, right? It’s a thing humans do as a joke-“ Satan wasn’t listening as he closed the space between them with rosy cheeks.

“I would be lying if I said I’ve never thought about it before~” he whispered closely, hot breath tickling MC’s face as they looked at his lidded eyes.

“HUHH??” MC blurted out making Satan looked at them in a confused manner.

“You were implying you wanted me to try being submissive during sex, were you not?” He questioned, assuming he was correct.

“W-what? No! It’s a joke in the human world!” They were quick to reply, still a bit frazzled. It was Satan’s turn to be embarrassed.

He backed away quickly, cheeks blushed red for a different reason now as he rubbed the back of his neck. “O-oh!” Was all he said before quieting down. An awkward silence settling over them before MC spoke up quietly.

“W-what did you have in mind?” they asked, hesitant.

“Huh?” Satan turned to look at her.

“I-I would be lying too if I said I never thought about having you under me...so what did you have in mind exactly,” they replied shyly, not meeting his eyes.

A smile spread across Satan’s face as only four words left his mouth: “Me wearing cat ears,”

😏 ;)

Did ya notice I’m trying a new format?

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aewhore · 4 years ago

Note

Hi I saw your post about writing for AEW, would you be willing to write for Austin Gunn. The idea is that the reader has a crush on him and while they're both training, because of the sexual tension she suddenly reveals her feelings. ( if you can't its totally cool ☺ ) thanks xx

You’re lucky I love you, Idiot. ~ Austin Gunn x reader (Request by @heranimebeautyghost )

You were working out at the gym in Daily’s place. You had been signed to AEW as a wrestler for just under a year now and it was the best decision you had made in your entire career. You had been wrestling professionally for 6 years now but had never gotten a chance to really show off your abilities until AEW was announced and your small but loyal group of fans made noise on twitter about how they needed to sign you and before you knew it you were on a call with Tony Khan. Since you were signed you got to work with your friends you met when you wrestled in japan such as Trent Barreta, Chuck Taylor and your closest friend Hikaru Shida, but you also got to make new friends in Kris Statlander, Orange Cassidy and the Jurassic Express. When you started wrestling you had swore to yourself to never date another wrestler because you knew how hectic the schedules were and you knew you wouldn't be able to devote enough time to a relationship as you would like but being in AEW during a pandemic really tested that when you spent more and more time with a certain loudmouth member of the Gunn club, the one and only Austin Gunn.

How did you get into this predicament you ask? Well because of the pandemic, if you want to use the gym you have to sign up for a time slot and since they lessen the amount of people that could be in an enclosed space you might only be sharing that time slot with 1 or 2 other people. Most people opted to use their own home gyms or public gyms but you stayed with the Daily’s place gym. You knew because you prefer to work out later at night that a time slot would always be open. It just so happened that Austin worked out in the same time slot as you did, so you end up spending an hour or two alone together every two days. As you hung out with Austin more and more you couldn't help but develop feelings for him. He was an utter sweetheart even if he was the definition of a himbo. He would distract you from your workout by trying to be your hype man and making you laugh so hard you have to stop whatever workout you were in the middle of to jokingly call him an idiot. You started to develop a soft spot for the youngest member of the Gunn club soon after your workout sessions began.

You were getting ready to go to the gym the night after dynamite, you were running late because you overslept your pre workout nap. You were now the number one contender after you defeated big swole on last night’s show so you were preparing for an intense workout but you couldn't help break out into a smile at the idea of talking to Austin about your title shot. You arrive at the gym. You see the time slot is open, you hear Austin music already blaring as you walk into the gym. You place your bag down as you take off your sweatshirt and go to start warming up. “HEY Y/N!! I thought you weren’t gonna show!” You hear Austin yell from the other end of the gym. “I could never miss one of our workout sessions Gunn” You say back to Austin as he pulls you into a bone crushing hug, you can't help but appreciate these small moments of closeness you get with Austin because you just knew in your heart that he doesn't feel the same way that you feel for him so you have to hide your bright blush by burying your face into his chest. Austin holds onto you for longer than you expected before he releases you to go back to your warm up. “How long have you been here before i got here?” You ask as Austin returns to his weights. “Oh you know only about 20 minutes, i wasn’t waiting for you or anything” He adorably laughs out the end of sentence as you look over at him and he quickly looks away as if you caught him staring. “Sorry to keep you waiting hot stuff” You wink at him as you playfully flirt with him. He gives a hearty laugh at your attempt to seem cool.

Once your warm up is finished you start you to make your way over to the ring that's set up in the center of the Gym. You begin to stretch using the ropes before you notice Austin had finished up on his weight and was taking a quick break to have a drink of water. Your eyes sweep over Austin as his arm flexes to bring his water bottle to his lips. You snap your eyes away from him before your thoughts get rated R. You start to run the ropes to distract yourself from the hunk of a man behind you. “Hey, do you mind helping me run through some moves?” You stop running to hear Austin ask, you’re lucky you're not facing Austin as you start to blush immediately at the idea of being so close to him. “Um yeah sure, i don't mind.” You say as nonchalantly as you can muster up.

Austin gets into the ring and starts to walk you through a submission move he wants to do in his next match. He was attempting to modify an arm bar to make it more Gunn-like(?) so he claimed. “So.. where do you want me?” Your face goes bright red as you nervously laugh at the implication of your question. Austin does a double take at your question but you see his face go red as you watch his mouth open and close as he tries to format a reply. “Um how about you lay down on the mat?” You and Austin were now dissolving into a full on laughter fit. You lay down on the mat and Austin gets in position for an arm bar, Your arm rests against his torso as he grips your hand in his. He begins to move his legs to hook under your shoulder as he's adjusting himself, he releases your hand and it sits on his well defined pecs and you barely hold yourself back from running your hand up and down his muscular torso.

You're broken from your lust filled haze by Austin suddenly getting up and offering you a hand up. “Oh did you get it?” You are still seated. “No it’s not working the way i pictured it but it’ll be fine, I’ll figure something out.” Austin says almost saddened that his move wasn’t executing the way he envisioned. You grab Austin hand to help you up but he underestimates his own power and yanks you off the floor so fast you don't have time to find your footing before you brace yourself for the impact of hitting the floor but it never comes instead you collide with Austin's chest as he catches you in his strong arms. Words fail you as you look up at Austin and see he’s already looking back at you. You break eye contact to look down at Austin's lips and then you look back up to his ocean coloured eyes only to see he's looking at your lips as well. “.....Jesus” Austin sighs, your brows furrow “what?” you ask, mentally preparing yourself for the worst. “You look so beautiful right now, it's insane.”

You were blown away, did Austin really just say that? To you? right now? The air is knocked out of your lungs by pure shock alone. Words fail you as you try to string together some sort of intelligible speech. “Oh my.. Wait, what? You think I’m- really? Are you sure?” If your face was red already now your entire body was on fire. Austin laughed at your jumbled mess of a response. He pretends to think for a moment before he responds. “Yeah I'm pretty sure you're a stone cold stunner” he gave you that thousand watt smile and had you not been wrapped in his arms, your knees would have buckled from underneath you. To hide your ever-growing blush you lean your forehead against Austin's chest as you giggle at his term of endearment. “Aw come on baby doll, don't hide that gorgeous face from me now” You bury your face deeper into his chest as he tries and succeeds to make you blush by showering you with compliments. You're suddenly hit by a sad thought that Austin is just playfully flirting with you like he always does. It's hard not to feel let down by the ideas you had built up in your head not being possible in real life. You feel Austin’s hand under your chin as he tilts your head up to lock eyes with him. “...please don’t lead me on” you grumble more to yourself than anything but Austin hears you crystal clear and his brows furrowed in confusion as he sees the sadness in your eyes, you move Austin’s arms to allow space between the two of you so you could attempt to control your pounding heart. “Y/N what do you mean ‘lead you on’?” You sigh in frustration as you prepare to tell Austin about the built up feeling you've been having for the last 2/3 months.

“Listen Austin I know we're just friends but I want to be more than that but I know you don't feel the same way and that’s ok but please don't-” your frustrated venting is interrupted when your pulled back into Austin’s chest and his lips crash onto yours. Your eyes go wide when you realize what's happening before you allow yourself to completely melt into the kiss. Austin's hand rubs and massages your side and trails down to your ass as your hands tangle in his golden hair. You're the one to break the kiss as you rest your foreheads against one another while slightly gasping for air. “Incase that didn't answer your worrying Y/N, I really like you too and I’d actually like to take you out to dinner some time if you'd like” your head was spinning and you were sure if it was from the kiss or from Austin’s confession but you did know one thing for certain. “Yes Austin I’d love to go to dinner with you sometime.” You went to exit the ring to carry on your long forgotten workout when you feel Austin smack your ass. “AUSTIN!!” you say shocked at his sudden forwardness, You look back at him but he looks away innocently “..what? I didn't do anything.” You playfully glare at him when his poker face begins to crack. “You're lucky I love you, idiot.“

#austin gunn #austin gunn imagine #austin gunn fanfiction #aew fanfiction #aew fanfic #aew imagine #aew #wrestling #wrestling fanfiction #fluff #slight angst if you squint

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mengyan · 4 years ago

Note

Sooo i saw you review someones carulia fic befpre so uh heres mine, if i could have some pointers?🥺For context; its supposed to be an angst to fluff comcerning how Carmen & Jules make up following the ACME interruption..

Carmen POV:

The rain relented for no one, not even for those who were in mourning. It was a single drop and a million all at once, thundering down in sheets ftom a confident stormy sky. Carmen Sandiego shivered, the tiny droplets assaulting every shred of skin she had dared to leave exposed.

Her red-brunette hair was drenched a shade darker, now existing as a thick, sopping mass glued to the back of her feverish neck. Carmen’s cheeks were ice cold and slick with water, aside from two thin trails of tears with fading heat.

That was one plus side of being out in the storm, she supposed. It was easy to cry in the rain.

In Carmen’s hands were an arrangement of Peonies and Hydrangeas, the water hammering at their petals. They had been Shadowsan’s suggestion and she took it, because, how the hell would she know what kind of flowers Dexter Wolfe preferred?

The makeshift grave had been Shadowsan’s idea, too. Apparently it would give her closure. Carmen admitted it did, to some extent, help to have some way to mourn her late father. But the fact that she knew his body wasn’t anywhere near his headstone dulled any respite it might have provided.

They had chosen a grave in Poiters, France. It was the only place the team frequented aside from San Diego, and it held the only funeral home that agreed to not ask questions about birth and death records.

Team red hadn’t visited the place in months what with her falling out with Julia and ACME, until today. It was the anniversary of his death, after all.

Carmen’s hands quivered as she lowered the flowers to the wet earth. Tension pulsed in her veins with a thousand emotions flooding through her. She was so, so angry! At the world, at Shadowsan, at Chief, at everyone for taking away what could’ve been a beautiful life with family she now knew nothing of.

She wanted to hurt someone, to scream. And so she did. A guttural roar escaped Carmen’s rouged lips, disappearing into the night. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her erratic breathing. When she looked down, she realized she had crushed the flowers.

Not caring anymore, Carmen plopped down against the headstone, the mud squelching beneath her. Tears began to flow beyond her control and she let them, for once allowing herself to truly feel all the hurt she kept pent up inside in favor of her suave exterior.

Her fingers dug into the earth, and she flung a fistful of mud into the rain. Carmen was tired of running from everything, tired of chasing her past, tired of hiding from the people she cared about.

Maybe the earth’ll open up and swallow me, she mused. Or better yet, maybe I’ll get struck by lightning.

Carmen sighed, moving her back to rest against her father’s grave. “Oh, dad.” She whispered softly. “I’m so sorry.”

The lady in red began to relax despite the rain, curling up in a fetal position and feeling sorry for herself. It wasn’t like Zack, Ivy, Player, and Shadowsan were here to see her so vulnerable, after all.

The sound of two feet approaching caught her attention, their light tread a very familiar sound.

No. It couldn’t be-

The lady in red looked up, her hair strewn haphazardly and her eyes red from crying all while every inch of her body was drenched.

“Miss Sandiego?” There stood Julia Argent with a sky blue umbrella, a mix of horror and concern painted over her delicate features.

“How many times have I told you Carmen is fine?” Carmen whispered as usual, only this time the flirty playfulness was amiss. Her voice was hoarse and raspy, not a sliver of emotion present as she stared dead ahead, right through Julia.

“I’m.....sorry.” The petite woman replied, stressing the underlying meaning.

“What are you doing here, Agent Argent?” Carmen asked tiredly, refusing to call her Jules any longer.

Julia flinched, as if the missing nickname was like a blow to the gut. “Please, you don’t have to be so formal. But, um, I live here, remember? So I think I I should be ask you that.”

