#things have just been rough for me lately and it always feels good to dunk on transphobes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

440mxs-wife · 4 years ago

Text

Cookies and Milk

Pairing: Sam x Reader. Other characters: Dean Winchester, Jody Mills

Word Count: 5060+

Warnings: None really, except here there be fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You were on a supply run in town to restock the bunker's refrigerator and pantry, one of your jobs while the boys were on a hunt. The list for this run wasn't as long as usual, but you still had quite a bit to buy. On your list were the items to make meatloaf, spaghetti, beef stew, chili, and your famous lasagna.

As you were nearing the frozen food section and the end of your list, your phone buzzed in your pocket with a text message from Dean. They were on their way home, and had stopped at a gas station for fuel and snacks. He wanted to let you know about when to expect him and Sam home.

DW: Hey, sweetheart. We stopped for gas and stuff, but we're still about five hours from home. Wanted to let you know.

You: I'm in town now, on a supply run. How did it go?

DW: I'll tell you more when we get back.

You: Okay, Dean. Drive careful, see you guys when you get home. Over and out.

Dean's last text message had you a little concerned, but there was no sense in worrying about it now. The best you could do was be there for the boys to support them, whatever they might need. Something you'd been doing for quite some time now, it seemed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You've been bunking with the Winchesters for the past six years now, but you've known them much longer than that. Ever since Bobby sent them to help you on that wendigo hunt, you've been the best of friends.

Over the years, you had drifted in and out of each others' lives, meeting up on a hunt or taking a break at Bobby's house. It wasn't until Bobby passed away that you moved into your own room in the bunker and semi-retired from hunting. You knew hunting was important work, it was just that you felt you could be more useful in a support capacity.

The bunker's gym helped you keep in shape and maintain your fighting skills. For the most part, though, you were in charge of the bunker. Your duties mostly included supply runs, chief cook and bottle washer, research and medical service. You also fielded calls for information from other hunters, given the expansive Men of Letters' library.

You and Dean shared a love of classic rock music, action movies and baked goods. Whenever Dean needed a bit of cheering up, you knew just how to do it. Usually, a freshly-baked pie was all it took to put him on the road to recovery. Didn't matter what flavor, though you knew apple, cherry and pecan were among his favorites.

Sam was different. To you, he was the "quieter Winchester". With his warm hazel eyes, thick chestnut hair and long arms perfect for providing comfort when you needed it. The two of you bonded over books, whether for research or for fun. You didn't always see eye-to-eye on music, but he didn't mind watching a chick-flick with you every now and then.

He was particularly sensitive to other peoples' emotions, quick to offer comfort at the first sign of distress. On the other hand, accepting comfort from those closest to him wasn't always easy for Sam. He had a tendency to want to process things on his own, away from prying eyes and concerned hearts.

With Sam, if you needed to talk, you could count on him to listen and not dismiss your feelings. You could be yourself with him, even let your inner "nerd self" shine through. As time passed, your feelings had developed to where you saw Sam as more than your best friend. You knew you had to keep those thoughts about him to yourself, though. The last thing you ever wanted was to risk a longtime friendship over what you were sure was one-sided affection.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

While you were putting away the groceries at home, your thoughts drifted back to your feelings about Sam. You wished there was some way to show him how much you cared, how you were there for him if he needed someone.

You remembered that one way you showed Dean that you cared was with a homemade pie. You wondered if something like that would work in the same way for Sam. So instead of pie, you decided to make Sam a batch of cookies. It would be your way of telling him that someone was thinking about him, like the pie did for Dean.

With a plan of action and a renewed sense of purpose, you rummaged through the cupboards and found that you had everything you needed for some oatmeal chocolate and peanut butter chip cookies. You hurried to put away the rest of the groceries so you could get started on the baking.

You got right to work mixing the butter, sugar, eggs and the other ingredients. You also made sure to sample a few of the chocolate and peanut butter chips. Got to check the quality level, you thought with a smile.

After you finished cleaning up from your baking endeavors, you still had a couple of hours before Dean said they would be home. You reached for your book that was left on the coffee table and you picked up reading where you left off. Next thing you knew, a hand was caressing your cheek, so you opened your eyes to see Dean smiling down at you.

"We're home, sweetheart," he said softly.

You yawned and stretched in your chair. "Welcome home, Winchesters," you replied sleepily. You pulled yourself into an upright position and looked around the room. "Where's Sam?" you asked.

Dean dropped his gaze. "He headed off to go take a shower," Dean answered. "This was a rough one, honey. I'm just glad it's over, though. It's so good to be home," he explained.

"I'm glad you're home too, Dean. Wanna tell me what happened?" you asked gently.

He took a seat on the couch next to your chair. "It was a lot of little things that added up to one giant mess. Nothing went according to plan, even more 'off book' than usual," Dean explained. "We both almost got clawed, but we managed to fight them off. Now they can't hurt anyone else," he remarked.

You stood up from your chair and held out your hand. "Walk with me, Dean, I have a surprise for you in the kitchen. I may or may not have made you an apple pie yesterday. You know, unless you're not interested...." you teased, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Dean jumped up from the couch as if sitting on a spring, taking your hand as he reached his feet. "Really?" he asked excitedly. You nodded, and he gave you a peck on the cheek. "Bestest best friend ever," he grinned and rushed off in the direction of the kitchen.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Later that night after a dinner of pizza and Dean having a third slice of pie, you went to your room to read to help you fall asleep. Dean's exhaustion started to take its toll on him, so he showered and after wishing you goodnight, he went to bed. Sam hadn't come out for dinner, but there was enough leftover pizza that you weren't worried about him going hungry.

As the night wore on, you started to hear talking from the direction of Sam's room. You put your book down, put on your slippers and carefully opened your door. You roamed the hallways, trying to find the source of the noise. It was at its loudest when you were standing in front of Sam's door.

You peeked into his room to see him in the middle of a nightmare, tossing and turning. A sheen of perspiration had formed on his brow. Your heart broke for him a little to see him in such turmoil when he should be at rest.

After getting a cool, wet washcloth for him, you carefully sat on the edge of his bed. You gently placed the washcloth on his forehead and reached to take his hand in both of yours. He jumped at the unexpected contact and his eyes flew open. His head swiveled frantically from side to side, taking in his surroundings and trying to figure out what was going on.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, Sam. I'm here, you're safe now. It was just a nightmare, it wasn't real," you soothed. His breathing slowly returned to normal and he started to come back around.

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry if I did," Sam rasped.

"No, I was awake, reading when I heard you in here, having your nightmare. Do you want to talk about it?" you asked gently.

"Not right now," he answered with a shiver.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and was surprised to discover that it was so wet. His clothes were soaked in sweat, as were his sheets. "Hey, let's get you into some dry clothes, you'll catch cold if you don't," you remarked. "I'll take the sheets off and put them in the laundry room to be washed tomorrow. While I'm doing that, you change," you ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," he grinned.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After he had changed into some dry clothes, Sam wandered into the kitchen for a late snack, since he hadn't come out for dinner. He knew you and Dean had pizza for dinner, so he headed for the fridge to get some of the leftovers.

He stopped when he saw the note on the table with his name on it, next to a plate of cookies and an empty glass. Sam didn't remember you making any cookies before they left for the hunt. He loved it when you made cookies. If he had seen them, he definitely would've taken some with him.

Sam looked around to see if you were near the kitchen and were going to join him, but didn't see you anywhere. He chuckled at your instructions that he was to eat all of the cookies by dunking them in the tall glass of milk. Then he was supposed to drink all of the milk, even though it would have cookie crumbs in it. Well, if she insists, he thought with a grin. Sam poured himself a glass of milk, then sat down to attack the plate of cookies.

Per your instructions, he dunked the first cookie, letting it soak up some of the milk like a sponge. The first bite was heavenly, as it seemed to melt in his mouth. A groan of appreciation escaped his lips, not only for the taste, but for your efforts in making the cookies in the first place.

As the cookies disappeared one by one, Sam thought about how you helped him out of his nightmare tonight. You woke him up out of it, and took care of him by making sure he changed into some dry clothes. You also set up his sheets to be washed in the morning. That last hunt really took it out of him, with so much not going according to plan.

Sam welcomed any opportunity he could to confide in you about how he was feeling or just to feel your arms around him. He longed to hear your kind words and let them wash over him in your soft, soothing voice as it fell from those pouty, kissable lips. And your eyes always held such understanding. No matter what secrets he shared with you, he never saw any judgment in their depths.

Before Sam knew it he was out of cookies, so he followed your last instruction and drank all the milk. He smiled to himself because he had to admit that he felt a bit better than when he first walked into the kitchen. He took his dirty dishes to the sink, rinsed out the glass, then he headed back to his room to sleep. The only part that would've made it better is for you to have also been in the kitchen, spending time with him and talking.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, you wandered into the kitchen to start making breakfast, still wearing your pajamas. Coffee was the first order of business, because Dean was very grumpy without it. You went to the sink to fill the pot with water for making coffee. You noticed that the plate and glass you left out for Sam had been rinsed and were waiting to be washed. A small smile crept across your face, knowing that your mission had been accomplished.

Dean stumbled into the kitchen shortly after you pressed the 'start' button on the coffee pot. He took a seat at the table and grumbled as he rested his head on top of the table. "Good morning, Dean," you giggled.

He lifted his head and stared at you through half-lidded eyes. "Is coffee ready yet?" he rasped.

"Not yet, but I'll make sure you get some as soon as it is," you chuckled. You squeezed Dean's shoulder as you walked by him on your way back to the stove.

You heard someone clearing his throat and looked up to see Sam standing in the doorway. "Good morning, Sam," you said with a smile. "I hope it didn't take you too long to get back to sleep last night," you remarked.

"Good morning to you. No, I came in here after I changed clothes and had some cookies and milk that a certain someone left for me," Sam replied as he returned your smile.

You couldn't help but grin as you kept your head down and continued to prepare breakfast. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Sam," you said.

"Uh huh, yeah right," he smirked. "I thought for sure you were going to come in here to join me, but you didn't," Sam pouted.

"Oh. I thought you might want that time to yourself, so I went back to my room. Sorry," you replied.

He stepped behind you to grab three coffee cups from the cabinet, then turned to glance over your shoulder. Sam was so close that you swore you could feel his breath on your neck as you flipped the pancakes.

"Something I can help you with, Sam?" you asked. As you turned to make eye contact with the man behind you, he was so close that your lips meshed against his ever so gently. Your cheeks immediately felt blazing hot and you closed your eyes tightly to regain your composure.

Sam jumped back in surprise, then touched his lips where yours had most recently been. He took a hesitant step towards you as you flipped the last of the pancakes. You put them on the platter and turned off the griddle. You brought the steaming stack of flapjacks over to the table, then awkwardly excused yourself from the room.

Dean stared after you as you bolted from the kitchen. "What's wrong with her?" he asked.

A grin slowly spread across Sam's face as it dawned on him what had just occurred. He realized how perfect it felt to have your lips pressed against his, even if only for the briefest of moments. Sam also became aware of how much he wanted to do that again, but for longer and with even more contact. "I don't know, Dean," he said slowly.

"Dude, you okay?" Dean asked, cutting into Sam's daydream.

"Perfect, Dean. Just perfect. Can you please pass the bacon?" Sam answered.

"You know this is real bacon, right?" Dean said as he eyed his brother.

"Yeah, I know. It's okay, I'll burn the calories off tomorrow on my run," he assured Dean.

"Getting weird around here," Dean muttered.

Back in your room, you sat on the edge, head in your hands. What the hell was I thinking, kissing Sam? you asked yourself. Not like you hadn't thought or dreamed about it a thousand or more times. But with how he jumped back like he was burned, that was indication enough that he considered it a mistake.

Now it's going to get weird around here and that's my fault, you thought bitterly. You had to admit to yourself that his lips felt nice, and that you would like to do it for real and often. However, you decided your best course of action for at least today was to hole up in your room for a date with Netflix.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A couple of days after the "Kitchen Incident", as you thought of it, you decided to quit hiding out in your room. Whatever fallout was going to happen, you wanted to meet it head-on, then move forward, whatever that looked like.

Sam and Dean still went on cases, some that lasted a few days or even a week, while you stayed behind to run research. Life had seemingly returned to somewhat normal, or as normal as the hunting life gets.

Every once in a while, a plate of cookies and an empty glass for milk appeared on the kitchen table. Next to the glass would be a tented piece of paper marked, "For Sam". The usual instructions were written on the inside. He had to eat all of the cookies by dunking them in the milk, then drink all of the milk. Sometimes there would be a quote from a movie that you had watched together, or some silly knock-knock joke.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

About a month had passed and Sam and Dean were on their way home from a demon hunt in Montana. They had stopped in Sioux Falls to rest up at Jody's house and hang out with her and the girls before heading home. You asked Sam and Dean to say hi to everyone for you, and that you wished you were there.

Dean asked if you were going to do any baking, to which you laughed and asked him what kind of pie he wanted you to make. "Well, sweetheart, as long as you're offering, would you make a pecan pie for me?" he asked.

"I can do that. Um....how was the hunt?" you wondered.

Dean knew what you were really asking, but played along anyway. "It was fine, just demons being demons, causing their usual trouble. Sammy got knocked around a little though," Dean answered. "For the most part, he's okay. Sprained his wrist and has a bump on his head," he explained.

"What?!? Is he okay? Does he have a concussion, are you sure his wrist is only sprained?" you rambled.

"Shh, shh, relax. He's going to be fine. Here, talk to him," Dean said as he threw his phone to his brother, who threw him an epic bitch face in return.

"Hello? Sam, are you there?" you inquired nervously.

"I'm here. Don't listen to anything Dean says, I'm fine. How're you doin'?" Sam asked.

"Just trying to keep busy while I wait for you guys to come home. I must have done around seven loads of laundry in the last couple of days, though," you giggled. "You and Dean had at least three loads apiece!" you teased.

Sam smiled and chuckled in return. "I'm sure sorry about that, honey. I'll try not to let the clothes pile up so much next time," he promised.

Jody looked at Dean, with her mouthing the word, "Honey?" Dean just shrugged.

"Oh, it's all right, Sam. I was only kidding. I've got plenty around here to keep me busy and out of trouble," you remarked. "I miss you guys, but I know you don't get much chance to visit with Jody and her girls. So, don't be in a hurry to get home, and I'll see you when you get back," you replied softly.

"It's all up to Dean when he wants to leave, but I'll tell him you said that," Sam said. "Until then, take care of yourself and don't work too hard, okay?" he asked.

"I won't. Bye, Sam," you answered shyly. You heard a click and the call was disconnected.

Sam threw the phone back to his brother, a smile on his face. He got up from the couch and went into the kitchen for a bottle of water. Jody's and Dean's eyes followed Sam as he left the room. Once he was out of earshot, Jody and Dean were sharing their thoughts about Sam's phone conversation with you.

"Is there something going on between those two?" Jody asked. "Because it sure seems that way to me," she finished.

"Yeah, you should see them at home. They'll be sitting at the table researching or doing something on their laptops. I'll look up and see one of them staring at the other, then looking away. It's kind of cute, though," Dean replied.

"I can imagine. So, you'll have a pecan pie waiting for you when you get home, that'll be nice," Jody remarked.

"Yeah, and Sammy will probably have a plate of cookies waiting for him on the table," Dean answered.

"Wait. Mr. Eat-A-Salad-With-Every-Meal eats cookies?!?" Jody exclaimed.

"Oh, yeah, but only the ones she makes for him. It started after we got back from that werewolf hunt that went so bad," Dean explained with a grin. "At first, it was how she let Sammy know that he could talk to her about it or anything else if he wanted to. However, I think it's evolved into something more than that at this point," Dean said.

"Hmm. Maybe now it's her way of showing Sam how she feels. She might be too afraid to say it out loud," Jody suggested.

Neither Dean nor Jody had heard Sam come in from the kitchen. He heard the tail end of their conversation, the part about the reason you'd been leaving a plate of cookies out for him. "Hold on a minute. That's why she's been making me cookies?" Sam asked, taking a seat on the couch.

Jody and Dean looked at each other, debating on what to say next. Dean finally rolled his eyes and spoke first. "Come on, Sam, add it up," he started. "I've seen the two of you making goo-goo heart eyes at each other when you think the other's not looking. Then there's that phone conversation between you today," Dean smirked.

"What about our phone conversation?" Sam demanded.

"Nothing, just that if you smiled any wider while you were talking to her, your face would've split in half. And somehow, I don't think this is a recent thing for her," Jody chimed in.

"Huh? What do you mean?" Sam wondered.

"Well, remember the last time we all got together with Donna and Doug, about six months ago?" Jody asked and Sam nodded. "I noticed how her eyes seemed to follow you as soon as you entered the room. Then she looked away when you smiled at her and had caught her staring. How her face fell when you started talking and laughing with another woman," Jody finished quietly.

"H-how was she looking at me, Jody?" Sam asked, even though he pretty much knew the answer.

"Like a woman in love," she replied gently.

Sam turned to look at his brother. "Really?" he asked, his voice higher than usual.

Dean nodded. "So, the question really becomes, how do you feel about her, Sam?"

"I think I need some air," Sam said as he got up and walked out to Jody's back deck.

Once outside, he tilted his head up to see the endless array of stars shining in the night sky. Get it together, man, he told himself. This is your best friend you're talking about. You've known her for years. Do you really want to lose that if she doesn't feel the same? he silently asked.

Looking at the other side of the argument, Sam asked himself what would happen if you did feel the same, and how he would know. He loved the late-night conversations you had when neither of you could sleep. The warm towel you placed outside the shower for him after a cold morning run. Your laughter at his usually lame-ass jokes. Even that heartbroken look on your face as he flirted with another woman at the bar was enough to indicate how you felt.

The more Sam thought about it, the more he marveled at how he didn't see it sooner. It was all in front of him this whole time, the little things you do to show you care. Comforting him after he'd had a nightmare, buying his favorite veggies for snacks.....making cookies. You were in love with him.

Sam was suddenly desperate to have you in his arms at this very moment. As the two of you gazed at the stars, he knew your eyes would sparkle with amazement. Then you'd turn your focus on him and give him one of your heart-stopping smiles.

At that point, Sam knew he'd be a goner. He wouldn't be able to resist capturing your lips in a searing kiss, if your mouth moved even a fraction of an inch in his direction. That last thought was what sealed it in his mind. He was in love with you. If even half of what Jody and Dean said was true, then he didn't want to waste any more time before telling you how he felt.

He walked back through the house and into the living room, where he'd left Jody and Dean. When Sam entered the room, they stopped their conversation, because to them, it looked like he had something to say. "Hey Dean? Um....Could we...." he fumbled.

"Yeah, we can leave for home in the morning, Sam," Dean replied with an understanding smile.

"Thanks," Sam sighed with relief.

"Go get 'er, Sam," Jody remarked in support, bringing a smile to Sam's face.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You had just pulled Dean's pecan pie from the oven and set it on the counter to cool. With any luck, it would be cooled off enough and ready to eat when he got home. There were also a few dozen snickerdoodle cookies you had made for Sam, resting on the wire cooling racks. You took out a plate from the cupboard and a tall glass. You placed about six cookies on the plate and set the glass next to the plate.

Taking out a blank sheet of paper, you folded it and tore it in half. On one half, you folded it into a tent and wrote "For Dean", then placed it next to the pecan pie. For the other half, you folded it the same, and wrote "For Sam" on the outside, then turned to write something on the inside.

Several minutes ticked by and you hadn't written anything. You couldn't think of a movie quote or line from Shakespeare to adequately express how you were feeling at the moment. You thought about your last conversation, the one where you heard he'd been hurt. Sam said it wasn't serious, but it was enough to cause you concern.

You decided you didn't want to hold back anymore when it came to your feelings about Sam. A hunter's life isn't always known to be a long one, and you were done wasting time. A smile broke out over your face as you resolved your writer's block. You wrote the three words that you felt best fit the situation, then left the note next to the cookies.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam convinced Dean to drop him off at the bunker so he had some time alone to talk with you. Dean said he would use the time to go back to town for a pizza or something. Sam first went to the kitchen, because he smelled the evidence of your baking endeavors. He saw the plate of cookies and bit into one as he read the note. As soon as he read the three words, he ran out of the kitchen.

A knock at your door startled you enough to make you drop the book you were reading. You took a deep breath then turned the doorknob. As soon as the door was open, Sam's hands were on you, cradling your face as he smashed his lips to yours. The urgency of his kiss made you gasp in surprise, creating an opening for Sam's tongue to slip inside. As you returned the favor, you could taste the cinnamon and sugar of the cookie he ate before he knocked on your door.

You broke the kiss when you needed to catch your breath. "Wow, Sam," you whispered. "That's some 'welcome home' you've got there," you chuckled.

"Couldn't help it, I had to see you, baby," he murmured. His right hand slid behind your head, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "Then I found the cookies and the note you'd left in the kitchen," he explained. Sam dove in for another kiss, but this one was slow and tantalizing, full of everything he was feeling at the moment. He pulled back from the kiss and guided you so you were both sitting on the edge of your bed.

Your hands slid up his chest and clasped behind Sam's neck. "I couldn't think of anything clever to put in the note this time. The more I thought about you, the less I wanted to hide how I felt about you. So I wrote the three words I believed would best fit the situation, and figured I'd explain once you read the note," you replied.

Sam grinned. "It said, 'Come find me', and how could I do anything else? I've thought about you so much these past couple of days. I don't want to hide how I feel about you, either. I love you," he declared, dipping his head lower to capture your lips with his own.

"Oh, Sam," you whispered. "I've felt this way for such a long time, but didn't know how to tell you. So, I baked," you both laughed. "I love you too," you replied softly.

You were about to pull Sam in for another kiss when you heard the bunker door slide open, which meant Dean was home. The two of you looked at each other and laughed, Sam's forehead leaned against yours. He gave you one last peck on the lips before he got up from the bed, his hand held out for you to take. You took his hand in yours and intertwined your fingers as you walked out to see what Dean brought for dinner.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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#sam winchester #sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #spn imagines #supernatural #spn

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thanksjro · 4 years ago

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More Than Meets the Eye #28- I Sure Hope Y’all Like Megatron

“Dark Cybertron” is finally over! Woohoo!

Who’s ready for a return to hijinks and mild peril?

I know this guy is!

