#this princess is easy to be interrupted but this princess also hit like a truck lmao

[zhongrin]

bajsbdjs hi hello it's me, the anon who was complaining about childe always finding his way into my teams, and i come bearing great news:

i finally got alhaitham!!

i slapped on all the artifacts i prefarmed for him + harbinger of dawn (bc i don't have any good 5 star sword and he needs more crit rate) and wow. just. wow.

for context, my alhaitham is stuck at lvl 70 atm with his talents barely leveled up (only his e is up to level 3 lmao while his basic is at 2) and let me tell you, the way i CACKLED when i realized that not only does he absolutely shred all the bosses/camps i've thrown him at before his dendro infusion even ends, but he also kills the wenut faster than my childe (who has r1 skyward harp, 5-8-8 talents, and honestly better artifacts) does. i am on the floor, dying of laughter and honestly i don't think childe or i could ever recover from the fact that alhaitham outdps-ed the character who carried me through every boss, abyss, and domain in just one day.

to say that childe is pissed would be an understatement.

he's livid. he watches you dote and praise your beloved new dps, al dente or whatever his name is, spoil him with enhanced artifacts blessed by yours truly - a luxury he was deprived of despite his show of devotion for you, and just overall ignores him altogether when he's right there.

the brunette seethes when the newest addition to the team glances at him at hearing your detailed comparison, and he nearly shoots his hydro arrow in reflex when the insignificant vermin's eyebrows raises - as if mocking him.

oh, he'll show you.

he'll show you that he's stronger. better.

just like how he had always proven himself countless times on your journey.

at the end of the day, you'll come back to him again. he'll make sure of that.

[siampie]

Get Off the Highway || Chapter 6

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 2.7k 

Warnings/tags: Enemies to lovers trope, angst, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome

A/N: It had been hard to write for this reader but now, I have a hold of who they are. And I hope you love to read more about her. And yes, this fic is self-indulgent, but I’m also exploring my self-loathing and at times self-worthlessness. I’m getting better at loving myself and being kind to myself but it takes times. So, if you’ve ever felt this way at one point in your life, know that you are loved, you are enough, and you don’t have to prove anything. Enjoy this chapter, it’s for you; my girlies and my non-binary friends.

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Dividers by @cafekitsune

You kept replaying the talk you had with Andy. It was stuck in your head, playing in a loop, what would your life be like if you had given a chance to the relationship? No matter the number of scenarios you’d come up with, the ending was always the same. You would have ended up resenting each other or worse, destroying one another.

You packed your stuff and jumped into your truck. And you drove. Where to? You didn’t know. You just needed to get away from Andy. You no longer wanted to be confronted to your own mistakes. Being with Andy had not been a mistake but leaving had. You were a coward for this, you knew that. Andy was free of you. He could be happy now, if he wanted to. He could find someone better than you. But you could not escape yourself. You could not run away from all the dark thoughts that plagued you, more often than not.

You drove for hours with no real destination. You didn’t want to go home. Your brother; Matthew; would be there and he would want to talk. And that was the last thing you wanted. You didn’t want your brother to tell you that Andy wasn’t all that great. You didn’t want your brother to tell you that you were right to leave. You knew you weren’t. Not in the way you did, at least. He deserved an explanation. Or at the very least, a goodbye. You gave him nothing.

You were a coward.

In the wee hours of the morning, you were parked outside of the bunker. You remained seated in your car, watching the sun rose. You could not conceive the idea to deal with your family at this moment. You did not have the energy or the will to do so. However, dealing with Dean Winchester and his apparent hatred of you seemed easy. At least, you knew where you stand with him. You didn’t have to perform with him. You could be yourself. You didn’t have to pretend to be something you were not to please and appease. You could be your worst self and he would not care, because he didn’t expect any better from you.

There was no pressure.

Although, you thought it would be easier to deal with Dean Winchester, you stayed in your car. You sat in your car, parked outside of the bunker for hours. Maybe it was a bad idea to even be there. Maybe you should just start your car and leave again, find a new case and go to work. Your knuckles turned white as your grip on the wheel painfully tightened. You dropped your forehead on it, taking a deep breath.

“Why am I like this?” You muttered to yourself.

Three loud knocks snapped you out of your thoughts. Your head snapped up, your heart racing beneath your ribcage. You glared at the man outside of your window.

“Bucko!” You growled, “the hell is wrong with you?”

Dean was standing outside of your car, a grocery bag in his arms. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt you in the middle of your midlife crisis, princess.” You rolled your eyes at him. “You look like shit by the way.”

“Didn’t ask but thanks.” You glared at him, opened your car door, hitting him.

“Easy tiger,” he put a protective hand around the kraft bag. “You’re gonna crush my pie.”

You walked around your car and grabbed your bag from the trunk, “yeah, it would be such a great tragedy.” Dean made a face. “What? It’s just pie.” You shrugged.

“It’s not just pie, okay?” Dean shot back, as you two started towards the bunker.

Bickering with Dean was easy. It pulled you out of the dark place you had thrown yourself into, for a very brief moment. You were not about to plague them with your temporary crisis. You just needed a place to unwind before going back to reality. The reality in which you were so fucked up you could not maintain a relationship with a good man. The reality in which you were not good enough for anyone, not even for your siblings, nor were you for your parents. The only one that seemed to care about you; was your little brother. But even he, you thought, would probably be better off without you. And one day, he would realize it and he, too, would leave.

You turned and tossed. Sleep was refusing to come to you. You huffed, glaring at the ceiling of your room. The sheets felt too heavy on your body, the pillows weren’t fluffed enough. Nothing seemed right. Too many dark thoughts swirling around in your mind. You turned on your side, tucked your arm under your pillow, and let out a deep breath. Hoping for the whirlwind of emotions, and the dark thoughts would leave you be.

It lasted a few minutes. You huffed again in frustration. You threw the covers off of you and got out of bed. The floor was cold under your bare feet. Dressed in dark leggings and an old shirt, you quietly made your way to the kitchen.

“Why am I like this?” You kept asking to yourself. Not than an answer would miraculously fall on your lap. You just couldn’t decide whether you were born this way or your parents made you so. Leaving to deal with the consequences of the years of neglect and abuse.

“Can’t sleep, princess?” Dean’s voice boomed from behind you.

“Jesus Christ!” You exclaimed, dripping some hot coffee onto your hand.

“Somebody’s jumpy tonight,” Dean snorted.

“You ought to wear a freaking bell,” you shot back.

“You should probably lay off the coffee. It ain’t really good for the nerves.”

You glared at him. “You’re really funny, you know that.”  

Dean sat at the table, his back against the wall. His eyes roamed over your curves, appreciating the way the leggings clung to your thighs and ass. If it wasn’t for your attitude and the way you acted around him and his brother, he’d probably try having you in his bed. But he didn’t think you were worth the headaches.

You placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of him, and sat across from him.

“Isn’t it a little too late for coffee?” Dean took the cup in his hands nonetheless.

“You’re not obligated to drink it, bucko.” You retorted before taking a sip from your cup.

Dean took a sip from his own cup, eyebrows raising into his hairline. He was surprised to find out that your coffee was quite good. The best he had in a while, not that you needed to know about that.

You were staring at the table with a deep frown. A heavy sigh left your lips. The coffee help eased a bit of the tension in your shoulders but wasn’t exactly doing much.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” Dean said after a few minutes. “What crawled up your ass?”

You looked up at him. “Nothing.” You shrugged. “And even if there was something, you think I want to talk about it with you. Of all people.”

He pushed off of the wall, and angled himself to face you fully. “Suit yourself, princess.” He leaned his elbows on the table. “All I’m saying is you’re here, in the middle of the night, drinking coffee.”

“So are you.” You pointed out. “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Well, I asked first.”

“Real mature,” you snorted, shaking your head a little before taking another sip.

Dean Winchester hated you. So, why did he even care to know about your inner turmoil? Your eyes roamed his face, going from his green eyes to his lightly freckled nose, to his plump lips that were begging to be kissed.

You shook away the thought, confused as to why you were thinking about his lips.

“What?” Dean questioned, a frown on his face.

“Nothing.” You quickly said. “Why do you hate me so much?” You blurted out before you could even think about it.

“Like I’m the only one,” Dean retorted.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Really?”

“I’m only reacting to you,” you told him, defensively. “You’re all huffing and puffing, every time I show up.”

“Come on, you can’t be serious, right?” Dean shot back. You shook your head lightly, frowning. “You’re always so—snob,” he finally spat. “Like you’re above us or something.”

“That’s not true,” you said back. “I never thought I was—above any of you.”

“You certainly act like it,” Dean nodded at you. “Like you know better than we do.”

“I did know certain things better than you and your brother. Not everything.” You shot back. “Can you really blame me for being smart?”

He stood up from his seat, “you’re not smart. See, smart people know how to follow simple instructions.” He put his used cup in the sink.

“Not if they’re stupid instructions.” You countered, going to put your own cup in the sink.

He glared down at you, breathing quickly through his mouth. “They’re keeping you alive, princess.”

“Yeah?” You said a little breathless, “so, I should have just left you and your brother to die, then?”

“Didn’t know you cared so much about my safety, sweetheart?” Dean smirked at you.

Your breath hitched in your throat, “I don’t—”

“GUYS!” Sam’s voice cut your answer short, “really? It’s the middle of the night. Can’t this wait until morning?”

“He started it.” You weakly said.

“Now who’s 12?” Dean shot back.

You glared at him, blowing out a long breath through your nose. You walked away from him, and quickly apologized to Sam as you walked past him. You were asking a simple question. You genuinely wanted to know why he hated you so much? Why couldn’t he just answer like normal people? Instead of provoking you, as he often did. As though he enjoyed riling you up.

And was that truly what he thought of you? You had been called many things in your life but a snob and a know-it-all—never.

You plopped down onto your bed. More furious and agitated than before. Dean Winchester was the bane of your existence. He solely existed to rile you up, to anger you, to vex you. And he enjoyed every second of it, it seemed.

Why must he be this way?