“I was just passing through.” The lady in red stood, refusing to meet the other woman’s eyss.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here.” Carmen said coldly. She couldn’t believe she had ever been stupid enough to begin to trust Julia, much less begin to fall for her. “It’s a long walk to the train station.”

For once, she thought she had someone who believed in her, someone who was on her side wholeheartedly.....and yet...

Stockholm.

“Carmen, you won’t be able to find your way in this weather.” Julia said tentatively, pity filling her beautiful doe eyes to the brim. “Please, um, my apartment isn’t far from here. You can stay until the rain calms down.”

A dark, humorless laugh escaped the Latina’s lips. “What, do all you ACME agents bunk in the same place or something?”

“Excuse me?“

“So they’re waiting for me then,” Carmen continued, her anger and feelings of betrayal peeking into a tirade. “I bet they all have they’re guns propped up at the door already in place. I think I’ll pass, Jules.“

Carmen spit her nickname out like some vile insult she was hurtling at an enemy.

Julia sucked in a sharp breath, sadness touching her features. “Carmen,“ The petite woman began, pleading “I know you won’t forgive me for what happened in Stockholm, but I promise you I didn’t know.“ She paused, waiting for some form of acknowledgement, no response. “I-I told Chief to back off and let me talk to you, she-she said it was okay! I had no idea they were moving in. Please, please Believe me.”

“Oh yeah?“ The woman in red whispered, her voice barely audible over the downpour. “And what if I don’t?“

...

And thats all i have sooo far---

AIJSIDKDKJDKFJDJJSJDFJ OKAY THIS IS LATE BC I WAS NOT IN THE EMOTIONAL HEADSPACE TO DECONSTRUCT THIS BUT. ANON HOW DARE YOU? I AM IN IMMEASURABLE PAIN

i’ll just add notes as i go, thank you for allowing me to read this and offer pointers :D

your descriptions are so good omg!! i love the first sentence SO much?? “the rain relented for no one, not even for those who were in mourning” PHEWWW that’s poetry

i’d say the only thing about the following descriptions is that you don’t have to describe everything, if that makes sense? like, you can leave it as just “a stormy sky” for example. descriptions are amazing, but too much of anything can be harder to read and get your point across!

“it was easy to cry in the rain” anon WHO let you hurt me like this!!!

i feel like if i look up those flowers i will cry so i’m not going to but. shadowsan knowing what flowers to bring is just.... help i’m in pain

NOT THE GRAVE BEING IN POITIERS GOD GIVE ME STRENGTH

instead of “so, so, angry” you can say furious, and replace the exclamation mark with a period. it makes it more solid (if that’s the right word...?)

it’s probably a tumblr formatting thing but italicize the words when it’s her inner thoughts for better distinction!

CARMEN RECOGNIZING JULIA’S FOOTSTEPS

“a mix of horror and concern painted over her delicate features” i’m in LOVE with this wording??

REFUSING TO CALL HER JULES ANY LONGER@,#)&()&)&&)&:&:; LORDDDD

NOT THE. NOT FUCKING STOCKHOLM ANON?? me: brings it up 24/7 and then me when anyone else brings it up: WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS

THE ANGST IS KILLING ME

side note, don’t refer to characters by their race/ethnicity, go with the thief, lady in red, the other girl etc

probably a typo but **their instead of they’re!

“AND WHAT IF I DON’T?” I AM INCONSOLABLE ANON I AM SO SCARED TO READ THE FULL THING WHEN YOU’RE DONE BUT I ALSO CAN’T WAIT AHHHHH THIS ANGST IS SOOO GOOD

thanks again for the submission 🥺💕 i hope my notes were okay!! this was such an emotional journey to read and now i’m going to be fueled by stockholm angst all day when writing <3

#asking carmen #gun mention #death mention

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millennial-star-gazer · 4 years ago

Text

A Fire Dragon, His Princess and The Not-So-Terrible Party Aftermath: Chapter: 1 (Nalu Week 2020)

A Fire Dragon, His Princess and The Not-So-Terrible Party Aftermath

Nalu week 2020 Prompts: Voice, Flirt, Charm & Smile(All implied)

Genres: Romance, Humor, New Adult Fanfiction

Pairing: Nalu/Endlu (Natsu x Lucy & E.n.d. Natsu x Lucy)

Rating: M for language, steamy and mature/adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Discretion is advised.(You've been warned!)

Summary: God knows it was all fun and games at an outdoor guild party until a drinking contest results in a not-so-great time for a certain celestial wizard much to the dismay of a protective dragon slayer and company. Even worse is Lucy's hangover with some kind of mild flu and busted ankle to boot . At least a doting Natsu is more-than-willing to provide his mate plenty of TLC. One of my entries for @nalu-week 2020 and part of the Nalu-centric anthology series The Dragon Demon and His Celestial Princess anthology series (slight au/ canon divergent).

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Chapter 1: A Worthwhile Distraction

A/N: Hey guys, it's me again with my third entry for @nalu-week 2020 in the form of a new story and is also part of The Dragon Demon and His Celestial Princess anthology (TDDAHCP); series which is set shortly after the events of 100 years quest with said quest being completed in a matter of weeks or a few months (hence why it's slight au/canon divergent). Special thanks to @mannyegb again for helping me to edit and further develop this chapter. Now without further ado, here's the story-enjoy!

Scroll Down Past The Read More Button/cut for designated links and the actual chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fairytail which instead belongs to the one and only Hiro-sensei instead!

Read More of This Fic and on other Platforms

Note: Copy and paste links into another browser tap if reading on desktop site

1. A Fire Dragon, His Princess and The Not-So-Terrible Party Aftermath

A. Tumblr

Chapter: 1 Next (Chapter) (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/624773467606319105/a-fire-dragon-his-princess-and-the)

B. Fanfiction (Click Here:) (or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13623735/1/A-Fire-Dragon-His-Princess-and-The-Not-So-Terrible-Party-Aftermath)

C. A03 (Click Here:) ( or here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24802591/chapters/59983813)

3. Master Post Of All My Writing And Profiles (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179665258923/master-fic-rec-post)

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Legend

Italics: Fantasy, flashback & literary/ song quotes

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics: empathized word

Bolded Italics: outside of main story): A/N

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" The friction between my words and your fantasy is making the atmosphere erotic."

(Soraya Marcelo: Twitter)

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"There you go baby - everything's ready now. It should be perfect for tonight. A guild picnic at dusk and bonfire under the stars, was it?"

"Yep, that's what Mira told us. Even said so on the Magicbook * page for the event. My friends from other guilds like Sabertooth will be attending too— a bunch responded."

"Awesome baby!"

"It really is. Thanks for helping me get ready by the way, Cancer!"

"Anytime. Have fun tonight!"

"Will do— thank you! "

"All right-catch you later, baby!"

"See ya!"

" Wow—- You look beautiful, Luce."

Natsu's arms encircled Lucy's waist from behind with the soft pressure of his lips on her shoulder; which sent a tingly shiver down her spine.

"Not that ya' didn't before. He amended, a fond smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Not to mention those striking emerald eyes the celestial mage could drown in. "You always do."

Major fan of this whole look.

"I still can't believe I got such a gorgeous angel as my mate and queen. How am I this lucky?"

"Dunno. How'd you ever get so sentimental?" Lucy shot back, a teasing lilt to her words. (She couldn't help but lean back into his arms ). "If Gray could only hear you now ...but yeah, I really like all this too ."

Golden half-braided hair framed the face of Lucy's reflection in a floral-mini, skater dress; who was gazing back through a mirror. Topping the whole ensemble together was a pair of Grecian-style wedges on her feet that were to die for.

"Still can't believe you're officially mine" the dragon slayer breathed, voice thick with reverent awe. "I love you so much."

"L-love you too... hmm."

The celestial wizard let out a soft hum of bliss from the peppering of feathery-light kisses on her neck leading to her collarbone just after a nuzzle.

"Y-You trying to distract me Natsu?" she inquired, voice coming out as breathy to her own ears. God, the sensation of Natsu's scorching lips on the celestial mage's creamy skin was scattering all train of thought— almost too much to handle!

It's really hard to think right now...

"Hmm.. just maybe I am, sweetheart," came the dragonslayer's reply, timbre, a languid drawl against her skin. "Is it working?"

"Yes," was all Lucy could utter, eyes drifting shut from the sweep of his hand up the curve of her neck in a single caress. Oh and the appealing sensation of a blonde tendril being dragged through his deft fingers was an added bonus too!

"Good," The vibrations of the fire wizard 's throaty chuckle sent sparks ripping across the summoner's nerves; which effectively turned the celestial mage's knees to mush.

"That's what I was aiming for ."

"It is?"

"Yep. Did I mention how amazing you smell?" He rumbled, pulling another shiver out of his mate. "Your natural scent now permanently mixed with mine..."

Dear God, the enticing charisma of this man- so natural! Who was she deny the incredibly overpowering ecstasy exploding through her veins with how the demon hybrid's nose was pressed against the crook of her neck?.

"And is that a hint of jasmine perfume I'm catching a whiff of?"

"Mhmm..." Goddamn- how extremely apparent that Lucy was pretty much rendered incapable of forming any type of response other than a single ,answering hum.

"Thought so-pretty intoxicating if ya' ask me."

"Um..."

It was then Lucy couldn't help but wonder what Natsu's ultimate end game was. No doubt the man was successful in efforts to ensare her with his devilish charms— but where did he intend for it to all lead? Did any of his plans entail steamy kissing marathons on the couple's bed? Slow-burn love-making beneath the sheets, wild romps all over their apartment? Just what if it could be?

Holy hell— that pulsating of liquid heat pulsating that shot between to the keyholder's core from the scintillant flash of images flooding her mind .

Supple digits unzipping the back of her dress, an insatiable Natsu pinning her against a wall, being lightly tossed onto the bed by said dominant dragon slayer, all-too-welcome lips leaving a high-voltage trail of electricity down her bare form before...

"Crap... the time."

Just for that little fantasy bubble to burst once Natsu pulled away from Lucy; who bit back a noise of protest at the loss of contact.

"Eh sorry, Luce," he apologized, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "Didn't mean to lose track of the time like that. Either way, we should probably start heading over if we don't wanna be late."

"Okay..." Lucy let out a sigh, not able to stop the wave of mild disappointment from washing over her.

"Aw come on now, weirdo!" Natsu wheedled, light-hearted amusement coloring his tone. "No need to be so glum! Tonight's gonna be fun, remember?"

"I know." Lucy conceded, with a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Should be great to spend time with our friends from Fairytail and other guilds. " Her spirits couldn't help but be lifted by the pyro's sunny mood.

Him and that infectious grin of his...

"Great! That's the spirit!" He crowed , planting a light peck on Lucy's cheek;aka the reason for the slight flush of scarlet .

"Tonight's gonna be awesome !"

"It sure will ."

"Definitely!"

"Oh, and one more thing," Natsu paused to shoot Lucy a lingering glance. "Just a little tiny something."

" What that might be?"

"Your outfit. I was thinking that maybe it could use a little extra piece to complete the look? Like, say that necklace I gave you?"

" Oh… that gorgeous pendant? You know what, yeah! Great idea-Thanks Natsu!"

"My pleasure. And pretty sure I saw said pendant in your jewelry box. Lemme' grab it for you."

"Sure thing!"

"Great then- so it's settled!"

"You bet!"

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

A/N: Magicbook is a fictional social media app and site for all magic users and citizens in Earthland- aka the Fairytail equivalent of its counterpart in real life Facebook- in case anyone was wondering. Just a little sidenote about the chronological order for the timeline each fic in my TDDAHCP anthology series.

1. Fire And Gold(prequel)

2. Tantric Flames

3. A Dragon, His Princess and the Not-So Terrible Party Aftermath(this fic)

Figured I'd provide a little guide about the chronological order in terms of how each fic in this series takes place. Anyway, that's pretty much all for now until the next chapter. Hoped you enjoyed the first installment and please free to let me know what you think by dropping a review/comment!

Once again, don't forget to check out my other Nalu week entries along with the rest of my writing! Also be sure to stay tuned for chapter 3 of Fire and Gold which will be posted ASAP once I have a chance to finish the edits and format! Did I mention my other upcoming Nalu/FT projects in the works! Bet you're all fired now as Natsu would say! Oh and why not check out the rest of Nalu week submissions from the other incredibly talented writers and artists while you're at it? (Corresponding links to all my writing and profiles can be found above in this post, the navigation bar and bio if reading this on tumblr. Also on my respective FF and A03 accounts.) Thanks again to everyone for their incredible show of support ! Until next time-take care!