Hold on a second-

We start our foray into Season 2 of MTMTE with a little meta-humor-

-and then it’s right into the swing of things, as Brainstorm uses the thin, fragile wine glass of faction-based morality to hold his personal need to make instruments of violence. Nautica disapproves, but then why wouldn’t she? She’s not been steeped in the militant ideologies of the Autobots for millions of years.

It’s six months after the convoluted events of “Dark Cybertron”, and our beloved ship, the Lost Light, is back on track for the Knight Quest. Nautica’s joined the crew, which is neat, but there are far more interesting things going on.

Like Rung actually doing his fucking job for once.

Wow, look at that little creamsicle man go.

It would seem that in the last half-year (by Earth standards) Megatron’s somehow gotten himself into the esteemed position of Captain of the Lost Light. This likely means that Rodimus has been defeated in battle, or perhaps fucked off on yet another space yacht to run away from his responsibilities. I suppose the narrative will have to fill us in on just what exactly happened.

Or, at least, I hope it does. Wouldn’t be a terribly good story if I had to guess on how exactly this dude’s in charge of a whole-ass Autobot crew.

Yes, yes, I know he switched sides, but goddammit, it takes a little more than saying sorry and changing your wardrobe to excuse the murder of half of NYC.

I mean, we can do both. Both is an option. I’ll break out The Communist Manifesto right now, let’s fuckin’ gooooooooo-

Six months prior to Megatron’s therapy appointment, Rodimus is ready to high-tail it off of Cybertron yet again. This is because, as established in previous posts, Cybertron kinda sucks butt. He bursts into the meeting Optimus Prime called- even though he’s really not leader of anything anymore, Starscream is- bids everyone farewell, and is about to run back out of the room when he’s stopped.

Turns out that the populace of Cybertron want Megatron to stand trial. That makes sense, given what all he’s done. Of course, the Autobot pals we’ve got in the room want to skip due process and go straight to the part where Megatron pays through the nose for the last four million years.

Which doesn’t feel terribly heroic or good guy-ish, but I think by this point you’ve probably caught on to the fact that everyone in IDW Transformers is morally gray at BEST.

Because Megatron’s had a rough time the last few years, in relation to his bodily integrity, spark extraction- that thing that High Command lied about in relation to Overlord- isn’t an option. It would just kill him dead.

Uh, excuse me? Optimus Prime, sir? Monsieur Premier?

Guess Optimus hasn’t been keeping up with exRiD.

Anyway, yeah, since Tyrest fucked off in “The Sound of Breaking Glass” and also tried to commit a genocide, we’re gonna need someone to cast judgement.

Course, a military trial isn’t exactly ideal, but as long as it’s open to the public, it should be fine.

Probably.

Anyway, Prowl’s also going to help. Ultra Magnus has been assigned the task of representing Megatron in court, a job which he’s positively delighted to have, if his face is any indication.

The gang breaks for lunch, and Rodimus and Optimus touch base on how the Knight Quest is going.

Because Rodimus’ half of the Matrix had the map for finding the Knights of Cybertron in it, they’re gonna have to go with Plan B.

Oh fuck yes, I love Plan B!

Unfortunately, finding the ideal romantic partner for all Cybertronians is going to have to wait until after the trial, because Optimus really wants Rodimus here for this. Though perhaps there’s a way to make things move a little faster…

Back in the present, Megatron’s had just about enough of Rung being a psychiatry joke, and is about to walk out of his appointment. Ravage is here, which is neat. Rung asks Megatron about the three most important people in his life, and how he met them. One of these people is, funnily enough, Rung.

Rung, if you’ll recall, was thrown into Megatron and Impactor’s table at Maccadams waaaaaay back in The Transformers #22, the first issue of the IDW run that Roberts wrote solo. It would seem that getting arrested and subjected to police brutality ruined his once-idealistic worldview. This is just a lightning-round recap of the events of the “Chaos Theory” storyline.

Being reminded of how hard he got dunked on makes Rung break out his copy of Megatron’s autobiography, Towards Peace. Of course, Megatron has to be “that guy”, and makes it out to be far more than it actually is. My dude, you used your writing to tell all your proto-Decepticon buddies to go beat up Whirl in prison. Let’s not make things sound more grandiose than they are.

Anyway, it turns out that Rung is actually just as much a nerd as he looks, as he reveals that he’s in possession of one of the only few copies of the original version of Towards Peace. And then he takes off his glasses and the fans go bonkers, even though he’s just got that Milne Same-Face going on, just like everyone else.

There you are, you animals.

Rung discusses Revisionism, I’m reminded that the first publication of Eugenesis had a dedication to Roberts’ son of all people, and we get the question of who Terminus is to Megatron.

But alas! The X-ray vision’s been turned on, and it’s time to see… nude robots? An in-depth anatomy lesson?

Robots are confusing sometimes. Anyways, major props to Milne for drawing all that detail. Dude does the technical stuff with a ferocity that must be awe-inspiring to behold.

Megatron’s decided that it’s time for lunch, and then he’s going to do captain stuff.

Because he’s captain of the Lost Light.

I’m convinced Rodimus is dead. That’s the only way this is happening.

Six months ago, Swerve was being awful Swerve-like, with his new buddy Crosscut- guess he finally learned the guy’s name- and Riptide, who we’ll get to a little later on. These three wonderful lads are holding a sort of “crew try-outs”, and it looks like the requirements needed for entry on Megatron’s Lost Light are stiff.

Still, maybe our new friend Nautica will make the cut.

Oh, you are simply delightful!

Despite Nautica having interest in nearly every topic in the universe, on top of having impeccable taste in booze, she just misses the cut. It’s at this point that Nightbeat bursts into the room to stop this farce from going any further. The fact that nobody mentioned anything prior to this is surprising, given that portmanteaus don’t really seem the type of thing Ultra Magnus would approve of.

Back six months ago, we see what Optimus Prime’s super great idea was to expedite the judicial process- Chromedome. It’s always Chromedome. He’s gonna do that thing he promised his late husband he’d stop doing. I suppose it’s a good thing- for Rewind, anyway- that Megatron is wholly against the idea of having his memories torn out of his head. Guess we’re gonna have to do the trial the normal, non brain-pokey way.

Optimus leaves the cell, because I suppose he’s remembered that there’s a conflict of interests here, but Rodimus stays behind to let Megatron know he deserves everything that’s coming his way.

Then Megatron breaks out the puzzle-box from Hellraiser.

In the present, Chromedome isn’t so much spiraling in his depression as he is circling the drain. Nightbeat doesn’t give a shit about that though- he’s more concerned with the fact that one of the numbers on the door to Chromedome’s room is missing. But I’m sure it’s fine.

It’s fiiiiiiiiiiine.

While Nightbeat’s busy being insensitive to his fellow man’s distress, Megatron’s arrived to his room to find his door’s been vandalized by a bunch of idiots who must have just discovered what a thesaurus is. Then he gets shot in the fucking hand with an arrow.

As you do.

Whirl’s gotten ahold of a bow, and he fully intends to use it for Megatron-directed violence. And also his fists. His very pointy fists. He punches Megatron through the fucking floor into the fuel furnace, and they fall what’s probably a good 200 feet to the ground below. Whirl yells about evening the score between the two of them, and then knees Megatron in the dick.

Turns out, Megatron remembers Whirl even better than originally thought, having gone so far as to order his forces to not kill Whirl, because, in a way, he was grateful for the lesson he learned back before the war in Rodion.

Oh man, I hope Rung’s somehow listening in on this. Like, eavesdropping is obviously bad medicine, but we’ve already established that he sucks as a professional, and he needs what few advantages he can get.

Whirl, enraged by the implication that he’s been fighting fixed battles for the last four million years, punches Megatron in the gut… and his arm gets swallowed up by an errant portal leftover from all of Shockwave’s tampering. Since you can’t really fight with only one arm, Megatron wanders off to do captainy things.

Walking back the timeline slightly, we revisit Megatron leaving Rung’s office, and the idea of personal revisionism, the conversation becoming parallel with the strange happenings going on within the ship, as Rewind’s final message is altered so as not to end with “I love you” but instead a blood-curdling scream. Chromedome is, understandably, upset by this turn of events.

Over with Whirl, it’s revealed that the little fight we saw was intentionally set up. For what purpose, or by whom, is left a mystery.

Please see a doctor.

One last flashback to the trial, as Prowl lists off everything that’s standing in the way of our Sympathetic Megatron Redemption Arc.

Good fuckin’ luck, James.

Back in the present, Megatron’s slapped a bandaid on the hole in his torso, as he checks to see what’s happening on the bridge. It would appear there’s a coffin floating around in space.

Pretty fucked up.

#transformers #jro #MTMTE #world shut your mouth #issue 28 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #overthinking about robots #comic script writing

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womanoflettersinthebunker · 4 years ago

Text

When Sam had first woken up, the biggest surprise was that he did, in fact, wake up. In his own bed too.

He tried to think back to the last thing he could remember. The burning light of the Trials coursing through him. The crackling sounds that could only be his bones breaking, ribs being thrust open from the heat that was inside of him. Cranial fluid evaporating and every single last part of him on the edge of destruction.

But then… He woke up.

Except… Not really.

He was awake, that wasn’t the question. He slowly sat up and moved, looking down at his hands and arms that he distinctly remembered had been glowing with the Grace and Power of Heaven.

There was nothing there now, just his arms. A little thinner than what was normal but still muscular, still his, still normal looking.

Not burned, not burning, whole and complete.

In fact, his whole body felt better than it had in… In ages. Even before doing the Trials, during his time with Amelia, his body hadn’t been anywhere near perfect condition. He still went to bed in pain most nights and after starting the Trials?

Pain killers had become a staple in his routine. And even then there were times that he hadn’t been able to sleep. Wouldn’t be able to move, to get out of bed. Sometimes, even just breathing hurt.

But now… Now, it felt… Different. Better in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. As if every breath he took was labored down, no longer feeling like if he breathed too deeply, he’d break. Even his heart was-

His heart was skipping a beat.

He blinked and then frowned, bringing his hand up to touch his chest. His arm actually did feel a bit strange, now that he focused on it, a bit heavier to bring up. It took him a moment but then he focused on his heartbeat and tried to listen.

His heart rate had always been steady, perfectly regular. Lately, it had been a bit rough, a bit strained, but it had never skipped a beat like it was doing right now. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe in deeply, snapping them open when he realized that he couldn’t.

He was breathing, it was even and level. His chest was expanding and decompressing with each inhale and exhale, respectively. He could feel the air, could smell it with the slight hint of what could only be chicken soup.

Except… He shouldn’t be able to smell that either. His room was far away enough from the kitchen, as all the bedrooms were, that neither noises or smells would travel.

He tried to take another deep breath.

His breathing remained even. In, out- inhale, exhale.

He looked down at his hands again. They were steady, certain. Everything about him was steady, stable, firm.

Too steady. Too stable. Too firm.

He threw the covers back and moved to get out of the bed, feeling like… Like there was something different.

Something wrong.

Swallowing hard, he looked himself over again to ensure himself that he was, in fact, himself. He brought his hands up to touch his face, pulling on his hair slightly. Standing up, he shook for a moment, legs bending slightly as he tried to walk forward.

He didn’t make it that far before his door opened. He looked up and was immediately met with a bone deep relief that made him sag slightly as his brother came over to him and wrapped his arms around him tightly.

“Thank god, Sammy.” he whispered, one hand cupping the back of his head. “You’re okay.”

Sam hugged back instinctively, relishing the warmth from his brother, even with the slight chill that seemed to cling to him for some reason, as well as feeling as if Dean had lost weight but when he pulled back to look at him, he looked the same.

“Dean…” Sam said slowly, realizing that something was deeply, deeply wrong. “What did you do?”

_______________________________________________________

It was a spell Dean explained over lunch, or dinner or whatever meal it was. It was hot and it was good and he could eat it without throwing up.

That is, he could eat it without throwing up because Dean was eating it without throwing up.

Sam had been dying, back at the church. He hadn’t been wrong, he had been burning from the inside out. Dean had carried him out of the church, collapsed right next to the impala, and in the end, all he could do was bring Sam to the closest hospital and hope that the doctors didn’t ask too many questions.

But even then, there was nothing that could be done. The Trials had done their part, had anointed him and baptised him in fire, because what other way for a Winchester to be purified than with fire? As a result, his insides were burnt along with everything else that could be. The fact that he had lasted as long as he did was nothing short of a miracle.

But they didn’t have a second miracle and Sam had been fading fast.

So, Dean had called Kevin back at the bunker, barely able to console the kid to focus on the task at hand. Apparently, whatever had happened before with the meteor shower- the Angels falling, Dean had told him- had put the bunker on lockdown, making it impossible to get out.

But the call had managed to get through and Dean had put Kevin to work immediately, barely even taking the time to explain everything else because nothing else was important.

Just find a way to save Sam, Dean had told him. And hurry.

So, Kevin dove deep into the books and even the Angel Tablet, trying to find something as fast as he could, with Sam's health declining by the minute and the doctors gently urging Dean to be ready to let him go, perhaps get last rites or for him to see a grief counselor.

Dean had ignored them all, just staying beside his brother, thin hand clasped between two of his own, as he desperately waited for Kevin to call with something, anything.

And when Dean had been serious enough to start to contemplate some other sort of supernatural method, like praying to the angels for help or, Impala forbid, a demon to work out a deal with- he did, after all, have Crowley stashed in his trunk, Kevin had called him.

It was dangerous, it was ludicrous, it was the single most dim-witted possible thing that could be done in this kind of situation.

It sounded exactly like the Winchester way.

It was a bond, a soul bond and a physical bond, only to be done at the very last possible minute when there was no other way. It took two people and essentially bound one to the other in the most intimate of ways.

Sam was dying, his body no longer able to house his soul anymore, due to the severance of the connection between the two. It was what allowed the reaper to be able to take the soul to the afterlife.

Unless there was something to anchor the soul to Earth and give it a new connection. Bind the body to some other living thing so that it could have something else to copy and repeat until it could heal enough to properly house its own soul again.

And there was no other living being that Dean would trust with Sam's very soul and body than himself. No one else would keep him as safe, would be as willing to do so.

So, in the end, Sam's soul was bonded to Dean's soul, the new anchor that kept him on Earth and prevented any reaper, though Dean thought that maybe he had heard Death himself whispering in his ear, from taking Sam's soul away.

And his body was bound to Dean's body, copying the internal motions that Dean did.

Sam tried to breathe in deeply again, and couldn’t.

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Sam copied him, unable to resist it. When Dean held his breath, so did Sam. When Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek, still holding his breath, Sam felt the echo of teeth against skin, prodding his own tongue at the side of his cheek as if he could feel the ghost of the indents on them.

Dean breathed out and so did Sam; he- they- had started feeling lightheaded from not breathing.

“So, basically, what my body does, you’re gonna copy,” Dean told him. “So I’m breathing for two, heart beating for two." He gestured to the food that was getting cold. “And technically, eating for two.”

Because Sam's body by itself couldn't digest anything.

He took a piece of bread and dipped it into the soup, biting into it. He couldn’t taste it. He couldn’t even feel that it was in his mouth. When he tried to swallow, he couldn’t, like there was some sort of force not letting it past his throat. He gagged and coughed the bread into his hand, putting it in his napkin.

Dean did the same, grabbed the bread and dunked it into the soup, biting into it. Sam could feel a hint of the wetness hitting his, their, chin. Could feel the taste like an aftertaste, could feel the slight warmth of the soup. He moved quickly to do the same, Dean waiting to move or swallow, and this time he could taste the bread clear as anything, could feel the soup traveling down his throat, into his stomach.

“How the hell are we going to live like this?” Sam asked, looking up at his brother. “What else is going to happen?”

Dean looked uncomfortable, unable to look at Sam's eyes. “I don’t know.” he admitted. “But whatever it is, it's better than the alternative.”

“Is it?” Sam couldn’t help but ask. Usually, at this point, his hands would start to shake or his breathing would become ragged. This time nothing happened. “Or are you just saying that because you’re not the one that’s hooked up to your brother like a makeshift puppet?”

“You can still move around and do whatever you want Sam," Dean told him. “I’m just gonna be the one that keeps your body alive and functioning.”

“And what if I wanted to die?” Sam prodded, stopping when he felt his- their- hearts beating faster. His hand came up to touch his chest again, feeling the irregular beat. “Is that you?”

Dean grimaced, hand swiping over his mouth as he looked away. “Yeah.” he muttered. “It's me.”

Sam kept his hand on his chest, feeling the heartbeat slowly start to normalize, but still with that same skipped beat. “Why is your heart skipping like this?”

“Been like that for years.” Dean said with a shrug. “Way before Hell even, can’t remember why but I’m used to it.”

“Should get it checked out.” he muttered, looking over at the food again. Their stomachs growled and Dean immediately picked his spoon up, slowly eating the soup, pausing to let Sam do the same and copy his movements.

They ate in silence, simultaneously in every motion. It was maddening to Sam, he kept expecting his fingers to start twitching, tapping against the table or the side of his chair like he liked to do, but they laid there flat on the table instead, curled around the spoon unmovingly.

Where did this end? He could move around, like he had gotten out of bed before, and he could stop eating despite Dean continuing.

He tried to do so, stopped eating despite his brother doing so, Dean raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything, swallowing his mouthful.

He could still feel the echo of the warmth of the soup, thick and filling, slide down his throat and into his stomach. Only he could also feel the slight pain of not actually having anything there, his body was digesting food that wasn’t really there.

He picked up his spoon again and started to eat, copying his brother.

Once they were done Sam pushed the bowl away from him, Dean didn’t, all he did was lean back. But it was something they didn’t do in unison, that meant that he could in fact move without Dean dictating him how to.

Except that...he could feel the back of the chair that Dean was sitting in, while his own back was away from the seat. His spine curved as if he was accommodating the chair and he scowled, looking up at his brother.

“Show me the spell.” he demanded.

___________________________________________________

It hadn’t been a lie, it was the single most brainless thing he had ever seen and he had a feeling he’d never see something as stupidly foolish at this.

It made him wish that Bobby was still around to just...smack them on the head sometimes. At least then they’d admit that what they were doing was pure, plain, Winchester stupidity.

He sat down to start reading the half notes and translations from the papers Kevin had left. It was a mess of writings and scribblings, most of which he couldn’t really make out.

He settled in for a long night and pulled a fresh piece of paper to him, snagging a pen as well as he got to work.

He was starting to get light headed, enough that his vision was starting to dim.

He rubbed at his eyes and tried to focus on the rest of the translation, sounding out the words inside of his head to try to figure them out despite how they were starting to swim across the pages.

He stopped and put the papers down, rubbing at his eyes once more and squinting at the words. A heat curled around his cheeks and his limbs started to feel heavy, heavier, than before as if he was-

Sam's eyes widened and he quickly got up, pushing the chair back with the force of his sudden movement. He moved as fast as he could, wanting to see if his hypothesis was true.

He skidded slightly, bringing his arms up to block himself as he almost ran into the wall, feet stumbling as he tried to remain upright before he finally found his brother, sitting on the kitchen floor with at least three, that he could see, empty bottles of beer around him and a fourth in his hand.

Dean jumped slightly and whirled around to face him, standing up a bit unstably. Sam closed his eyes as he felt the world spin around him for a moment and then reopened them to glare at his brother.

“I’m getting drunk.” he accused him, watching the surprise and then slight guilt flash over Dean's face. His words were slurred slightly, he couldn’t remember the last time he had actually been drunk. “And I’m trying to do work.”

“So what, I can’t drink now that we’re like this?” Dean complained, despite quickly going to the cabinet and pulling out a loaf of bread. He ripped pieces off and started to eat them, Sam's mouth filled with saliva and his throat constricted as if he was swallowing them. Dean went to him and gave him a slice, letting the both of them eat in time. “Next thing you’ll tell me is no more sex.”

“And how exactly do you think sex is going to work like this?” Sam demanded, trying to swallow and gagging, waiting for Dean to swallow so he could do it. “It was bad enough that I had to listen when I was a teenager, I’m not going to be feeling it like a ghost.”

“Oh it wasn’t that bad when you were a teen.” Dean waved his concerns away. “I always made sure you were asleep.”

Sam just threw him a dry look. “And yet I still get half a boner whenever I hear the words, ‘Don’t worry, he’s asleep,’” he mimicked, throwing the rest of the bread in his hand at Deans head.

Dean rolled his eyes but tossed his remainder onto the counter. “Fine, you sobering up there Mother Theresa?”

Sam wondered for a moment if he punched Dean, would he feel it too and was weighing the cons and pros regarding both.

“I’ve been reading more about the spell.” he said instead. “And I’m gonna be honest Dean, we’re lucky it worked at all. You had two of the five ingredients, you used an EKG instead of a neurotransmitter, and even one of those ingredients expired last year.” he shook his head. “This never should’ve worked.”

“Ah but it did.” Dean said wagging his finger and slowly collecting the empty beer bottles, throwing them over his shoulder and straight into the trash can. “And your welcome.”

Sam just stared at him. “We didn’t finish talking about that,” he told him. “About me being okay with it.”

Their hearts started to beat faster once more, it seemed to be a natural reaction for Dean at this point when bringing something like this up.

“No, we’re done.” Dean told him. “Because you agreed to stop the Trials and I saved your life so that means, we’re done talking about it.”

“No we’re not.” Sam said, turning so that he could watch Dean. Their palms were starting to sweat and twitch. “Dean.”

“I don’t give a damn Sam. I meant what I said in that church.” Dean said, not looking at him. “I don’t give a single damn if it means all the Hells gates are cracked open, I don’t care if everyone in the world is possessed right now. I don’t care. Because if it means having you dead?” he could feel the tremor pass through Deans body, slight but there, no external hint of it. “Then I’d let it all burn.”

Without waiting for Sam to say anything else to that, what could he even possibly say, Dean left the room, leaving Sam behind with a heart that was beating too fast in their chest and the taste of bread in their mouth.

_________________________________________________________

They managed, somehow and barely. Sam kept trying to figure out the rest of the spell and all that it entailed while Dean kept the both of them alive. Three times a day they ate together, they didn’t have any other choice really since it had to be in time, and on the second day Sam had put his foot down and demanded that Dean add vegetables as well to their meals.

He could only stomach, figuratively, so much meat and soups, even those had meat in them of some kind; at times more like a mild chilli than soup.