A middle-aged woman wearing a simple white dress, with a pink shawl, and a straw hat on her head stood before you. You didn’t know her. You had never seen her in your life. You weren’t truly sure about this. Her features were fuzzy, unclear. Although, she felt familiar. You were surrounded by other people, people that remained faceless. Someone was introducing to those people but you didn’t remember, or you couldn’t care.

“You know we care for you, right?” The woman in the pink shawl said. “We always have.”

“Then why didn’t you take us with you?” You asked back.

She looked at you, sadly. Sorrow was etched in her features, she looked away from you. You felt it in your chest, the regret, the sorrow, the pain. It was all on display on her face, that she now kept hidden from view. You felt grief clawing at your chest. So much so, you couldn’t help but cry.

You woke up sobbing. The sorrow and grief you had felt in your dream, followed you in reality. You had never met this woman, she wasn’t family. She wasn’t even remotely an acquaintance. You didn’t know why she would say those words to you. But it wasn’t her words that hurt you, that caused your tears. It was the way she looked at you, the grief etched on her face was so strong.

“Why was she so sad?” You whispered to yourself. You rubbed a hand on your chest, soothing the ache you were feeling. You tried to stop crying. It was just a dream, you kept thinking. A simple dream, it shouldn’t affect you that much. And yet, this woman that you did not know, had felt grief and regret. She had felt them so strongly, you had felt it in your own bones. You tried to stifle your sobs behind your hand. Muffling them down.

Dean walked past your room to look for a drink. He had been able to sleep some but he didn’t sleep much these days. Whether it was his nightmares or just out of habit, he found himself awake in the middle of the night, at times, seeking for a strong drink. When he walked past your room, he heard the muffled sobs.

A soft knock on the door warned you of his presence, “hey, princess, you okay?”

You quickly wiped the tears away from your face, “yes, I’m good.” You hiccupped, nodding quickly.

“Doesn’t sound like it.” He stepped further into the room.

“No, I swear I’m good.” You said again, “it was just—a weird dream.”

“Are you sure it was a dream and not a nightmare?” Dean questioned.

“No, it was a dream.” You wiped the fresh tears that had fallen on your face, “I’m sorry.”

“Come on,” Dean extended his hand out to you. “You look like you could use a drink.”

“It’s a week day.” You said after Dean had put down the drink, in front of you.

“It’s Friday, practically the weekend.” Dean answered, “I’m sure it’s okay.”

Your tears had slowed down but still, you were still confused and full of sorrow. And you just didn’t know why you felt that way. The pain in your chest was real, almost unbearable. The grief that arose there was real, you just didn’t know what it was all for. You didn’t think it mattered anyway.

“Wanna talk about it?” Dean asked you.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, staring at the table. “There’s not much to say about it.” And yet, you described to him what had happened in the dream. How the look on this woman’s face that you could clearly see, in spite of her fuzzy features, had stricken you. How even then, as you were telling it to him, it made you cry again. “She looked really sad.” And fresh tears spilled out of your eyes. “I know it’s stupid, I don’t even know why I’m crying about this. It’s just a dream.”

“It’s not stupid.” Dean reassured you, sipping from his drink. “And like you said, it was just a dream. None of it was real.”

“But what I felt, was.” You said back, taking a sip from your drink. “I mean it wasn’t just sadness. It was—regret, you know. The kind of look you give someone when you wished things were different. Like—”

“Hey, it was just a dream.” Dean reminded you. “No reason for you to dwell on it.”

“So, I should just forget about it?”

“Yeah, you should. It won’t do you any good to try and understand it.” Dean leaned his back on the wall to his left. “You had a good cry about it. Dream is over. No reason to dwell on it.”

“Maybe, you’re right.” You puffed out a long breath. “I should not think about it so much.”

“I'm always right.” Dean quipped back. You huffed out a laugh.

Both of you sat in silence, savoring the cheap whiskey. It was the bottom shelf kind. Not really chosen for its taste but rather for the way it burned on its way down. Maybe Dean was right, it was just a dream. It meant nothing. Still, you couldn’t shake the pain you had felt at the look on her face. Whether you wanted it or not, this grief-stricken look would stay with you for days.

“I have to ask, what’s up with the—uh—no weekday drink rule?” Dean questioned.

You let out a long breath, “I have a weird fear of becoming—addicted to alcohol.” You slowly admitted. “Growing up, I saw what alcohol could do to people. Especially, to my dad. To us.” You shrugged, “so, I decided to have a nonalcoholic drink on weekday rule.” His eyes roamed your face, quietly. “That has been bothering you for a while, hasn’t it?”

“Can’t say it didn’t.” He brought the drink to his lips, “but I get it.”

“Cool.”

You gave him a small smile. The dream had been long forgotten. At least for now. Maybe, he was right, the dream meant nothing. So, no need to worry about it. If nothing else, the dream had the merit to bring you and Dean Winchester closer.

Or at the very least, made you see each other in a new light.

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[kissingchoso]

𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍’ | 𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐘𝐎

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: MSBY!Hinata x Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: 18+ content (obviously), licking over panties, pussy drunk Sho, cunnulings, exhibitionist Sho

𝐀/𝐍: What the name entails, lmao. Also, please bully me into fixing my master list, this is getting out of HAND

“S-Sho? What’re you doing?” What a silly question to ask. What else could your boyfriend be hinting at when he pulls you into the abandoned locker room? Did you think he just wanted to come here for an innocent chat?

He didn’t offer any solace to his thought process. Instead, he gently nudged you on one of the benches sans anyone else’s duffel bags or other personal belongings. It looked as though there was not a single thought crossing his mind other than to use you as his personal enjoyment.

Sinking to his knees, he uses his hands to move your thighs open for him. You should have known better than to wear a skirt today, really. As much as your boyfriend admires your form and aesthetic in them, sometimes he views it as easy and unlimited access to one of his favorite things: pleasuring you.

“Couldn’t we wait until we get to the car? Someone could walk i-“ you’re interrupted by a sharp gasp. Your boyfriend thought it was the best time to plant a kiss over your clit. The layer of fabric was enough to block out the full effect of his kiss, but it still had your legs suddenly jerking next to his broad shoulders.

Pleased with your reaction, he does it again, carelessly flicking his tongue against the surface of your panties. He maneuvers your thighs to come to rest on his strong shoulders, angling your hips more towards him. 

Deft fingers push your underwear off to the side, opting to get a taste of the real thing. You’re warm, he thinks. Faced caged in by the shape of your thighs, buried into your sensitive cunt, he believes this is where he belongs. To die happy flicking his tongue against your clit in a back and forth motion until neither of you could breathe.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, not when he was doing such a good job. You covered your mouth to the best of your abilities, trying to muffle out your hushed moans. 

“F-Fuck, I can’t, Sho. I can’t, I can’t!” you tried to warn him. Tried to let him know that you were near your orgasm much too quick for your liking. Maybe it was the location, tucked into the corner of the MSBY locker room while his friends could walk in at any moment. Or it could be the fact your boyfriend approached you with too much pent up energy.

He heard you, of course. You uncovered your mouth in favor of locking your fingers against his curls as if he would leave you in this state. He wouldn’t of course, too enamored by the taste of your juices coating his tongue. 

His tongue presses flat against your clit, using his hands to manually rock your hips back and forth. With a renewed purpose, you ground your hips further into his face, moaning a bit louder than intended. Hinata holds himself still for you, allowing you full control of your own orgasm.

It hits you like a fucking truck, actions becoming instinctual. He grounds you as much as possible but it’s hard to fight against you wrapping your legs against his head, the backs of your feet pulling him closer to you. It leaves you gasping, pulling him unbelievably closer until your body gives out on you.

You slump forward, hands resting on either side of his head to try to get him to stop. “That was really good, baby,” you pant slowly, nudging his head up away from your cunt. 

“I really needed that, thank you princess,” he hums dreamily. Once bright eyes dilated into heart shaped pupils, a lazy smile adorning his face. As if there is not a single thought in that little head of his. Mind stuck on replaying that sweet moment forever. His body reacts before either of you can register it. Tongue lazily licking along your slick once more.

“Wait, Sho hold on-!!”

You’re interrupted when you hear the the sounds of the double doors flying open. Familiar voices fill the silence, Bokuto and Atsumu clamoring about something random while you can make out Meian’s voice having a private conversation with Kiyoomi. Hinata remains unbothered. Rather than ripping himself off of you as anyone normal in this situation should, he takes his time. 

Picking up a few more drops of your essence on his tongue, he sits back on his haunches just in time for Atsumu to round the corner. You lock eyes with him, unfortunately. What you fail to realize is how his eyes go from shock to impressed, as if he had expected something like this to happen. Hinata stands to block you from his friend’s sight. 

“Who the fuck woulda thought?” Atsumu chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. Even though you’re limited to the back of Hinata’s jersy number, you imagine the smug look on his face when he lifts his hand to his face, presumably wiping your juices off of his face. “No show?”

“Maybe another time, should she agree to it,” Hinata moves out of the way for the time being. In his time in front of you, you had managed to fix yourself up as much as possible, straightening out your underwear and skirt. The least you can do is look good in your walk of shame out of here.

Both men’s eyes land on you but you’re too focused on your boyfriend’s hand coming to rest in your shoulder. A shiver runs through your spine, acutely aware of the hushed conversations on the other side. It felt as though everyone was listening in on this.

“What do you say, princess? Want to give the boys a bit of a show?”

© This work was created by: @kissingchoso. Do not share, repost, or recommend on any other platform without consent from the author.

[hxseok-honee]

3005 || part 3

3005 [part 3] || “sound good, Princess?"

[no matter what you say and what you do // when i’m alone, i’d rather be with you]

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a/n : I AM SUFFERING I HAVE MADE M I S T A K E S

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_____________________________________

When Y/n steps into the forest clearing the next day, she finds that Hoseok’s not alone. There, seated on the large tree trunk near the cauldron where he stands, is her new acquaintance. Yoongi’s eyes flick up from the book he’s reading when he notices movement, Hoseok still having not seen her since his back is turned. Yoongi clears his throat to alert his boyfriend, but there’s a few seconds before he does so. He first takes his time holding eye contact with her, and she can see, even with a book in the way, that there’s a smirk playing on the edges of his lips. And then he’s blinking, returning his gaze to the page before him as he clears his throat.