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pikapeppa · 4 years ago

Text

Professor Solas/Lavellan: Dreams

Chapter 15 of Inadvisable (professor Solas modern AU) is posted! Note: I didn’t post Chap 14 here on Tumblr because formatting/I’m lazy, so if you’re following from Tumblr, make sure you don’t miss that chapter!

In which Solas and Nare have a very productive supervisor meeting. UST ahoy. 😂 ~7000 words; read on AO3 instead.

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

- SOLAS -

Nare leaned away from Solas’s computer screen with a sigh. “... so after I tried for the fifth time to layer the colours and ended up with just a bunch of muddy-looking landscapes, I got fed up. That’s when I texted you.” She shot him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. Bothering you on a Sunday night like that.”

He gave her a gently chiding look over his reading glasses. “I told you, you are never a bother. But this is what I mentioned on Sunday. Layering is not as useful in oil painting as it is with watercolours.” He leaned back in his chair. “What could be helpful, however, is to carry over your gouache techniques instead of the watercolour techniques. Gouache is more opaque — closer in opacity to oils than watercolours, in any case, though the opacity is not nearly as…”

He trailed off in amusement. Nare’s face had fallen into an expression that was very reminiscent of a lightbulb turning on over a cartoon character’s head.

He smiled at her. “You see what I’m suggesting, don’t you?”

“I’ll just create the highlights after the fact,” she exclaimed. “I’ll add them at the end instead of working around the canvas to get the whites.”

“Yes, exactly,” Solas said.

She laughed and ran a hand over her ponytail. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that on my own. I’m an idiot.”

“Don’t insult yourself, Nare,” he said firmly. “It serves no purpose.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Sorry. It’s — it’s automatic. I don’t really mean it.”

He relaxed slightly, then tilted his head. “It is not often that a piece frustrates you to this degree, is it?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “I don’t usually start over this many times. Even if I’m not happy with a study, I always just finish it so I can start fresh on the next one.”

He looked at her in surprise. “You always finish your studies?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Even if I don’t like them, I… it’s hard for me to leave them unfinished.” She sighed and leaned back against his desk, and he studied her pensively for a moment. This was something he hadn’t known about her process, and it was certainly enlightening.

In truth, everything he had learned about Nare over the past two weeks was enlightening. In the space of a mere two weeks, Solas already felt like he was becoming well-versed in who she was. With every passing day, he learned more about what excited her and what made her nervous, the things she was most passionate about and the things that made her laugh.

And with every new thing he learned about her, he felt more… aligned with her than he had any right to feel, considering that they had known each other for less than a month. And it wasn’t just their increasingly lengthy supervisor-student meetings that were giving him these fascinating insights into who Nare was.

It was the texts. The insidious, unwise, inadvisable conversations by text message that Solas was incapable of cutting off, no matter that he ought to.

He was still trying to maintain a modicum of professional distance by not being the one to initiate the texts, but that didn’t change the fact that he was checking his phone more eagerly these days than he ever had in his life. In some small and admittedly deluded part of his mind, he had convinced himself that if he kept a small amount of distance, letting Nare be the one to initiate contact, he could maintain a veneer of innocence in this, despite his obvious culpability.

You are the only one who believes me to be a sweet talker. Should I insist on you having a little more discipline? Are you talking back to your supervisor?

His overly candid texts, his inappropriate innuendo-laced remarks, and worse yet, the voice memos...

He was making a mistake, and he knew it. But with every passing day, he found himself caring less and less. He had never texted anyone as often or in the same capacity as he texted with Nare. His texts with Abelas and Dorian were entirely professional, and his texts with Felassan were a bit more frequent and casual with occasional bouts of banter, but he’d never engaged in anything like the texted conversations he had with Nare. And their exchanges really felt like actual conversations. Solas had never realized that it was possible to have such in-depth conversations via text.

He had never realized how quickly the intimacy of a bond could be fostered by the simple medium of typed-out messages on his screen.

Solas forced his mind away from the idea of intimacy and bonds and removed his reading glasses. “Do you recall how in your portfolio submission for this program, I asked you not only to submit your best works, but the ones you consider to be your worst?”

“Yes,” she said.

He nodded. “Your weakest works still displayed good technical skills, and what you remarked on were the technical errors, which told me what you already know: you have a strong technical foundation — a very good handle on perspective, anatomy, colour theory and so on.” He set his glasses on the desk. “What I found interesting is what you didn’t point out in your own weakest pieces.”

Her expression became wary, as though she was afraid of what he would say. “What do you mean?”

“Your weakest pieces all had a stiffness to them,” he said. “A rushed but almost static feel, as though you were stuck on them in some way but forced yourself to finish them just for the sake of being able to say they were finished.”

Her face slackened with surprise. “You could tell that from looking at them?”

“Yes.”

“That’s…” She trailed off and stared at him. Her expression was shifting from surprise to an odd sort of melancholy, almost as though he’d exposed her in some way that she hadn’t expected to be exposed, and he watched her changing expression with some concern.

“Did I offend you?” he said softly.

“No,” she said quickly. “No, it’s not that. I’m just…” She licked her lips nervously. “None of my art professors before ever… remarked on that.”

He frowned slightly at this. “It appears quite obvious to me.”

She shot him a tiny smile, then took a deep breath and folded her arms as though she was cold. “So you could see from those bad pieces that I was struggling just to finish them?”

“Yes, I could,” he said. “Now, having become more familiar with your work and the way you think while you’re painting, I believe that those pieces are the result of you getting trapped in a certain mindset. It is almost like you fall into a groove with them, and you become too focused on finishing them rather than stepping back to re-evaluate their quality.”

She shrugged helplessly. “I get what you’re saying, but I just… I don’t like leaving things unfinished.”

“Studies are never meant to be finished,” he reminded her. “The entire point of a study is essentially to play. To figure out the bones of your piece and to problem-solve.” He frowned. “Your undergraduate art professors allowed you to finish your studies?”

She shrugged again. “They seemed to like it when I did. They thought the finished studies were good.”

“But you didn’t,” he said. It wasn’t a question; he knew she didn’t care for her own finished studies, which was why she had submitted them as her weakest pieces.

“No,” she said.

He frowned more deeply. “You should have trusted your own judgment in this matter.”

She gave him a small smile. “You’re saying I should have ignored the opinions of my professors?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Some professors have better opinions than others.”

She laughed. “I wonder where I can find a professor with a good opinion, then,” she said playfully.

Solas smiled in return, but he didn’t reply. Nare was half-sitting on his desk with her head tilted coquettishly, and he was visited by a heated — and very inappropriate — urge to seat her more firmly on the surface of his desk and to discipline her for her cheeky remark.

Ah yes, he would discipline her slowly. He’d strip off her pants and push her legs apart, and he’d run his tongue slowly and very teasingly along the insides of her thighs until she promised not to talk back to her supervisor anymore.

His cock stirred in his trousers, but he shunted the lustful thoughts away just as he had done every time they’d met in person for the past two weeks. His meetings and his seminar class with Nare were becoming a true test of his self-control. On the one hand, they were satisfyingly productive and intellectually stimulating; every time Solas saw Nare, she had read or watched at least one of his recommended resources, be it an article or a book chapter or a tutorial video, and the ensuing discussions they had were as satisfying as any that he had with any other scholar or artist at the university.

On the other hand, his treacherous lust-fuelled body was so attuned to her that he had to physically force himself not to reach for her whenever she was near.

Solas was torn: torn between his dual urges to discuss everything with her and to devour her. His only saving grace was the fact that he’d finally given in and allowed himself to fantasize about her when he touched himself — which he had being doing almost every night for the past two weeks, to his own mild disgruntlement.

He was sleeping very well, however, so he supposed he couldn’t complain.

“For what it is worth, my opinion is this,” he said. “It appears that you have gotten into a habit of making the completion of a piece your goal, and that you’ll drive toward completing a piece even if you are unsatisfied with it, or if you know something about the piece is off. But finishing a painting should not be your ultimate goal. What you should be striving for is to create something expressive — something that captures the feeling or the message that you intend to convey, whether the form of that creation is a completed painting or a half-finished study or a simple sketch.” He gave her a knowing look. “You should be striving to make something that brings you joy and satisfaction, Nare. Something you can take pride in. It is not enough to finish the piece if you did not derive any satisfaction from it.”

She smiled weakly. “I don’t know that concept artists or other professional artists would agree with you about that.”

He huffed in amusement. “You’re right. Felassan and I have had to agree to disagree about this matter. But to my understanding, you are not aiming to be a concept artist.”

“That’s true,” she said softly. She took a deep breath, then released it. “So instead of trying to always finish the piece, I should just… ask myself if I’m happy with it.”

“Exactly,” he said.

She nodded, then gave him a pleading look. “But I want the art to be good, though.”

“That’s what studies are for,” he reminded her. “Your other professors seem to have forgotten that, but the purpose of a study is to practice. To hone your technical skills as well as your ideas.”

“And what if I find myself grinding away at a piece even though I don’t like it?” she asked. “I should just… what, throw it away?”

He shook his head. “Don’t throw away unfinished pieces. Set them aside and come back to them. When inspiration leaves you dry, the best approach can often be to come back with a fresh perspective. Set the piece aside, focus on something else, let it live at the back of your mind. Then return to it when you are refreshed, even if returning to it means leaving it alone for years.”

“Years!” she exclaimed. “Have you ever left a piece to sit for years before coming back to it?”

“I have, in fact,” he said dryly. “So I believe my opinion about this matter is a valid one.”

She chuckled. “All right. I’m sorry, professor.”

His heart jolted at her playful — and provocative — use of the term. She smiled broadly at him, then exhaled and nodded. “Okay. I’ll work on just… putting things aside and coming back to them.” She smiled wryly. “I’m so impatient, though.”

“I’ll help to coach you in this,” he assured her. “I am very patient.”

“I hope that rubs off on me,” she said.

His belly flipped at the innuendo in her tone. His eyes locked onto hers, her brilliant oceanic eyes, and for a moment they just stood there, frozen in the forbidden but heated thrill that was building between them.

She was still leaning against his desk while he sat in his chair. In this pose, this tense and heated tableau they were locked into, Nare’s knee was nearly brushing his, and he wouldn’t even need to fully extend his arm to touch her. He could place his hand on her waist, brush his thumb over her hip, trail his fingers toward the fly of her pants and peel them open button-by-button until she was panting — all with barely having to try…

He abruptly stood up, then clasped his hands behind his back as he made his way around his desk. “As I mentioned on Sunday, I am happy to provide more hands-on instruction in oil painting techniques. Even one or two sessions could help to build your confidence with this medium.”

“I would love that,” she said. “When can we start? Where should we do the lessons?”

“I will have to check my schedule to determine the best time,” he said. “As for where: the university’s graduate studio would be most convenient. We can easily book a space.” Secretly, however, he was imagining her in his studio at his apartment. The thought of having Nare in his home, standing barefoot in front of an easel while he provided gentle guidance for her slender hands: the fantasy made him feel aroused and protective at the same time, as though he wanted to guard her from others while keeping her selfishly for his own, and he was grateful for the span of space between them as he wandered idly toward his bookshelves.

“The grad studio space sounds good,” she said. She started edging around to the front of his desk as well. “Or, um. I… Tamaris and I have a studio space at our apartment.”

He looked at her. Her expression was shy but hopeful, and when he met her eye, she ducked her head in that bashful way that always made him want to bend her over his desk.

She tucked a russet strand of hair over her ear and let out a little laugh. “That probably wouldn’t work, though. Tamaris uses that space most of the day for her tattoo clients and I don’t want to get in her way. But she, um, she also doesn’t work every day, she always picks a day of the week where she sees no clients, so we could always — I mean, you could come and — all my paints and supplies are already there…”

She was babbling. She looked up and met his eye again, then let out another self-deprecating laugh and rubbed her arms as though she was cold. “Never mind. It’s a dumb idea. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

Solas didn’t reply. Truly, in this moment, he was forcing himself not to speak or to move. The way her manner shifted so seamlessly from bold and flirtatious to bashful and demure was so… fenedhis, it was a perfect dichotomy, like two glimmering facets that melded so perfectly in this one beautiful young woman, and each side of her seemed to call to something different and complementary in the depths of his soul.

He wanted to teach her and to watch her bloom. He wanted to pin her down and make her beg. He wanted to protect her from any clumsy lovers who would fail her, and he wanted to imprint himself on her body so thoroughly that she would forget any other lovers who had come before.

Solas wanted Nare so badly that it was a physical ache, and with every passing beat of his heart, he had to remind himself of the ugly truth: he absolutely could not have her. He could banter with her and text her and savour the undeniable electricity between them, but at all costs, he needed to remember: Nare was not his to have.