Dean quit drinking completely for the time being, complaining about it all the while but Sam also felt how their upper right abdomen was starting to feel a bit better and not so pinched all the time.

It was those little bits and pieces of them that he had to get used to and to be honest, Sam missed his own small parts. He missed having his own heartbeat, being in control of his own breathing. Even when he tried to do yoga or some sort of exercise he couldn’t actually feel as if he was doing anything and nothing ached pleasantly like it was supposed to after doing so.

But he felt it when Dean pulled a Charley horse in the middle of the night, his lower leg locked in pain as he desperately tried to massage it out to no avail until Dean managed to relax and do something about it.

He didn’t miss feeling so cold all the time though, that was something that constantly lingered, especially after his memories from Hell came back full throttle, so there were some benefits to this he supposed. Not to mention the scratchy and almost painful feeling in his throat whenever he spoke too loudly or raised his voice.

He did miss, however, being able to use the bathroom on his own time. That was a conversation that neither of them were willing to have or even entertain.

“How long are we going to be like this?” Sam asked the night that Dean got a migraine that he refused to do anything about. He flinched back and turned the rest of the lights on, letting the light from their computer screens show the way in the room instead. “And for the love of god take something already.”

“We’re gonna be like this until your body heals or we find a spell to heal your body.” Dean told him, grumbling and internally flinching as he got up and went to the first aid kit they kept in every room. He dry swallowed two painkillers, Sam's tongue curled at the chalky taste they left behind. “Until then just deal.”

They started to leave the bunker a bit more, get back into the world. It was nice to walk around and feel the sun, or rather have Dean feel the sun in the leather jacket he refused to take off and thereby making the both of them sweat, and just breathe in the fresh air.

He noted that whenever Dean breathed in a bit too deep there almost seemed to be some sort of pain in their left side and he made a mental note to check on that once things were back to normal.

There were a lot of things he had to check on his brother once they were back to the way they were, too many small medical issues that couldn’t and shouldn’t be ignored like the way that he’s been doing.

Or maybe he should bring it up while they were connected like this, guilt trip him into actually doing something about it if it meant that it was causing him pain.

In an attempt to get back into the swing of things, Dean found them a run of the mill hunt, textbook case of a ghost lingering in their old house refusing to move on. They donned their suits and went to work. When it was time for lunch Sam went to the register himself and ordered two extra large salads, adding as many free addons as possible and keeping it to a simple olive oil and lemon dressing.

The look on Dean's face was downright murderous when Sam brought it to him, complete with a whey protein smoothie. He just smirked at him and sat down, waiting for Dean to take the first bite.

“Already paid for.” he said when Dean glanced at the register. “And they don’t take back food.”

Dean's upper lip curled in disgust as he picked up his fork and stabbed the lettuce, Sam forked some as well, watching as Dean slowly brought it up to his mouth. Smiling Sam ate along with Dean, feeling the anger and the hatred in each bite as Dean masticated every bite furiously until the salad was gone and the smoothie was drunk.

And later on when their stomachs were cramping in pain Dean smirked right back at him.

“Your stomach is so messed up that a little bit of salad did this?” Sam demanded, resisting the urge to throw something at him, he still had no idea if it would do something to him as well. “I’m putting you on a cleanse.”

“My liver is cleanse enough, now let's burn this sucker.” Dean said, tossing the salt canister to him.

It turned out that it wasn’t just a ghost haunting its old house. It was two ghosts in one, twins that refused to move on. Twins that no one had realized were there, with their bodies hidden in the floorboards, their bones so intertwined with one another's that Sam couldn’t tell where one sibling started and the other ended.

They were both used to being thrown around by ghosts, used to the bone chilling cold that seeped into them when the ghosts would try to grab them, they had iron in their jacket for that exact reason, to grab it and use against the ghosts.

Sam had been trying to figure out this part of them for a while now, had tried to see if it actually meant something between this bond of theirs. He just wasn’t willing to hurt Dean to find out if it was the truth.

So when the ghost had grabbed Dean and threw him against the rotting wooden staircase, breaking the banister as Sam had been trying to break open the floorboards to get to the bodies, Sam was the one that shouted in sudden pain as he fell to his side, feeling the broken pieces of the staircase digging into his side as the whole back of his body erupted in pain.

Gritting his teeth he forced himself up, standing on shaking legs. He could feel their teeth tightly clenched together and the way their legs shook unsteadily. He looked at his brother, already feeling the bruise that was going to bother them for the next few days at least.

“Sam! Finish it!” Dean shouted at him, grabbing the shotgun and shooting at one of the twins that materialized in front of him. “Now!”

Sam turned back to his task at hand, reaching out and pulling the rest of the boards away to give him enough room to work. He grabbed at the salt and gas, pouring both in liberally as he reached into his pocket to grab his lighter.

Before blood shot out of his mouth and he fell to his knees, sharp and overwhelming pain in his side.

He didn’t bother to look down at himself, he turned as best as he could to look at his brother.

Who had a steel beam in his lower side, the shotgun thrown to the ground, with one of the ghosts holding him down onto the ground as the other raised another beam.

Sam acted on instinct, grabbing the lighter and flicking it open and lit with his wrist before throwing it into the bones, watching with intense satisfaction as the ghost lit up in flames, screaming as the beam fell helplessly to the ground and Dean was let go.

His vision was blackening over and he tried to fight it, stumbling as he slowly stood up. His hand went to his side, pressing against the open wound there. He could feel their stomach lurch and contract, almost throwing up from the pain. His eyes clouded over slightly as he finally reached his brother, reaching out to hold his hand out to him to help him stand up.

When Dean stood up it must’ve agitated the wound because a fresh wave of pain went over him and he, they, couldn’t breathe for a moment. He could feel Dean grit his teeth in an echo and could practically feel his brother pushing back against the darkness that threatened to consume them.

Sam pulled his jacket off and bundled it up, pressing it against the wound on Dean's side, he could feel the same sensation on his own side and pressed harder. He wrapped an arm around Deans shoulder to help guide him out of the house and back to the impala. “C’mon, let's just get to the motel.” he mumbled.

It was a hassle and a half to not only get to the impala, but get out and into the room with the both of them remaining conscious. Each movement reminded the both of them how badly wounded they were, as well as every dip and pothole they felt on the road was another sharp blast of pain.

“We can’t do this again.” Sam managed to get out, gripping the steering wheel tightly as Dean took care not to bleed on the seats. “We can’t hunt anymore while we’re like this. It's too risky.”

“Could figure it out, or you could move fast enough so that the ghost doesn’t get one over on me.” Dean gritted out, shifting the jacket, he was going to have to throw it out at this point, to a drier area to press against him. “Sure were taking your time there Sammy.”

“Bite me.” Sam quipped at him, not even in the slightest mood to deal with this. He parked haphazardly and got out of the car, vision swimming once more as he tried to move his legs fast enough to get to his brother's side.

Dean was telling him something but by the tone of his voice Sam could already tell that he was complaining about nothing important, it also meant that he was going to be okay as well as the fact that the pain was already fading to the back of their mind at this point. They carried one another to the motel room and Sam carefully placed him on the bed closest to the door before grabbing the first aid kit from their bag.

“What? No antiseptic? No pain killer?” Dean asked, nodding meaningfully at the bottle of whiskey in the bag right next to the first aid kit.

“I’m already dealing with blood loss and an extra pocket in my side.” Sam told him as he threaded the needle and grabbed the lighter, watching the metal heat up. “You want to add alcohol to that?”

“We’ve done it worse.” Dean reminded him. “We’ve done it in a lot worse conditions.”

“Doesn’t make it any better, now shut up.” Sam said as he knelt down and took a deep breath. He paused for a moment, grabbing a roll of gauze and shoving it between his teeth, he could see a long piece of something, wooden or silver or made of jello he wasn’t sure, but it was in there and had to be removed. He didn’t let himself think, just reached in and yanked it out, the both of them locking up at the pain.

Forcing himself to stay focused, he started to sow up the mess, it was thick and deep enough to cause severe blood loss but thin enough that he could use regular stitches to cover it up. It laid over Deans side down to his inner thigh, ripping his jeans.

“What the hell, she couldn’t buy you dinner first?” Sam couldn’t help but mutter as he stood up and tugged. “You gotta get these off.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at him, smirking suggestively. “Aww Sammy, you know I’d always put out for you.”

If it didn’t mean hurting himself further, and now they had proof that it did, Sam would’ve hit him.

“Unless you want to do it yourself, get your pants off.” he said unamused. “Or I’m going to go take a shower and go to bed.”

Dean rolled his eyes, grumbling as he shifted enough on the bed so that he didn’t have to stand up to shove his jeans down. “Fine, fine. Have at it.”

Sam shook his head as he knelt down once more, rummaging through the first aid kit to grab the alcohol pads and bandages. He squinted at the wound once more before shaking his head, he didn’t need stitches after all, it was just a lot of blood but not deep at all around his thigh.

“This is gonna sting.” Sam warned him as he cleaned the wound, uncaring of how he had to turn his wrist to do so. He could feel the sting in his own thigh, feeling where the wound was deepest. He moved his hand slightly closer to the inside of Deans thigh, knowing that there was another part-

He could feel blood slowly pulsating between his legs.

Sam paused for a moment, freezing really, before restarting, keeping one hand pressed to the wound as he rummaged for bandages. He could feel the heat coursing from Deans thigh, and he could feel how the blood was steadily making its way downward.

There was no way to ignore it, all he could do was just not mention it and focus on patching his brother up.

His hands were shaking, he noted, staring at the slightly quivering fingers. He pressed the bandages and gauze to the wound, carefully wrapping it.

He quickly did the rest of Dean's side, it was a bit challenging because both his hands and body were shaking now, a miniscule hint of the tremors, and then hesitated, not wrapped his hand around the inside of Dean's thigh once more.

“Sammy?” He could hear his brother say slowly. “What’re you doing?”

This could just be a physical reaction, Dean was a sexual creature and he hadn’t really been with anyone in ages. With helping him deal with the Trials and now taking Sam's request rather seriously, he was pent up. And judging by the way he could feel his own cock twitch he knew that Dean hadn’t been taking care of himself alone either.

Except...his hand was still moving.

And he’s not going to lie.

It's been a while for him too.

He was shaking, a corner of his mind told him, he was shaking and his heart was beating faster, almost as if it was about to leap out of his chest.

His hand moved until he could slide it past his boxers, stopping just above his pelvis region. He could feel all those sensations, could feel the sensation of skin on skin, the heat of someone elses touch.

He just wished that he could feel it himself too.

He looked up, Dean was staring down at him with wide, blown eyes, lips parted slightly. Hunger gripped him so tight that he could barely breathe and he moved his hand down further, finally gripping Deans cock.

He wasn’t sure who moaned first, him or Dean, but the sensation felt amazing, deep warmth spreading through his lower back and tailbone. He reached out and tugged Deans boxers off completely, his own lips parted at the sight of his brother's cock, hand moving slowly over the heated flesh.

He couldn’t really feel it in his hand, but it felt like there was a hand around his own cock. He paused his movements long enough to pull his own jeans and boxers down, stroking Dean; and feeling like he was doing it through layers and layers of clothes, when Dean reached down and wrapped his own hand around Sam's cock, looking up at him questioningly.

Sam shook his head, he could feel it in his hand, could properly feel like there was a cock in his hand, but the only part he felt was when he moved his hand over Dean's cock and not when Dean moved his hand.

Didn’t matter, apparently this bond made him bleed when Dean did, he was sure that he would come when Dean did as well.

He moved to sit on Dean's lap, getting a bit more comfortable for the both of them, hands moving together, he could tell from Dean's arm movement, and when he felt the crushing sensation of pure something coursing through him, he looked up to see Dean staring at him so adoringly.

Sam couldn’t help it, he leaned in and kissed him. It felt like he was kissing him through a pillow, and could feel something on his lips that he realistically knew was his own, but it didn’t matter.

Nothing else mattered, just this.

He could feel Dean getting close, could feel the way his legs were starting to shake, as his orgasm neared. Their whole body tensed for a single moment and then with a mutual one groan the pleasure spiked, spreading through them like thick molasses as they tried to ride it out, hands still moving.

He had enough of a mind to not fall onto his brother, turning so that he could fall onto his side on the bed instead, wiping his hand on the sheets before doing the same to the rest of him. He curled in closer to his brothers side, listening to their breathing even out together.

“You ever thought about doing this? Before I mean?” Dean asked him, voice already sounding like he was seconds away from falling asleep.

Sam curled in closer to him, enjoying how the warmth and feel spread through him, he was a tactile creature too. Thinking for a moment he finally truthfully said, “No, not really. Not until now.”

“Not until now?” Dean sounded slightly more awake.

Sam shook his head, despite knowing that Dean wouldn’t see him in the dark. “Never really thought about...us like that.” he said. “But I am now and...I’m okay with it.”

He closed his eyes and laid back down, frowning when he couldn’t feel Dean doing the same. “Dean?” he called, opening his eyes. “You okay?”

It took Dean a moment to reply. “Yeah.” he said hollowly. He slowly laid back down on the bed, turning onto his side so that his back was to Sam. “Fine.”

Their heart was beating erratically, worse than five minutes ago when they were both jerking each other off. Their chest felt tight, almost like they couldn’t get enough air in. His stomach was twisted and the urge to throw up was unmistakable.

“Dean?” His voice was quiet, soft. He reached out to touch his brothers back, feeling just how hard he flinched when he pulled away.

“Don’t.” Dean said. “Just...sleep. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t if you can’t.” he wanted to say. But whatever it was, Dean needed this out, needed this much privacy.

It was the least he could do.

So, he turned onto his own side, facing away from Dean, and closed his eyes.

Neither of them slept that night.

Driving back to the bunker was a quiet affair. Sam had offered to look at his brother's bandages but Dean just silently went to the bathroom and took care of it himself, he could feel the bandages pull at his skin and the slight sting as Dean cleaned it out and rebandaged.

Neither of them spoke after that, grabbing a quick breakfast at the closest diner, Dean didn’t eat so therefore Sam couldn’t either, and got back to the road. Not even the radio was playing. Sam glanced down at his hands on his lap, the knuckles were completely white and throbbing slightly, he looked at Dean's hands; they were curled as tight as possible around the steering wheel.

Each time their heart beat in his chest it hurt, each breath they took hurt, everything was hurting and none of it made sense.

“Dean?” he said, his voice low. Their heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Dean said curtly, staring straight ahead on the road. “We just gotta home and get rid of this bond already.”

Sam glanced down at his body, patting along his chest. “You really think my bodys healed enough?”

“No, we’re going to work nonstop until we find the healing spell and then we’re unbinding.” Dean told him. “This can’t go on.”

Sam turned so that he could look at him properly, forehead furrowing. “Dean, what’s going on?” he asked once more. “Talk to me.”

“What the hell do you think is going on?” Dean exploded at him. “I’m talking about what happened last night!”

Oh. That. Sam thought back to last night, the technical mutual handjobs, the slamming force of their orgasm, the literal bone deep relief that he felt spreading inside of Dean, the way it made their heart flutter slightly.

And then, minutes later, the way Dean had withdrew from him, turning away from him completely.

“I mean...it was kinda awkward, my dick can’t really work unless yours is in the game.” Sam said, glancing down at his lap. “But cause you came, I did too.”

“What the hell are you-that’s not what I’m talking about Sam!” Dean exclaimed, hitting the dashboard with a balled up fist. He jerked the car to the side of the road and parked them there, whirling in his seat to look at him. “I’m talking about the fact that you didn’t want to do it!”

Sam just stared at his brother for a moment. “Dean, I’m the one that made the first move.” he reminded him. “I touched you.”

“Because I wanted you to.” Dean said bitterly. “Because I wanted you to touch me and do that, it was all me and you just…” he shook his head, deflating in his seat. “Sam, I’ve wanted that for a very long time.” he finally admitted in a small voice. “And yeah I get it, it's sick, and it's wrong. I know. Just...and last night...I should’ve stopped you. I should’ve done the right thing.”

“Dean, I’m still the one that did it first.” Sam repeated, feeling as if he was about to throw up when a thought occurred to him. “You said you’ve wanted it for a long time. How long?”

Dean looked pained at the question. “Sam,:

“How long Dean?”

He could feel Dean swallow. “I don’t know.” he whispered. “For as long as I can remember.” he closed his eyes and Sam could feel something curl in his stomach, shame and guilt. “But it's like you said Sammy, you didn’t want it until last night.” he gave a humorless laugh, devoid of any sort of emotion. “So that means that it's all me, I’m the one making you feel like this. I’m the one that’s-”

Whatever else Dean was going to say, all the self hatred that Sam could feel coursing through him, he had enough. He leaned over the rest of the way and kissed him to shut him up. It felt the same as last night, like he was being touched through something else; like a blanket covering or even through cellophane. Either way he pressed closer, arms coming up to wrap around his brother as they kissed.

Their heart was beating rapidly to the point of pain and for a moment, Dean relaxed into the kiss before he wretched himself away, eyes wide. Sam watched him, feeling the way that he could barely breathe.

“What the hell...why’d you…” Dean tried to talk, tried to get out.

“You definitely didn’t want me to kiss you then, but I wanted to.” Sam said simply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dean, when I said that I never thought about this,” he gestured between them. “Before last night...it didn’t mean that you were influencing me or whatever the hell you think it is.” he reached out to take Dean's hand, sliding his fingers over it, feeling the echoing of the sensation on his own hand. “What I meant was...I never thought about it, because it made too much sense.”

He watched how his fingers curled around Deans, they settled there like a lock and key. “I never thought about this, because I never thought I’d have to. Because you’re always there and with me and just...it became a lot more evident. It just became another step that I didn’t realize that I wanted to take. I mean,” he laughed softly. “The way we live, the way we’ve always lived, together. In each other's pockets. Never really liking anyone else that was in our lives no matter who they were. It's all there man, it's all you and me. Together.``

“Sam,” Dean whispered, clutching at his brother's hand. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, this isn’t you, it's me.”

“If you really think that, then let's get back to the bunker and get rid of this bond.” Sam said simply. “Get rid of it right now, healing spell be damned.”

Dean had been shaking his head before Sam had even finished. “No, you’re not strong enough to be on your own yet.”

“So our option is either get rid of the bond so I can prove to you that this is my choice.” Sam told him. “Or you can just believe me.”

“I can’t Sammy.” he whispered. “I just...I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

“You’re not.” Sam informed him firmly. “So what are you going to do? Not touch me at all? We’re connected Dean, I can feel you.” he placed his hand over his heart, feeling just how it was beating erratically. “This is killing you.”

Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head and letting them snap open when Sam leaned in to kiss him again, pulling away. “Sam stop.”

“No.” Sam told him, trying to lean in again. “You still don’t want me to kiss you right now, it's making your stomach turn because of everything, but I want to kiss you.”

Dean wretched free and grabbed at Sam, gripping his wrists firmly and pushing him back into the passenger seat. “Stop.” he instructed.

Sam glowered at him but stayed in his seat. “I want this.” he repeated, settling back and nodding at the road ahead of them. “So we’re going to get back and we’re getting rid of this bond so I can actually show you how much I want this because dude,” he glanced meaningfully at Dean's lap. “Your refractory time is horrible.”

Dean just stared at Sam in horror and slightly affronted. “My refractory time is perfect,” he protested.

Sam snorted. “Yeah sure, when we get rid of this bond, I’ll show you a real refractory period.”

Dean stared at him and started the car again, guiding them back onto the road. “You don’t know what you’re asking.” he told him.

“Guess we’ll find out when we get back.”

Turns out, he was right in the middle of being healed enough and not healed enough. His body was strong enough to house his soul again but he was also in no shape whatsoever to be moving around or doing anything. The pain came fast and hard, and the loss of actually being bonded to his brother made him almost feel like a limb was missing.

Mostly, he slept. He slept in his bed, waking up to stumble to the bathroom, on his own time thank you very much, and back to bed. Somewhere it between Dean would either feed him or have an iv pressed into his arm.

It took at least a week and a half of that before Sam felt strong enough to walk to the kitchen, he had to immediately sit in the chair but it was something. He watched his brother pitter patter around the kitchen, making food and coffee and whatever else he could, avoiding both Sam and the topic on both of their minds.

“Dean,” Sam said, watching his brother tense up. He was flinching on the inside, he recognized it now. Slowly Dean looked up at him and without saying a word, Sam lifted the book off of the table and let it fall to the ground. “Mind getting that for me?”

He could hear Dean let out a frustrated breath but his brother complied, walking over and bending down to pick up the book. While he was still kneeling Sam reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, on instinct Dean looked up at him.

And Sam leaned in to kiss him once more.

It felt better, a thousand times better than the last one. This one he could actually feel, could feel how soft they were, how chapped they were. Could taste his brother, something he didn’t even realize he knew how to explain, clear as anything. His brother's skin was warm under his hand and everything was alright and alive in sensations.

When he couldn’t breathe anymore Sam pulled away, just staring down at Dean who looked back up at him stunned.

“Still want to kiss you,” he said simply. “Believe me now?”

He could see Dean chewing on his lip as he slowly stood up, not looking away. “You sure?” he whispered.

Sam nodded, tilting his head to look at him. “It's all me now.” he told him. “And I still want to.”

A mixture of emotions rapidly flashed over Dean's face, too fast for him to even be able to read them, but it didn’t matter. Because Dean leaned down and kissed him, kissed him desperately, furiously, gripping at him tightly and yet gentle enough that he didn’t hurt him.

It felt like finally coming home.

#writing #My writing #supernatural #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spn xmas #365 #1/365 #2021 Days of Writing #Sam Winchester #sam and dean #samanddean #Sam/Dean #dean winchester #s9 fixit

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buckysgoldenheart · 5 years ago

Text

Partners: August Walker x Reader

Summary: You are partners in the CIA and an injury forces feelings to be revealed.

Words: 2200

Warnings: Gore, i guess. Smut, but not so bad you have to dunk yourself in holy water afterwords, as much fun as that is. Cursing, maybe? I don’t really remember.

I hope you like it :)

You hated hospitals, you always had. People died in them and who enjoyed death? Only the fuckers you assassinated or put behind bars. Plus, hospitals always reeked of cleanliness. It was nauseating. But you supposed eventually everyone makes it in one, whether it be a pit-stop or your last drop before being buried in dirt forever.