Hoseok glances up from where he’s carefully filling vials of wolfsbane potion, glancing over his shoulder when Yoongi tilts his chin up, gesturing in Y/n’s direction with his head without ever moving his eyes from the page. Hoseok spins on his heel smoothly, grinning easily at Y/n.

“Princess! So kind of you to join us.” Even though she’s looking at Hoseok -- not really looking him in the eye, but still looking at him -- she sees Yoongi lift his head, and she wonders what he’s thinking about the nickname his own boyfriend’s given her. As if reading her mind, his opens his mouth, breathing out a laugh before he speaks.

“‘Princess’, huh? I wasn’t aware you were Cinderella -- you know, since you like pumpkins so much.” Yoongi meets her eyes again, that little smirk returning when she instinctively squints, glaring at him.

“I told you I hadn’t thought about the fact that they use the pumpkins for the food--”

“I’m just saying, I was wondering why the pieces of pumpkin in the soup the other day were so soft--”

“That’s not how that works!” Yoongi’s smirk widens, her reaction pleasing him endlessly. Hoseok only looks between them, eyes wide.

“Uh… do you two need a minute? Because I have no idea what’s going on here.” Yoongi breaks eye contact then, returning to his book.

“Your little wolf’s fond of Hagrid’s pumpkin patch.” Y/n flushes angrily, thrown both by the fact that he’d just referred to her as Hoseok’s little wolf and that he hadn’t even come close to properly explaining the situation.

“Okay, well your little boyfriend interrupted me in the midst of an existential crisis, which, frankly, is just rude.” Hoseok had been looking at Yoongi, also surprised at the name he’d given her, but he whirls around then, eyebrows hidden under his hair as he stares at her in shock. Yoongi also looks up, decidedly shutting his book and setting it down beside him before crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, so that’s what you were doing! I wasn’t sure if that was just part of your regular lunchtime routine, or…” Y/n huffs loudly, and she feels herself growing frustrated by the obvious enjoyment Yoongi’s getting out of teasing her. But Hoseok’s reaction to their conversation surprises her enough to halt any irritation she would have felt.

“Okay -- you two are acting really weird… I mean, I can’t say much about Y/n since, apparently, she hates me enough to never talk to me, but Yoongi…” He looks his boyfriend over with surprise, causing Yoongi to deflate slightly after a moment. He uncrosses his arms, setting his hands in his lap as he shrinks shyly under Hoseok’s gaze. But it’s the way Yoongi’s ears are turning pink that tips Hoseok off, and he hums knowingly.

“I see--” He turns to Y/n then, the arrogant smirk she’d come to know over the years filling his face. “You’ll have to forgive him, Princess -- my little Prince isn’t the best at making friends.” Yoongi’s blush deepens, and he digs the toe of his converse sneakers into the dirt below him stubbornly. This is not the same Yoongi that had just derived joy from teasing Y/n, and she’s very surprised to see how quickly he changed. Glancing at Hoseok, she finds that he’s got his eyes on Yoongi, fondness dancing in his gaze as he smirks at his boyfriend. She decides then that their dynamic confuses her, but then she remembers what Hoseok had said.

“I don’t hate you…” Hoseok turns, eyes genuinely surprised that she hadn’t let the comment pass. Y/n only makes brief eye contact before looking away, never having been able to properly meet Jung Hoseok’s intense gaze for very long. “I don’t hate you.” She’d wanted to explain why she’s so shy around him -- that he intimidates her, probably without meaning to -- but she’d only repeated herself, unable to find any other words. She hears Hoseok snicker, and when she looks up, he’s got his back to her again, having returned to his potion.

“Well, that’s certainly nice to know. Maybe I should only give you one vial at a time -- then you’ll have to keep finding me every day, and I can finally get to know you.” There’s a pause, one where Y/n isn’t sure how to respond, but it ends when Hoseok glances over his shoulder at her with a toothy grin.

“I’m just fucking with you. I wouldn’t hold out on you like that.” He turns, holding a small container, one that she’s very familiar with. She steps further into the clearing, approaching the pair, head bent as she pretends to watch where she’s walking on the uneven ground -- a habit formed over the years so she doesn’t have to look Hoseok in the eye.

She stops when the little wooden box comes into view, and he hands it to her. But when she moves to pull away, he doesn’t let go, holding her there with the grip of his hand on the box of her vials. She looks up in surprise then, finally meeting his eyes without even thinking about it. She finds that Hoseok’s smirking, as usual, but it widens when she looks at him.

“There she is.” It’s whispered, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of her for a second while he says it, causing her breath to catch in her throat from the sheer effect of his overwhelming presence. She feels trapped by him, prey being mocked by that smirk.

Her eyes flick over to Yoongi, expecting to see some kind of reaction at her proximity to his boyfriend -- annoyance or irritation maybe -- but she finds that he’s only regarding Hoseok with eyes filled with intrigue. A thought seems to have crossed his mind when Hoseok had acted, because Yoongi’s examining his boyfriend with a raised eyebrow, like he knows something she doesn’t. And when he finally glances at her, it seems the shy Yoongi that Hoseok had dragged out has disappeared again, leaving a new Yoongi who only looks her over with surprised interest.

She doesn’t even realize Hoseok’s released her vials, too stunned by the suddenness of the moment. When she looks down and sees that she’s the only one holding the box, she’s still not processing it, so she stays close to Hoseok -- much closer than she’d ever been before in the 4 years she’d known him. He’s warm, she notes -- his body heat is as overwhelming as his gaze, passing over her in waves as a reminder that he’s there while she stares down at the box, eyes wide.

She also notes that, while Jungkook is much the same, warmer than most due simply to an internal adjustment made to his body after becoming an animagus so young, this is not the same. Where she’d always found her brother obnoxiously warm and only tolerable on the coldest of nights, Hoseok’s warmth is surprisingly pleasant -- nothing more than a reminder that he’s there, living and breathing beside her. It’s oddly comforting to know that the cold, offputting boy she’d come to know is warm in some ways.

The moment comes crashing to an end with the sound of footsteps in the distance, realization hitting Y/n like a truck when she thinks of what this situation could seem like to someone else. Stumbling backwards until she’s about as far away from Hoseok as she’d been from the start, she barely even hears footsteps falling into line beside her, her heart still pounding in her ears.

“Oh, hey!” Glancing up at the sudden voice, her heart flies into her throat when she realizes it’s Remus that’s right beside her.

Am I just gonna have a heart attack here? This is how I die, is that it?

She can’t even manage to smile at Remus, too flustered by the entire situation. She only glances over at James and Sirius, who have come along to keep Remus company. They wave, smiling knowingly at the blush on her face -- on the tree trunk not far away, Yoongi smirks, knowing they aren’t aware of the whole truth of Y/n’s current state.

“Hey, Hoseok! Sorry again for having to cancel on you last night -- we, uh--” Remus hasn’t noticed Y/n’s frazzled existence, addressing Hoseok like nothing’s off about the situation. He points between himself and his friends, looking sheepish. “We got evening detention, so…”

Y/n chances a look at Hoseok then, seeing that he seems to have forgotten the entire moment with her, smiling politely at the Marauders while turning to grab Remus’ doses.

“Don’t worry about it, man. This one told me that his friend Jungkook had gotten into trouble, so I figured you might be in the same boat.” Hoseok nods over to Yoongi when he says ‘this one’, and the boys seem to only notice then that Yoongi’s there.

“Yoongi! It’s good to see you, man -- I feel like whenever we find Jungkook during lunch, you’re missing from the group.” James approaches the seated boy, clapping him on the back good-naturedly. Yoongi only nods, an easy smile coming to his features. He looks mildly uncomfortable, but it’s clear he and the Gryffindors are familiar with one another, and Y/n wonders briefly what Yoongi’s like as he gets to know someone.

She doesn’t even see that he’s meeting her eyes curiously until he responds, his voice bringing her back to reality. She watches as he doesn’t look away, eyes locked on hers as he speaks, that infuriating smirk making another appearance.

“Yeah, sorry about that -- I’m usually busy during lunch.” Y/n’s mind flashes to when she’d accused Yoongi of interrupting her existential crisis during lunch, not ten minutes prior. She flushes, that annoying pounding of her heart growing when she sees that the comment is lost on James, his words meant strictly for her. Remus shifts next to her, and when she glances up, she sees that he’d noticed the moment, looking between her and Yoongi with curiosity. He clears his throat, shooting her a quick grin as he addresses Hoseok again.

“Well, I’m glad I ran into this one at breakfast today and heard you guys were meeting now -- I’d hate to take more time out of your schedule.” Remus reaches out, brushing his fingers along the inside of her wrist when he calls her ‘this one’, referencing Hoseok’s previous comment about Yoongi jokingly. Y/n’s eyes widen as she glances down at her wrist, watching as Remus’ fingers slide off of her skin before returning to his side, where he lets his arm hang.

She glances away quickly, trying not to make a big deal of the gesture, and she ends up catching Hoseok’s expression as her eyes pass over him. Remus had meant the comment innocently, of course, but the look in Hoseok’s eyes -- cold, hardened eyes that gaze emotionlessly at the spot where she and Remus had just made contact before flicking up to meet Remus’ eyes -- tells her that maybe he doesn’t like that she’s being referred to in the same way Hoseok had referred to Yoongi.

She’s not sure why -- a personal association to the words, an inside joke between the boyfriends, perhaps -- but Hoseok’s teeth are clenched, his jaw locking and unlocking as he smiles in response, and it sets her skin on fire. He’s not even looking at her, gaze trained evenly on Remus, but she feels the heat of his glare, very different from the heat she’d felt radiating off of him earlier.

“It’s no problem -- I’d have been happy to reschedule.” The words are understanding, but there’s an edge to them, the tone in his voice razor sharp. Y/n glances up at Remus and finds that he’s already looking down at her, his eyebrows raised as he looks at her knowingly.