He inhaled slowly through his nose to master himself. “Let us stick to the plan of booking a student space for this,” he said. “Teaching you at your home studio would be unwise.”

He regretted his word choice the moment it left his mouth: Nare straightened with interest. “Unwise? Why?”

Because I would be far too tempted to ravish you if we were alone, he thought. “Not unwise,” he amended quickly. “Inappropriate.”

Her hopeful expression became playful. “What, you’ve never taught any other students at their studios at home?”

He gave her a chiding look, even as his heart swelled with a heated sort of amusement. Shy one moment and cheeky the next… she was such an irreverent little vixen.

“I haven’t,” he said calmly. “But you are the first fine arts graduate student I have had since I began working at the University of Orlais.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding! Why? There must have been tons of students who wanted to work with you.”

“None that met my standards,” he said. “Felassan says my standards are frighteningly high. And that is not sweet talking, as you would say,” he added wryly. “That is the simple truth.” He paced slowly in front of his bookshelf as he went on. “You are already a very good artist, Nare. With some tutelage and guidance, I have no doubt that you will be exceptional.”

She smiled shyly and sat on the couch. “How can you have such faith in me when I don’t have that kind of faith in myself?”

“Many of the finest artists are shackled by self-doubt and uncertainty,” he replied. “The artists who succeed are the ones who channel that uncertainty into a drive to improve their work.”

“So do you think it’s good that I’m always criticizing myself?”

“Your self-criticism can go one of two ways,” he explained. “It can become a weight that prevents you from progressing, or it can become an objective lens that will drive you to improve for the rest of your life. As objective a lens as there can be when it comes to art, at least,” he added with a small smile.

“You won’t let me get weighed down by my doubts, will you?” she asked.

He paused in his pacing and faced her. “I will not let that happen, Nare,” he said seriously. “Do not worry about that.”

“I’m not worried,” she said. “I trust you.”

I trust you. Her words were simple and guileless, but for some reason, they hit him like a bolt of emotion straight to the gut. For her to say that to him so easily and so quickly, with such perfect sincerity, even though they had known each other for less than a month…

She let out another breathy little laugh and nervously adjusted her bracelets. “Honestly, I… I trust your judgment more than… more than any other professor I’ve ever had.”

He swallowed hard. “I am honoured by your trust,” he said quietly.

Her answering smile was sweet, and Solas admired her with a mixture of lust and regret and inexplicable tenderness — tenderness that he absolutely should not be feeling for his student, but which had burst upon him nevertheless, like a sunshower that he had been both unable and unwilling to avoid.

For a long, suspended moment, neither of them spoke. And in this tense and electric moment, Solas swore to himself that he would never betray Nare’s trust, no matter what happened.

Nare was the one to break the silence. “We spend so much time talking about my work,” she said. “I’d love to hear about yours. Are you working on any paintings right now?”

He relaxed, grateful for the innocuous change of subject. “I’m afraid to admit that I’m not.”

“You aren’t?” she said.

He smirked. “There’s no need to look at me like that. I realize the irony.”

She chuckled. “As long as you realize it. What have you been sketching or drawing, then?”

He smiled at her. In one of their meetings, he had told her that he drew or sketched every day even when he wasn’t actively painting, and he was flattered that she had remembered that little detail of his routine.

He shrugged and resumed his slow pacing. “I haven’t drawn anything worth showing lately,” he said — a near-lie, unfortunately. In truth, he’d been refining the sketch of the eager hands in the hopes of turning it into a fully-finished drawing. It would be the first realistic anatomical drawing he had done in several years. But he was keeping this particular piece to himself for now.

Nare gave him a skeptical look. “Oh come on, I don’t believe that. Your sketchbook must be full of amazing work.”

“I don’t use a sketchbook,” he replied.

Her eyes widened. “Wait, really? What do you sketch on, then?”

“I draw on loose cardstock,” he said. “I dislike being constrained by the binding of a sketchbook or the height of a stack of pages. It interferes with the positioning of my hand.”

She beamed at him, and the warmth in her expression lifted an answering warmth in his belly. “What amuses you?” he said softly.

“It’s just such a specific preference,” she said. “Like a special quirk.” She tilted her head. “I like knowing special little things about you.”

He huffed and rubbed his chin. “Then perhaps you’ll be entertained to hear about the shelf of haphazardly stacked cardstock sketches in my studio at home.”

“You’re kidding!” she exclaimed. “What, just piled on a shelf?”

“Yes,” he said with a small smile. “It’s quite a mess.”

She giggled and eyed his less-than-organized desktop. “That actually doesn't surprise me.”

He playfully lifted one eyebrow. “That’s disrespectful.”

“I’m sorry, professor,” she said, equally playfully. “Are your loose sketches dated, at least?”

He winced, and Nare laughed again. “No! That’s really terrible!”

He chuckled. “Athera would be horrified if ever she saw my shelf of sketches.”

“She would!” Nare agreed. “It would be a nightmare for her. I wouldn’t mind helping you to organize your shelves, though.”

Solas carefully maintained his pleasantly neutral expression. This was not the first time Nare had hinted at wanting to see his apartment, and every time she did, he got a thrill at the thought �� and immediately changed the subject to stop himself from inviting her over like he so desperately wanted to do.

“That’s a kind thought,” he said. “At any rate, to answer your original question: no, I’m not working on any serious painted pieces at the moment.”

“How come?” she said. “Haven’t you been having interesting dreams?”

“My dreams have been a bit light on inspiration as of late,” he said. “Luckily, I keep a journal to jot down my more interesting dreams so I can come back to them when I am lacking in new ideas.”

Her eyes widened in wonder. “You have a dream diary?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I’d love to see it,” she said eagerly.

He hesitated. “Well, it’s… rather private,” he hedged. Few people knew about his dream journal — only Felassan and Abelas and a couple of others — and none had ever asked to see it before. But the thought of showing something so private to Nare was dangerously tempting.

She pulled a little face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I’m honoured by your interest. It’s… uncommon to receive this much interest in my process.”

“That makes sense, if you haven’t had an art student in so long,” she said knowingly. “I bet any fine art student would be really interested in your process.”

“Your interest is what pleases me,” he said without thinking.

A flush lit her cheeks, and the flare of hope in her eyes was so obvious and so beautiful that it made him feel like he was falling off of a cliff.

He hastily changed the subject. “I would be happy to share some of my more interesting dreams. The ones that I can recall, at least.”

She straightened. “Really? I’d love that!”

“All right,” he said. He leaned against the edge of his desk and folded his arms. “There was one dream I had of late: a figure so striking that I was forced to rise from my bed to sketch it out.” He tilted his head. “The Dalish tell tales of spirits, yes?”

“Yes, we do,” she said. She gestured at her face. “In Dalish traditions, our vallaslin was meant to help us connect with the spirit world.”

He nodded slowly. “The spirit world of which you speak is likely different from our Arlathani lore, but I suspect that our stories share their bones. In any case, the striking figure from my dream was a spirit that I call the Shadow Goddess.” He narrowed his eyes and tried to remember the details of the elusive dream. “Hidden by a cloak of the deepest black, she walked the Fade along the southern tundra — weeping, lonely, and forgotten. More than that, I couldn’t tell; I woke before her story could unveil itself to me. But the essence of her tale still lingers in my mind: a loneliness so dark and deep that even light was chased away by her endless solitude.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Nare spoke. “Solas, that’s… so sad.”

Her voice was small and slightly breathless. When Solas met her eye, it was to find her looking very serious, but also somehow… on edge. Not nervous, not afraid, but still on edge somehow.

“It was a very sad dream, yes,” he said softly. “You can see why I haven’t been able to bring myself to paint it yet.”

She nodded. “I can’t decide if I’d want to see it painted or not.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” he asked.

A tiny frown creased her brow. “If it meant you had to be that sad to paint it? I would never want you to be that sad.”

He smiled faintly. “I suppose you have a point. I should be grateful that I have not yet had the heart to paint the lonely Shadow Goddess.”

She nodded, then leaned forward a little bit. “Can you tell me another dream?”

“Certainly,” he said. “Let me try and recall another.” He stepped away from his desk and sat on the other end of the couch. “There was one dream I had — a dream inspired, in fact, by an article I read in an Elvhen history journal.”

“An article? Really?”

He nodded. “The article was about the ruins of ancient Arlathan. When finally I went to sleep, my sleeping mind was mired among the burning ruins of the ancient city.” He crossed his ankle over his knee. “Marble towers and arches stretched above my head, higher than the eye could see, but all of it grew black with ash: the burnt remains of a once-grand home, unable to stop its own demise.”

She nodded and let out a slow and slightly shaky exhale, and Solas frowned. “Nare, are you all right?” he said. Her expression was still serious, but she looked even more tense than before. Her knees were pressed together, and her fingers were clenched in the leather seat of his couch.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “I, um… your dreams are always so sad.”

He studied her carefully as he replied. “This dream wasn’t sad, in fact. It was filled with rage.”

“Rage? Why?”

“It is commonly believed that ancient Arlathan was burned during the old wars between Arlathan and Tevinter,” he said. “But the article I read revealed the truth: the city had been burnt before those wars had even reached their heights — burnt from within by its own people.”

Her eyes widened with surprise, but Solas couldn't help but notice that the tips of her ears were pink, almost as though she was getting flushed.

Curious now, he went on. “Rage was what defined my dream. The blackened ash that stained the stones and hid the beauty of old Arlathan: marks of rage, brought upon the city by its own forgotten people.”

She inhaled slowly through her parted lips, and Solas’s own breath stalled in his chest as he watched her. She was shifting subtly on the couch, arching her spine and brushing her knees together in a distinctly restless way…

He suddenly realized what was going on.

Her tense posture on his couch. Her request to hear more of his dreams, and her shameless texted requests for voice memos. Her precious confession, saved in his phone, that ‘I really like your voice’...

The realization hit him like a thunderclap — an incredible, terrible, maddening thunderclap.

She was getting aroused.

She nibbled her lower lip — fenedhis, it wasn’t fair, he wanted to be the one to nibble that lip — then she looked him in the eye. “Can you tell me another?”

He stared at her, stunned with wonder. Nare was turned on by the sound of his voice. And by requesting more stories, she was shamelessly asking him to arouse her even more.

This was bad. He should say no. He ought to say no. He knew exactly how dangerous this was for them both, and it was his responsibility to say no.

But that smug and foolish sense of pride was unfurling through his limbs again, taking control of his body and making him shift slightly closer to her on the couch.

He lowered his voice. “I will tell you one last dream,” he said.

She nodded. “Yes please,” she breathed.

Yes, please. Ah, to hear her say this in a much more intimate context — and with considerably fewer clothes between them…

He leaned back and draped his arm along the back of the couch. “This final dream I’ll share with you was about a garden,” he said quietly. “Flowers bloomed across a vast expanse, stretching far into the haze of a horizon that my eyes could not perceive. But these flowers were unlike any I have ever seen. And this, I admit, is why my hand has never given shape to this particular dream: the flowers in this garden were so strange and foreign that I couldn’t hope to replicate their likeness.”

He paused for a moment to study her. Her eyes were half-closed and her lips slightly parted, and a rush of nearly-vicious desire fanned through his body. The look on her face right now, this look of languorous and shameless desire: how many times had he imagined such a beautiful expression on her face? How many times had he imagined seeing her look like this while he stretched her arms above her head, while he dipped his fingers between her legs, while he whispered soft and heated words into her ear — not unlike what he was nearly doing now?

Her eyelashes fluttered for a moment, then lifted as she turned her head to look at him. “Please,” she said. “Can you tell me more?”

Please. Such a simple and innocent word, but in Nare’s husky voice, it sounded anything but innocent.

He hesitated before speaking, however. There was, in fact, more to this particular dream that he could tell her, but he knew he shouldn't.

And for that reason, his contrary and lustful lips opened to tell her anyway. “At first, the garden was like any other: rich in colour and pleasing to the eye,” he said. “But as I waited in that garden, I discovered that those blooms were not just simple static flowers. With every breath that filled my lungs, the flowers seemed to pulse and sway. Their pulsing was… familiar somehow, like a song I had once known and had forgotten: the heartbeat of a foreign place, made familiar again by the whims of my sleeping mind.” He leaned toward her slightly and lowered his voice a little more. “I felt myself begin to wake, but I wasn’t ready to rise yet from that strange and familiar dream. I remained in that garden, feeling the pleasing floral beat as it swelled inside my chest, and when finally I woke…” He trailed off. This whole suggestive story was leading toward one conclusion, and it was a conclusion that he didn’t dare verbalize to her, not even with this misplaced cocky pride that had taken control of his tongue.