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

“There is no way that happened!” August laughed, louder than you had ever heard before, and you smiled bright. You loved that sound, and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, and the way his teeth were laid out behind his lips. All of it was perfect. You made that happen, you realized. The look he had on his face now, the pure elation, completely raw unlike usual, was because of you and the stupid story you told him about your aunt and her cat.

And now you couldn’t remember the last time you were this happy. You certainly hadn’t expected tonight to remind you what extreme joy felt like; not on a typical night with your partner, tracking a man’s location for a couple hours until he finally went home. But tonight didn’t end up typical, not to you. It was the first night August let his guard down around you, really let his guard down. He let you see him and watch as he removed that rough exterior brick by brick.

“It did, I swear! That cat is wicked smart!” You could barely contain your laughter, and the chances of your smile leaving your face was far out of the question. When you looked over at August as you walked side by side down the alley, he was already watching you like he could see every single thing you felt for him. You hoped by the way his eyes seemed to shine that maybe he was thinking of you together, as more than partners in the CIA.

You walked with your bodies close to each other. Even through layers of clothing to stave off the late autumn chill, you could feel the heat radiating from him. It was enough to keep you warm for an entire night. For a minute, you thought maybe you might be able to get to that point. The job was done and you were walking back to the hotel anyway. He could easily move one room over and stay with you.

But then you were reminded why you didn’t get to have things as amazing as a night with August Walker, no matter how much you wanted it. People like you and him, you didn’t get to have each other, and even when you thought it might happen, something always fucked it up.

When you started down that alley, the two of you were alone, laughing and happy. The mission was over for now and somehow, the fact that you were both trained CIA agents was put on the back-burner. So much so that neither of you heard the initial scuff of a heavy boot on the pavement a good twenty feet in front of you. It was the second that had August shooting his head up in the right direction, just in time to catch the thrown knife before it lodged in his chest.

He practically growled at the smaller hooded figure before you and spent no time flipping the knife in his hand and whipping it expertly back at the attacker. The shiny, silver blade landed right between a pair of dark, emotionless eyes and the body fell to the ground, splashing in a couple puddles from the earlier rain.

August said your name before looking at you, but you barely heard it. Your ears rang as you stared down at the hilt of a knife, its thick blade buried deep in your abdomen. When did he throw a second? Or did he throw mine first?

It didn’t feel like much, having a knife stuck in you. You’d been injured on missions, but nothing like this. They were flesh wounds before, in and out, easily fixable. Not this. This was bad, you knew, and it surprised you how little it hurt. Despite your body going into shock, you thought it would at least sting. The bullet wounds had.

Your hand reached for the handle. You knew not to pull it out, that it would have you bleeding out faster, but you now understood the temptation. August stopped your hand before your fingers could wrap around it. He called your name louder as he put his large hands on your cheeks and tried to force you to look at him. He looked hazy, and you were surprised how fast you were losing control of your own body. Then your eyes fell closed despite your attempts to keep them on his face.

——————————————————————

Oh right, one other thing you hated about hospitals: that constant, excruciating beeping sound next to every patients’ bed so nurses and doctors could tell if they were still alive or not. It was definitely high on your list of the worst things ever, and right now you couldn’t seem to escape it. It was muddled with a voice in the background, but still rang clear enough to piss you off, like nails on a chalkboard.

“Yes, thank you,” That voice said. You knew that voice. It was not one you would choose to hear if you had the option, but if you were hearing voices at all it meant someone was in the room with you or you were going crazy. In either case it meant you had to be alive, so you guessed that was good. You eased your eyelids open.

“Well, well, she’s awake.” Sloane. You shifted your body and groaned as your boss walked to your side. “You’re quite the sleeper,” She said. “The typical recovery time for this kind of thing is about three days, but congratulations, you made it a whole week.” She sat on your bed in her nice suit. “If you were tired, you could’ve just asked for a day off.”

You did your best to scoff at the lie and Sloane let out a reserved laugh. “We are all glad you are ok.”

We, you thought. August. “When can I get the fuck out of here?”

“As soon as you want. The last few days you’ve just been sleeping off the leftover anesthesia and pain killers.”

“Thank God.”

A few beats passed in silence, then Sloane said, “That guy was hired to take out anyone who spied on the target…He saw you.”

You nodded. It made sense. Your attention was focused on someone else, but if Sloane knew that bit, she would throttle you. Though, the fuck up of being seen would still warrant at least a bit of punishment, which you were sure she would lay out for you soon.

“One thing before you leave here,” She said, and you didn’t like the tone in her voice one bit. “I need you to sign some paperwork.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together. “What for?” She pulled out a packet of papers held together by a large clip and set it down on top of your legs for you to shuffle through. “Just tell me. But skip all the mission details.”

“Walker is requesting a new partner and team. His reasons are spelled out in the forms and I have no reason not to grant his request. There are a couple pages where you have to sign and date.”

——————————————————————-

You had asked Sloane when August would be in his office next. She answered the question with a lot of unnecessary information that you paid absolutely no attention to after she said, ‘six p.m., tomorrow.’

You had no reason to rush; this was not going to be some sort conversation, so you waited until six-thirty. He would definitely be in his office by then, and as you stopped in front of the door you saw his form sitting in the desk chair through the fogged glass.

You took a deep breath, calming yourself, then slipped through the door. Before August had a chance to register your presence in his office, you slammed the packet of paperwork on his desk and crossed your arms.

His eyes widened and he quickly looked up at you. “Y/N.”

“You filed for a new partner? Are you fucking kidding me?”

He closed his eyes for a moment then rose from the chair, his hands planted firmly on the cherry wood. “Y/N—”

“We have been partners for two years,” You nearly yelled, holding up your index and middle finger, “And now you decide to just drop me like yesterday’s trash?”

August ran a hand through his dark brown curls. “That is not—”

“You’re an asshole!”

“Just listen to me!” You recoiled at his tone. He had never yelled at you before, not like that. He inhaled slowly then exhaled. “I got distracted,” He said and met your cold stare. “We both know that that is unacceptable.”

“And that all of a sudden makes you not want to work with me anymore? That’s insane, August.”

He shook his head slightly. “It is not insane. Not when what I got distracted by was you.”

You huffed with an aggravated smile. “Are you actually blaming me for this right now? August, we work best together. We have since the beginning.”

He crossed his ridiculously strong arms and you didn’t like it. He was getting mad, yes, but he was guarded now, closing himself off to you. “It doesn’t matter. You almost died.”

“That was an accident!” You groaned and rubbed your palms over your eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was!” He slammed his fist hard against the desk before stepping around it and practically stomping to you. “I would’ve sensed that guy the other night if for one stupid second I focused my thoughts on anything but you! But I didn’t and it almost cost me everything, so yes, it was my fault!”

Everything?

His chest rose and fell as rapidly as yours and he searched your eyes for something. When you figured he found what he was looking for, he closed the two steps between you, wrapped his arms around your waist, and slammed his lips to yours.

You gasped into his kiss but devoured everything he was giving you: the feel of his hands gripping the fabric of your shirt, the way his lips felt, the way his tongue tasted…it was intoxicating, and you soaked up every ounce. When he gripped your sides and lifted you before setting you on the desk, you let out an unexpected squeak. His lips smiled against yours.

You reached for the belt of his black slacks, undid it, unzipped, and slipped your hand behind the layer of his underwear. He bucked against your hand and groaned loud, the vibration on your lips sending heat straight to your core. Fuck, you wanted him.

He pulled away for a second to smile at you, and as you smiled back, he reached for the hem of your top and slipped it over your head. His eyes went wide at the sight of you and you hoped the blush forming on your cheeks was not making its way down your neck to your chest. August leaned down to kiss the top of your breasts peeking out above your bra, then trailed kisses all the way up your neck, to your jaw, under your ear, and as he kissed your lips again, his fingers slowly unclasped the garment.

Straps slid down your shoulders as you kissed. You chucked it to the side before placing your hands back on him and pulling his cock free from his pants. When you stopped him to get a good look at just how big he was and licked your lips, August tilted your chin back up to him and shook his head.

“Not now,” He said, somehow reading your mind. “Later.” He pecked your lips and pushed your skirt up high to your hips. “Now, I just want you.”

You nodded and stroked him a few times, trying to keep yourself from falling apart at the feeling of his fingers rubbing at your clit. “Lean back,” He said, and you did until your spine hit the wood. August yanked your hips forward until you were fully against him, then pulled your panties to the side with a finger. He met your eyes for a moment and you nodded.

As he eased himself inside you, your eyes slammed shut and your brain fuzzed. Every inch was more beautifully agonizing than the last as he stretched you. “Look at me,” He whispered. There was more than lust swirling within the blue and you knew you would be more than happy to see him look at you that way for a long, long time.

August pulled you up until your chest was against his as he fully settled himself inside you. With his hands on your cheeks, his thumbs stroked back and forth. He hummed contentedly and touched his forehead to yours.

“Come home with me,” He said.

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

He thrust into you once, twice, then kissed you sweetly.

@agniavateira

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hale-13 · 4 years ago

Text

Triple Axel

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 1 - Freezing

There’s nothing Peter loves more about winter than spending the entire season ice skating. The fact that Mr. Stark‘s lake freezes over so well just gives him the perfect excuse to hang out with his mentor, pseudo-sister and still get to skate for free.

Words: 2738, Chapters 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Morgan Stark, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Peter grew up a pretty graceless kid.

He never looked where he was going, always too excited, and tripped over air. His knees and palms were perpetually covered in cuts and scrapes in various stages of healing and he broke his glasses so often May and Ben had taken to just taping them together at the bridge of the nose instead of replacing them. Going to the community playground was an activity that was fraught with danger due to Peter’s over enthusiasm; well that and his two left feet and lack of hand-eye coordination. It was lucky that he picked up the, much safer, past time of building legos and other models with Ned at a young age.

Peter looked back on those sepia childhood memories with nostalgia and fondness now but he can remember the frustration of just wanting to do what the other kids did. He hated that he stood out because of his ridiculous coke-bottle glasses, the severe asthma attacks that kept him from participating in gym and recess. He just wanted to have fun.

And, unbelievable to anyone who knew him, the one thing that Peter Parker was inexplicably good at as a kid was ice skating.

The first time Peter was allowed to skate was when he was eight at Betty Brant’s birthday – coincidentally the first party he was invited to. May and Ben had both be overly hesitant – accident prone kids didn’t often mix well with anything slippery and sharp pointy objects – but Peter was able to wear them down eventually.

The prediction that Peter would fall flat on his face the second his skates touched the ice proved to be accurate but Peter was nothing if not stubborn so he pulled himself up and used the wall to make a shaky first lap. The longer he spent moving, the better he got and, by the end of the two hour party, he was able to make a complete circuit all by himself. His love for skating and finally, finally, being able to do something active grew from there. May and Ben were never able to afford lessons for him but they managed to scrap together enough money for season passes for him every year at the local rink.

Skating reminded him so much of the toddler ballet classes his mom had signed him up for before he had been diagnosed with asthma but so much more fun. He spent just about every weekend he could on the ice for a few hours practicing; he was never really able to do any jumps or anything too fancy but it was still so much fun. It wasn’t until after the spider bite and his life changing forever that he got really good.

It sure sucked that he couldn’t thermoregulate well anymore.

“Petey!” Morgan screamed, delighted, from where she was carefully skating closer to the edge of the frozen over lake under the watchful eye of her father. “Do another flip!”

Peter smiled indulgently and performed a perfect double axel, landing gracefully and gliding over to where Morgan was clapping next to dock. She had good balance for a five year old but the thin blades of her tiny skates still wobbled precariously on the ice due to her enthusiastic cheering.

“Not bad kid,” Tony told him from where he was seated in a camp chair on the dock and covered with blankets, a thermos of warm tea in the cup holder. He had flat out refused to test his luck with skating but, then again, his center of gravity was still off from his upgraded prosthesis.

“Thanks Mr. Stark!” Peter smiled, coming to a stop next to the other two and spraying his mentor with ice. Tony protested wordlessly but his smile let Peter know he wasn’t too serious. Peter absently rubbed his hands against his biceps to bring some warmth back into his skin – part of not thermoregulating well meant minimal to no shivering in the cold so he had to rely on friction – he was clearly not sneaky enough though because he could see the moment Tony clocked the movement and narrowed his eyes.

“Alright Johnny Weir time to go in before you freeze into a spider-sicle,” the man said as he drained the last of his tea and started packing up all of the stuff they had carted down to the frozen lake – more than they really needed in Peter’s opinion. “I promised your aunt I wouldn’t let you get hypothermia this week.”

“Aw daddy,” Morgan whined, skating unsteadily over to collide with Peter’s knees and shins and nearly knocking him off balance and onto his butt. “Five more minutes? Please?”

Morgan was attempting her very best puppy dog expression and Peter joined in when she shoved her pointy little elbow into his thigh. Tony had gotten soft in his old age and Peter could see his resolve crumbling under their combined gaze before he finally cracked with a sigh.

“Fine,” he conceded. “Five more minutes. I’m going to go brew up some hot chocolate. Can I trust you two by yourselves?”

“Yay!” Morgan screamed making Peter clutch his ears as she shakily skated off, getting just a little bolder and heading more toward the middle of the ice where Peter had been doing jumps and flips earlier. “Come on Petey!”

“I’ve got her Mr. Stark,” Peter promised before taking off after the little girl he was beginning to see as a sister, doing a perfect back flip and landing easily on the thin blades of his skates to her delight. At Morgan’s request, Peter continued to skate around her in wide circles, doing more and more elaborate jumps and laughing with her when he fell or stumbled.

“Do the hard one again!” Morgan called out from her spot about fifteen feet away from Peter, standing pretty steady for her lack of practice and Peter smiled indulgently.

“Last time and then we should probably head in before your dad comes after us,” he agreed, skating back into a wide arc before picking up speed and calculating his jump. He planned to land a few feet from Morgan because he knew it would really excite her. Things went pretty great in the beginning, his speed and takeoff were both perfect and his execution, while a little off, was passable enough for his sister.

His landing, however, needed work.

Unlike the ice rink ice he was used to, the frozen lake was pitted and rough. Peter had a little difficultly adjusting when he started but was able to compensate quickly as the afternoon wore on. Unfortunately, he was just a little too late this time to notice the divot and he hit it with his toe pick sending him sprawling onto his front about six feet from Morgan.

“Ouchies,” he muttered as he gave Morgan a thumbs up to show he was okay and started to leaver himself up.

Until he heard the cracking.

He froze immediately and looked down in horror to see the ice below him cracking and shattering. A small part of him wanted to slam his body down flat to better distribute his weight but his logical brain knew it was far too late for that all he needed to do was make sure that…

Morgan!

“I’ll help you Petey!” He heard her yell seconds before she crashed into his side and Peter, thinking fast, double clicked the panic button on his watch just as water started gushing through the cracks, pulling him under.

Morgan screamed and struggled as Peter did his best to keep as much of her as possible out of the water. His head was dunked briefly and his lungs seized from the cold. He felt the sharp blade of Morgan’s skate cut into his shoulder through his puffy jacket and he winced before clawing his way back above water with a gasp. He could hear Morgan still screaming and, gathering all the strength he had left, Peter hurled her from the water and across the ice where she slid safely away from the cracks.

“G-get dad-d,” Peter gritted out through shattering teeth as he gripped the broken edges of the ice. He could vaguely hear Morgan shuffling off the ice and up toward the cabin but his main focus was staying above the water and keeping purchase on the continually shrinking edges of the ice. His legs were completely numb and the metal of his battered skates felt heavy in the water, pulling him down deeper.

“Hang on Peter!” He heard Tony’s panicked voice from the shore before the sound of repulsers drowned out everything else and Peter looked up and made eye contact with the Iron Man suit piloted by FRIDAY. The left hand reached down and plucked him out of the water and into its arms, flying back to land on the porch steps. Peter collapsed on the ground, completely unable to hold up his own weight and feeling completely numb. “Peter!”

Tony skidded to his knees next to Peter, Morgan in his arms before he swiftly set her down on the porch. “C-cold,” Peter gritted out through clenched and chattering teeth as he tried to force his frozen body to curl up with little success. Through blurry eyes he could tell that Morgan had ditched her skates somewhere and he felt a spike of worry – he didn’t want her to get frostbite.

“I know buddy,” Tony said, propping Peter up with his vibranium arm before picking him up in a bridal carry. “I’m going to get you warm.” Peter didn’t do anything to help beyond curling closer to Tony’s chest and the body heat it emitted. The man kicked open the cracked door to the mud room and air so warm it burned cascaded over him. “Morgan go grab some blankets from the closet for Peter okay? Really quick now.” Morgan, crying silent tears and pale and shivering in her damp winter gear, ran off down the hall toward the linen closet.

“Tony,” Peter whimpered when he was set on the floor but the man was quick to shush him.

“I know buddy,” he reassured, “I just need to get these wet clothes off okay? Just let me do all the work. FRI, have Banner and a quinjet here ASAP.” Peter spaced out as Tony whipped Peter’s frozen, wet hoodie over his head followed quickly by the t-shirt and thermals under it. “Eyes up Pete,” Tony ordered as he worked on getting Peter out of his soaked jeans and thermal pants to leave him shaking on the floor in his boxers. “Your only job right now is to stay awake, capiche?\

“Yes sir,” Peter said, willing his eyes to open and his teeth to stop chattering. Morgan slid back into the room trailing a pile of fleece blankets and the comforter off of Peter’s bed and Peter mustered up a smile for her so she wouldn’t be so scared.

“Great job Maguna,” Tony praised as he wrapped the thickest fleece around Peter’s shoulders, doing his best not to jostle him too much. “Now run up to Pete’s room and get him a pair of sweatpants and his black zip up jacket okay?” Morgan hiccuped on a sob but ran out of the room and back up the stairs. Once she was out of the room, Tony wrapped Peter in another blanket before helping him wiggle out of his icy boxers. “FRI update on Bruce?”

“Dr. Banner and Mr. Wilson are on their way, ETA seven minutes. He advises getting Peter out of his wet clothes and wrapped in warm blankets. He recommends not moving him too much.

“Thanks dear,” Mr. Starks said distractedly as he pulled Peter into his arms to provide extra warmth. “How we doing Pete?”

“Tired,” Peter answered, burrowing into Tony’s arms. “Cold.”

“I know kiddo, just hold on a second longer.”

“I got it!” Morgan said as she came back into the room brandishing Peter’s clothes.

“Good job honey,” Tony said as gently as possible as he took the clothes. “Uncle Bruce is on his way and we’re going to go visit the compound. Can you go change into your warmest PJs for me as quick as possible?” As soon as Morgan had left the room again, Tony made quick work of threading Peter’s unwilling and stiff limbs through his pants and jacket, tucking the comforter around them both to lock in the warmth.

“Tony?” Bruce called, voice urgent, from the direction of the front door.

“Mud room!” Tony called back, not moving from his position curled around Peter’s limp body. Footsteps thundered in their direction and Bruce and Sam skidded around the corner a second later both wearing their warmest loungewear and Peter felt a little guilty about pulling them away from a day of relaxation.

“Jesus,” Sam mumbled as he dropped to his knees next to the pair reaching into the blanket nest to press burning fingers to Peter’s carotid to take his pulse.

“How long was he in the water?” Bruce asked, carefully moving Peter’s hair back out of his eyes to look at his pale face. His eyes darted over to the gash on his shoulder from Morgan’s skates that was beginning to bleed sluggishly now that Peter was out of the water and warming up but ignored it for now.

“Only a couple minutes,” Tony told him, an edge to his voice, “but he had been outside for a few hours. We were about to come in for hot chocolate.” The man sounded bereft and Peter cuddled closer into his chest trying to offer some comfort.

“Okay,” Bruce said, calm. “Peter you’re going to let Tony carry you out to the jet. I don’t want you moving more than you absolutely have to so just let him do all the work. Once we get you on board I’m going to start warming you up.” His tone brokered no argument and Tony disentangled himself from the cocoon and picked Peter up. Sam left the room but Peter could hear him talking to Morgan in the kitchen, calming her down and ushering her toward the jet.

Things went a little fuzzy for Peter from there. He was vaguely aware of the quinjet taking off and Bruce and Sam starting warm IV fluid. Warmed oxygen forcing its way down his throat. But he was just so tired. He knows he promised but surely Mr. Stark wouldn’t be too upset if he just took a little nap right? He let his eyes dip closed one last time as he slipped away.

Peter can remember waking up on and off a few times. He remembers getting off the quinjet and being settled in a trauma room in the compound’s MedBay, the heated blankets that felt heavenly to his cold skin. He was out for a while after that he thinks and, when he next wakes up, he’s warmer and much more comfortable.

“Pete?” Peter lets his head fall to the side and he gives Tony a little grin. His mentor looks like shit and is sitting hunched over in an uncomfortable chair next to Peter’s bed. “Oh thank God,” he says, going to grab Peter’s hand and then aborting the motion, leaning forward to press their foreheads together instead. “If you ever scare me like that again you’re grounded until your thirty.”

Peter chuckles a little and shifts on the bed. His arms both have IV catheters in the forearm and he can see blood flowing through the lines. He follows it back to a larger machine set up next to his bed and mutters a hoarse little “what?” of confusion.

“You were too cold so Bruce started warming your blood,” Tony told him, hand reaching up to comb through Peter’s wild hair. “You’re okay now though,” he assured. “You’re on the mend. Bruce said you should be done with this in about an hour so you just need to relax right now okay Bambino?”

“Morgan?” Peter asked instead, dizzy and tired and barely clinging to consciousness.

Tony smiled down at him. “She’s just fine kiddo. You saved her you big damn hero.”

“Good,” Peter slurred, letting his eyes slip closed again. “May?”

“Happy went to get her,” Tony promised. “The roads aren’t too great but they should be here soon.”

“‘Kay,” Peter yawned.

“Take a nap buddy – you earned it,” and, warm and comfortable, Peter did.

#summer of whump 2021 #Prompt: Freezing #spider man #irondad #summerofwhump #summerofwhump1

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whumpcollector · 4 years ago

Text

Kai and 07: Flu Season

I return. The semester is over, my schedule is clear and I’m ready to fucking WRITE baby. This the next piece in Kai and 07′s story. I hope you all enjoy it.