“I get the Look all the time… just me though…”

Y/n blinks, confused as she remembers what he’d said to her yesterday. She looks to Hoseok, but when he flicks his eyes over to her, his gaze softens, and he looks away and scratches at his neck awkwardly. Behind him, Yoongi is looking at the back of his boyfriend’s head, eyes curious as he glances between Hoseok and Remus. His expression is fairly even, but Y/n can see that he’s been making silent observations when he finally smiles to himself and lowers his gaze to his lap, twiddling his thumbs as he thinks.

Hoseok moves to hand the box of vials to Remus after a moment, still slightly awkward from his obvious display of annoyance as he approaches them. When he passes the doses to Remus, he takes a moment to glance at Y/n, eventually reaching over to tap a single finger on the top of her own container.

“Don’t let me find out you aren’t taking these with food like last year -- sound good, Princess?” Y/n inhales sharply, only having heard the name when they’re relatively alone. Remus’ jaw drops, accompanied by James choking on his own spit and Sirius making some kind of strangled noise behind his hand. She looks past Hoseok to see Yoongi smiling widely, eyes dancing with amusement.

Nodding quickly, Y/n lowers her gaze and turns, pushing past Remus as she heads for the path back to the castle. Remus follows, stunned, and James hops off of his seat, not even bothering to wave at Yoongi as he and Sirius take off after Y/n, their teasing voices ringing out through the forest as they go.

Hoseok watches them leave, Yoongi only watching Hoseok. Finally, the boy on the tree trunk hums, eyes trained on the side of his boyfriend’s face as he speaks.

“So… She’s interesting.” Hoseok doesn’t take his eyes off of Y/n’s back, shrinking in the distance as she and the Marauders walk back to the castle. He swallows hard, sighing softly before responding.

“She’s certainly something.”

[megthemewlingquim]

Please please write something with Bucky and the reader having a ddlg kink?

Needy

Summary: You approach your Daddy and ask for something. As you should.

Pairing: Daddy!Bucky x Little!Reader

Warnings: smut (fingering, praise kink), the ddlg kink, the reader is a very good girl

A/N: I had to do some... er... research with this one. Now my FBI agent has to see what I saw. Not that that's a bad thing to see. *laughs* No, it is not. I actually learned a little about myself while reading up on it. In other words, this kink goes hard. Like, I don't know why I like this kink so much, but I do.

I've never written anything like this before, so please cut me some slack. Thanks for reading!

Written for my darling, @moteldwelling ! Cherry, I love you!

Also, this gif? DADDY.

He sits on his chair, all pretty and handsome and Daddy. That is how he looks. Whether or not he feels like that is not up to you, but you do know that you feel very, very small. You need something, and you need it from him. And you trust him to give it to you, if you ask nicely. That us how it always is.

You must always communicate with Daddy. Use your words and ask Daddy for what you want.

Sure, it's easy for you to repeat the rule to yourself, but to actually act on it? Frustratingly, that's what you have trouble with. When you're in little space, you're pathetically shy. It's your downfall, but Bucky, your Daddy, never holds it against you. Not really. Shyness (initially) is not a rule breaker. However, using it to be bratty or just being a little too shy to tell him things... that's when it crosses a line.

The latter option is what you often struggle with, and this time is no exception. You come into the room very slowly, keeping your wide eyes on him. He doesn't notice that you're there until you come a bit further — it must be his super soldier hearing.

"Hi, Daddy," you whisper, hands clasped together with one leg up, calmly swinging around you. A forsure sign of who you are right now.

He smiles. "Hi, kitten," he says, in that small, gentle voice he uses in moments like these. He looks excellent today, with his hair all floofy but neatly cut, and his beard just starting to grow back in. He knows that you like how good it looks (and feels).

He notices that you're looking down, and not at him. "What's the matter?"

You don't answer in complete sentences. "Daddy... I... er...." You don't look up, either.

"Look at me, Princess. Look at Daddy." His voice is still soft, yet now there is a slight tone in there, one that orders you. And, somewhat unwillingly, you do look up at him. You fix your wide, blinking eyes at his, which are unmoving and, at the moment, warm and soft.

"That's a good girl." The praise, as usual, sends warmth into your chest and nether regions. "Now, c'mere and tell Daddy what's wrong, hm?" He pushes his chair back, making room for you.

You hesitate, but eventually you go.

He welcomes you with open arms, his warm embrace immediately reducing the tension in your limbs. He moves you to stradde him, your knees next to his thighs on the chair, and you feel his erection on your own crotch. It does not help with what you're feeling.

"I haven't seen you look this tense in ages," he says, running his hands up and down your arms. "What's the matter?"

"I... I need you, Daddy..." you manage.

"Yeah, kitten? You need me to take care of you?" His tone is still soft, but has hints: hints of his dominant tones as well. He's slowly, slowly, shifting into Daddy, that much you can tell. "I can do that... I can do that, kitten."

You're desperate when his lips land on yours. He kisses you firmy, but gently, because that is what you need. He sighs, biting your bottom lip with his teeth. "Do you want Daddy to go down on you? Or do you want my fingers in you? It's kitten's choice today."

"Fingers," you gasp, "fingers please, Daddy."

He hums, a small sound of approval. "Okay. Okay, sweetheart."

His hand dips down, going from your breasts to your privates. He unbuttons the pants and unzips the zipper, all with one hand. Then he brings his hand down, inside your underwear, gently caressing your folds, and you gasp.

"Right there, huh, kitten?" he asks, his voice soft but also very, very lustful. His eyes are on where his hand is — right above your entrance. His thumb runs over your clit in small, circular motions.

You nod, whimpering pathetically. Then you remember to use your words, and you say with stuttering breaths, "Yes, Daddy, right there."

"Good girl," he murmurs, looking up at you again. His eyes shine with love. "You've gotten better at using your words.... Baby, thank you.. "

He presses harder as he rubs at you, and you gasp.

"See what happens when you use your words for Daddy? Daddy knows what you want now. He knows where you like it and where you don't like it..."

You make little sounds in your throat, little moans and whimpers that, quietly, tell him how things feel. You still haven't gotten past the "Don't be nervous to moan out loud for Daddy" phase.

"You like it like this?" he asks. "Or do you want my fingers in you?"

"In — in — in," you stammer. "In, please."

"Such manners. Good girl."

One finger goes in at that, and the limited space in between your privates and the insides of your jeans makes Bucky's hand seem all the bigger. You shiver as his finger curles, the push of it igniting a low fire in your groin that only keeps growing.

"Thank — thank you, Daddy."

You're getting close already, your walls fluttering around Bucky's middle finger. It's a wonder how fast Bucky can make you come. He is experienced, sure, but you take comfort knowing that your Daddy is your Daddy. Bucky will stay with you.

"Close already, angel? Hmm." Bucky sounds like he's thinking hard. "That's okay," he says softly. "I'm not going to be finished when you come. No, I might just make you come again. How do you feel about that, sweetheart?"

You nod, desperately, breathing very hard. "Yes, yes, Daddy, please, just—" You interrupt yourself with a whine. "Can I come?" you breathe, trembling all over as you try to hold your orgasm back.

"Yes. Come for me."

It hits you like a truck. Your expression is frozen, almost in a wince, as you grip onto Bucky's shoulders, coming hard. You release all your sounds in one breathy, raspy sigh.

"That's it, angel, that's it." You still hear Bucky. "Good girl, coming so hard for me..."

His finger slows and gently eases out of you. And — all the more arousing — he sucks it into his mouth, moaning himself at the taste. You, with shuddering breaths, manage to thank him.

"You're welcome, honey," he says. He gives you a devilish smile. "But remember. I'm not finished with you yet..."

[iwhumpyou]

Injection (Part 2)

Masterlist.  Injection.

Part 1.

~#~

“Tell us about the Red Room.”

She has read somewhere that red is the color of passion and adventure.  It’s an interior design magazine and the author is of the firm opinion that red should only be used for kitchens.  Family rooms shouldn’t be that bright, living rooms should be more sedate and if bedrooms were red, no one would ever go to sleep.  

“Tell us about the Wild Hunt.”

The disparity in the case of the Greek god Pan and the Roman god Bacchus is intriguing, especially since they come from the same source.  Or perhaps what is more interesting is the myth and lore surrounding satyrs.  Horses she can understand, but goats?  When did goats come into it?  The Greeks and Romans sure had weird imaginations.

“Tell us their names.”

Names are so weird. They have meanings, accumulated over a lifetime of memories and each name has an inherent bias.  You can dislike or like someone based on their name. It won’t be rational, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.  She is the same – the owner of the bookstore she frequents is named Jessica and she always thought that name belonged to a prissy girl but the bookstore owner is very sweet and nice and has large, round glasses and a librarian sweater.  It just goes to show.

There is a pause this time and pauses are good.  Sometimes they’re used as a literary device, a way to separate two ideas.  Sometimes it can be dramatic, an increase in suspense and tension.  Or perhaps it’s just to stop something to be continued at a later date.  Pauses are versatile.

The door slams shut, a sound that breaks the monotony of the routine and she jerks straight.  In the brief moments when sanity returns, she feels the magnitude of her situation press down on her.  How much more pain can she take before her mind shatters forever? It has clearly already cracked and the cracks are spreading with every question they ask and the last ditch attempt of a fractured consciousness to direct away from the answers they want.

She isn’t sure whose secrets she’s keeping.  She isn’t sure she’s keeping secrets at all.

But then her mind goes down a tangent on salacious secrets and spies and dead drops and what even is sanity anyway?

Her throat is hoarse. Is she still talking or is this entire conversation in her head?  She can’t tell.  There is screaming, all the time, an unbroken wail that never ends.  She’s gradually gotten used to it, but she can’t figure out where it comes from.  Maybe that’s inside her head too.

Is an insane person better at keeping secrets?  

She giggles at the thought and a stray piece of hair falls in front of her eyes.  She frowns at it.  The hair itches.  Snorting doesn’t blow it away and, with a deep, put-upon sigh, she brushes it out of her face.  She hates when hair gets in her face.