She gazed at him, her expression avid with curiosity and desire. “What happened when you woke up?” she asked.

He raised his eyebrows, and her eyes went very wide. “You — did you, um…” Her eyes darted to the bulge at his crotch, and Solas felt himself throbbing as though his cock was summoned by the heat of her gaze.

Her eyes returned to his face, and she swallowed hard before speaking again. “Did you have to take a shower when you woke up?” she whispered.

“I’m afraid so,” he said, very quietly.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh gods. Um, that’s…” She clenched her fingers on her thighs, then pressed her knuckles to her mouth, and Solas studied her very obvious reaction with all the ravenous hunger of a wolf studying its mouth-watering prey.

Nare closed her eyes, and for a long, delicious, endless minute, Solas stared at her while she dragged in a series of deep and tremulous breaths. Her knuckles were pressed to her lips as though to muffle herself, and her other hand was clenched on her thigh, and Solas wished that he could push her hand away and replace it with his own.

But he didn’t reach for her. He didn’t shift any closer to her on the couch. He stayed exactly where he was, still and unmoving with one arm draped casually along the back of the couch. For all that he craved her, for all the lust that was howling in his blood as he studied Nare’s arched spine and her fiery red hair that he longed to wrap his hands in, he couldn’t bring himself to touch her first.

If she touched him, however…

Fenedhis, he didn’t know what he would do. At this particular moment, he was fairly sure that the mere brush of her finger on his knee would be enough to make him pounce.

I can’t, he thought desperately. With an enormous effort of will, he forced himself to stand. “Well, I hope that this meeting gives you enough guidance to try again with your study,” he said briskly. “And I will certainly email you about a time for us to meet at the studio for a lesson.”

She lowered her hand from her lips and looked at him, and he very nearly quailed. The look in her eyes, the sheer uninhibited lust and pleading in her beautiful face: her expression was exactly as he’d always imagined — no, it was better than he’d imagined. Both better and worse, if he was honest. The naked desire in her face was better than he’d imagined, because it was real: it was real and true, tangible and visible proof that the way he felt for her was mutual and shared.

And it was worse than he’d imagined, because this incredible feeling was completely forbidden.

She tilted her head pleadingly. “Solas, please…”

Please. He couldn’t bear to hear this word from her, because it was exactly what he wanted to hear.

He shook his head slightly — both for his own sake and hers. “That’s enough for now, Nare,” he said. “Come.” He made his way over to his office door and waited for her to rise.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then exhaled heavily and stood up from the couch. She adjusted her purse on her shoulder as she joined him at the door, and when she reached for the doorknob, he was torn between relief and a very visceral sense of loss.

She paused and looked up at him. “So I’ll… I’ll see you on Thursday morning, then?” she said breathlessly. “For our usual meeting?”

He smiled, genuinely amused despite his horrible desire. “You’re forgetting about our seminar this afternoon.”

Her jaw dropped, and she burst into laughter. “Oh no, I did!” she exclaimed. “We really are fated to keep forgetting about the seminar!”

He grinned and clasped his hands behind his back. “To date, you have forgotten more often than I.”

“It’s not my fault!” she protested.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting that I’m to blame for your poor memory?”

She laughed again, then gave him a sly smile. “Not for my poor memory, no,” she said quietly. “For your sweet talking.”

He huffed, but her words gave him a little pang of guilt. Now that the worst of his prideful lust was starting to abate, the reasonable part of his mind was growing louder and clamouring at him for his extremely irresponsible behaviour just now.

He bowed his head. “You are probably right. I should curb my tendency to talk at such length.”

To his delight and his deep dismay, she took a little step closer to him. “Or maybe I should try some sweet talking of my own,” she murmured.

His semi-calm cock instantly hardened once more, but he forced his expression to remain neutral. “I wouldn’t advise that,” he said.

“Why not?” she asked.

He gazed into her eyes: her bold and beautiful cerulean eyes, bright with laughter and mischief — provocative eyes to go along with her provocative smile…

Provoked by Nare’s taunting, his barely-leashed sense of lustful pride reared its head once more. He took a step closer to her, and her eyes widened.

Then he took another step closer to her still, and another, and then she was backed against the office door while Solas loomed over her.

He placed one palm carefully on the door beside her head. “You know exactly why,” he said, very quietly.

She didn’t reply. Her eyes were huge and feverishly hot, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed. Beautiful, he thought dizzily. Nare was beautiful and lustful and brilliant, and most strange and unfathomable of all, she wanted him. But… fenedhis, this was utterly and completely inadvisable, and they both knew it.

She nervously licked her lips, and Solas’s gaze helplessly dropped to her mouth. She lifted her chin—

Someone knocked on the door.

They both jumped, and Solas hastily stepped away from her. “Just a moment,” he called. “I’m finishing a meeting.”

“All right,” Abelas replied through the door.

Solas exhaled through his pounding heart and looked at Nare. She was covering her mouth with both hands, and her eyes were huge.

He gave her a reassuring look. “Be calm, Nare,” he whispered. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

She nodded and took a few slow breaths, and Solas carefully backed away from her. A tense moment later, she lowered her hands and gave him a sheepish but beautiful smile. “I’ll see you later,” she whispered.

He nodded, then smoothed a hand over his scalp before gesturing politely at the door. Nare opened the door and smiled at Abelas as she stepped out of the office.

“Hi, Professor Abelas,” she said politely, and Solas felt a completely unreasonable rush of possessiveness. He was feeling jealous about Nare calling Abelas by his own title? He must be going mad.

Abelas nodded to her. “Nare,” he greeted. He stepped into Solas’s office and held out an envelope. “Tamlen gave this to me by mistake.”

“Ah,” Solas said. He took the envelope and carefully did not watch Nare as she walked away. “Is that all?”

Abelas nodded briskly. “I’ll be leaving the office for an early lunch. I’ll go straight to my one o’clock meeting when I am finished.”

Solas raised his eyebrows, actually distracted by this surprising news. “You’re leaving the office for lunch? Is there a lecture happening somewhere?”

“No,” he said. “It is a working lunch. A last-minute arrangement.”

“Ah,” Solas said. “My condolences.” He was well aware of Abelas’s distaste for last-minute plans. “You couldn’t turn it down?”

“Apparently not,” Abelas said ruefully. “I will see you later.” He turned away to return to his office, and Solas closed his office door.

He made his way over to his desk, then plopped down in his chair with a sigh and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He really must be going mad. Allowing himself to be provoked by Nare’s subtly arched spine and her soft little murmurs of please, telling her tales about his dreams even though he knew that his voice was riling her up, pinning her against the door and staring at her lips like a mindless lustful fool…

He rubbed his face, then straightened in his chair and clicked his mouse. He opened his documents and forced himself to concentrate on the article he’d been translating from Elvhen to common, but even as he worked on his translation, part of his mind was greedily running through his meeting with Nare, picking out the most deliciously suggestive things she’d said and done and storing them away for later when he was alone.

Her coquettish smile… Solas, please.. The arch in her spine as she sat on his couch… Maybe I should try some sweet talking of my own… The heated, feverish, pleading look in her eyes as he pinned her back against the door…

He cock throbbed insistently in his pants. He sighed and ignored it, then went back to tapping away at his keyboard.

Nare’s degree was going to be a very long two years.

#solas #solavellan #professor solas #professor solas au #inadvisable #pikapeppa writes

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teentitansheadcanons · 4 years ago

Note

Hey so my last response to your response to my ask doesn't seem to have came through so I'll just summarize it here: If those headcanons don't count as pairing bashing, what does? Because I know that when you are basically calling the pairing dumb and the shippers stupid than I'd argue that you're long since crossed the line so if you wouldn't mind explaining to me what you consider pairing bashing/ the line between it and a difference of ships (preferably with examples) than that'd be great!

Hey, sorry for the wait! I struggle with clarifying things sometimes, I’ve been busy and tired lately, and I wanted to make sure I had my thoughts together before I replied. Especially because you do make a valid point.

You said you blocked this blog, so I don’t even know if you’re going to see this? Tumblr won’t notify you. And, well, I won’t apologize for having a life outside of this blog. But let’s address your question. I’m not here to change your mind (nobody can change anyone’s mind if they aren’t open to their mind being changed, you know), but there is a rationale behind the stance I’ve taken as a moderator.

To me, ship bashing is more of an attack on the fans who ship it from other shippers, rather than a reaction from the fictional characters involved. Ship bashing isn’t just saying “Robin and Raven don’t get why people ship them”, it’s a sort of action taken by people of the fandom directly to other real people. Take, for instance, a fan who ships BBRae sending us an ask that actually says “fans who ship RobRae are stupid”. It’s not really a headcanon, it doesn’t really attack the ship itself but the people who do the shipping, and it’s just mean.

Saying “the characters don’t Like each other like that” is a headcanon. It deals with the characters. It isn’t an attack on a real person. It’s literally just a difference of opinion on how the characters feel about being in a relationship with someone. Same for “[x] and [y] don’t get why people ship them”. Same for “[x] and [y] are disgusted by [z] ship”. It’s an opinion of how the fictional characters interact with the abstract idea of a relationship.

Ship bashing is a direct attack on a real, living person. A fictional character disagreeing with other fictional people in a fictional world isn’t someone coming into our ask box to say “anyone who ships robrae is an idiot”. I have had to delete messages like that in the past, so I do hold that stance very strongly. I’ve seen a lot of asks trying to start ship wars here, and I’m not gonna let that hapen.

However, the rules do say “no ship bashing” regarding the submissions. It’s not just attached to the ask box, so that’s something to consider.

But even more than that, I’ve been following the precedents set by the previous mods on this blog. This blog was around for a good long while before I joined. The archive goes all the way back to July 2012! I didn’t become a mod until March 2016. There were a good 4 or 5 thousand submissions already here before I joined. I think the founder was the one who wrote those rules, accepted those headcanons, queued and formatted them, and in all of that, must have consciously decided that these were not ship bashing.

So that’s how I’ve rationalized it.

Update: I went back through my messages to the mod who added me to the blog, and his instructions to me included “if they submit anti ship headcanons then just tag them as anti-” so that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.

But you’re right in that some of the anti-ship posts are, well, not fun for shippers. I do understand that.

So here’s a question to our followers:

Are you guys uncomfortable with submissions that say “[character] doesn’t like [ship]”? Or do you think submissions like that should be allowed? Ultimately, this blog is here for the fandom, so I think the fandom’s voices at large should inform how we deal with this going forward rather than one single individual.

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ellewritesfix05 · 4 years ago

Text

Beyond the Sea

Characters: Dean, Sam, Cas, Marlin, Dory, Crush, Squirt, Fluke, OFC Oliver

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: Weird shenanigans (I guess?) This is fairly PG

A/N: This fic is written as my submission for @deanwanddamons and @impala-dreamer ‘s “I Do Understand That Reference” Challenge. It was super fun and quite challenging to write but I sure hope y’all like it!

Here’s my full Masterlist if you’d like to read more!☺️

Dean opened his eyes slowly, head throbbing with the sound of his own heartbeat ringing in his ears. As his eyesight regained focus, Dean noticed that he was surrounded by what seemed to be brightly colored trees. Except these trees were moving - no, swaying.

Even though it was somewhat dark, he could see light streaks around him, almost as if there was a plastic film across his eyes. Confused, Dean tried to get up from the cold, bumpy surface upon which he found himself only to fall sideways as his legs gave way to a gentle, wave-like motion underneath him. He looked down at his feet only to find that they weren’t there. In fact, Dean could see no body parts at all. Patting himself down, Dean realized that his body felt quite round and slimy, a feeling that reminded him of days off at the lake, fishing with Sam. Eyes widened in realization, Dean looked down at his hands only to see two large orange fins staring back at him. He flapped them around frantically, suddenly propelled off the hard floor.

Dean looked to his surroundings once more, the swaying anemones and brightly colored corals confirming his feared suspicion.

A fish; somehow, somewhere, Dean had been turned into a fish.

24 hours earlier

“I don’t know, Sam. This feels too clean to be witches, we haven’t found any hex bags and the vic isn’t spewing gross bodily fluids,” said Dean, running a hand down his face in frustration.

“True, but what else can make a person stuff themselves with popcorn to death? It’s not like famine is back, and even if it was, we have his ring. No way he could do something like this without it,” replied Sam, “Maybe we missed something, why don’t we go back to the theater tonight, it’ll be less crowded so we can do a better hex bag sweep.”

“Fine, but I still don’t think it’s witches,” Dean grumbled under his breath.