CW: Hospitals, drugging in a medical context, dehumanization, slavery, institutionalized slavery, vomiting. (If I’ve missed anything let me know)

07 knelt on the bathroom floor, hands gripping the rim on the toilet bowl and sweat pouring down their face. They had spent the past few minutes vomiting out the contents of their stomach, bile burning their throat and mouth. They breathed heavily, eyes locked on the closed bathroom door. They had tried to keep quiet, but there was only so much they could do and a possibility that they may have woken master made them want to be sick again.

A minute passed and there was no sound of footsteps, no slamming open of the bathroom door and grabbing of hair as master dragged them into the living room to punish them for daring to make enough noise to wake him. Daring to be sick enough to be an annoyance.

They let out a sigh of relief, this was the second night in a row they had managed to not wake master, and they hoped that they wouldn’t need to press their luck for a third. Luck had never been on their side before.

With a low groan they dragged themselves off of the bathroom. Their legs felt like jelly and their head swam as they limped back to their room. A shiver ran down their spine and they hugged their stomach, wanting to rush back towards the warmth of their blankets while also wanting to avoid moving too fast and making any noise.

07 reached their room, walking in and closing the door softly behind them. They flopped onto the floor of the closet, their little safe haven, and wrapped the blankets around themselves. A quick glance at a digital clock that master had installed showed that it was close to 3 am. They groaned softly, another bad night of sleep. Maybe they could push their luck and change the alarm from 6 to 7. Master usually did not wake up until a few hours after them.

They reached for the clock, fingers hovering over the alarm setting button before pulling their hand back. It wasn’t worth the risk. Master had given them many gifts lately, if they were caught being lazy the consequences would be withering. They could tough it out, they had been through worse.

Another shiver hit them and they pulled the blankets tighter around themselves. All of their body hurt, and their stomach was churning again. They hadn’t felt this bad in a long time. But they would be ok, when they woke up they would be ok. They desperately, fervently hoped that they would be ok.

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The alarm on the digital clock beeped noisily as 07 was ripped from their sleep. They were not ok. They were as far from ok as one could be while still being alive. Their head was pounding, their throat was dry and scratchy, and the mere thought of moving made their limbs ache.

The possibility that they were dying came across their mind. It didn’t seem unlikely at this point. A part of them were scared by the prospect, another felt like dying and letting this be over with wouldn’t be so bad. Another, smaller, almost utterly silent part wondered if maybe they could beg Master to take a day to recover.

No, no, no never no. Master may have been understanding and kind, but his generosity wasn’t limitless, it couldn't be. Asking for anything after being given so much would be nothing short of an insult. They couldn’t afford to do that, they wouldn’t be able to take a punishment. They just wouldn’t.

The alarm sounded again, the loud noise making 07’s head pound. They limply turned the clock off. A warm silence fell and 07’s eyes grew heavy. It would be so nice, so easy to just fall back asleep.

NO! They forced their eyes open and dragged themselves upright, legs shaking and vision swimming as they did. They...they had to get up. Had to work. Had to stay on Master’s good side. They could do this, they could do this.

Their steps towards the door were slow and shaky, each one feeling harder than the last. They pushed the door open slowly, stumbling forward slightly into the hallway. A draft blew through the house, sending another wave of shivers down 07’s spine. They warped their arms tightly around their body and made their way into the kitchen.

The kitchen sink still had dishes in it, remnants from last night. 07 looked at them hopelessly. They had left them there because they had wanted to go to bed a bit early, telling themselves they would clean them when they felt better the next day. Now the small stack of plates and cutlery looked like a mountain to climb.

07 stood in the kitchen, trying to psych themselves up. It wouldn’t be too much work. Breakfast could be quick, some toast and eggs. Master Kai had been busy the past few days, a big order for an important client as he had put it. A smaller breakfast wouldn’t be something he would mind. Then they could do all the dishes in one batch. That was manageable. Alright, time to g-

The sound of the refrigerator opening snapped 07 out of their thoughts. Their eyes went wide as they saw Master Kai rummaging through the contents of the fridge. They quickly looked to the wall clock. 8:15?! Had they really just stood there like a useless piece of shit for more than an hour? Their gaze snapped back to Master, who was pulling out an old box of Chinese take-out.

He glanced at them over his shoulder. “Morning, 07.” The greeting was quick, and Master was already leaving after grabbing a fork from the drawer. “Lotta work to do, I’ll be at the forge if you need me”.

07 watched gormlessly as Master turned the corner and disappeared. Their brain took a few seconds to process what was happening. They blinked once, then twice, and then felt their knees buckle as a wave of panic hit them.

They had just STOOD there! And did NOTHING! In front of their MASTER! They didn’t have breakfast ready and there were dishes in the sink and they had just stood around while their master was right there they didn’t even bow or respond to him an-

A fit of coughing knocked them out of their spiraling. The rough sound echoed through the empty house and 07 suddenly felt very cold and very alone. They took a moment to recover and pull themselves together. Well, Master was out at the forge and breakfast seemed to be...taken care of? That meant they could clean the dishes at least. And when they were done with that they could maybe take it slow, there wasn’t much to do and what housework was left was pretty light.

07 took a deep breath and walked to the sink. Their arms ached and their vision was spotty, but they had done harder work under worse conditions. All they had to do was wash the dishes and maybe vacuum or clean the windows. Nothing they couldn’t handle. They could do this, they would be fine.

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Kai brought his hammer down onto the hot blade in front of him, sending up a spray of sparks and finally molding it into the shape he wanted. He grabbed the blade with a pair of tongs and dunked into a nearby bucket of water, waving away the cloud of smoke that emanated from the cooling metal.

Last one for the day, not bad progress he mused as he set about shutting the forge off and putting his tools back into place. It would be close but he’d probably finish up by the deadline. Hopefully he would at least. Even if he didn’t he was on good terms with the client, he could probably get away with a slight delay.

It was getting dark. Winter days were short and forging in the cold of night wasn’t something Kai was interested in. He checked his watch...6:30 pm. It was a bit early for dinner, but he had skipped lunch. Oh well, 07 probably wouldn’t mind cooking a bit earlier than usual.

Even if they did mind they probably wouldn’t say anything. The thought bothered Kai. He was still getting used to the whole...having a slave thing. All that power over someone else, it made him feel...weird. He didn’t like it. He was an idiot who shouldn’t be given responsibility over a cactus, much less a whole entire person. Still, it seemed like 07 was doing alright so maybe he wasn’t doing too badly.

Cold air rushed in after him as he entered his house. A loud noise was coming from the living room, sounded like 07 was vacuuming. Kai shot a quick glance towards the floor. Hm, it seemed like 07 vacuumed the whole house. Much as he still felt weird about having them around, Kai couldn’t deny they were a godsend. His place hadn’t been this well kept since, well since he moved in fifteen years ago.

He should find a way to thank them for all their work. Maybe a gift of some sort? Some trinket to put in their room to add a bit of decoration. He didn’t know what their aesthetic tastes were though. They liked animals...maybe something zoo themed?

Maybe they wouldn’t mind hanging a sword on their wall. Everyone likes swords right?

Kai mused to himself as took off his jacket, hanging it over his arm and making his way into the living room. Sure enough 07 was busy vacuuming the floor, their movements slow and deliberate and their focus squarely on the task at hand. Kai stood back and watched them for a bit. They looked so intense, they always did. Like every small chore was the most important thing they would ever do in their life. It was endearing, at least it would be if Kai didn’t have…less than pleasant theories regarding where that attitude came from.

As Kai watched them he noticed something was off. At a closer glance their movements were less deliberate and more…sluggish. They were hunched over, their legs were shaky, and their face was scrunched up like they were in pain.

“Hey 07, you alright?” Kai asked, walking towards them. They didn’t respond, their gaze still on the vacuum like they were in a trance. “Hey! 07!”

07’s eyes shot open and they turned abruptly towards Kai. Their sudden movement caused them to drop the vacuum handle, and it hit the ground with a dull thud. They turned to look at the vacuum, then back to Kai, then back to the vacuum before their eyes rolled into their head and they crumpled to the floor.

“SHIT!” Kai rushed to them, kneeling down next to their body and placing a hand on their forehead. Jesus fucking shit they were burning up. His mind raced, what should he do. Fuck, what should he do. Maybe...fuck it, he wasn’t taking any chances. He wrapped them in his jacket and picked them up. They were light...really fucking light. Whatever, more pressing matters at hand.

He dashed to the front door, grabbing his keys off the hook on the wall. The driveway was clear, thankfully. He gently placed 07 down in the backseat of the car, strapping them down with the seat belts so they wouldn’t roll onto the floor. Kai jammed the key into the ignition, swearing heavily as the engine stalled due to the cold. Once the vehicle started up Kai all but barreled out of the driveway and began making a beeline for the local hospital.

The roads were empty and Kai drove as fast as wasn’t suicidal. Couldn’t get 07 the help they needed if he wrapped his car around a fucking tree right? Hahahahahahahaha.

Fuck.

Kai glanced at them in the rearview mirror. They were still unconscious, but it didn’t look like they had gotten any worse. Not to Kai at least. But then again what the fuck did he know? It was perfectly fucking possible that they were dying back there and he just couldn’t tell.

“Oh fucking...DAMN IT.”

He pressed harder on the gas, he could afford to go a bit faster. It was only a few more miles to the hospital anyways. The silence in the car was starting to feel suffocating, and Kai turned on the radio just to have some noise fill the air. The rest of the drive was uneventful, and Kai found himself pulling into the hospital parking lot sooner than he expected. Well, at least something was going well.

He unbuckled the still unconscious 07 and scooped them into his arms. The parking lot was almost empty, which meant the ER wouldn’t be too busy. Another lucky break. He entered the reception area, it was empty aside from the receptionist and one other person waiting. He walked up to the desk, clearing his throat to get the receptionists attention.

“Excuse me, I need help.”

The receptionist looked up from the file she was reading, startling slightly at the sight of 07 in Kai’s arms. “Oh, um, yes, how can I help.”

“They fell unconscious in my house. They have a fever. I think they’re sick.”

Brilliant observation genius.

The receptionist nodded. “Ok, one moment”. She made a call on the intercom and two nurses showed up with a stretcher. Kai gently put 07 onto it and they were taken away. He wanted to follow but was told to wait for a doctor to get him. He didn’t argue, best leave this to the professionals.

“Excuse me sir, if you wouldn;t mind there is some information I need to get down.”

Kai turned. “Oh, yes of course.” He sat at the chair in front of the reception desk.

The talk with the receptionist was a welcome distraction. It was all basic stuff, names, insurance, nothing that Kai couldn’t provide off the top of his head. He did get a strange look when he mentioned 07’s name, but the explanation of them being a slave seemed to clear that up.

Now all he could do was wait. He sat in the reception area, mindlessly looking through his emails and social media. The almost incomprehensible stream of advertisements, news, and shitty memes proved an effective distraction until he was approached by a doctor.

“Excuse me, Mr. Kai is it?”

Kai looked up, pocketing his phone and standing. “Yes, that's me.”

“Hello. My name is Doctor Graves. I have good news, your slave, 07 right?” Kai nodded. “Well all that's wrong is a case of the flu. It seems they passed out from exhaustion. They’re still unconscious but they’re stable. We have them on some medication and they should hopefully wake up soon.”

Kai let out a breath of relief. It was just the flou, they were fine. “Thanks doc. That's good to hear”.

The doctor nodded. “You know, generally speaking it's better to let slaves rest when they are sick instead of working them too hard. Even the common cold can be dangerous if left untreated.”

Kai raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms and frowning. “Hey! I didn’t do this to them”.

“I’m sure you didn't but…”

“Listen, I didn’t know they were sick. I’ve been busy and wasn’t paying too much attention. If I had known I would have told them to take it easy.”

The doctor didn’t seem convinced. “Be that as it may, I would recommend you pay more attention to them in the future. Negligence is the number one cause of death in slaves.”

Kai sighed, dropping his arms and slumping slightly. “Yeah doc, thanks for the advice. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The doctor nodded again. “I’ll have someone let you know when they wake up.”

Kai sat back down, placing his head in his hands. The doctor was right, he had really fucked up. How could he have just...not fucking notice? 07 had been suffering for what, three days? Forcing themselves to work while they were sick and he apparently didn’t care enough to even fucking notice.

God damn it. He knew he wasn’t cut out for this shit, he knew it. 07 would be better off with anyone else, someone fucking competent. Not his dumb ass. He let out another sigh, sliding his hands down his face and letting them rest in his lap.

Well, regardless of his lack of ability 07 would be with him for at least four more months. He was sure after all this shit they’d be counting down the days they could leave for someone even slightly qualified to care for another human being. He didn’t blame them. He wouldn't want to be stuck with him either.

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07 woke slowly, consciousness having to fight through a thick haze to reach them. The first thing they noticed was a strange beeping noise, followed by the stark whiteness of the walls. This...this wasn’t their room. Where were they, where was Master? What was going on?

Piece by piece their mind began to remember what had happened. They had finished the dishes and decided to...vacuum around the house. It took longer than they expected, the noise from the vacuum made their head pound and they had to take a few breaks to gather themselves. Then Master had come in from outside and then...then.

Panic hit them like a bullet, they had passed out in front of Master. Was he angry at them? Is that why they were alone in some strange room? What...what was going to happen to them. Their breathing grew rapid and shallow. The strange beeping noise began to grow faster and more erratic. What was that? Was it bad?

They heard voices and saw people that they didn’t recognize entered the room. 07 tried to shrink away, they didn’t want to be with these people. They...they wanted Master. The strangers got closer, crowding around them. They wanted to get away, but they couldn’t. They were trapped. They were…

They were on a bed.

A bed with walls that trapped them in and people were hovering over them, grabbing at their arms and chest. Panic gave way to desperation, and they began to struggle. They tried to flail, to get their arms away from the strangers’ grip. Despite their best efforts they couldn’t get away.

“N-no…” they began to beg. “Please...no. Please...don’t.”

The strangers wouldn’t let them go. They heard voices, words coming from their mouths but they couldn’t tell what they were. The fog of fear muddled everything around them.

“Please...please. Let me go. Please”.

They screwed their eyes shut, not wanting to see what the strangers might do. A sickening sense of familiarity hit them. It was going to happen again. It was going to happen again and they didn’t want it to happen again. They didn’t want to...to…

Their arms were let go and they felt a hand rest gently on their shoulder. They tensed, waiting for the grip to turn harsh or for it to start tearing at their shirt. Instead nothing happened. 07 opened their eyes slowly and turned to see...Master Kai?

Master Kai!

He gave a small smile. “Hey there 07, how are you holding up?”

They didn’t know what to say. Their mind was still hazy and the sudden shift from panic to relief had given them whiplash. But still, their master was talking to them and they needed to say something.

“I...I...good?”

They berated themselves internally. What a clumsy and stupid response. But Master Kai didn’t seem to mind. He never seemed to mind when they were stupid.

“That's good, that's good.” He let out a small chuckle. “You gave me quite a scare you know?”

“Excuse me Mr. Kai? I would like to speak to you about a few things before we discharge your slave.”

“Oh. Alright.”

The two men began to talk and 07 laid back, closing their eyes and drowning out what was being said. It was not the place of a slave to eavesdrop or insert themselves into their master’s business. Now that the panic had worn off they found themselves feeling rather tired. They still didn’t feel great, and getting to rest a bit longer would be nice. But they had to wait, they...needed Master’s permission first.

“Mmm...may...mmmm…”

Their attempt at a question limply railed off into soft mumbling. Before they could try again they felt Master squeeze their shoulder.

“Just rest 07. I’ll wake you up when we need to head home.”

07 was asleep before he finished his sentence.

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Kai pulled into the driveway with a relieved sigh. It was nice to be back home, Kai had never liked hospitals. He shut off his car and stepped out, walking to the backseat and pulling the still asleep 07 into his arms. He didn’t have the heart to wake them up when they had been discharged.

He entered his house and walked into the living room, only to be met by the lord wiring of the vacuum cleaner. Damn, that thing had been running for...shit 7 hours? Well there goes the electricity bill. The loud noise also had the unwelcome side effect of waking 07. They stirred in his arms, blinking blearily and looking around the room.

“Aw, piss.” Kai walked over to the vacuum, shifting 07 around slightly so he could turn the damn thing off. “Shut it will ya?”

“M...Master Kai?” Their voice was rough.

“Oh, hey 07.” Kai looked down to see 07 looking at him, seemingly still disoriented. “We’re back home, hold on, I'll get you to b-your room.”

07 simply nodded, closing their eyes again and starting to nod off. God they really were tired weren’t they. That or whatever the hospital had given them was hitting them hard. Either way they’d probably be out for another day. Maybe longer. Oh well, they had earned the rest.

Kai set 07 down in their closet...room...thing. This whole situation was still weird to him. He wanted to talk to them about maybe moving to an air mattress or futon at some point but that would have to come later. One thing at a time and all that.

He tucked 07 beneath the blankets, making sure they were wrapped up tightly. The blankets were thick, but it was still a cold night and that damn draft was still going on. Fuck! He needed to get that fixed. Ugh, tomorrow he was tracking down whatever hole in the wall was causing that draft and patching it with extreme prejudice.

He shook his head slightly and left the room, walking to a storage closet and pulling out an old space heater. He put the heater down in 07’s room, plugging it in and turning it to a warm but not sweltering temperature. There, now 07 should be comfortable.

Kai stood in the room and watched 07 for a few minutes, watching for anything that might be cause for concern. Aside from a few sniffles 07 stayed sound asleep and Kai decided he was just being paranoid now. It wasn’t anything serious, just a case of the flu. Bed rest and fluids, nothing more complicated. The doctor recommended they be given at least two days to recover, and he intended to make sure they took that time to rest.

Guilt hit him again. He shouldn’t have ever let it get this bad. He needed to be more attentive, be more aware. He needed to be better. For their sake. He wasn’t going to fail someone else again.

At least, no more than he already had.

Tags: @haro-whumps @cupcakes-and-pain

#kai #07 #whump #slave whump #medical whump #sorta #i can't wait until I figure out Kai's characterization #its gonna be great #Ill be able to give him a persoanlity and everything

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loves124 · 4 years ago

Text

Neighbor’s ch.1

Warning: language (sorry if it bothers you all but I usually sing like a sailor and tried holding back a bit more this chapter but there are still some word in here.)

Kinda fluff?

If there are any errors or mistakes please don’t hesitate to let me know :)

Also don’t hesitate to give me some fresh ideas

Thank you,

Love you,

Enjoy!

(Shouta Aizawa x fem!reader)

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It's been a long day for you. As soon as you walked out the door this morning, anything and everything has been going wrong. You were running late and had to skip breakfast, you missed your train, you got scolded by your boss for showing up late, and you even grabbed your least favorite pair of socks. They have a little nub in the corner that always feels super weird on your foot and makes you feel uncomfortable in your body. As the day progressed, nothing got better. You just wanted to come home and cry on your couch while watching Ghibli movies and eating a pint of ice cream for dinner.

You could feel the familiar lump in your throat forming, and your eyes were stinging from holding back your tears. Today was just so frustrating, and all you wanted was for it to be over. The more you thought about it, the heavier your emotion was. Thank God that your shift was finally over with. Looking at the time, you saw that it was 7:30 and you needed to hurry to catch the last train home.

As you headed home, you could feel your feet dragging behind you, sniffling and letting some tears fall. You finally reach your complex and continue walking to your apartment door.

A man is standing by the railing near your apartment door. He has a cigarette hanging from his lips. Taking a second to lean away from the railing, he pulls a hairband from his wrist and gathers his long ebony hair pulling it back into a messy bun. He looks a little disheveled: wearing some black slacks to pair with his black V-neck shirt.

You can see some cardboard boxes packed around him as well. It takes you a second to realize that the apartment next to yours has been vacant for weeks now. Mrs. Honda, your landlady, might've finally found an occupant.

Great. Your first impression to your neighbor is going to be when you're a total mess. That's just fan-fucking-tastic.

You try to compose yourself as you make your way closer to your apartment, and it isn't working too well. The man picks up your movement and gives you a gaze as he flicks the built-up ashes of the end of his cigarette.

You give a bit of a nod and mumble a quiet hello as you make your way closer to your apartment. You fumble through your purse, trying to find your key card for your door. Huffing in frustration, you realize that you most likely locked it in your apartment. 'This day just can't get any better,' you think to yourself.

You dig through your purse and grab your wallet, pulling out a dunking donuts gift card. You attempt to fiddle it in-between your door and the frame. You were struggling as you fiddled with the handle of the door. You are just about to try and kick down the door before a voice interrupts you.

"Aren't burglars supposed to be good at picking locks?"

You look over to see the man leaning back on the rail, amused at your feeble attempt to break into your own apartment.

Flustered, you stumble to find your words. "Ah well, you see... this is actually my apartment. I just locked my card inside. I was running late this morning and didn't have time for breakfast. And breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and it probably is a reason why I forgot my card. And my boss didn't make it any better by being such an asshole-" you glance at the man again and compose yourself. "I'm so sorry. You don't need to know all that. It's just been a long day," you sigh.

"Hey, I get it. It's been similar for me. I usually don't smoke, but it's been a bit of a rough day, so I thought I deserved a bit of a break," he signals to the cigarette intertwined between his fingers.

"I would offer you one, but I take you as the type who doesn't smoke."

"After the day I had, I am very tempted for any sort of relief" you sigh and drop your bag, joining him over by the railing.

Lazily putting the cigarette back in-between his lips, he extends his hand out to you. "Shouta Aizawa, I guess I'm your new neighbor."

You reciprocate and put your tiny hand in his "(F/N L/N, it's nice to meet you. Sorry, you had to see me when I'm such a mess."

"If this is you when you're a mess, I'd love to see how you are normally," he says.

Both you and Aizawa chit chat a bit before a gust of wind flows by you, making you shiver and cover your arms to receive it a bit. I guess he picks up on it because he offers you to come inside his apartment for a cup of tea.

"If that makes you uncomfortable, though, you are more than free to refuse. I won't take any offense," Aizawa says as he stubs out the remains of his cigarette into the ashtray he has sitting on a cardboard box.

"I'll take you up on your offer" you smile. "Just to let you know, though, I judge harshly when it comes to people's tea-making abilities."

"noted," he chuckles as he holds the door open for you with one arm while holding the box in the other.