She studies her hand for a moment ��� her nails need to be cut, they are already half-torn from clenching into the wood, and there is a deep red mark on her wrist.  She needs to wear looser bracelets.

Wait a minute.  She doesn’t wear bracelets.  But then where did the red mark come from?  Her gaze drifts down to the arm of the chair, where an unlocked handcuff catches the light, silver and useless.

Unlocked.

She sucks in a sharp breath as the room reasserts itself.  Her handcuffs are unlocked.  She pulls her other wrist free, marveling at the sight of her two free hands.  She really needs to moisturize them.  When she gets back, she’s going to the – no.  No. She needs to focus.  She needs to get out of here.

Delia takes a deep breath and stands up.  Her knees are shaking and she feels like she’s been hit by a truck but it’s fine.  Her muscles are just sore.  Delia knows how to ignore that pain – it barely registers in her mind.  Someone is still screaming.

She totters a few steps in front and surveys the room.  She’s made a list of escape routes long, long back when she didn’t have pretty, shiny tangents to chase down in her pain. Distracted by the butterfly.  When she was in kindergarten, their classroom had seen a few caterpillars grow into monarch butterflies.  They had been so pretty and orange.

Wait.  She’s been thinking about – right.  The list.  Two doors, both steel, impossible to penetrate unless she turns into Wonder Woman or manages to display hitherto unknown lock-picking skills.  Wow, she was snarky when she was in pain.

A window.  Similarly unreachable unless she grows two feet or turns into Spiderman.  But she doesn’t have to grow two feet.  She has a chair.  

She smiles at the chair, extremely proud of herself for making that connection.  She suspects it’s very difficult to do with a pain-addled mind.  There are handcuffs on the chair.  They locked her in there while they whispered in her ear and shoved needles in her arms and no, no, no, please not the pain, it hurts, IT HURTS –

The floor is rough and cold underneath her.  Delia presses her forehead against it and takes a deep breath.  She repeats the things she knows, out loud.  The screaming is definitely in her head.  “They’re torturing me,” she says, her voice hoarse and cracked.  She needs a glass of water.  But first things first.  Escape. “No one is coming for me.”  That is a bit harder to say and there are tears in her eyes but it’s true.  She can’t wait here for a rescue.  “I need to get out.”  A fact and an order.  Find a way out.  They haven’t managed to break her yet.  

Delia breathes in and out and tries to hold onto her sanity.  It’s slippery and she loses strands of it every time she shifts her grip but she keeps those three facts in her head.  

They’re torturing me.

Pain, pain, unending pain and the questions, oh god the questions, she doesn’t want to betray anyone please don’t please –

No one is coming for me.

I’m keeping your secrets I’M KEEPING YOUR SECRETS come and find me and get me out but you won’t you won’t you told me you never wanted to see me again –

I need to get out.

She drags the chair to the wall and stands on it.  She’s just high enough to unlatch the window.  It’s a small window but that’s better.  She has something to brace against as she grabs onto the window frame. She takes a deep breath and kicks off the wall, pulling herself up before her arms can utter a squawk of protest. The window is small but she fits through with a bunch of ungainly scrambling she suspects she would’ve been embarrassed about.

It’s hard to feel embarrassed when you’re biting your lip and clenching your fists to drown out memories of pain.  

Delia’s in an alleyway. Sanity stops struggling, stops slipping out of her grasp.  

She’s in an alleyway. It’s night.  It’s cold.  The connections are coming faster now, away from the room she’s been tortured in. She places one stumbling foot in front of the other as she walks away from the basement window.  She keeps her head down but peers up through her eyelashes, trying to observe and not be observed at the same time.

She suspects it doesn’t work.  She suspects she stands out like a sore thumb – a girl in sweat-soaked clothes walking around in the dead of night with no jacket and no shoes.  She suspects the no shoes is important but right now, she can walk over broken glass without a flinch.

Perhaps she already has.

No one is coming for her. No one will save her.  But Delia has never been a princess in a tower, never contended with dragons and knights and so, even though every part of her body is crying for her to curl up and go to sleep, she will walk.  She’ll walk until she finds a sign telling her where she is, until she figures out which direction to go, until she crosses a highway and sees the sunset and walks and walks.

Until she’s climbing up the steps to her apartment.  She stares at her door.  It’s closed.

And right now, she doesn’t have the energy to reach out and turn the knob.

She crumples to the floor as the screaming finally stops.  She feels arms around her and voices muttering gibberish in her ear but it doesn’t matter.

She’s lost her mind somewhere between here and there and here again.

She closes her eyes and lets the darkness swallow her whole.

~#~

Waking up feels like coming out of water as in the sense that her senses are waking up and unpleasantly. There is a full-fledged argument happening not four feet from her ears and the sound has gone from muted to blasting. Someone is trying to intervene and is failing, horribly.  Delia might feel sorry for them if she isn’t so irritated.

It hurts.  Everything hurts.  There is a persistent throbbing in both her upper arms and her wrists feel chafed and sore. Her feet burn, like she’s walked barefoot for seventeen miles and it’s only when she hunts down the strange number does she realize she has.

Oh god.  She’s been tortured and she’s escaped and she, in a particularly delusional decision, has decided to walk all the way back to her apartment, seventeen miles from where they’ve been keeping her.  

She tries to console herself by saying she was tortured but the stupidity still makes her cringe.  

Unfortunately, all her attempts at self-recrimination are interrupted by the argument that is growing ever louder.  She might recognize those voices but her mind is being especially uncooperative today and she sighs, deeply, before opening her eyes.

She’s lying on a soft surface at level with her coffee table so she’s assuming she’s on the couch. The armchair opposite from her is occupied by a girl who’s wanly staring at the floor, silhouetted by what is definitely afternoon light.  Delia must’ve made a sound because Erin immediately jerks up, staring at her.  At first, her face is blank, then her eyes widen and her face splits into a smile.

Because Delia is very much not in the mood, she cuts off whatever bubbly reply Erin is about to give and snaps, “What are you doing here?”

Erin deflates, but only partially.  “You’re alive!” she trills happily and when she leaps up from her chair, Delia realizes that she’s probably going to have to get up.  The couch is soft and is very easy on her growing headache but she refuses to let Erin tower over her.

Also, there was a small, miniscule hesitation in the argument going on behind her and Delia is so very done with all of them.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Delia snarls back and she’s being rude, very rude, but she no longer has the energy to care.  Erin pauses, her arms half-outstretched like she’d been planning to give Delia a hug.

“What question?” she asked, her doe eyes going wide.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Delia repeats, adding the profanity because it makes her feel better.  Also, Erin is very much the baby and the Catholic schoolgirl of the group and her eyes go even wider at the curse.

“We’re here to help you!” she rallies admirably.  The argument trails off, thank god, because Delia can’t think with all this noise. Then she registers what Erin said and – just – what.

She stares at Erin, waiting for a rejoinder.  When none arrives, she arches an eyebrow.  When even that doesn’t garner a response, she says, very politely, “Excuse me?”

Erin, she’s pleased to note, freezes at the calm, controlled tone.

“We came here to help you,” Adrian says and he’s one of the two that were arguing.  His face is as smugly arrogant as it had been the last time she’d seen it and Delia considers it for a long moment.

There are many responses to his words and Delia thinks through them until she finds one she likes. “Get out of my house,” she says levelly.

Adrian’s smug smile doesn’t disappear.  “You need our help,” he says, “You collapsed at your front door.”

Adrian clearly has to learn better self-preservation skills because Delia’s been captured and tortured and she still hasn’t given up these insufferable assholes and if he thinks he can test her now he is sorely mistaken.

Also, Delia’s mind is fraying and the part of her that realizes what a bad idea it is to piss off a group of superpowered mercenaries is in hiding with all their secrets.

She says, in the same level tone, “Get out of my house or I swear to the Devil himself I’ll poison the lot of you in your sleep.”

Adrian’s smile freezes and she doesn’t have to turn to Erin to see that she’s clutching her cross.  

Catalina steps into view and for the first time that Delia’s seen, her smile’s unsure.  “Delia, darling –” she starts off like she always does, but something in Delia’s glare must change her mind because she cuts off mid-sentence.  She stares at Delia for a long moment before saying, in a softer voice, “You’re hurt. Let us help.”

Delia wants to let her help. She wants to let Catalina and her soft voice maneuver her into the shower and then give her soup and then tuck her into bed.  But Delia’s undergone torture and the part of her that falls to Catalina’s compulsion is a part that’s floating around without any control.  “Get out,” she repeats.  

She can’t threaten them and there are already tears pricking at the corner of her eyes and if they see her cry she really will kill them.  Delia is tired of being their token weakling, the girl they all try to protect.  

Well, they didn’t protect her this time and maybe Delia’s realized that she can’t afford to be weak.

Catalina exchanges a glance with Adrian and turns back over her shoulder to a figure that Delia can’t see. Brian, of course, who had told her with his no-nonsense manner that she was a liability.  Brian, who was just arguing with Adrian over something to do with her kidnapping and somehow, she doesn’t think he’s on her side.  He’s hiding, after all, for a reason.

Brian is the one who fractured her first and the only reason she can be thankful that he’s in her house is because he will undoubtedly try to get them to leave.

“You heard her,” comes his steady, unruffled voice, “Let’s go.”

Delia is watching Catalina at the time, which is the only reason she notices the woman’s look of utter venom – a look that lasts for a half second before it smoothens back to her normal sultry grin.  “Come on, Erin,” she says, and stalks out of the room without a backward glance.

Erin follows.  Adrian is likewise giving Brian a nasty glare and he snarls, “You can’t be human.  Because humans can’t live without hearts.”

“She asked us to leave,” Brian responds evenly and Delia is too tired to follow the undertones but not too tired to pick up on them.  Something is going on here.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Adrian says in a tone that makes it sound like ‘go fuck yourself’.  He stomps out the door.  

There is a long silence. Delia is turned away from her kitchen, waiting for Brian to leave.  For a panicked moment, she thinks he might say something to her.  