Later that night, the brothers headed down to the local movie theater where the security guard had been found dead, belly full of popcorn. Upon arrival, they got out of the Impala, Dean still muttering about his disbelief in witches being to blame for the guard’s death. Walking across the street to the neon-lighted entrance, Sam and Dean looked around the vicinity in search of any unusual activity. Sam stopped in his tracks and motioned at Dean towards a dark figure entering the theater from a side door. Quickly, the brothers headed to the door, glancing around to make sure no one saw them. Once inside, they split ways to each take a row of auditoriums looking for the mysterious individual that had snuck into the building before them, Dean taking the rooms to the right while Sam checked the rooms to the left.

A soft whistle caught Dean’s attention. He turned around to see his little brother pointing at the entrance of an auditorium adorned with a light blue frame, signaling the movie showing as Finding Nemo. Dean rolled his eyes and walked over to Sam, both entering the room as inconspicuous as possible to avoid attracting attention from the scattered crowd inside. As they walked down the dimly-lit aisle, Sam touched Dean’s arm and pointed at a person in the very front row, doubled over the seat as if holding on to their stomach. The brothers approached the figure slowly, not wanting to give away their presence when a bright blue flash illuminated the entire auditorium. Sam and Dean covered their eyes with their arms, a cold wetness overtaking them being the last thing they felt.

Present time

Coming to terms with his predicament, Dean flapped his fins gently to propel himself forwards, finding Sam the only goal in mind.

“Sam!” Dean hollered, “Sammy!”

He swam his way past the anemones and corals, following the strange rock beneath him until he came to a large blue emptiness just past the cliff created by the far end of the rock.

“Dean?” said a squeaky voice behind him, “Dean, is that you?”

Dean turned around to see a small clownfish staring back at him, “Sammy? Why do you sound like that?”

“Why do I sound like what? Dean, what the hell is going on?” said the tiny fish.

“I think you were right. I think the dude in the theater was a freakin’ witch and it looks like we’ve been turned into fish. And your voice dude, you sound like a scared mouse,” replied Dean.

“Have you heard yours, Louis Armstrong?” said clownfish-Sam in a sassy tone.

“What? My voice is fine. Whatever, how the hell are we supposed to get out of… whatever this is?”

“Honestly? No idea, but I might know where to-” Sam stopped suddenly as the sea around them turned pink, large creatures with long, slimy tentacles surrounding them completely.

“Are those…” Dean started.

“Jellyfish,” confirmed Sam. They turned around, backs to each other, taking in the gravity of the situation. Dean reached out behind him, gently pulling a much smaller Sam under his fin to protect him from the deadly stingers.

Frantically looking around to find a way out, Dean saw a flash of blue and orange to his right. Faint sounds of a conversation alerted him to the fact that they were not alone in the jellyfish forest.

“Boing! Boing, boing, boing!” sang a quirky, yet familiar, voice.

“Dory!” said the accompanying raspy voice.

Dory? Dean thought to himself, realization hitting him like a freight train.

“Sam… I think we’re in Finding Nemo,” Dean whispered. Coming out from under his fin, Sam looked up to his brother in confusion.

“What? Dean, this isn’t the time for your crappy jokes. We’re going to die stung by jellyfish!”

“Shh.. listen!” said Dean, placing a fin over Sam’s mouth. Swallowing his protest, Sam focused on the sounds around him and heard the voices his brother was talking about.

“‘Cause you’re about to eat my bubbles!” someone yelled in the distance.

“Sam, there’s no time to explain. Just trust me on this; I need you to follow me, hop on the tops of the jellyfish and avoid the tentacles at all costs, got it?” Dean ordered his little brother.

Sam nodded, and Dean twirled to face the direction in which they had seen the other clownfish zoom past. Taking a deep breath, Dean looked back at his brother one last time before propelling himself toward the top of the jellyfish in front of them. Bouncing off the soft, spongy surface Dean jumped forward, closely followed by Sam. From one jellyfish to the next, fear of electrocution pushed to the back of their minds, Sam and Dean hopped towards the edge of the jellyfish forest. Although they had started slowly, trying to avoid the tentacles, the brothers soon found themselves zooming past the pink creatures, laughter emanating from their gills as panic turned to thrill, feeling like children in a bouncy castle.

Before they realized, the brothers were out of the forest, wide smiles on their faces as they took in large gulps of sea water in relief. Coming down from an adrenaline high, Dean looked to his surroundings hoping to see the fish they had heard earlier. He felt Sam’s small fin touch his own and turned around to see him looking up astonished. Dean followed Sam’s gaze and saw a large current, although that was clearly not what had caught his little brother’s attention. In fact, Sam was focused on the hundreds of sea turtles the current was carrying. Dashing past at impossible speeds, the turtles smiled and waved at the brothers; some seeming as big as space shuttles in comparison to their own measly clownfish sizes.

Snapping out of the shock and awe at the view, Dean looked down to see a rock formation peppered with sea cucumbers and other small sea creatures. He was about to suggest following the turtles’ path to Sam when a deep voice coming from the rock formation caught their attention.

“Dean? Sam? Is that you?” said familiarly gravelly voice.

“Cas?” both brothers replied, looking for the source of the questions.

“Yes. I’m down here,” said Cas. Sam and Dean swam down towards the rock, looking for their friend, “Not that way, over here to your right”

The brothers stopped in their tracks when they found their friend, disbelief in their faces.

“Cas? Uh, are you a clam?” Sam asked the old, rusty-looking creature in front of them.

“Uh, I suppose I am. I cannot see myself in this form,” said the clam, jaws opening and closing comically as it spoke.

Unable to control their reaction, the Winchester brothers burst out in laughter, copious amounts of water entering their mouths.

“This isn’t funny. I need to give you a message before the connection breaks. I’m burning through a significant amount of my already-limited grace to talk to you,” Clam-Cas said frustrated. Clearing their throats, the brothers looked at each other, then to the talking clam.

“Sorry, Cas. It’s a bit funny,” Dean chuckled, “do you know where we are though? How do we get back home?”

“I need you to listen very carefully, although some of what I say won’t make much sense.” replied Cas, “It seems you’ve been cursed by a very powerful witch who has transported you into some sort of alternate reality. I believe you’re currently experiencing events from a children’s film. I can pull you back but only from certain frames in the film, so I need you to get yourselves to a place called Sydney, in Australia I believe. Once there, head towards the opera house where I’ll be able to retrieve you.”

“You must hurry,” Cas continued “it’s a very limited window of opportunity and if I don’t get to you in time you may be lost to me forever”

“Great, tell us how to get there,” said Sam.

“That I do not know,” replied Castiel “you must figure it out on your own.”

Dean looked to his brother, determination on his face, “Don’t worry Sammy, I got this.”

“Perfect, I will meet you at the rendezvous point,” said Cas.

“Wait, wait, wait Cas,” said Dean “how come your voice doesn’t sound all funky like ours? You’re a freakin’ clam”

“Uh, I’m an angel, Dean. Now hurry, there isn’t much time,” Clam-Cas turned around on his bottom shell and hopped off the edge of the rock, leaving a confused Sam and Dean behind.

“So, Finding Nemo huh?” Sam teased as they swam upwards toward the current they had seen earlier.

“I watched it once, a while ago,” Dean mumbled, avoiding Sam’s mocking face, “Shut up, Sam”

“Hey, I was just asking. Anyway, it’s probably a good thing. It’ll help us get to Sydney faster,” Sam chuckled.

They reached the edge of the current where the last turtles of the nest were swimming past. Waiting for instructions, Sam looked at Dean who was watching the current, carefully coming up with a plan.

“Well,” started Dean, “from what I remembered they didn’t show how Dory and Marlin entered the East Australian Current but I’m thinking we can just swim straight in and it should be fine.”

Sam bit back a smile, “sounds like you really know what you’re talking about”

“I said shut up about it, Sam.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Sam and Dean swam backwards, preparing to plunge head first into the Current’s liquid wall. They flapped their fins forward in a rapid motion, closing their eyes in anticipation of a painful impact. Except that the impact never came, just a light slapping motion as their clownfish bodies entered the water tunnel. They opened their eyes to find themselves walled in by majestic turtles talking and laughing with each other.

“Duuuuuudes! That was awesome!” said a small turtle behind them. Sam and Dean turned around to see a large group of baby turtles beaming at them in admiration.

“Dean. Is that tiny turtle talking to us?” asked Sam in trepidation. Even though they were talking fish in this universe, the fact that all other animals could talk and hear them shocked the brothers into silence.

Snapping out of it, Dean smiled at the excited group of turtles running their mouths a hundred miles an hour as they twirled and bobbed in place, “Hey kids, is there maybe an adult we can talk to? Mom or dad maybe?”

“Yeah! Come on, I’ll take you to my dad! He’s the coolest dude on the planet!” replied the tiny turtle that seemed to be the leader of the pack. Dean nudged a still bewildered Sam to follow along with the pack, not wanting to lose his tiny clownfish brother in a sea of turtles. They swam towards the very back of the nest, where yet another group of baby turtles was huddled on the shell of a much larger turtle, completely engrossed in the story being told by a familiar goldfish. The baby turtle huddle made Dean stop completely in his tracks, causing Sam to bump into his large, slimy fin.

“Dean, what the hell?” said Sam, angrily swimming around to face his brother. Dean, however, was staring ahead, an excitedly nervous smile tugging at his scaly lips.

“Dude, it’s her. It’s Dory!” Dean exclaimed. Sam turned around to see what Dean was so excited about and noticed a Pacific blue tang, barely visible among the baby turtles.

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s reaction and turned around to urge his brother to keep following their tiny tour guide, who had stopped to talk to a much bigger turtle swimming alongside the one upon which Dory and her friends were sitting. Hesitantly swimming forward, Dean followed Sam towards the large turtle that now sported a huge smile directed at them.

“Hey dudes! Squirt here tells me you did an awesome flip coming into the current! That so totally rocks!” said the reptile enthusiastically. Taken aback by its laid back demeanor, Sam hesitated before responding

“Right. Uh, thank you, Mr. Turtle, sir,” Sam stammered.

“Oh no, dude. Mr. Turtle is my father. Name’s Crush,” said the turtle.

“Oh, uh, okay Crush. Could you maybe help us? We need to get to Sydney, Australia and were told to take the East Australian Current,” explained Sam. Dean simply nodded in agreement, too starstruck to say anything.

“Well, whaddayaknow! Marlin and Dory here are headed that way too!” Crush replied excitedly. He turned over and pointed to the orange and blue fish that were still talking to the group of baby turtles. Upon hearing their names, Marlin and Dory turned to look at Crush and the Winchesters.

“You called, Crush?” asked Marlin, swimming towards them with Dory close on his tailfin.

“Hey jellyman, guess what? These dudes are also going to Sydney!” Crush gestured toward the Winchesters.

“Hi! I’m Dory!” exclaimed the blue tag, as she swam hurriedly towards Sam and Dean.

“Hi, Dory. I’m Sam, this is my brother Dean,” Sam looked up to Dean who was treading in place, his lips moving in an attempt to form words.

Dory looked at Dean curiously, “Hey Dean! Wanna come play hide and seek with us?”

Dean mustered up enough courage to nod, swimming alongside Dory, leaving Sam behind with Crush and Marlin. They headed towards the large group of baby turtles that Dory had been playing with earlier, Dean looking over at her in disbelief.

Hide and seek with Dory? Awesome, he thought.

Suddenly, Dory began swaying side-to-side while muttering what sounded like an address under her breath. She looked in Dean’s direction and grinned, sticking her fin out for him to shake, “Hi! I’m Dory! Wanna play hide and seek?”

Dean was confused for a moment, until he remembered Dory’s inability to remember most things. He shook her fin with his own and smiled sheepishly, “Hi Dory, I’m Dean. Hide and seek sounds great!”

“Yay! This is going to be so much fun! Okay, I’ll count, you go hide!” said Dory as she dropped down on the shell of another large turtle who simply winked and smiled. Dean looked around for a place to hide when his little brother came into view, waving him over. He sighed and swam towards Sam in defeat, He’s no fun.

“Where the hell have you been? I talked to Crush and he told me how to get to Sydney. Apparently we have to take something called the-”

“The swirling vortex of terror?” Dean interrupted.

“Yeah. How did you..? Never mind, I forgot you’re a child. Listen, the vortex is coming up and we have to take it together, otherwise we’ll lose each other and miss our chance to meet Cas.”

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam and nodded, pouting as they swam back towards Crush and Squirt, who was giving directions to Marlin and Dory. They reached the group quickly as the current speed began picking up and Dean grabbed Sam under his fin, the vortex visible in the near distance.

“Okay, Sammy. Just hold on tight!” Dean yelled, the sound of the current around them growing louder as they neared the exit.