You both chat for hours. Talking about anything and everything, you learned that he is a teacher at UA. Commending him at his accomplishment for having a job at such a prestigious school, but he doesn't seem to be interested in his accomplishment. Even with all of the talking, he seems like he isn't too interested in talking about his own life but more interested in finding more information about yours.

It's sweet, but you would like to know more about the man in front of you. You are surprised with how comfortable you are with him. He is a little intimidating. He's got this dark and broody sort of personality, and that's disregarding his looks. This man is the definition of sexy.

You are just admiring him and all of his details while he is sipping on the chamomile tea he made for you both. You notice the scar that's on his left cheekbone, and you're tempted to run your fingers across it. He also had some pretty prominent eye bags. You usually think eye bags are unattractive. That's ever since you developed some from working overtime at your job. Waking up and seeing the dark circles under your eye made you feel so insecure. Looking at Aizawa though, you can't help but find them beautiful. They add to his charm a bit, and you realize he most likely has them from putting in so much effort into his work. His dedication is more than admirable.

You take your time basking in him, thinking to yourself, "why is he so goddamn pretty?"

Only to realize that his expression changes, and you just said that out loud. Flustered, you try and explain yourself, "Sorry, I just- I didn't- God, this is embarrassing."

He grins. "Never would have thought I would be described as 'pretty. Usually, I get 'jaded' or 'dull.'"

"Really?" you say, shocked. "But you're so handsome?"

"With these dry eyes, thanks, but I don't need any pity compliments" you go to defend yourself but are interrupted by him.

"speaking of dry eyes," he rummages through his pockets. "Where did I put them?" he questions before picking up a box and setting it on the counter, rummaging through it.

"What are you looking for?" you question.

"Just eye drops, I get some pretty mean dry eye, so I usually have some on hand," he huffs.

"Well, I don't think you are going to find them in there," you nervously laugh.

"Why not? I'm pretty sure I put them in here."

"Do you... um usually put your eye drops in with uh- your butt plugs?" you question

"My what?" he stares incredulously, and you respond by pointing to the scribbled sharpie written on the side of the box. He flips the box around to see written in big bold letters' Aizawa's Butt Plugs FRAGILE'.

"Hizashi," he quietly sighs while pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Hey, it's totally okay. I don't kink shame here. I would just say its a little unsanitary to put your eye drops with-"

"I don't have but plugs," he quickly says. "I have never once owned but plugs; it's just my coworker is a piece of shit and doesn't know how to stay out of someone else's stuff."

"I like his humor. Seems like my kind of person," you chuckle.

"You would eat your words if you met him in person. He is kind of a loud person," he sighs as he continues to dig through the box. "Finally," he puffs as he pulls out a small little bottle. Unscrewing the top, he attempts to drop some in his eyes but misses.

Some mumbled swears later, and you offer, "Would you like some help?"

"only if you're comfortable though," you add on.

"Could you? I can usually get it first try since I do it so often" he hands you the tiny bottle. You look around and move to sit on the counter, waving him over to come in-between your legs. You cup his face as if it were a natural thing you would do on a day-to-day basis without even thinking. You have your thumb laying on his cheekbone, and you drag it over his scar, feeling some of the grooves and divots within it. He leans a bit into your hand as you caress the scar, but you realize you are getting a little carried away and continue. Dropping a couple of drops in each eye, he sighs in relief.

"Thanks," he says with a smile. You both look into each other's eyes before you cough and look over at the time to see it is already 1 am. He follows your gaze.

"Wow, have we really been talking that long?" you question. "I've probably more than overstayed my welcome" with a laugh, you hop off the counter and stand under his gaze. "Thank you so much for listening to me and being such a wonderful host. I should probably head back over though" you point to the direction of your apartment. "You might if I use your balcony to hop on over?" You ask.

"Sure," he breaks from his trance. Leading you to the balcony, you throw your bag over the railing to your side and follow in suit. He gives his hand and aids you over the railing to your side.

With a thankful smile, you give a quick thanks and goodnight. But before you go in, they capture your attention once again.

Rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, he says, "just so you know, you're welcome here anytime you get locked out again, or even if you don't get locked out."

You smile. "I'll take you up on that, but you might get tired of me pretty fast." You open the back door and make your way into your apartment, but before you close the door, you hear him say

"I doubt it."

#aizawa fanfiction #mha #fanfic

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ghost-ghost-baby · 5 years ago

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Scales pt. 3 //yan!bakusquad fantasy au//

uuugh i hate writing filler You were on bed rest for two days, Katsuki had almost exploded when he saw the damage you’d sustained, Kiri’s patch up job… hadn’t been the best. Katsuki seemed to be the leader, and able to do anything he set his mind to, which included keeping you in the middle bed, piled in with at least two of them at any given time. You’d… learned a lot about them! Mina and Denki had been teaching you more about magic, Hanta had taken over teaching you about healing, and Katsuki and Kiri would just… try to feed you? That god Katsuki was an amazing cook, honestly.

Denki and Sero were passed out next to you, and you finally saw an opportunity to explore. Soft snores echoed in your ears as you padded over to the weapons, grabbing yourself a dagger to slice through the back of the tent. As long as you had the intent to come back, it shouldn’t alert the bond, or Kiri, that you’d left. The tent backed into a forest, and your eyes lit up when you saw mulberry trees, running into the brush without a second thought.

Mina was livid when she came back to find you gone, and Denki and Hanta still sleeping soundly.

“Where’s Y/n?” Her voice was harsh enough to have them spluttering awake, panic clear on their faces when they noticed you weren’t anywhere to be seen.

“Okay, they haven’t gone far, we’d all feel that, I’ll go track them with Hanta, Denki can stay here to tell Katsuki and Kiri Y/n was feeling restless so we took them on a walk, can you handle that?” It was clear how irritated she was, neither man wanted to argue, merely nodding alone and doing exactly as she asked.

You were having the time of your life! You’d found a stream with plenty of nice rocks to sit on, and you amused yourself drawing on the stone or watching the animals. You felt…. weirdly at peace with everything. There was a slight feeling of unease in the back of your mind, but you easily blocked it out. Maybe you should go for a swim? You did tend to overheat and pass out… you didn’t want to get too hot. Loose shirt and pants placed in a neat pile,you tried not to feel too exposed in your underwear. Nobody was around, you’d hear them.

“Oh thank god!” A cry startled you, the shock making you lose your footing and fall into the water. It was only cool, thank god, a nice refreshing change from the growing heat outside. You only had a moment to enjoy it before you were being scooped up and pulled back to the surface, your face getting smothered in kisses as voices vied for your attention.

“Are you guys good?” You spluttered, wiping your eyes and stepping back so you could see which one of them it actually was. Hanta and Mina stared back at you with incredulous eyes, as if you were missing some huge part of something awful. “Well?”

“You just ran off!”

“We thought something happened!”

“Or worse, what if you’d tried to run away!” Their voices melted together as they checked you over, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“I was bored is all, and the tent is right there!” A whine made its way into your words, and the pair of them stepped back. You weren’t wrong.

“Just, tell one of us next time, okay?” Mina flashed you a smile, and a sigh of relief left you. Huh, you hadn’t noticed you’d been stressing.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

You ended up convincing them you were well enough to stay in the water, and Hanta yelled for Denki to come out before Mina had finished asking him to. The blonde only took a second, seeming to predict what was happening, and wasted no time doing a cannonball and splashing the three of you. Laughter filled the air as you played around in the water, dunking and splashing each other without a care in the world. Even Katsuki couldn’t be mad when he and Eijiro finally got back, the four of you just looked so happy.

“Are you sure they’re well enough for this?” The redhead was stripping nonetheless, wading into the water to check you over.

“I feel great Red, promise.” You reached your arms out expectantly, wrapping around Eijiro as soon as he was close enough.

“What were the two of you doing anyway?” Hanta asked Katsuki, who was somehow already in the water with everyone else.

“Deku called a meeting, apparently Shigaraki fully lost it and went on a rampage because someone stole his ‘pet’ or something.” His tone was nonchalant but you couldn’t help but flinch, pushing thoughts to the back of your mind even though it made the tattoo itch uncomfortably.

It’d finally gotten too cold to continue in the water, and Hanta had to carry you back after Eijiro went on about how ‘you’d done enough for today’ and ‘were still meant to be resting’. Anxiety had ruined your good mood, the resulting restlessness was going to drive you crazy. You were safe here, nobody knew anything. And nobody from Shigaraki’s could possibly know you were here of all places. You’d assumed a kind of… panicked calm, but luckily it confused the bond enough that nothing seemed off. It was easier than you thought to trick it, that didn’t mean you liked doing it.

“Y/n, you okay?” Mina cupped your cheek, effectively bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m just kinda tired.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth, Eijiro rushing over as if he’d been listening the whole time. He probably had been.

“Let’s get you back to bed.” You batted his hands away when he tried to pick you up, you could still walk. “You’re still healing from everything, you know it takes longer after you burn yourself out.” He didn’t persist, settling to boop your nose instead. He was right, you both knew it. It could take twice as long for you to get back to full strength, and you’d… kinda overdone it in the water, so you settled down on his lap once the two of you were back in the bed.

“Where’d Denki and Katsuki go?” You only just noticed they were missing, you really needed to be more observant.

“They’re just getting diner ready, don’t worry love.”

Waking up alone was certainly a change, and panic shot through you as you sat up to look around. Denki and Mina were still there, and a relieved sigh made its way out of you at the sight.

“Good afternoon sleepy head, what do you feel like doin’ today?” Denki came over when he realised you were awake, carrying a tray laden with food. You picked at the fruit and bread as you thought, an idea coming to you within a couple of minutes.

“Well… there’s a healing spell I’ve always wanted to try… but I couldn’t even attempt it with just me, it should get me back to full strength.” You snuggled up to Denki, doing your best to get him to agree to your idea.

“Magic? Is that safe?” He cast a look at Mina, who bit her bottom lip as she thought.

“I suppose, if its spread between three people there won't be any noticeable drain on Y/n, I can’t really see a problem with it.” She shrugged, grabbing her bag from the tale. “Get dressed then, I’m assuming there are more ingredients we need to get.”

“There’s fresh mint over here!” You called, leaning down by the plant to pick a few stems. This forest had everything, it was amazing! You waited for the others to join you, you didn’t really have the desire to go off on your own, it didn’t feel safe. Luckily they were close behind, Denki unable to stop himself jumping on you as soon as you were in range. You didn’t know why he was so affectionate, worse than any of the others, but it’d grown on you.

“Okay, the only thing we need now is some mugwort, but there’s heaps of that around here.” Mina folded up the list you’d given her, gently placing it in a pocket of her bag.

“You guys really are the best!” You cooed, practically glowing as you hugged the two of them. A twig snapping had Mina and Denki on red alert, making sure you were between them as they looked around. You spotted the pair first, familiar figures that made your heart sink into your gut.

“There you are Y/n! We’ve been looking all over this forest for you!” Toga clapped her hands together as she spoke, a blush already covering her cheeks.

“Yeah, you didn’t make it easy.” Dabi was less enthusiastic, he just wanted to get the whole thing over with. “Shigaraki threw his biggest tantrum yet after your little stunt, you’re lucky you weren’t there.” Energy flowed into your hands on instinct, crackling and glowing, ready to fry anyone who made a wrong move. Thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to figure out what was happening and how you could stop them. If they said too much it’d be over for you, nobody could want you after that.

“I don't know who you are, but Y/n isn’t going anywhere with you.” Mina’s voice was downright terrifying, you almost flinched at the ice saturating it. Denki slid his arm around you waist, and when you looked down to his free hand you saw electricity crackling around his fingers. The air was so tense you couldn’t breathe, waiting for someone to just say something.

“Look, we’ve had a rough journey, don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Dabi was smirking as he spoke, bright blue eyes fixed on your form. You hated how cocky the bastard was, something wasn’t right. You turned too late, Denki’s eyes wide as his fingers reached up to brush the dart jutting out of his shoulder and your heart stopped.

“Mina-!”

“I know.” She was already firing something at the pair, and you caught Denki just as he crumbled to the ground. Somehow you dragged him to a tree, leaning him up against it and making sure he was just unconscious before you went to help Mina.

Toga dodged the blast you sent her way, lunging at you and almost knocking you off your feet as you ducked out of the way. You were still weaker than usual and it was sickeningly obvious, you could only hope they didn’t know you well enough to pick up on it. She wasn’t giving you a moment to rest, repeatedly attacking you until you were backed up against Denki and the tree. A shield flared up around you, giving you the chance to see how Mina was doing. It wasn’t going well, none of you were prepared to fight, and she was already bleeding from multiple wounds. She needed to get out of here, but she’d never leave the two of you, you didn’t have enough energy to teleport more than one person. She knew where the others were, she could warn them, right? And you could take care of Denki from the inside, they’d never been good at locking you up. Light flared around Mina’s form and her horrified eyes met yours, the colour draining from her face as she realised what you were doing.

“Y/n, no-!” Her voice was cut out before she could finish the sentence, her body disappearing in a flash moments later. Your shoulders slumped, the rest of your body following until you were crumpled on top of Denki, and boots coming towards you were the last thing you saw before your eyes closed.

taglist under the cut lmao i rlly hope i got it right

@wolfygecko@baby-snart@frostfox328@ssnaketongue@that-one-piece-oftrash@emilysimaginesblog@generousdigitalartartghost@slowly-gently@toffee1812@izzys-complete-insanity@sexisquid@icecreamguru03@tessamarie22@peculiar-faerie@lunaralpha270@max7500@graduatedmelon@everstrange1@saltytocrusade@dark-side-blog2@tinyspacesaurus@shimyshimyagustd@teacaku@shinethesensational@yooalicee@radnickeltoadbat@superrllama@trinshappyplaces@kai-iaa@mini-kunoichi-universe@estellegladiolus@kirapholia@lemonmaim@skylerstorm2@phantomfunguschild@naked-canadians@meaper112@cute-cotton-tail@xxnatashahicksxx

#bnha x reader #yandere x reader #bnha yandere #yandere bnha x reader #yandere bnha #yandere kirishima x reader #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere mina x reader #yandere denki x reader #yandere sero x reader #yandere kirishima #katsuki x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere hanta x reader #yandere kaminari

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satonthelotuspier · 5 years ago

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Fur and Feathers

🐰 Untamed Spring Fest 2020 🐰

Day 16 & Day 17 - Sheer & Rest - 2.4k

Back to Fur and Feathers for a XiCheng Extra with some side not quite Wangxian yet (it takes a long time for these two, and by two I mean mostly WWX, to stop being dumdums).

Jiang Cheng’s inner cat wants, as usual, to be babied, and the Yunmeng boys show the Lans that sometimes just spending an afternoon in the lotus lake for no other reason than entertainment can be fun.

XiCheng Extra 1

Jiang Cheng, seated across from his husband while they drank tea together that morning, had been considering for a while now whether it was a good idea to give in to his cat’s need for attention, or whether it was perhaps too soon in their reconciliation to be acting like the precious baby his animal was.

But honestly, what was the ideal amount of time to let pass before he could? It wasn’t like Lan Xichen hadn’t experienced the riddle that was his animal first hand.

There was still a level of tentativeness in their relationship; it had been bitter and acrimonious for many years, until they had managed to find a some common understanding due to the talisman incident, and therefore Jiang Cheng still felt the guilt of his previous actions. Coupled with the fact he wasn't the most demonstrative person with his more tender feelings at the best of times it left him a little at a loss as to how to act sometimes.

But perhaps Lan Xichen would be kind...

Decided, he acted quickly to stop himself from second guessing his choice. He moved around the table and insinuated himself into the other’s lap.

Lan Xichen paused in surprise for the briefest of moments, before his arms wrapped around Jiang Cheng and cradled him carefully against his chest.

It was more than he could have ever hoped, and he rubbed his cheek gently against Lan Xichen’s throat, his soft almost-purr reverberating in his chest as he scent marked the other.

His purr had a soporific effect on him; he’d just rest his eyes for a few minutes…

***

It was some time later when Jiang Cheng awoke, stretching luxuriously and arching into the hand stroking his back.

His eyes flew open suddenly, as realisation dawned that he had drifted off to sleep.

While he had slept Lan Xichen had picked him up and moved them to the bed, where he sat, still in the lotus position, with Jiang Cheng in his lap and still cradled gently against him.

“I’m so sorry, Xichen” he sat up in panic, “I didn’t mean to sleep for so long, why didn’t you tip me out of your lap?”

Lan Xichen smiled softly, “Wasn’t it you yourself that complained about Wei Wuxian moving before your cat was ready? Didn’t you say it was against the law of the land to disturb a sleeping lap cat?”

“Wei Wuxian never listens to a word I say, why should you?” he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the dark amber of the other; how had it taken him so many years to notice how hypnotically beautiful the First Jade’s eyes were?

“Perhaps because I’m an obedient husband”

He was so engrossed the tease went over his head for a moment or two. He realised the other was waiting for a response, so he clicked his tongue, “Hmm” he added doubtfully, before going back to staring.

“You’re barely paying attention to me, Wanyin, where are your thoughts?”

“In your eyes” he answered without thinking. He panicked as he realised what had left his lips in his distraction, then coughed awkwardly.

“I think I have to teach the disciples archery this afternoon” he forced a chirpy tone, and scrambled to his feet, but Lan Xichen caught his hand and held him back for a moment.

“You don’t have to get so embarrassed when paying me a compliment, Wanyin, I’m grateful enough for your regard, and surely it’s for the best that we find each other attractive, given that we are married”

As much as he had detested that term in relation to himself for those few years he’d been absent from Lotus Pier, it now had started causing a nervous fluttering in his stomach, every time the word marriage, or Lan Xichen being termed as his husband, was said in his hearing.

“So shameless” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, however, flushing. He couldn’t deny he did feel the glow of happiness at the inference that Lan Xichen did find him as pleasing as he found Lan Xichen. He couldn’t be honest about his feelings though, of course.

Lan Xichen shook his head in indulgent amusement, and released his hand. He followed Jiang Cheng to his feet.

“I shall come with you, I haven’t drawn a bow for a while and I feel like the practice would do me good”

Jiang Cheng turned, walking backwards as he tapped Lan Xichen in the chest with Sandu’s hilt, feeling much more grounded now, “You know it’s bad form to show the teacher up, don’t you?”

“Then hope you’re better than me, Wanyin” Lan Xichen’s hand wrapped around his own on Sandu’s hilt, and he almost fell over his own feet.

Curse Lan Xichen and this teasing personality he’d kept well hidden until it was too late and Jiang Cheng had fallen too deeply in love with him to hold his against him. Well, at least for very long.

He was enamoured of it.

“Some chance” he complained instead, as if anyone was going to be better at archery than one of the perfect princes of Lan.

They bickered playfully back and forth as they made their way out to the training grounds.

It was the middle of spring but the weather had turned quite warm, and archery was sweaty work; the disciples soon began to feel the effects.

Everyone was affected in the heat, except, of course, the perfect First Jade, who looked like a cool breath of fresh mountain air at all times.

Sometimes Jiang Cheng felt he ought to shield his eyes, lest he be blinded by the perfect purity of him.

As expected no one could match Lan Xichen at the target, as he stood carefully loosing arrow after arrow, forehead ribbon tails stirring in the gentle breeze, which brought no relief from the heat but served to turn Lan Xichen into the image of some martial god come to earth.

The disciples were impressed, and it had a positive effect as they strove to emulate Lan Xichen. Jiang Cheng didn’t even having to loose an arrow himself in the end, he merely walked between the ranks of shooters, correcting postures, grips and aims.

Later, as the disciples filed away after clearing up their equipment, Lan Xichen said to him, “I might take the opportunity to fly while I’m out here, if you don’t mind?”

“I mind that I’m not the one getting to, I might go and yell at Wei Wuxian to perfect his animal swap talisman more quickly, while you’re gone” then he bit his lip, but had to say it; “Make sure you keep out of bow range, and be careful”

Lan Xichen smiled gently, then leant forward to press his forehead to Jiang Cheng’s. He could feel the outline of the other’s forehead ribbon.

“I will, Wanyin, I’ll be back soon” with a shimmer of air his eagle was pulling up into the sky with his large, powerful wings.

As the weather was getting warmer Jiang Cheng judged it was time to have a chat to Wei Wuxian about something he had thought of as aside a few weeks ago, and seeing as Lan Wangji was shortly to leave for the Cloud Recesses again now was a perfect time.

***

The next morning as they breakfasted together Jiang Cheng asked Lan Xichen if he would spend the afternoon with him, and Lan Xichen agreed readily.

Just after midday they set off and met Wei Wuxian, who had convinced Lan Wangji to similarly spend the afternoon with him. Actually, he thought neither Lan would have taken much convincing, Lan Xichen was too accommodating, and Lan Wangji would deny Wei Wuxian nothing. Wei Wuxian had been enthusiastically on board with Jiang Cheng’s idea. If there was one thing Yunmeng boys liked it was horsing around in the lotus lake in the afternoon heat.

At the deck that had been built out onto the lake, they dropped the towels they’d brought and began to disrobe.

“Wei Ying?” there was a tone of confusion in Lan Wangji’s voice, the other paused in pulling a boot off to wave a hand at Lan Wangji.

“Come on, strip, Lan Zhan, we’re going to show you how we spend warm afternoons in Yunmeng” once down to his dark pants he dived gracefully from the decking into the lake, followed closing by Jiang Cheng, his cat yowling in outrage.

It was one of the very few things he overruled his inner animal on.

The other two were still on the viewing deck, though after a little while spent in consideration Lan Xichen’s hands dropped to begin removing his belt. Lan Wangji looked frozen.

“Lan Zhan, stop being a fuddy-duddy, don’t make me climb out and get you!” and Wei Wuxian swam back to towards the dock.

That seemed to galvanise him into action and he too began to remove his outer layers, lobes of his ears turning a subtle pink.

They were soon joined in the water, and Jiang Cheng swam over to his husband.

“How confident are you in the water?” he asked, they’d not horse around with the Lans if either wasn’t a strong swimmer, it was too dangerous.

“I’m not quite a water sprite like my Wanyin, but I manage” he said and reached out to stroke a hand over Jiang Cheng’s water-slicked hair. He almost purred. Almost. His cat was still sulking.

“That’s good, tell us if we get too rough, we’re virtually half-fish and forget not everyone lives on lakes”

“I can’t imagine your cat likes this” Lan Xichen teased, and Jiang Cheng smiled wryly.