But then the door clicks shut and Delia is left with herself and her demons.

~#~

Part 3.

[omnivorousshipper]

12 Days of Shobbs: Day Two- Scarves

Summary:  This is a serious of prompts following the relationship between Luke Hobbs and Deckard Shaw through the twelve days of Christmas.

Day 1     Day 3

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… 

“Reminder to self: never visit Canada in the winter ever again,” Luke mumbled to himself as he got out of his truck and landed in almost a foot of snow. Sighing, he trudged through the unblemished snow towards the other vehicles sitting in the clearing. There were three other large trucks and SUVs, with several DSS agents milling around them, setting up equipment.

Heading towards them, Luke tugged his hat further over his ears and tried to ignore the strong wind trying to knock him off his feet. Reaching some of the techies, he could see that they were struggling to keep the equipment snow free.

“Hey!” He called out to the agents. “Who’s in charge here?” “I suppose that’s me,” a woman stepped forward. She was about a head shorter than Luke and wearing at least four layers of clothing. She didn’t bother to offer her hand to shake, instead keeping it in her pocket while she introduced herself. “I’m Agent Mou. Nice to meet you Agent Hobbs.”

“Same to you, ma’am. So what’s the game plan?”

“I don’t want to start the brief until your partner arrives.”

“Partner? What partner? I was told I would be doing this solo,” Luke asked, staring at the smaller woman, eyebrows furrowed. 

“We thought so too, but your superior, Mr. Nobody, contacted us and said he was sending another agent,” Mou shrugged. She was shifting from one foot to the other, no doubt trying to stay warm. 

“Of course he called,” Luke muttered to himself. Turning back to Mou, he asked, “Anything you want me to do right now?”

“Unless you know how to hack closed camera systems from five miles away, no Agent Hobbs, I don’t need you to do anything right now,” Mou said irritatedly. “We’ll brief you and supply you with the equipment you’ll need when your partner arrives.”

With that, Mou stormed off, having to lift her feet all the way off the ground just to walk through the high snow. Sighing, Luke couldn’t fault the woman’s irritability; she was running an operation while it was below freezing, enough snow to make an army of snowmen, and now she was forced to add yet another agent to the equation, without knowing if she could trust either Hobbs or his mysterious partner. Deciding to try to stay on the woman’s good side, Luke stood close enough to the trucks to be shielded from the harsh wind, but far enough away so as not to be in the way. 

After ten minutes of Luke practically feeling his fingers lose feeling, he finally saw another vehicle pull up. It was military grade, and looked as if it could drive through four feet of snow with how tall the wheels were. Luke watched the car park close to them and the driver step out.

Well, the person looked more like a marshmallow on legs with a large, white coat on. Squinting, Luke could also see a grey scarf the size of a blanket wrapped around the person’s neck, obscuring their face further. As the person came closer, Luke could see that their black beanie had small cat ears on the top and a cat nose and whiskers on the front of the hat. Luke just stared at them until they were close enough for Luke to hear them.

“Nobody said you’d need help,” Deckard Shaw grunted. “Didn’t mention we’d be doing the job in Jack Frost’s arsehole.”

“Frankly, I don’t know why the hell he called you in,” Luke said, still a bit dazed at seeing Deckard. “But it makes sense that he would send an elf to the north pole.”

“Get bent, you tosser,” the smaller man grumbled, and seemed to burrow further into the giant scarf that hid most of his face.

Before Luke could say something in kind, he heard snow crunching and turned his head to see Agent Mou heading towards him and Deckard. The cold didn’t seem to be agreeing with her by the pissed off look on her face. 

“About time you showed up. We’re almost half an hour late. If we’re supposed to get this done before sunset, then I suggest you two stop the little tea party you’re having, and get your asses over here,” she snapped at the two men. 

“Sorry, miss. Took longer than I thought to get out here,” Deckard apologized politely.

“I don’t care why, just follow me. I need to brief both of you,” Mou angrily told them. Deckard and Luke shared a look with each other before falling in step behind Mou as she led them to a tent that had been set up. The inside just barely fit the three and another agent, who was rapidly putting items into two packs. 

“Ok, you two, here’s the deal. Your target is this,” Mou showed them an image on her tablet. It was a small missile, one that could fit perfectly in Luke’s hand. “This was developed by an American weaponsmith for the U.S. army, but only a handful were actually made. It was made to destroy up to a 200 mile radius, destroying everything around, even underground bunkers. A small terrorist cell was able to get their hands on one. We need you two go in and retrieve it.” 

“Simple enough,” Luke commented. 

“Glad you think that, Hobbs,” Mou responded dryly. Quickly, she brought up the blueprints of a large storage building. “We were able to get the rough layout of their hideout, but we don’t know much else. Nothing about how many guys there are, or what kind of weapons they have. I’ve had my boys prepare you enough ammunition to take down any stronghold, along with a device to block any electrical signals from being sent out.”

“Like Hobbs said, this shouldn’t be too much trouble,” Deckard said.

“Never thought I’d ever hear you agreeing with me,” Luke said, an eyebrow raised at Deckard, who was glaring back at him.

“Since you two seem to know what you’re doing,” Mou interrupted, “Then I encourage you two to leave. Now.”

Taking the hint, Deckard and Luke took the packs from the other agent and made their way outside.

“We’re taking my car,” Deckard announced, not bothering to look at Luke.

“Fine. But I’m driving.”

“When hell freezes over, jackass.”

Climbing into the passenger side of Deckard’s car, Luke couldn’t help but stare at the other man. It had been only a week ago that the other man had placed a kiss on Luke. And Luke still wasn’t sure what to feel about it. The entire time during that mission, Luke couldn’t get the kiss out of his mind, and it seemed like this mission was going to be about the same.

“Got something to say, Hobbs?” Deckard snapped, after a few minutes of silence, and a couple dozen of side glances from Luke. 

“Just wondering what in the living hell you’re wearing, is all,” Luke shrugged. 

“Owen and a few of his mates went to Switzerland for a ski trip, and he took a lot of my snow gear. The little arsehole,” Deckard mumbled the last part mostly to himself. 

“And you just happened to own a hat with a cat face?”

“Present from my mum. She thought it looked cute,” Deckard rolled his eyes. 

“It sure is,” Luke snorted. “It fits well with the stuck up princess look you have going.”

“I know it must be hard for your walnut-sized brain to understand this, but I could easily leave your arse out here to freeze to death.”

“Oh, I’d love to see you try,” Luke challenged. 

“Just keep pushing, sunshine.”

Luke chuckled at the threat. They were quiet for a time, with Luke staring out at the snowy landscape, and Deckard navigating the car through it. Unfortunately, Luke couldn’t enjoy the view, instead his mind going back to the kiss. 

“I swear I can see the smoke coming out of your ears right now,” Deckard chuckled. “You’re going to hurt yourself thinking that hard.”

“Very funny, asshole,” Luke rolled his eyes. Looking over at the smaller man, he decided to take a leap of faith. “I was just wondering. Why did you kiss me back at the base?”

He saw Deckard’s hands tighten on the wheel and his mouth pull down into a frown. “We were under the mistletoe. Don’t read into it.”

“I told you, you didn’t have to. But you still did. So, why did-”

“Look, just drop it,” Deckard snapped, interrupting Luke. “We’re at the drop point. We need to walk from here.”

Which meant that they would be walking in the strong wind, making it impossible for them to hold a conversation. Sighing, Luke followed the other man.

The plan was for them to park a short distance away from the facility, walk the rest of the way, and sneak in. From there, they would split up and each look for the missile on their own. All they needed to do was not to alert the guards, so it should have been an easy job. 

Unfortunately, alert the guards was the only thing Luke seemed to do. When Mou had said that they had no idea how many guards there were, she hadn’t been joking. Every corner Luke went around had at least five guys, each armed to the teeth. It was inevitable that he would alert one of them.

That’s how he found himself in a massive gun fight, hiding behind a random pile of boxes in one of the main rooms of the facility. Bullets were flying past where he was hiding, slowly chipping away at his cover. Luke knew that his shelter was either going to be demolished or he was going to run out of ammunition. And he was sure that the former of the two was going to happen soon, because he only had one more clip left. 

Cursing his luck, Luke put the final clip in his gun, and quickly popped out from his cover. He was able to hit three assailants, but as soon as one went down, two more took their place. Out of options, Luke desperately looked around, trying to find an escape route, but found nothing. Before despair could overwhelm him, Luke heard a yell over the gunfire. 

“Hobbs!”  Came a distinct voice shouted. “Down!”

And it was almost predictable what happened next. While Luke wasn’t exactly expecting it, he wasn’t surprised to hear the sound of a small grenade go off in the middle of the guards shooting at him. In the confusion of the blast, the bullets stopped, allowing Luke to duck out from his cover. Spotting Deckard on the other side of the room fighting three guards, Luke started heading towards him, trying to find a gun for himself on the way.

Having no luck finding a gun, Luke was forced to fight off the guys that came between him and Deckard. After taking down ten of them, Luke finally reached Deckard, who was missing his large coat, but still had his hat and scarf. Other than the missing coat, Deckard was only slightly panting, almost as if he hadn’t taken down twenty trained men in the last ten minutes, and had only gone for a short jog in the park. 

“Did you get the missile?” Luke hurriedly asked. 

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I got it,”Deckard huffed and showed Luke a small case, presumably carrying the missile. 

“Good. We need to get out,” Luke looked around them, spotting a side door, that was being guarded by thirty or so men. “You got any extra guns on you?”

“Yeah. Here,” Deckard responded. Reaching into his scarf, he pulled out a pair of silver revolvers from the folds of his scarf. “They’re already loaded.”

“How the hell?” Luke whispered to himself, but took the guns nonetheless. Shaking his head, Luke chalked it up to Deckard being an ex-MI6 agent. “Come on, there’s an exit over there.”

Together, they slowly made their way towards the exit, back to back, and taking shots at anyone that came at them. Even though Luke couldn’t see it, he could hear Deckard take down several men that tried to rush them. Trusting Deckard’s abilities, Luke focused on the men coming his way. 