Dean waited for Squirt to kick off Marlin and Dory before jumping towards the water tornado. As they were about to enter, however, an unexpected wave slammed into Dean and forced him further into the current, causing the brothers to miss their exit.

“Dean! What are you doing? Now we’ll never get to Sydney!” Sam screamed in frustration as they saw Marlin and Dory exit the vortex. Crush remained behind, swimming against the current to yell goodbye to the fish before turning around to see Sam and Dean struggle to stay in place against the current.

“Awe dudes! You missed the exit!” groaned Crush as he threw both front fins up.

“Wait, no! We can go back! H-how do we go back, Crush?” stammered Dean, angry at himself for missing the exit.

“No can do, compadre. You’re going to have to wait for the next exit and swim back.”

“Great! Now we’ll never get back to Cas and we’ll be stuck as animated fish forever!” exclaimed Sam.

Dean ignored his little brother as he fought against the current to catch the blue tang’s attention “Wait! Dory! Trust the birds!”

Unable to hear him, Dory simply smiled and waved, “Bye, Liam! Bye, Sean!”

“Dean! Focus! How the hell are we supposed to get back?”

“Shut up, Sam! There has to be another way to Sydney,” Dean racked his brain for possible exits or alternatives but came up empty. It was all seeming bleak for the brothers until Crush swam towards them, an idea in mind.

“Alright, listen dudes, Squirt here has an idea but I gotta ask. How do ya feel about flying?”

“Flying?” the brothers asked in unison.

“Little buddy here’s got some fish friends, who have some sea lion friends that know some pelicans that can take you to Sydney,” explained Crush.

Sam and Dean exchanged worried looks.

“Pelicans? I don’t know, Dean. What if they eat us? Or drop us somewhere?” asked Sam. Dean frowned at his little brother, weighing their options.

“Dammit,” Dean started, “I don’t know but it may be our only chance to get to Cas in time.”

Sam sighed as he nodded and turned around to face Crush.

“Okay, Crush, we’ll do it.”

“Sweet, we’re coming up on the next exit. Wait here for Squirt to come back, he can give you the low down on the new plan.”

The brothers nodded and swam along with Crush, worried about the new plan and their chances of actually making it to Sydney alive. Squirt came back quickly, giving them directions for the risky plan. Although it was hard to hear him with the current noise picking up once more, the brothers nodded along as the small turtle twirled around in place, detailing how to properly exit and where to go once they got out.

“Okay dudes! Water Tornado of Destruction coming up!”

“The what now!?” exclaimed Sam. He looked to where Squirt’s fin was pointing, mouth dropped open in shock at what lay ahead.

Coming up in the distance was the biggest tornado-like current Sam and Dean had ever seen. Swirling upwards for what seemed like a thousand feet, the vortex moved violently from side to side. The younger Winchester looked to his brother, who was staring at the exit, fear apparent in his wide, green eyes. Even the laid back turtles surrounding them called to their little ones to protect them from the vacuum created by the terrifying exit.

“Dean? I don’t think we’re going to make it.”

Dean looked down at his little brother, who looked so small and fragile it reminded him of that fateful night when his father put six-month-old Sam in his arms and told him to run out of the house as the place filled up with smoke from the fire raging in the nursery. Swallowing the knot at the back of his throat, Dean nodded in determination and grabbed Sam once more, reassuring the small clownfish, “It’ll be okay, Sammy. I got you.”

“Okay dudes! Time to go!” yelled Crush as he pushed them towards the Tornado’s mouth.

“Good luck dudes!” Squirt’s voice was barely audible as the Winchesters were sucked into the liquid twister. An invisible, yet blunt, force pushed them upwards in a rotating motion. Dean barely managed to hold on to Sam, taking the hits as they were violently thrown around for another minute until, finally, the vacuum let go and spit the clownfish upwards and out of the water. Unable to hold on any longer, Dean let go of Sam as they fell back down towards the ocean, two soft plops signaled their landing.

Disoriented and nauseous, Sam looked around to where he saw Dean last. He glanced down and saw the older Winchester swim downwards. Except he wasn’t swimming, he was falling into the depths of the sea, unconscious from the beatings received while in the tornado. Sam dove quickly towards his brother, praying that Dean would wake.

Luckily, Dean regained consciousness before Sam reached him and, feeling himself sink, he flapped his large, orange fins upwards.

“Dean! Are you okay?” Sam hollered as he struggled to close the distance between them.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, groggily. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I am.” Sam sighed in relief, “We need to get the hell out of here.”

“You don’t say,” Dean rolled his eyes dramatically. At least they were both okay.

“We have to find the sea lions, Dean. I don’t think we have much time left.”

Dean looked to his brother and nodded in agreement. They swam up towards the surface and searched for the sea lions, a small archipelago visible in the distance. Switching glances with each other, the brothers headed towards the nearest island. As they grew closer, the loud sounds of flapping caught their attention. Instincts kicking in, Sam turned around and came face to face with a large sea lion. Wide black eyes and long whiskers pointed straight at him.

“Uh, Dean?” whispered Sam, slapping at Dean’s side. The bigger clownfish turned around to see what Sam wanted to show him and pulled him back, swimming in front to protect his little brother.

“Say, are you two the fish that need to get to Sydney?” said the sea lion, with a British accent.

“Who the hell are you?” growled Dean.

“Woah, no need to get tough, mate. I just heard about two clownfish needing a ride to Sydney, thought you might be them.”

Sam swam around Dean, “Actually we are. If you could help us, we’d really appreciate it.”

“Of course, lads. That’s what we’re here for. Now wait just a moment,” The sea lion turned away from the brothers and began squawking at the air, the shrill noise loud enough to startle the Winchesters.

Holding his fins over his ears, Dean looked up in search of their ride, while a confused Sam stared at the shrieking sea lion. Soon, the shrill sounds of birds replaced the sea lion who stopped making pelican calls when he saw the squadron of white birds arrive. They dove downwards towards the brothers and landed harshly, creating waves that carried Sam and Dean in opposing directions.

“Hey Fluke! Where are the little fish that need to get to Sydney?” said one of the pelicans.

The sea lion, Fluke, replied, “Where’s Nigel? I thought he was the one who volunteered?”

“Yeah, no. He went off to help that Marlin fella. Sent us here instead.”

“Alright well, here they-” Fluke stopped in his tracks as he saw the Winchesters were nowhere in sight, “where did they go?”

“Here! Under the pelican!” yelled Sam from under the belly of one of the pelicans. Dean, on the other hand, emerged from under the sea where he’d been thrown when the birds landed.

“Ah! There we go! Two clownfish, ready for transport,” said Fluke.

“Woah wait, how do we know this is safe?” asked Dean, as he swam to Sam’s side.

“You gotta trust us, mate. We’ll get you to Sydney, fair dinkum” replied the leader of the pelican group.

“Fair dinkum? What the hell does that mean?” Dean whispered at Sam.

“I think it’s like Australian for like the truth or something like that.”

“Of course you’d know that,” Dean shook his head and turned his attention to the Aussie pelican, “Alright then, how are we gonna do this?”

“Well, ya gotta jump in my beak here. But don’t worry, I won’t eat you.”

“Woah woah woah, and we’re just supposed to trust that? Listen here, uh-” Dean hesitated, realizing he hadn’t even asked the pelican’s name.

“Oh, Oliver, mate. At your service.”

“Right, Oliver. How can we be sure you won’t just use us as a snack?”

“You’ve got to trust them lad, it’s the only way to get you there quick,” Fluke interrupted.

“Dean, I don’t think we have a choice here,” said Sam, “we’ve gotta get to Cas.”

The elder Winchester was unsure once again, but agreed to trust the pelicans. After all, the one that helped Marlin and Dory didn’t eat them, and Oliver seemed to be friends with him. They lined up in front of the large pelican, who had opened his beak wide enough to let them jump in.

“You better not be lying, Oliver. You try to eat us and I’ll kill you,” Dean threatened. Taking a deep breath, the brothers looked forward and swam quickly at the pelican’s beak, jumping as hard as they could to land in the puddle that had formed in its mouth.

They landed softly and swam straight to the edge of the bird’s beak, quickly holding on to it to avoid falling into its throat.

“Alright lads! Now hold on, and good luck getting to Sydney!” Fluke waved at the brothers as Oliver extended his wings and pushed upwards, swiftly and smoothly lifting off the surface of the ocean and up toward the blue sky. He continued a flapping motion until they reached a height at which he could glide without much movement, small drops of water sloshing out as they went.

Sam, while somewhat alarmed, was mesmerized by the view in front of him. A vast, cloudless canvas stretching for miles on end. The wind blew softly in his face, while the sun provided a warmth that he had not felt in a long time. The combination of all these sensations made Sam feel exhilarated, as though there was nothing in this world he couldn’t do. For the time being, he could forget about his life. Forget about hunting; angels, demons, and all other monsters flew out of his mind, carried by the soft breeze. For a moment, he even forgot he was a fish; the only thing that mattered was the impossible peace that settled within him.

Dean, on the other hand, was praying to all kinds of gods that the bird would not fail. His fear of flying kicking in, he shut his eyes to avoid seeing how high the pelican had taken them. Every sound a reminder that at any moment, something could happen to this bird, pummeling them down to their death.

“Aaaigh, weehe aahoss heehe,” Oliver struggled to say something to the Winchesters.

“What the hell did he say?” yelled a petrified Dean.

“I think he said we’re almost there!” replied Sam, earning a muffled “Uh-huh” from Oliver.

Suddenly, Oliver dove eliciting terrified screams from Sam and Dean who were now holding on to the pelican’s tongue for dear life. As quickly as he dove, Oliver evened out as he looked for a place to land. Dean glanced over the bird’s beak, hoping to spot the opera house. To his left, the white arches of the opera house peeked over surrounding buildings. He tapped excitedly on Oliver’s tongue as he yelled, “There! Go to the opera house!”

“Ohhay!” responded the pelican, leaning sideways to turn towards the target. He flapped his wings softly, gliding over the crowds while Sam and Dean searched for Castiel. A task that proved unexpectedly easy since the angel was the only person wearing a large, tan coat in 100 degree weather.

“There he is! Oliver, take us to the guy in the trench-coat!” Sam yelled excitedly. Oliver turned and headed towards their friend, squawking to get his attention.

A perplexed Castiel looked up to see a large, white bird headed straight for him. Eyes widened in bewilderment, he raised his arms in an attempt to block the impact but was unsuccessful as the bird hit him with incredible force, managing to knock the wind out of the already weakened angel. The tourists around them scrambled to get the bird off the confused man, Castiel holding its beak at bay, unaware that Oliver was simply trying to drop the Winchesters off in his palm. With another loud squeal, Oliver was able to distract the humans, and Castiel, long enough to lean down and spit out the clownfish he’d been carrying in his mouth. By sheer luck, the Winchesters landed next to Castiel’s head, who then turned to look at them, and without a second thought picked them up.

“Cover your eyes!” ordered the angel, prompting Sam and Dean to shut their eyes just in time to avoid the bright light that emanated from Castiel’s chest, showering the entirety of Sydney in luminescence as a familiar coldness washed over the brothers before they lost consciousness.

“Dean, wake up!”

The deep voice barely registered in Dean’s mind as he regained consciousness once more. Keeping his eyes closed, Dean reached up to his chest, expecting slimy scales but met by soft, dry material instead. His eyes fluttered open as they tried to adjust to incandescent light emanating from the cheap motel lamp.

“Hey, he’s awake, Cas!” said Sam, sighing in relief.

“What happened?” Dean groaned, pain slowly spreading throughout his body.

“It seems the injuries you received while in the animated ocean traveled with you. I tried to heal you but I was too weak. I am sorry,” said Cas, regretfully.

Dean attempted to sit up, an action that only caused the pain to multiply. He groaned in pain and laid back down, “I feel like I got run over by a damn truck.”

“Yeah, well pretty much. This was probably caused by that stupid tornado of destruction or whatever,” Sam got up from where he’d been sitting at Dean’s side to get his brother a drink.

“The… what?” Castiel cocked his head to the side, wondering what Sam meant.

Dean chuckled, “Nothing, Cas. Thanks for getting us out of there.”

“Yeah, thanks Cas. Also for taking care of the witch that sent us there. Although, I’m not sure Dean would’ve suffered much if we stayed a little longer. After all, he didn’t get to say goodbye to his ultimate idol,” Sam said, biting back laughter at Dean’s bitch face.

“Hey!” Dean’s voice dropped an octave as he growled in pain, “You know what, I’m not gonna apologize for loving that fish. Not to you, not to anyone.”

“Dude, relax. I’m just playing,” beamed Sam, shaking his head. He sat back down on his own bed and placed a glass of whiskey on the bedside table, close to Dean.