“We’re sulking right now, you’re right”

He caught Lan Xichen’s hand and kicked backwards, pulling him along as they swam further out into the lake.

They spent some time diving, looking at the fish and plants beneath the surface, which Lan Xichen seemed to enjoy greatly. Eventually, as they caught their breaths after their latest dives, and as was always the case, Wei Wuxian couldn’t behave himself for a moment longer and, hunting from under the surface, pulled Jiang Cheng under. The usual battle occurred, as they wrestled and dunked and dragged each other into the water, and the Lans mostly stayed out of the way, although neither Jiang Cheng nor Wei Wuxian allowed them to remain completely out of the fun. The lake became more populated as disciples heard their calls and joined the melee.

Sect bonding, done Yunmeng style.

Eventually Wei Wuxian got bored of bullying him and he swam off to Lan Wangji’s side, so Jiang Cheng joined Lan Xichen.

“Are you alright?” he checked, and Lan Xichen nodded.

“Just admiring my husband in his natural habitat” he murmured with a smile that Jiang Cheng could only describe as sultry.

A shudder passed through him; he didn’t know why he was still so affected by the proof that Lan Xichen found him attractive, even desired him, as he did the other, but he couldn’t deny that he was.

He bit his lip briefly, before glancing around the lake to make sure no one was paying them any attention, where they floated just next to the deck, then, assured everyone was too busy he pressed a quick kiss against Lan Xichen’s lips.

“Shall we call that an afternoon?” Lan Xichen asked as they parted, and Jiang Cheng nodded, a flush starting somewhere on his chest and working it’s way up.

It was accelerated unexpectedly as the older man turned to the deck to pull himself out of the water.

Jiang Cheng didn’t even get the chance to admire his lean muscles before he was presented with an issue.

They hadn’t thought; Yunmeng colours tended to be darker, mostly purples, Wei Wuxian wore blacks; the Lans wore white. White pants beneath their robes, which of course became sheer when soaked with water.

Jiang Cheng choked, panicked, reached out and grabbed Lan Xichen around the waist and pulled him back into the lake.

The other was shocked, ended up swallowing a mouthful of water as he sank, and spluttered and coughed upon surfacing.

“Wanyin?” he questioned, wiping his face.

“Xiongzhang?” Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian swam towards them, and Jiang Cheng groaned, he’d have to give Lan Wangji the warning though, no matter how embarrassing he found it.

“What happened?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“We’re going to swim down the shore to get out of the lake, you should probably do the same when you’re ready” he said.

But no one took his subtle hint.

“Wanyin, whatever is wrong?” Lan Xichen asked again, looking back at him over his shoulder.

They were really going to make him say it. Fine. He accepted no responsibility for embarrassment caused.

“A single layer of thin white cloth becomes very diaphanous when wet”

He was the centre of three blank stares for at least another three beats of the heart, then Lan Xichen finally understood.

“Oh”

Wei Wuxian followed with a bark of laughter.

“I see” Lan Xichen added, squeezing Jiang Cheng’s forearm, which was still securely fastened around his chest from supporting him in the water when Jiang Cheng had pulled him back into the lake.

“So did Jiang Cheng, Xichen-ge” Wei Wuxian teased.

“Wei Ying” Lan Wangji scolded him.

“Can you please not, Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “We’re going to find somewhere else to climb out, that way” he waved a hand, “Find your own place to get out though”

“What? Why?”

“Xichen isn’t the only Lan wearing white, you simpleton” Jiang Cheng didn’t give him a second more of his time, and, letting Lan Xichen go, turned to set off parallel to the shore, followed closely by the elder Lan.

They swam for a while, before finding a secluded piece of the shoreline. They dragged themselves out onto the banking, and Jiang Cheng began gently squeezing water out of Lan Xichen’s hair.

“We should dry off quickly enough in this heat, then we’ll walk back down the shoreline and collect out things from the dock” he said, and Lan Xichen made a hum of agreement.

“Thank you” Lan Xichen said eventually, a touch of laughter in his voice.

“I don’t want everyone ogling my husband” he said without thinking, and Lan Xichen raised an amused eyebrow. “What, am I not allowed to be possessive?” he asked challengingly.

“Of course, my Wanyin” was Lan Xichen’s immediate, still amused, response.

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shannygoatgruff · 5 years ago

Text

My Brother’s Keeper - Chapter II

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Rating: MA

Overall Warning: Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.

Chapter Warning: Talks sexual assault, murder, joy kills

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other. Boys will be boys…

Chapter II

The sun assaults my eyes as soon as I open them. It's all I can do to raise my hand to shield them from the blinding light. Who the fuck opened the curtains These things are never open. I bought blackout curtains for a reason. I want it dark in here.

Ivar must have come in, in an attempt to get me out of bed. He could have just woken me up, instead, he tries to blind me out of bed. Any other day I would be annoyed, but right now all I can seem to concentrate on is the scent of coffee creeping under the crack of my door.

As I lay here rubbing my forehead, I close my eyes and try to piece together anything from before. I wonder how I got here. I don't remember coming home, much less stripping out of my clothes and landing in the bed. Then I look down at what I'm wearing. How did I end up in my Vikings t-shirt? I thought for sure I lost it weeks ago.

The sound of the ashtray hitting the floor when I swing my legs around pulls me out of my own head for a moment. Ivar is going to be pissed about that. Not only does he hate it that I smoke in bed, but he hates when there are ashes on the carpet. I'm not one for vacuuming and when he comes in here and sees a black stain against this white floor he's going to have a fucking fit.

I wish I could sit here and collect my thoughts…give me some time to let the morning fogginess wear off but I can't. I gotta take a leak and the smell of the coffee is making my stomach growl.

The sounds of Skynard’s Simple Man playing in the distance and clanging of frying pans on the stove tells me right away that Ivar's in a good mood. That was Mother's favorite song. All that racket he's making downstairs as he tries to sing along with the song can only mean one thing: he's making pancakes, bacon, and eggs. It's what Mother used to make us when we were little; our special meal when she wanted us to know that we were her special boys. Now, Ivar cooks it when he wants to celebrate.

If we're celebrating then we must've had a good time. Damn. Why can't I remember it? I don't have one clear memory of last night, only flashes of things that might have happened. I assume Ivar and I took that girl out, but I don't have that exciting feeling that I always have when I know that we had a great night.

I never noticed how cold the bathroom tiles were until I lean against them so I won't drip on the side of the toilet. He hates it when I do that. He's always bitching about having to clean my piss up from around the toilet and off the floor, like I don't help clean up the mess he makes when we party. He says that's just an occupational hazard and not him being a fucking slob. Whatever. I call it him being a fucking neat freak.

Still, I can't stop the chuckle coming from my lips when the stream hits the side of the bowl but then the pain makes me wince. Something's wrong, I think. It hurts to piss. Not like on the inside, more like my dick is raw; like I fucked so much and so hard that I broke the skin. It feels like that one time I got a friction burn the first time I tried anal. I think I was rushing and didn't move the underwear over enough so the material rubbed my dick raw. I don't even remember who that was with. I just remember seeing the blood on my dick and this raw patch. I guess it felt good because I still like anal, but sometimes the thought of it makes me nauseous. It doesn't look like I did anything to myself. There's no broken skin or anything, but it still hurts.

What the fuck did we do last night? I wasn't that fucked up. I hardly had anything at the bar and I know I didn't do more than two Percocet. I was going light for a reason. I was so fucked up when we went out the night before that I could barely get it up when we entertained our guests.

I wonder if Ivar had me doing some crazy shit to that girl like I did to that one a few weeks ago. Damn, I wish I could remember it. Remembering helps keep the hunger away. Right now, I feel like I haven't done anything. It’s almost like I missed out on a night of partying. This feeling is enough to make me salivate.

I pull my shirt over my t-shirt as I walk toward the stairs, hoping that I'm not forgetting anything. The wooden steps creaking under my weight is enough to alert Ivar that I'm awake. I still don't know what time it is. All I know is it's too early to be up, but late enough that I won't make it into work on time. I don't really care. I feel out of it today. I'll call them and tell them I'm sick or something. I just don't think I could concentrate on that shit today if I tried.

Ivar is already sitting down to breakfast, looking like he's been awake for hours. I never understood why he wakes up so early or why he insists that we dress for breakfast. He has this thing where he likes for us to be presentable at the table. It's not like we ever have company. It was how Father did it. He liked all of his boys dressed and looking our best around the table when he sat down. It seems pointless to me, since it's just us two. I think it's cold and stuffy; Ivar finds it intimate. I don't know why we need to be intimate over pancakes but it seems to make him happy, so do it.

I like it when Ivar's happy.

The chair screeches on the hardwood floor as I pull it back to take a seat. He's sitting there quietly sipping on a cup of coffee and reading is iPad. He never looks up at me in the morning; most of the time I doubt that he even knows I'm here. "Morning."

His blue eyes lift from the printed text on the screen. The slight way his head turns in my direction before his eyes makes me feel uneasy, but then he smiles. "How'd you sleep?"

I reach for a pancake and break off a piece before sitting it on my plate. My coffee is already at my place on the table, loaded with two shots of vodka, cream, and a shit load of sugar, no doubt. Dunking my pancaked into my coffee, I shrug my shoulders. "Okay, I guess. Why didn't you wake me?"

"You needed to rest." He answers as if I should already know that. His voice is calm and soothing. I don't know how he always manages to put me at ease. "I called work for you."

"Yeah? What'd you say?"

He lays one hand carefully over the iPad, covering up most of the article he's reading. Placing his coffee cup back on the table, he tilts the iPad back up to his eyes. "I told Ubbe you were taking off the rest of the week.” If I keep missing work like this, my older brother is going to get pissed. I’m sure he’ll be calling me later today to see why I begged off. He’ll perform his brotherly duties, and make sure everything is alright. I guess I need to think of a real excuse before that time comes.

A bemused look hits Ivar's face and he points to a section of the screen as if I can see it. "Listen to this, ‘The police discovered the body of a runaway that was already presumed dead, in an abandoned apartment complex. According to crime scene detectives, the victim was tied up, tortured, and raped. 'I feel sorry for this young woman,' says Detective Torstein, Homicide. 'From the information we've gathered, she ran away from an abusive foster home two years ago and was thought to be dead. The reason it took us so long to find her was that no one reported her missing."

I can't help but notice the mirth in Ivar's voice as he reads the article. There's something in the gleam in his eye that tells me right away she's the girl we picked up at the bar. Poor thing. It sucks that she had such a rough life. "Well at least nobody can hurt her anymore." The dry pancake is thick in my throat but a few sips of coffee quickly remedy the discomfort.

"The cause of death was blunt force trauma to the face…” I feel like I have a massive migraine all of a sudden. My head doesn't really hurt but the flashes of light that shoot through my head are blinding.

“’An object of substantial size was used to crush every bone in her face sending fragments of her skull to her brain.' Detective Torstein adds, 'More than likely, the victim died on impact.' Jesus, Hvitserk. What did you do to her?”

It's like a dream almost. I can't really remember anything specifically; it just comes back in snippets. I remember sitting down and talking to her. I remember enjoying a cigarette, but that's it. "Me? The beating and shit, that's your deal." I can feel a smile tickle the corners of my mouth.

"Not this time. Why her face?" Ivar folds his hands on the table and studies me with great interest. He's not upset, more like in awe. He gets so excited about these things.

As I reach for my coffee cup again, I notice my left hand. It's red and swollen at my web between my index finger and my thumb. I can see a set of perfectly outlined teeth prints that have turned purple from where the skin was broken. Now, I can remember how that happened. "She started screaming, so I covered her mouth." I can even feel her bite me, sending a sharp pain through my hand when I struggled to pry her legs open.

I wish the memories were vivid, but they're more like me watching someone else through a dense fog. It's vague and not necessarily in order, but the one thing that remains constant is the sound of her screaming. "She bit me."

"The victim's underwear was found in her throat." Ivar's actually laughing at that detail. "That's fucking awesome." He acts like that is something that I should be proud of or that maybe it's something that he wants to try.

"My hand was bleeding and it kept sliding off of her mouth. I had to stop the screaming." A flash of memory comes to me of and I recall taking the white laced panties and pushing them into her mouth. It muffled her voice, but I could still hear it. It bothered me. "But then she started gurgling. She was getting on my fucking nerves."

"'The victim's undergarments were lodged in her esophagus, cutting off the oxygen supply to her brain,' explains the Detective.'Whoever did this crime was truly an animal.'" Ivar reads along with the article as if to back up my story.

I open and close my hand, staring at the colors it has turned from the bite. There are scratches on my knuckles too, but it doesn't really hurt. Why didn't I notice this before? I should have remembered all of this before Ivar read all of that to me. "That sound was horrible. There was a cinder-block, I think. Just a big chunk of something concrete on the floor. I didn't hit her with it. I dropped it on her. I just wanted her to shut the fuck up." I guess that's what killed her.

"Well, Astrid's not screaming anymore." Ivar's smile is so wide that his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Who?"

"Astrid. Her name was Astrid." As soon as he says that, I open my mouth and piece of pancake, coffee, bile and everything else that was resting comfortably in my stomach land on the table. I clutch the sides of the table, when my stomach muscles contract, forcing more vomit to spew from my lips. I can't really see due to the tears in my eyes, but I do notice Ivar stand up and carry his coffee mug and plate to the sink. He moves so gracefully, so calmly. He's doing this like it's no big deal that I'm puking on the kitchen table.

I think my stomach is finally returning to normal, but I don't know what made me lose it. Maybe it's the fact that she had a name. I hate knowing that they have names. It almost makes them seem as real, when I know what people called them. I can live with the fact that I killed a girl. But, can I deal with the fact that I killed Astrid, the throw-away, runaway girl with the annoying voice and the shitty past? Fuck. Why did I have to know her name?

Ivar's hand fists my hair and brings my head to rest against his stomach. He presses the damp paper towel to my forehead and then dabs the corners of my mouth. "Shh." His hand cups my neck as he rubs his thumb against my jaw to calm me. "It's okay, Serk. You told her not to scream. She didn't listen to you. This wasn't your fault, it was hers."

I don't understand how we got to this point. Ivar is the one into torture and pain and hurting and shit. I'm just there for the ride. I fuck them. That's all I do. Sometimes he does things to them and when they're almost broken, I fuck the shit out of them before he finishes them off however he wants. Sometimes they're alive when I get them; sometimes they're not. But one thing remains constant, I don't kill. That's not what I'm there for. We don't switch roles. Ivar has never fucked any of them, ever. He gets off on watching me do it. Just like I get off on watching him so happy fucking with them. And then we come home and talk about it and laugh and drink and get fucked up. It's what we do. It's how we have fun. Why did I change that?

I bury my head in Ivar's stomach as the last of my tears come out. I guess I'm crying for her, or at least I feel like I should be. But I can't really concentrate on that right now because I happen to notice the iPad sitting on the table. I slide it over and look at him confused. "Wednesday? How the fuck is it Wednesday?"

"You slept for three days. You always do when you make a mistake." He leans down and places a soft kiss in my hair. "It's okay, though. I made everything better. They'll never know. You got nothing to feel sorry for. You just need some rest. You'll feel better after a hot bath, and then you can sleep it off. I’ll even talk to Ubbe, if he calls." He helps me from my chair and leads me to the stairs. "Go run your bath. I'll bring you some tea and toast to settle your stomach."

I nod, because I know he's right. I do need to rest. I know he'll take care of me while I try to make peace with what I've done. He'll make sure I don't blame myself. He'll see to it that I eat, sleep, Ubbe is off my back, and that there's no evidence to link me to the crime. Ivar will take care of everything.

He always does.

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fmdjaewonarchive · 4 years ago

Text

► run away.

date(s): december 2020 mentions of: n/a word count: +/- 1.7k words (+/- 1k words w/ lyrics on songwriting, +/- 700 words on the composition) warnings: mentions of anxiety and general mental health problems details: full lyrics and full composition verification for run away, 2/3 verifications for jaewon’s upcoming album escapism. jaewon tries to prove he’s capable of writing music that’s worthy of the titletrack status and in doing so tries to branch out from what he’s used to, blending together what he knows works for him uncharted territory. all in all, things could have gone worse (a/n: i don’t know shit about composing pls take all of this with a grain of salt.)

by default, park jaewon is a creature of habit, prefers to find one set way to do things that works for him and deviate as little as possible from that. he likes certainty and avoiding unnecessary risk, anything to leave as little room for error as possible. making mistake might be a learning experience but not with how dead terrified jaewon is of doing things wrong, how he doesn’t know how to face failure without it determining his entire sense of selfworth.

songwriting is no different from that. most of the time jaewon writes, it’s structurally planned, deadlines and expectations to be met firmly in place, his work method like clockwork, almost mechanical. it doesn’t sound very profound, it definitely doesn’t suit the mental image most people have of the turbulent, disordered creative process of a real artist. not like jaewon can bring himself to care about whether or not his songwriting methods are deemed deep or profound enough in the eyes of other people, he had better things to care about.

like the album dimensions wanted him to write on short notice.

not that jaewon is complaining, everything but, getting his creative freedom back, it has been a long grueling process to get to this point but he is on a bit of a time crunch here. ‘our songs’ has only ended a mere couple of days ago but with a tentative release date of late winter to early spring, jaewon has his work cut out for him.

in such a time crunch, it makes sense to stick to his usual routine, go with what he is used to.

except jaewon doesn’t.

maybe ‘our songs’ has him feeling experimental for once, maybe he doesn’t want to risk falling victim to not only old habits but also old pitfalls, he’s not really sure what it is but for once, he starts with the lyrics.

that shouldn’t be very remarkable, not for most artists, but jaewon has already religiously stuck to his order of first creating an instrumental and then fitting his lyrical content to it rather than the other way around, starting from zero on that is quite the step, for him at least.

this song, it’s supposed to be title track material, to set the tone for the entire album straight away. if he gets this right by both his own standards and dimensions’, he gets to more or less free range on crafting this album to his liking. and to jaewon, lyrical content has always outweighed sound, as nice as a good beat is, it’s the content of a song that he identifies with, that he feels proudest of.

so writing a song about a breakup doesn’t seem evident.

run away, back off from me run away, far away from me

because that’s what it seems to shape up to be at first glance when he starts writing, themes of heartache, putting distance between yourself and your lover because as much as it might hurt on short notice, it will be the better option long term. and maybe it’s about that too, life isn’t clear cut one thing or the other so why should music be.

but it isn’t primarily that.

because the urge to run away isn’t an unfamiliar sensation to jaewon, it’s the thrum of anxiety under his skin, the voice in the back of his mind keeping him hyper aware of how awful of a person he is, how he fails those around him.

at the end of the day, that’s what he wants to run away from most.

if there is anyone he wants to take as much distance from as possible, it’s himself.

go away so you get out of my sight let me forget everything from your name to your face so that when I’m looking for you while i’m drunk i can’t recognize you even when you are right up close i will give up while i am looking

so maybe it is a break-up song. it’s undoubtedly a break-up song. but not about breaking off from other people.

it’s cutting ties with his past self, who he has been, with the years bitterness that have culminated in hurtful habits and patterns.

i will run away first along the torn shapes before sadness will take place and harden up i’ll run away

he’s not broken away from them completely yet. park jaewon would never have to gal to call himself a good person, it would be a bald-faced lie. but even he has to admit that there has been progress.

he might not be there yet but it’s something. that gets to be said as well right? it’s been a gruelling process so far, he gets to celebrate the small victories.

it reminds him of when he wrote ‘rebirth’ for his first album, almost two years ago at this point. back then, ‘rebirth’ had been a starting point, the turn around to doing better. sure, he wasn’t at the finish yet but he had moved forward, that was something.

something is good, a lot better than he has gotten a lot of previous years.

that in itself made it worthy of its own song really.

you’ve gone a long way into thin air the sun has gone down without looking back even once

finishing the first draft feels like a burden relieved, a weight taken off his shoulder as he has gained the perspective to reflect back on what has been.

his flaws are still plenty, he could never deny that. jaewon doubts he’ll ever grow out of all of them, some parts carved into his personality that he doubts he’ll ever be able to take them out.

but for now he’s still moving forward, still growing and everyone past scar healed over is one, one step closer to finding some semblance of peace within himself, within his own person.

all he has to do is keep running.

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

with a rough draft of the lyrics done, he still needs an instrumental and for that, he trades the comfort of his home studio for one of the more richly equipped ones in the dimensions headquarters. it feels a bit silly to make a distinction but jaewon always prefered writing from home and composing from within the company building, both surroundings better tailored to a different part of the creative process. or well in his experience at least.

it takes some fumbling, the kind of awkward stumble that comes with deviating from old habits and making up a plan as one goes. matching melody to lyrics rather than words to melody are most definitely not the same thing but just reversed, jaewon quickly learns the hard way, especially not in a rap track where really, the flow can make or break the whole thing.

so it’s a bit of a struggle, the first few hours fiddling around with sounds and beats that ultimately lead to nothing, that turns out he doesn’t know how to mold to his lyrics in a way that leaves him satisfied.

but like with most things in life, there is a learning curve. with every bit he scraps, he comes closer to the sound he’s actually searching for.

and jaewon makes a genuine effort to branch out, try something new for a change. much like his lyrics, his usual composing also falls victim to sticking too closely to what he’s familiar with, deep, muted sounds to convey the somber undertone of his lyrics, a slow drawl to instrumental, mainly focussing on drums and bass lines, moody and dark.

so this time, his instruments of choice are synths. different types of synths at different points, trying his best to branch out, create an instrumental that’s fun and surprisingly at all turns but in essence, when one dumbs it down, the main theme is truly just… synths.

that’s not a bad thing, it is breaching out of his comfort zone for sure. funnily enough, the more he works on it, the more the instrumental reminds him of something that could have been on his previous album. ironic, considering jaewon spent the better part of the year loathing ‘love language’ with every fiber of his being.

looking back on it with a fresh perspective, jaewon has to admit that while he didn’t like the music for himself, far too flashy and corny. but in terms of playing around with the composition and production, whoever had worked on that album (jaewon doesn’t know, it sure wasn’t him) was a lot more creative than he was.

surely he can do something like that on his own devices as well right? surely he can branch out from his typical song structure and prove he’s grown as a composer.

the bounce of the synths and the bass has a cosmic feel to it, the flow of the song twisting at every turn where sections bleed into another with bells and trinkets attached to the transitions.

for added effect, jaewon records the whistling curling around the edges of the verses that ties them to an end before shifting into the chorus himself, by the time he’s done putting them through editing it doesn’t sound all that human anymore, morphed into something more surreal sounding, blending into that not-quite terrestrial vibe that seems to arch over the song.

the drop in the chorus is hardly creative, jaewon doubts a beat drop can still be at this point but it does add to the immersion of the song, like getting your head dunked in a bath of ice water, stripping down on the whimsical rhythm patterns laced through the verses and stripping down to raw desperation of the song, the harrowing undertone of running for your life.

he adds bits and pieces like that, layer by layer, until the song itself sounds just as meticulously thought out as the lyrics rather than just a bare structure built underneath them.

when he gives the draft a final reason before sending it off to the creative department, jaewon can’t help but think he never created something that sounds so complete before.