After what felt like hours, they finally broke through the wall of men, and outside. It was only a short jog to Deckard’s car, and they were speeding away. Looking out the side mirror, Luke was surprised not to see any vehicles chasing them.

“Where are they?” Luke asked aloud.

“I might’ve blown up all their snowmobiles,” Deckard laughed, giving Luke a toothy grin.

“You fucking pyromaniac!” Luke laughed. 

Soon enough, they were back at the base camp, handing the missile over to Mou. Who gave them a few choice words over their fairly explosive retrieval of it. After a short reprimand and praise for getting the missile out successfully, she sent them on their way.

“Hey. Thanks for the guns,” Luke said, as he and Deckard walked through the flurry of agents dismantling equipment. Holding the guns out to the smaller man, Luke was surprised when Deckard instead pushed Luke’s hand away.

“Keep ‘em. ,” Deckard shrugged. 

“You sure?” Luke asked, not a small amount of confusion in his voice.

“I know you like Chiappa Rhino guns. So just keep them.”

“Thanks, man,” Luke said graciously. They were standing in front of Deckard’s car, as Luke took in the other man. Deckard’s face was flushed red from the cold, and he had a small smile on his face.

“Don’t mention it. You need all the help you can get, twinkletoes,” Deckard said, his smile growing. Luke help but smile back before something popped back into his head. 

“Hey. You never answered my question.”

“What?”

“Why’d you kiss me?”

“Just drop it, Hobbs,” Deckard sighed. Swiftly, he was in his car and slamming the door in Luke’s face. 

“Oh come on! Just answer me!” Luke shouted after Deckard’s speeding car.

… Two loaded guns

And a punch to the face!

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Still On The Road: Part 3

Pairings: Jason Momoa x Reader (AU/ SOA crossover)

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff,

Word Count: 2,796

A/n: This is a continuation of the ‘Life On The Road’  series, which was a Chibs x Reader story I wrote a few months back.

Part 1 / Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t sleep very well that night; fearing every single sound outside to be Chibs’ coming to take your little girl. At quarter to five, you finally just gave up and got up to get a head start on editing the footage you got on your GoPro’s for that weeks vlog. You threw on a maxi dress, not wanting to bother with much more so you didn’t wake up Avery and grabbed your bags on the way out the door. You hesitated for a second on the stairs and smiled weakly down at Jason, who was leaning his chair casually against the side of your RV, watching the truckers milling around the truck stop.

“Have you been out here all night?” You whispered as you closed the RV door softly behind you.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He said with a shrug.

“Shoulda texted me.” You said as you sat down on the steps and put your bags down on the ground. “I kept hearin’ imaginary motorcycles all night long.” He nodded his head in agreement as you ran your fingers through your hair.

“About that.” He said as he let the front legs of his chair hit the ground so he could lean forward to see your face. “I gotta ask… how valid a threat could it really be if he made one?” You sighed loudly and leaned forward on your knees.

“He’s in a biker gang.” You said quietly as you looked over at him. “If he really wanted to, I’m sure he has reach all over this damn country. But the Filip I knew wouldn’t sink to that level. Some of his brothers? Maybe, but not Filip. On the other hand, Avery’s his second daughter. The second daughter that he doesn’t have in his life because of his actions with the MC. Could that drive a man to desperation? I don’t know.”

“OK.” Jason said with a nod as he pushed his hair back with his palms. “When I was in college, my buddy’s sister dealt with a stalker and it got ugly, fast and she didn’t have a kid with the guy. So after you went to bed, I talked to the guys. If you don’t mind it, we wanna travel with you for a while as a group because you shouldn’t be out on the road by yourself when you’re working out the kinks of a custody case. It’s also kinda more efficient for us anyways since you probably know all the best spots to go and see. Because bikers or not, you can bet your ass that if your ex pulls up to your RV and my ass walks out the door, someone other than me is taking a step back. Especially if I don’t have a shirt on.” A small smile pulled at the corner of your lips as you glanced over at him from the corner of your eye.

“I mean… you make me stumble a bit, ain’t gunna lie.” He smirked and searched your eyes as a slight brush crept across your face. You bit your bottom lip and looked away for a moment to collect your thoughts. “Y’all have to know…” You said after a moment as you looked back over at him. “… while I don’t think they’ll do anything, a lot of these guys have killed before.”

“So, then we’ll head east away from California for a while.” He said with a nod. “We’ll be mindful of staying in one place too long and posting locations on social media. It’s simple fixes, sweetheart.”

“Yea, but it’s so much to ask of someone that doesn’t even know me, you know.” You said as you sat up and leaned back against the door of your RV. “Y’all are taking on a major responsibility of dealin’ with a kid which, while I may make it seem easy in, what, the week that you’ve known me. It ain’t all peaches and cream with this one. She’ll go a couple weeks being a complete angel and then she’s a monster for a week straight just because she can be. And I can already tell y’all are wantin’ ta be adventurous and shit but right now, my adventure consists of short morning hikes and stopping at like the worlds biggest ball’a twine and shit.”

“That’s real?” He asked as he looked over at you. Your face deadpanned the slightest bit and you nodded.

“It’s in Kansas and we’ve been twice.”

“Oh, man.” He laughed with a slight shake of his head. “Alright, so our lives on the road is a little tamed down for a couple months. Big deal. If the guys wanna be a little more adventurous, we can work it out. And, bonus, at the end of the day, we get to see what it’s like to maybe raise a kid on the road. Kinda gives us a slight peek to what our lives may or may not look like, you know.”

“Alright.” You said with a nod. “But, like I said last night, I don’t know y’all, so I’ll be lockin’ y’all out of my RV at night. And just remember, I do run a business out of my truck that is slightly time consuming in my week and y’all will be on YouTube… a lot.”

“I expect nothing less.” He agreed as he pushed his chair back against your RV to watch the sunrise. 

“But that comes with it’s perks.” You said as you crossed your legs and fixed the material of your dress. “Like have you noticed most of the shit in my RV and my truck is Mossy Oak Camo? They are one of my biggest sponsors, shockingly. Between you and me, I fucking hate camo. Shit is so damn tacky. But, they pay me for product placement, which pays for Avery and my health insurance. GoPro pays for gas for Sully and the Palace’s generator.”

“Jesus.” He said as he looked over at you with his eyebrow raised. “How the hell…?”

“Eight years.” You interrupted with a slow nod as you looked out across the parking lot. “Eight long years of promoting companies and kissin’ a whole bunch of cooperate ass.”

“Well at least it pays, hun.” He said as he gestured to his truck, which he had parked right behind the back of your RV. “That’s what I can afford until my house in Hawaii sells.”

“Trust me when I tell you this.” You said as you grabbed your bags and got up to get coffee started for you and the guys. “That’s your starter RV. One day, you’ll find yourself in an RV as big as mine and you won’t know what to fucking do with the space.”

“Guess only time will tell.” He agreed as he stole a glimpse of your ass when you went into the RV.

——

“Alright, so let’s make a game plan.” Dave said after breakfast as the five of you sat at the dining room table that turned into Avery’s bed in the back of your RV. You glanced up at him with your eyebrow raised at even the general idea of a plan on the road as he laid a map down on the table.

“Um…” You said as you picked up your coffee mug to get it out of the way and exchanged a look with Avery, who knew how you felt about plans.

“God’s gunna laugh at you.” She said as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You make plans, and God just laughs.”

“Yea, well we need to know where we are temporarily avoiding.” Ben said. You nodded slowly as you looked back down at the map.

“Alright.” You said with a nod as you tilted your head to the side. You sighed and set your coffee back down on the corner. “So the Sons are mainly based in California but I know there are other charters in Nevada, Arizona, Oregon, Washington, Utah, and New Mexico. They have some overseas and a couple in the northeast, too but they also have a Nomads charter that doesn’t have a home base. They stay toward the west coast as far as I know but that’s not to say they won’t travel.”

“So the West coast is completely off limits.” Jason said as he reached out and folded that section of the map back. “So we stay East of the Rockies. Simple.”

“Alright.” You said with a nod. “So we’re in Colorado now…”

“Mama, we still go to Disney?” You looked over at Avery as she stood up on the bench to look at the map with you.

“Um… well…” You said as you looked up the guys.

“Well… I haven't been to Disney since I was little.” Jason said with a glance at his friends.

“Actually, me neither.” Matt said.

“This is the first time I’ve left Minnesota.” Dave said with a shrug as he leaned back on the booth like chair. “So I guess I’m down.”

“Well, looks like you’re going to Disney, Princess.” Ben said with a smile as he picked up Avery and put her on his lap. 

“But you still have to wait for your birthday.” You said before she could even cheer. Her face fell into a pout and you shrugged your shoulders. “Look, mama’s got bills to pay and crystals to sell to take you to Disney first, you gotta give me some time, OK?”

“OK.” She pouted.

“And that means, we have to swing through Arizona.” You sighed. “Because I have to stock up my shop for a while and that’s where most of my contacts are.”

“Alright.” Jason said as he moved your coffee and folded up the map. “So let’s see what kinda adventure we can find between here and Arizona.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is safe, right?” You asked as you zipped Avery into a life vest to take her on her first ever white water rafting trip.

“It’s safe.” Your guide, Brooke, said with a nod. “Trust me. I bring my two year old on this river all the time. It’s only a class two so it’s as tame as you can get.”

“You ready?” Jason asked as he came over and dropped a helmet on your head with a smile. 

“Not at all.” You said as Avery jumped up and down while cheering ‘yea’.

“Stop worrying.” He laughed as he put his arm over your shoulder. “It’s gunna be fine.”

“You say that now.” You said as you grabbed the sunscreen off the table to put some on Avery’s face and exposed limbs. “But then the next thing you know, we’re going over a rapid in the water…”

“Relax.” Jason said with a smile as he took the sunscreen from your hands. “You’re sitting in the bottom of the raft with her. She’s a good swimmer and she has a life vest. Trust me, OK?” You groaned as he turned you around to put sunscreen across your back. You glanced down at Avery, who was talking to Max about a mile a minute in her excitement, and sighed.