“Whatever,” Dean replied, “just promise me; no witches for the next year, at least.”

Knocking back his own drink, Sam agreed, “Alright, no witches for the next year.”

Dean Sweethearts Taglist

@lyarr24 / @akshi8278 / @pillowjj / @stoneyggirl / @wiserainbowgirl / @attackonnat

Sam Darlings Taglist

@austin-winchester67 / @supernaturalgrandma / @stoneyggirl / @wiserainbowgirl

Forever Loves Taglist

@deanwanddamons / @hobby27

#i do understand that reference challenge #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #castiel fanfiction #finding nemo #spn x finding nemo crossover #spnfanfiction

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aerinmelina · 5 years ago

Note

Give me an a super fluffy Warrenessa fic!

I am sooooo sorry about the delay with this one. The muses were not particularly helpful. And then this idea popped up quite a while ago, and it took a lot of careful thought and refinement before I could make it work out. This oneshot didn’t really turn out the way I’d initially imagined it would, but I think I’m happy with it. I hope you enjoy my late submission for Warrenessa Day!

Thank you to @fairyprincesskendra for being my beta!

*Spoilers for Dragonwatch 3.*

You’ve been warned. Because I couldn’t resist a little bit of backstory behind That Line™️ from Vanessa in MOTPI. I’m posting this from my phone, and the tumblr app isn’t cooperating with a “click to read more” link at the moment, so I’ll try and figure that out on my laptop tomorrow.

——

All it took was one misstep, and voila - everything changed.

Vanessa and Warren had been trying to carefully scout the islands in search of the Sunset Pearl - or find evidence of its location - when they realized they were being tracked. Unsure of what predator may have been following them, exactly, they’d decided to try and seek shelter somewhere secluded and cramped in order to (hopefully) avoid an unwelcome confrontation with something potentially nasty and dangerous.

They’d quickly scrambled up a semi-steep hill of grass and sand when they noticed that the terrain started to become rather rocky. The next area to climb consisted of layers of loose shoal and sharp rocks which jutted out of the ground at odd intervals; a very interesting geological formation which Vanessa would have loved to spend more time studying and exploring if they weren’t in a hurry to shake off whatever was on their tail. They climbed the hillside as quickly and carefully as they could, neither of them feeling particularly safe while exposed on the side of a rocky hill.

Maybe it was the fact that they were rushing. Maybe she hadn’t been paying close enough attention. Maybe it was purely physics.

Whatever the cause… she lost her footing and fell. Hard.

Vanessa cried out in pain, then bit down on her lip and tongue to try and silence herself. Not that there was much point in that effort; the rocks she slipped on had made quite a bit of noise as they started a chain reaction and caused a slide of additional rocks to cascade downhill. Warren turned around and grabbed hold of Vanessa‘s arm before she completely lost her balance and tumbled to the bottom of the hill along with the rest of the rumbling ground. Tears instinctually sprang to her eyes in reaction to her pain. She forced her eyelids open after a moment to assess the damage and found that her right calf had a very large and nasty gash running from nearly the back of her knee to about four inches above her heel. Blood was everywhere. Panic began to swell within her. She wasn’t used to that feeling.

We’re sitting ducks in broad daylight, and I can’t move.

Warren shifted until he was in a better position to examine Vanessa’s wound, then smiled at her.

A forced smile.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

She doubted very much that standing was within the realm of possibilities, but said, “I’ll try.” She twisted carefully to her right and cringed when she realized that her hips, hands and arms were also scratched up pretty well. Her calf was by far the largest and most concerning injury, but the additional cuts and scrapes didn’t make the situation any easier to deal with.

Warren helped her up, then caught her before she could hit the ground for the second time that afternoon. “That’s a no,” he stated. He looked around the area; Vanessa could tell that he was nervous. “We have to get off the side of this hill. Here… climb on.”

“Climb on what, exactly?” she bit out. Her leg was screaming at her. Blood continued to seep out of her wound.

“My back,” Warren replied as if stating the obvious. Maybe he was being obvious, and she was simply in so much pain that she couldn’t properly assess the situation. She watched as he removed his backpack, turned it around, and then placed his arms through the straps so that the bag itself rested against his chest.

Vanessa took a few deep breaths, then nodded her head. “Okay. Okay.” Warren crouched down next to her and she somehow managed to clamber onto his back. When he stood up, she noticed that he was taking care to be aware of the huge gash in her leg. “This is dangerous,” she said. “How are you supposed to get both of us out of this?”

“Shut up and let me think.” After a couple of quick seconds, Warren seemed to decide something and nodded his head sharply, readjusted Vanessa’s weight on his back, and slowly started climbing to their right instead of further upward like they’d initially been doing.

Vanessa wanted to ask him a million questions, but didn’t want to distract him. She wanted to tell him to put her down and run for help, but could then promptly hear him telling her ‘absolutely not.’ And when her leg began to sting and burn, she held in her tears and and thanked whatever God existed that she wasn’t alone.

Progress was very slow. The ground was unstable, and Warren was trying to move as carefully as he could. After perhaps fifteen minutes of grueling climbing, they reached a fairly level shelf of rock which appeared to be at least partially protected from the elements. Warren helped Vanessa down from his back, then took off his pack and fumbled through it for what she assumed were medical supplies. Sure enough, he wound up removing a roll of medical tape, several unopened packages of gauze, wound cleaning solution, a bottle of water, a small container of hand sanitizer, and some sort of thick paste Tanu had sent with them before they’d even left for this preserve in the first place. Vanessa, for her part, couldn’t stop shivering even though she wasn’t cold.

“Your body is in shock,” Warren informed her.

‘Tell me something I don’t know’ was the thought which immediately popped into her brain, but she swallowed those words. He didn’t deserve that. “I’ve lost a lot of blood,” she said instead.

Warren looked down at his side where her leg had been dangling. His pants were very wet with her blood. “I know,” he replied. “I’m going to clean your leg. Hold still, this is probably going to sting pretty bad for a while.” He cleaned his hands with some of the sanitizer, wet a piece of gauze with water from the water bottle, then set to work.

She hissed in pain when he started trying to clean the gaping wound on her calf. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know this sucks.”

“You would know,” she retorted as she continued to scream internally at just how much her leg hurt.

“You should be grateful. Experience makes me an expert at wound care.”

Vanessa lost track of time. She tried to just focus on breathing while Warren worked on bandaging her up. Her body continued to tremble, although the shaking eased up a little by the time he was done. She only realized he was finished when he held a water bottle out to her, along with a couple of pills he’d apparently found from somewhere; his backpack, probably.

“Ibuprofen,” he explained. “Take it.”

She swallowed the pills as instructed. “How are we going to get out of here?” she asked. “I can’t walk, and the treehouse is too far for you to carry me. I’m amazed you made it this far with me on your back.”

“I’ll carry you to the treehouse,” Warren said.

“Did you not just hear me? The treehouse is too far!”

“Have some faith in me, will you? I know what I’m doing. You and I have been in enough tight situations that I would hope you’d know that by now.”

She let out a loud exhale. “Our best bet is probably for you to go run for help.”

Warren glared at her, which quite honestly surprised her. “I’m not leaving you by yourself, behind enemy lines, with something actively tracking the two of us. You’d be the obvious target. I won’t let that happen to you.”

“Warren-“

“Don’t ‘Warren’ me. I’m not leaving you alone, so stop suggesting it.”

She knew the effort was futile, but between the pain still radiating from her leg, the hot sunshine in her face, the threat of some unknown creature probably wanting to eat them for dinner, and Warren’s obstinate attitude, she couldn’t help but argue.

“Why?”

“What? Why?”

“Yes. Why? Why did you keep me from falling to my death? Why did you carry me all the way over here? Why aren’t you leaving me to go get help, when you and I both know that’s the best option to save at least one of us? Why? Why?”

Warren tugged at the hair on his head. “You are the most infuriating woman I have ever met.”

“You’re doing this because I’m infuriating? That sounds like a good reason to push me off of this ledge.”

“Vanessa! I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m not going to leave you!” he shouted.

She made eye contact with him. They stared at each other for a while before she spoke again.

“Maybe you should,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Maybe you should,” she repeated with a little more volume.

He set his backpack to the side and then sat down in front of her. “I heard you the first time,” he said. “And I’ve already said no to that option.”

“Why?”

Why won’t you save yourself? Please. Please save yourself.

She watched as he ran his hands over his face. He looked at her for a few seconds, then spoke. “Why?” he asked. “Because, probably against my better judgment by now… I still love you, Vanessa. And I’m not going to leave the woman I love to face death by herself. Like it or not, I’m sticking with you. You’re not dying on my watch.”

Vanessa threw rationality out the window, grabbed the front of his shirt, and crashed their lips together. The kiss was short-lived, but it’d have to do for now. “Say it again.”

“You’re a little full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“You like kissing me.”

Warren shrugged. “I love you.”

She smiled. “I didn’t ruin everything?”

“Well, there was that whole ‘oh crap my girlfriend is trying to kill my family’ thing, but you kinda redeemed yourself for that one. But Vanessa?”

“Yes?”

He looked at her seriously. “I’m trusting you. Again. I wasn’t playing last time, and I’m pretty sure that what we had then was real for you, too, but this time… I’m… This is it.”

Vanessa nodded and reached for his hand, then squeezed it. She understood his unspoken message.

Don’t hurt me again.

For at least the millionth time since she’d been sent to the quiet box all those months ago, self-hatred and regret started to creep into her heart. She brushed the emotions aside for the moment and focused on their current predicament. “How are we getting back?”

“You climb onto my back and I carry you to the treehouse.” Warren started re-gathering their items.

Vanessa looked over the edge of the ledge they were sitting on. Climbing back down wasn’t going to be easy. The loose rocks would pose a huge threat to their wellbeing.

“Hey,” Warren said, grabbing Vanessa’s attention. “Look at me, not the ground. I’ll get us out of this mess. Trust me.”

“I do.”

“Well, then stop looking so nervous.”

“Easier said than done, Warren. It’s a long walk down, and the ground isn’t solid. Climbing this hill in the first place has got to be one of the dumbest ideas we’ve ever thought of.”

Warren shrugged. “You’re forgetting Bolivia.”

“Bolivia wasn’t a dumb idea. Your execution of it was dumb.”

“My execution-? Wow, you and I must have very different recollections because I distinctly remember that that plan was your idea.”

“Like I said, the idea itself wasn’t dumb. The actuality of it was.”

Warren rolled his eyes and stood up. He held a hand out toward her; she took it and allowed him to help her stand. Vanessa placed no weight on her bad leg; Warren had bandaged her up very well indeed, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to stand on it.

“We should ditch one of the backpacks,” Warren said. “Get rid of as much weight as possible.”

Vanessa gestured to hers, which still rested on the ground. “Leave mine,” she said. “There’s nothing in it worth keeping anyway.”

“You probably have blow darts or throwing knives in yours,” Warren reasoned. “If I’m doing the walking, you’ll have to be on the lookout.”

“Front pockets,” she instructed. Warren bent down and fetched an assortment of small weapons from Vanessa’s bag. “And the sides. Everything else can stay here.”

He handed her the items, which she found hiding places for on various parts of her person. “Just like Bolivia,” Warren remarked as he watched her tuck a couple of small throwing knives into her shirt.

“This is nothing like Bolivia.”

“Says the woman with knives in her bra.”

“Can we leave yet? Or are you going to stand here and falsely reminisce all day? Because I’d rather be sitting if that’s your plan.”

Warren smirked at her, then placed his backpack over his chest like he had earlier and motioned for Vanessa to climb onto his back. She did so with caution, not wanting to injure herself or cause him to topple over.

“I’m ready,” Vanessa said once she was confident in her ability to maintain a solid grip on his shoulders and waist. “Slowly, now.”

“Yes, Princess,” Warren teased.

Vanessa rolled her eyes, although she knew he couldn’t see her. Curse him. Him and his stupid sense of humor, trying to lighten the mood.

She had to admit, though… he was great at it. He was great at a lot of things, actually. Like climbing down steep rock faces with loose footing and a passenger, and then carrying said passenger all the way back to their home base.

They never did find out what had been tracking them; whatever it was, it seemed to lose interest in them when they drew close to the Lagoon. Vanessa was grateful for that; Warren was very obviously worn out from their trek by then, although he stubbornly continued forward until they reached their destination.

Her stalwart companion. Her irreplaceable man.

Her love.

#fablehaven #dragonwatch #aerinm writes #warrenessa #thanks for asking!#anonymous #warrenessa day 2k19 #warren burgess #vanessa santoro #look warren is awesome ok #he would absolutely take charge of a situation like this #i hope we get more strong warren moments in dw going forward

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