#fmdverification #*:･ﾟ♛– «filled with all these empty moments» // solos.#//only one left thank the fucking heavens #anxiety tw #mental health tw #«escapism // era.»

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homo-sex-shoe-whale · 5 years ago

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when/how did you realize you were gay?

I've avoided answering this question properly ever since I started this blog, but I think it's about time I get yapping. Maybe if I tell my story it'll help someone.

It started when I was about 5-6 years old. I was watching TV in the living room while my mom was running various errands around the house. The 2008 gay pride parade was on the news, but I didn't know what being gay meant. So I asked my mom, and she told me. Afterwards, I thought to myself: "Hey... I wouldn't mind being with a girl." I didn't give the word "gay" a thought again for many years to come.

Throughout primary and early middle school, all the girls around me were developing crushes on boys. I thought my crush would come eventually, but it never did. When my classmates kept pestering me about who I 'liked', I just made up a crush on a random guy.

Then came junior high, and at around age 13 people were having their first kisses and getting into their first relationships. I felt like I was gonna get left behind, so I found the first guy who showed interest in me and chose him to be the first human I kissed. I got a very non-threatening vibe from this guy. One day while he and I were talking inside one of the classrooms at school, he just kissed me. I felt... nothing. I was hoping that I'd finally feel at least a little spark... but no. Absolutely nothing. I tried to kiss him again, thinking that maybe the second time would do it, but nothing again. But then, he wanted to kiss me with tongue. As soon as he mentioned this, something in me just fired. Like I absolutely could NOT let this happen. It's been few times in my life that a gut feeling gave me the cue to leave a place so strongly, but I immediately felt the need to RUN. I broke things off with him and funny enough, he was very respectful about it. Never approached me with romantic intent again.

Not even a month later, a new milestone came. I was playing truth or dare with some friends and got dared to kiss a girl. I never met her before or saw her after that day. She and I went into a closet, and it just happened. It was very short and dispassionate, but for the first time, I felt something. I felt alive. It was something I had never felt before, especially compared to the nothingness I felt when kissing that guy.

Naturally, I freaked out about that. I couldn't possibly be a LESBIAN. What if people around me got suspicious? That couldn't happen. So I found the nearest male to me who was willing to date and made him my boyfriend. I kissed him a few times and the same thing happened from the first time I kissed a guy- I felt nothing. The upside was that I had a bit of a crush on his twin sister, and could use my relationship with him to be near her. She and I were in different social circles and otherwise never hung out. Shortly after this boy and I started dating, their whole family moved to Thailand. I saw an opportunity- if I kept a long distance relationship with this guy, I could be safe from people suspecting I was a lesbian, but I didn't have to kiss him or anything like that. So we kept our relationship for about 8 months. However, I knew there was something wrong. I didn't think of myself as a lesbian necessarily, but I knew it wasn't right with this guy. Every time I even touched him, I had this horrible feeling in my chest. Like.. my heart felt cold. Not in a metaphorical way- my heart literally felt like it was freezing inside my chest. It was wrong and everything in me told me to get away, but I didn't. I stayed.

Eventually, we both had enough with each other and peacefully broke it off. The relationship lasted about 10 months. I didn't care about his sister anymore and had moved on with my life. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders! After I was free from this relationship, I went through a period of self-reflection. Sincere, raw, self-reflection. I thought about all the signs since my childhood that pointed to me being attracted to women. I thought about my future and how I could only ever see myself marrying a woman. One day, I was sitting in the bathtub, when it all clicked. I literally said to myself: "Caralho, eu sou lésbica." (Fuck, I'm a lesbian). It was a TERRIFYING realisation. (When this happened I was 14, approaching my 15th birthday). I hoped that it wasn't true. I hoped my realisation was wrong and that I'd fall in love with a guy, but deep down I knew that wasn't gonna happen. I didn't like the word "lesbian" at first. I knew it was correct, but I wasn't comfortable with calling myself that. I scrubbed my skin with the rough end of my bath sponge until my skin went from medium beige to bright red, hoping it would somehow scrub the queer clean out of me. I dunked my head underwater in the bathtub for as long as I could hold my breath, hoping it would drown the gay out of me. But it never worked. It didn't make me any less of a queer. A dyke. A lesbian. It didn't make me straight, just made me hurt.

Over the next 3 months, I grew increasingly comfortable with the word lesbian. I gave myself time to become familiar with it, eventually secure enough to tell my friends in December 2017-January 2018 (shortly after I turned 15) that I was indeed one. They were very supportive and accepted me for who I was. However, this wave of acceptance was incredibly short-lived. In late January 2018, my parents found out I was gay. My mom kept picking at it increasingly and only stopped when I admitted it. Then she told my dad. I wasn't ready... I had JUST came to terms with my sexuality. I was barely even comfortable with the word "lesbian." I wanted to come out on my own terms when the time was right... but it felt like my secret had been ripped right out of me.

My parents were absolutely not supportive. My father almost left us, saying he could never have the same relationship with me again. It hurt so bad, because I'd always been much closer with my father. It's been well over a year and my relationship with him isn't restored to even a fraction of what it used to be yet. He was always the one I could trust, and I thought he loved me unconditionally. I thought I could rely on the love I had from my parents, those who brought me into this life. But I couldn't.

My identity as a lesbian felt like it had taken a strong hit before I could even make it strong enough to take one.

It was the most broken I had ever felt. I felt neglected. Like the future I always dreamt of was forever out of my reach. Like I was unlovable. But there was something still in me... desire. The desire to do great and big things with my life someday. The desire to be loved. "I can't stop where I am right now," I thought, "I haven't done everything I want to do yet."

I didn't want to be old and look back on my teenage years as a time of self-hatred.

I wanted someone to love me for all the things about me. The good, the bad, the ugliest parts of me... they're all me. But when I looked around, no one was prepared to love me like that. Sure, I had friends, but I wanted more than what they could offer me at that point in time. If I wanted to be loved like that, I would have to do it myself. I would have to love myself deeply and unconditionally, because no one around me was going to. And I'm a Slytherin, so when I have a goal to work towards, you bet your ass I'll deliver.

That's what I worked towards for the next few months. I don't know exactly how I did it, but it was just about being kind towards myself. Appreciating the things about me that deserved to be appreciated. Being proud of the things I've overcome. Realising the great potential I have to the future.

Today, I've reached a point where I'm finally at peace with being a lesbian. I don't care anymore whether my parents accept me or not, because I give myself the love they don't. It's a healed wound now and I don't pay them any mind. My sexuality is as natural to me as the colour of the hair that grows off the top of my head and the colour of my eyes.

I've finally found my peace. It took a while, but this time, I finally got it right.

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queenmuzz · 5 years ago

Text

Deep Blue Sea: Chapter X

The Pieces (of Pizza) Fit

Read the full story on Ao3 Here! Where the Hell is my brother?

The voice, full of rage, nearly gave you a migraine as you struggled to get out of the unyielding grip. Slow to anger, my ass, you brain unhelpfully supplied to you as you frantically tried to get out of his grasp. At the same time, the clock was ticking as your oxygen levels depleted and your lungs protested. Great job, your brain continued, trying to get your crush (NOT MY CRUSH you corrected) to safety, only to get killed by the one man you thought could save him. If it weren’t for the fact that you kinda needed your brain to remain alive, you’d attempt to shut the damn thing off.

WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?

His grip tightened, and you could have heard an angry growl in the water, instead of in your head. And just when you felt like you couldn't take any more, you were pulled out of the water. You tried to take a breath of precious air, terrified that he’d dunk you back in, but he slammed you into the hull, knocking any remaining air out of you. Your head whacked painfully on the fiberglass frame, and your vision turned black for a moment. Your jackknife slipped out of your wet hands, and into the depths, leaving you nigh defenseless.

“I swear to the Tidemother, if you have touched a hair on his head, I’ll drag you to the deepest fucking depths of the ocean, and let the scavengers eat your corpse.”

You tried to respond, tried to tell him that you meant him no harm, but his face was full of fury, and now he gripped your neck in his webbed hands. Your hands latched on to his wrist, in a futile attempt to break free, but all you managed to do was to jostle the amulet free from under your shirt.

The glint of gold must have attracted his attention because he loosened his grip slightly allowing you to gasp out for air. Perhaps he recognized it as a sign that Vergil trusted you.

That idea went out the window as he snarled, and suddenly you were lifted up and thrown back onto the deck, sliding a metre and a half across the wood.

You barely had time to reorient yourself before you heard a massive splash, a crushing weight on your torso, and most worryingly of all, the cold, sharp tip of metal at your throat. Your vision rapidly cleared, you saw him on top of you, teeth bared, reared back, with an honest to God sword pointed at your throat. (Where the hell did that come from? your brain asked unhelpfully)

“I don’t go after humans,” his icy voice chilled you to the bone, “But for you…” the sword tip moved slightly to lift the amulet up, “I’ll gladly make an exception. Where. Is. He.”

“Help…” you managed to croak.

“Bit too late to be begging for help, babe” he sardonically replied.

You shook your head, and slowly grabbed the amulet, intending somehow to take it off, before, surprisingly it easily unlatched itself. Sparing a quick glance at it as you cautiously slid it to the side, you were perplexed that there was no clasp, no broken chain...magic?

No time to ruminate about it, you took another breath of air, praying that it wouldn’t be your last.

“Help….him”

Confusion flooded Dante’s face, as to your relief, he withdrew his weapon away from the hollow of your throat as he snatched the chain and scooted away from you. You took this precious moment to catch your breath, heaving in and out and when you had recovered some of your strength, you rolled over to see Dante clutching the amulet to his chest, a matching one in silver and red around his neck, his eyes shut tight. The sword was gone, and you were beginning to think your lack of oxygen had caused you to hallucinate it.

A good minute passed as you watched him, neither one of you moving an inch. What he was doing with it, you had no idea. You slowly backed up, you didn’t want to hurt him if he attacked again, you just wanted to convince him that you truly wanted his help.

And then, out of nowhere, the merman laughed. It wasn’t a soft chuckle like his brother’s, but it didn’t seem dangerous.

“Oh bro… you’re such an idiot…” he bent his head over the necklace, his wet hair obscuring most of his face, leaving only a toothy smile, “You know, once I get your tail fins out of there, I’m never gonna let you forget this, right?” You weren’t sure if he was talking to the gem, his brother, or himself.

He brushed his hair to the side, allowing you to see his face. It was much kinder than before, if a bit embarrassed. “I…. eh, sorry ‘bout that, kinda swam out before checking the current, you know what I mean? Mom always told me I was a bit impulsive. You okay?”

“Yeah…” your voice was raspy, but felt much better “Wait, did you just know what happened just by holding that?” you pointed at the chain, dangling in his hand.

“Well, I got the gist of it, it’s not like we can send messages like you humans do in your little things you carry around constantly, but it can give me a bubbleful of information.” He chuckled, “So, my brother’s been captured and being kept as a pet, but you’re a friend of his.”

Your heart warmed up at the fact that Vergil, despite everything, considered you worthy of friendship. You hoped that you could be on friendly terms with his brother. So you did the thing that worked with Vergil. Grabbing the cardboard box that had fallen to the deck in the kerfuffle, and opened it up.

“Want a piece?”

The way his nostrils flared and his eyes widened at the sight, you realized you had made the correct decision.

*****

“So, Verg says to me. ‘Brother, I wager you ten cordina to get on that boat and grab something from it’...” Dante regaled you as he worked on his fifth slice of pizza, savouring every mouthful. His imitation of his brother was quite on the nose. He lounged on the sunny side of the deck, still shielded from prying eyes by the way you tilted the sail, as you anchored the boat.

“And I says ‘you’re on!’ and I scope out this boat full of guys playing loud music. I’m looking for a way to sneak on the damn boat, but there’s waaaay too many people dancing or something. But I’ll do anything to prove my bro wrong, so I wait. And Wait. And Wait. But when the Dawnfather was just about to rise, everyone finally fell asleep. So I flop on board, and I’m terrified that I’ll wake up someone, but everyone is really sleeping, like if it wasn’t for those funny noises you guys make when you sleep, I’d think they were dead. I grab the first thing I see, one of these,” he held up the half eaten slice, “and I bring it to Verg, and he grumbly pays off the bet. But,” he finished off the slice, “what’s weird, this stuff was the real prize. Vergil could have offered me a hundred cordina for that one piece, and I’d have said no…. It was so fucking delicious. And now you come along with a whole box of this…” “Pizza”

“Mmmm… Pizza…” he picked up another slice and stretched out the cheese. “I gotta say, this is why I like you humans, you come out with some pretty delicious food. It’s hard to make this stuff when you are surrounded by water.”

You smiled. Vergil had said they were twins, and while they looked very similar, (aside from scale colour) their personalities couldn’t possibly be any more different. While Vergil was calm, composed, and contemplative Dante was brash, bombastic, and brazen. Vergil was disdainful of humanity, (although you couldn’t really blame him), while Dante seemed to enjoy the quirks humans had. But strangely, despite his totally different personality, you liked him, though not in the same way as his brother.

“So, you want to get my brother back to the open waters, eh?” He had emptied the box of its contents, and was now licking his fingers for any remnants of melted cheese.

“Yes, and I need your help to make sure he gets as far away as possible, and doesn’t try to do something that’s liable to get him captured again.”

“That I can do… although I can hardly believe that he actually regrets not listening to me. You sure he said that?”

“Pretty much…”

Dante went a bit serious… “Okay, it should be simple. You get him to the ocean...let’s say,” he scanned the horizon, before pointing at the beach that lay next to the suspension bridge that linked both sides of the bay. “Right there. Should be when the next time the Tidemother shows her full face, that’ll give you enough light to see, to slip him out, and also the tide will be up, making the trek to the water’s edge as simple as possible. I’ll be waiting, and I’ll drag him by the tail fins out of here, if I have to…. and knowing Vergil, that’s probably literally, not figuratively speaking.”

“That simple?” you were perplexed. Surely there had to be more, or else Vergil would have been dropped off a long time ago, before you had time to develop feelings for him.

“Should be, I mean, you come across any trouble, he can probably use Yamato to get rid of any problems.” He now was scraping the melted cheese off the bottom of the box, and you were worried that if you didn’t stop him, he’d just eat the entire thing, cardboard and all.

“Yamato?” you’d never heard that term before.

Dante dropped the box, looking alarmed, “Wait, he hasn’t shown you Yamato?” his eyebrows shot up, “okay, that makes sense on why he’s been stuck… he doesn’t have his, …. um….” he cocked his head in thought, “I guess a rough translation would be ‘soul-weapon.’” You shook your head. Vergil had never mentioned anything about a weapon.

Dante continued, “I don’t really know how you humans see your souls, but the gist is, everyone of us has a weapon that’s intrinsically connected with our soul, our very being.” He rubbed his head, “some of us have harpoons, others daggers, even have a few with a trident. Me on the other hand…” his hand waved out, and instantly, in a red flash, appeared a sword. You hadn’t imagined it! “This is Rebellion, ain’t she a beaut?”

You had to agree. It was a long solid sword, with what seemed to be a stylized human skull at the crossguard, but with shark teeth poking out from where the eyes were, as well as embedded into the ricasso of the blade. It definitely was intimidating. “So, a brief summary of how we look at our lives. Us Merfolk see life like the way water moves. Water flows throughout the ocean, until the Dawnfather decides it is time for it to ascend, and so the water becomes the clouds above, before raining back down and eventually rejoining the ocean. It’s a cycle.”

“Ah,” you nodded, “like reincarnation”

“I guess?” Dante shrugged, “the philosophy of it all was all mom’s and Verg’s thing. Anyways,” he looked at Rebellion, “like I said, the weapon is linked to our soul, and if anything happens to it, it’s like someone took a bucketful of that water and just locked it away, never able to return to the ocean, or repeat the cycle. And it’s irreversible, a fate worse than death.”

Instantly, your mind went back to something similar Vergil had said all those months ago, and you remembered the ‘leash’ the good Doctor had in a long slender briefcase. The pieces were beginning to fit.

“I mean, it’s hard to damage one of these, but it can be done, and most likely there’s the connection that's the issue.”

“The connection?”

“You can’t stray too far from your weapon, that’s why if you get too far, SNAP,” Rebellion dissipated in a shower of sparks. “It’s the same as if the weapon got destroyed. Somebody probably got a hold of Yamato, and you got lucky that they haven’t gone too far with it, or they know that they can use it over him.” his brow furrowed. “On the bright side, it means it can’t be too far from where he is right now, so you won’t have to search too far. But on the other hand… I’m still trying to figure out why he never told you about this…” he seemed honestly puzzled , “I mean, he trusted you enough with the amulet.” It worried you too. Was Vergil too proud to ask a mere human, even one he was on good terms with for aid? If he had just asked, you would have dropped everything to find and get this Yamato back for him. It would have saved you a lot of heartache.

“I think..” you said, “I know where his sword would be.” The warehouse. It was the only building Doctor Griffon could possibly keep the ‘leash’. It wouldn’t be hard to get to, you had keys and codes for all the buildings on the property.

“Good!” his face brightened, “you get that sword to him, and you bring him here, and I can get him out. Easy as swimming!”

“Yeah… easy as swimming” You attempted to match his enthusiasm.

“You know, you’re a good person. Vergil has never been too close with humans, especially after mom and dad… well,” his features fell, “I thought I lost him too… was halfway about to follow him on a suicidal attack. When I felt the amulet,” he clutched it tightly in his hand, “I thought that he’d escaped, and when I found out it was a human, I just… I just snapped.”

“You don’t have to apologise, Dante. He’s your brother, after all.”

“Well, he’s a lucky son-of-a-barnacle to have an Odar like you, Dawnfather knows what would have happened to him if he didn’t meet you.”

You were slightly confused, “Odar? Never heard that term.”

“Ah, keep forgetting you’re not familiar with Old Mer. Basically a term for a human, but in a good way” he clarified. “Oh,” you murmured, mostly to yourself. “That’s not what Vergil calls me.”

“Ah? What does he call you? It better not be ‘Chiktik’, or I’ll be punching him in the face when he gets back.”

“He calls me… Sifa.”

There were a few moments of silence, with only the gentle lapping of water against the hull, and the flap of the sail in the breeze. Dante just stared at you, jaw dangling, looking exactly like a moray eel. And then, to your astonishment… he just started laughing.

“Verg… of all the mer… well, I guess the polyp doesn’t drift too far from the coral. Mom would be proud of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“He seriously hasn’t told you what it meant?”

“Vergil said it meant, ‘human,’” you answered and the red scaled merman cackled before looking up to you with a big grin.

“You really want to know what it means?”

You bit your lower lip, afraid to know, but yet still intrigued, and after some hesitation, you nodded.

“There’s not a perfect translation, but basically, it means ‘Beloved’. It’s a term you only use… well, for someone you really care about. Someone…” he paused, as if for emphasis. “You love.”

It was a good thing you were already sitting, because your legs began to feel like jelly, numbness spreading to your chest.

“He can’t…” you managed to wheeze out.

“Why not?” Dante asked.

“I’m basically his jailor! There’s no possible way he could be truly in love with me!” You tried to protest. But to your dawning horror, you realized a whole plethora of signs that he had been developing feelings for you. The songs, the glances, the gentle touches. Your head sank into your hands as you stared at the wood. How could you have been so stupid? How could you have been so blind?

Or...maybe you had known, you just didn’t want to accept the truth.

“Well,” Dante added unhelpfully, “you don’t just call anyone Sifa, it's a fairly dedicated term, and Vergil wouldn’t just call you that if he didn’t mean it.” He slipped back into the water gracefully, apparently oblivious to the turmoil that he had inadvertently caused.

“But there’s no way it would work between us! I mean,” you pointed at your legs “we’re not even the same species!”

His response was to laugh. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was Vergil’s brother, you’d have clobbered him for his continued ignorance about how much this affected you. “I don’t really think that’s much of an issue, but that’s not for me to say,” he responded cryptically. “I’m sure Verg can fill you in.”

And with that, he slipped back into the water, leaving you staring at the trail of bubbles.

No, you were not going to speak to Vergil about any of this. You were going to keep this whole revelation to yourself, and focus on locating that sword and then getting him home. It would be painful, but it was for the best for both of you. That’s what you kept telling yourself.

Without warning, the water opened up again to reveal the smiling visage of Dante, his hand outstretched, holding your jackknife, and his own amulet, keeping the golden one around his neck. “Meetcha when the Tidemother is at her highest point when she shows her full face! Good luck!” and after handing the blade and the silver amulet to you, he swam off, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, leaving you alone with your turbulent thoughts.

*****

You returned back home, to see an expectant Vergil poised at the edge of the platform. His eyes widened as you nodded and handed him the silver amulet, proof that you’d finally met his elusive brother. He clutched it tightly, and for a moment you panicked, wondering if he was somehow able to look into the latest conversation you and Dante had. But when he opened his eyes, they were full of relief and happiness.

“Ah, so he is well.” He leaned back in the water as he placed the chain around his neck, “That is good, that is good.”

You attempted to add some sort of joviality, “He thinks you’re an idiot for getting yourself captured.”

Vergil chuckled, “That does sound like him. But at least he’s alright…” he turned to you, smiling gratefully. “Thank You, Sifa.”

You successfully managed to hide the pain that word caused you as you gave him your best grin.

“Anything for you, Vergil”

#Devil May Cry #Deep Blue Sea #vergil x reader #Vergil #Mergil

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