“I hate you for talking me into this.” You huffed.

“Here you go.” Dave said as he held out a life vest for you.

“Does it have a mouth piece or something?” Jason joked as he tossed the sunscreen in your river bag. “Shut her up for a minute?”

“Haha.” You sassed as the tour guide gave the all call to get on the busses so you grabbed the GoPro you were bringing on the rafting trip. “Come on, Avery. Let’s get on the bus.” With another cheer, she ran back over to you and practically dragged you toward the crowd surrounding the bus. 

The bus ride was only about forty-five minutes long and the whole time, you sat beside Jason with Avery in your lap, trying not to over think the decision of putting your daughter in a dangerous yet completely safe situation. Sure, the company you chose specifically catered to families that had younger kids and yea, you were choosing to sit with her and not paddle the boat to guarantee that you had a better chance of making sure she didn’t hit a rock or get trapped if the raft did flip but that still didn’t settle your nerves.

“Hey.” Jason said softly as the bus pulled up to the put it. “You can take her back if you’re really not comfortable with this.”

“It’s alright.” You sighed with a small shake of your head. “I’m just overthinking it.”

“You sure?” He asked as he grabbed his paddle and helmet.

“No.” You laughed as you put Avery down and stood up behind her. “But I’m gunna do it anyways.”

“That’s my girl.” He chuckled as he stood up with his head ducked and followed you out of the bus.

“Avery Lynn.” You called out when she tried to run down to the water in her cute, pink water shoes and her blue Moana bathing suit. “We gotta wait our turn.” You triple checked the tightness of her bright orange life vest and helmet and took ahold of her hand to keep her close as the boys grabbed your raft and helped Brooke carry it to the line to get into water.

“(Y/N), you gotta get in.” Max called out as your boat was pushed into the water.

“Come on, Ave’s.” You said as you took Avery’s hand and lead her down to the water line. You got into the middle of the two tubes and sat down so that Jason could pass you Avery. “You ready?” You asked her as you situated her on your crossed legs so her butt was touching the rubber bottom.

“Ready!” She cheered as she grabbed the handle in front of her. You nodded to yourself as Ben and Dave took the front two spots and Jason and Max sat on either side of you and Avery.

“Alright, guys. Let’s do some rafting!” Brooke, with your GoPro clipped onto her helmet for you, cheered as she and another guy pushed the raft the rest of the way into the water. You nervously wrapped your arms around Avery’s middle as you approached the first rapid that was only a few dozen feet away and it took only a few moments for your daughter’s fear to really kick in.

“Mommy…” She said when the roar of the water going over the rocks got even louder with each second. “No, mommy, no!”

“It’s OK, baby.” You said as she clung to your arms and started to cry. Regret instantly filled your stomach and you knew there was absolutely nothing you could do to stop this from happening. As the boat hit the first rock, Avery screamed your name in sheer terror, and you cursed the boys in your head for making you agree to this.

Time seemed to stand still as Brooke shouted simple commands to paddle forward and ice cold water spilled into the boat, soaking you from head to toe in seconds. You couldn’t do anything but hold your daughter tight and pray that she wouldn’t hold this against you for the rest of her life because you actually loved the adrenaline rush this was giving you. But, nearly just as quickly as it started, the short, class 1 rapid was over. Your head whipped to the side to look at your daughter’s face as she wiped the water from her eyes.

“Avery?” You asked hesitantly as you studied her face.

“It’s over, mommy?” She asked as she sat up a little more to look over the front of the boat.

“Yea baby. That one’s over.” You said with a nod, causing her to instantly pout.

“Aw, man. I wanna do it again.” A huffed laugh escaped your lips as you sat up straight behind her and gave her a tight hug.

“We got a bunch more. Don’t worry, baby.”

“And you were worried she was gunna hate you.” Jason teased as he bumped your shoulder with his knee while paddling toward the next rapid under Brooke’s direction.

“Shut up, Jay.” You laughed as Avery bounced against your legs in preparation for the next rapid. “Put your hands up, Avery. I got you.” You said as you lifted her hands off the handle so they were up on either side of your face. She screamed excitedly as the raft was taken through the dip between two big rocks, spraying everyone with water.

“I think she likes it.” Dave called out with a laugh as the four guys paddled like a well oiled machine through the rapid.

“Little bit.” You yelled back as you held your daughter to your chest, finally glad that you let the boys talk you into this experience.

Part 4

[inter-galaxy]

True Love’s First Kiss

Namgi angst, because of course it is

Summary: They say that True Love’s very first kiss can break any curse, fix any spell, unchain any bound heart. They say that True Love’s kiss can break almost any curse, fix many spells, unchain most bound hearts. What they don’t tell you is that there are things that True Love’s kiss cannot fix, be it the first one or not.

find it on ao3 as well

       They say that True Love’s very first kiss can break any curse, fix any spell, unchain any bound heart. They say that True Love’s kiss can break almost any curse, fix many spells, unchain most bound hearts. What they don’t tell you is that there are things that True Love’s kiss cannot fix, be it the first one or not.

       Namjoon’s parents had always told him that, while True Love’s kiss could fix any magical mishap that might happen, building a relationship was something you had to do on you own, no amount of kisses would help when you were fighting over whether the bed you should get should be green or blue. And Namjoon, who had heard similar stories his entire life, was inclined to believe them. There was no reason to question what they were saying when it made logical sense, and was proved through the years. His mother had, for instance, fallen under a curse, which his father had fixed with a simple kiss. He knew of some parents, too protective of their children and unwilling to give them away to anyone but their True Love, that cursed their own children so that they would know when their True Love came (which, for the record, Namjoon thinks is a little too much and more than a little reckless). So, Namjoon never bothered himself with magical things, never tried to learn about the different curses and spells and such, because he trusted that True Love’s kiss would fix that. Instead, he focused on himself, making sure he could be the best version of himself for his True Love.

       Okay, so there is one thing Namjoon isn’t exactly sold on, and that’s how the Universe (or whatever you choose to believe in, he isn’t one to judge) decides on your True Love. Because, like, the most popular stories of True Love are those with princes and princesses and other royal figures, where they were both young and in danger and somehow it all managed to work out well. But, Namjoon knew stories of people who found their True Love when they were too old to love another; people who wait their entire lives to meet their True Love, but who, in the end, never actually get a chance to meet them at all. So, yeah, there are things that don’t make a lot of sense, things that Namjoon wished people paid more attention to, but overall he quite likes the idea of True Love. It’s comforting, in a way, to not have to worry about falling in love with someone and being unsure whether they’re really the one for you. It’s comforting not having to think about whether you’ll ever find “The One“, because the Universe is making sure that you do. Well, probably is. Hopefully.

       Another thing! What happens if the universe fucks up and doesn’t put you with someone of your preferred gender? Namjoon has never actually seen it happen, but the fear is still there, in the back of his mind. Personally, Namjoon is fine with anything, but his friend, Taehyung, is pretty sure he is only into dudes, and what if the Universe doesn’t respect that? It’s a bit silly to think, considering that the whole True Love deal should be fail proof, should guarantee that you get someone you’ll love for the rest of your life. It’s just that, Namjoon is scared. He’s scared of fucking this up, somehow, before it’s even actually started. It’s a silly thing to be afraid of, Namjoon knows that (and Taehyung never wastes an opportunity to tell him just how stupid a fear it is), but it’s not like he can just turn it off. He wishes he could, but he has yet to figure out a way to do so.

       These fears don’t disappear when he meets Yoongi. Yoongi is short, and passionate, and soft, and beautiful, and Namjoon knows Yoongi is his True Love the first moment their eyes meet. He can’t exactly explain it, doesn’t think he wants to butcher the feeling by trying to put it into words, but Taehyung asks so he can’t just, not explain. The best he comes up with is this: “It’s like being hit by a truck, but also nothing like that at all. It’s like, I heard his voice and saw his face and I was immediately interested, drawn to him almost. Like when you hear the first chord of a song and you know it’s going to be your favorite song, like reading the first line of a book and being unable to put it down until you’ve read the entire thing. And then, when our eyes met, that’s when the metaphorical truck slammed into my metaphorical heart. Or my real heart. Metaphors are confusing. But, like, it’s, it’s hard to explain, but it’s like suddenly seeing someone and being struck with the knowledge that you’ve lived countless iterations of your life together, and then also immediately forgetting that you’ve ever lived another life before. It’s like being hit by a truck, but also nothing like that at all.” (Taehyung tells him he’s being far too philosophical and poetic, but Namjoon still thinks his description is a bad one, not nearly poetic enough to describe the event.) But, the point is, none of Namjoon’s fears disappear. He thinks his mother might have mentioned it, or perhaps he read it in a book somewhere, but he remembers someone saying that you wouldn’t be worried about anything once you met your True Love. Bullshit. Namjoon is still worried about all the same things; worried about not being good enough, about being wrong because they haven’t actually kissed yet, about how there could still be so many problems ahead of them and there’s so much Namjoon isn’t sure of. Taehyung tells him he’s being silly, that he’s thinking too much and that it’ll melt away eventually. When Namjoon tells Yoongi about some of his worries, Yoongi admits that he has uncertainties and fears similar to Namjoon’s, that he worries too much and thinks too much and that he’d much prefer a first date before they try to kiss and find out. Namjoon is fine with that. He’s fine with going on dates first. (He’s also very much fine with Yoongi having similar concerns as him, happy that he isn’t completely alone in this.)

       Namjoon lets Yoongi plan their first date, mostly because Yoongi insists on it, but also because Namjoon’s never actually been on a date so he has no idea what one is supposed to look like. (Taehyung, being the good friend that he is, spends the day before the date watching movies with Namjoon, any movie that has a date scene in it, so that they can prepare him.) They go to a cafe, a nice little place that Namjoon has never heard of but that Yoongi seems to like quite a bit. It’s small and decorated to look more like a home than a cafe. The workers all seem to know Yoongi, and when Namjoon asks about it, Yoongi admits that he’s been frequenting the cafe for the past year or so, coming almost every day. Namjoon thinks that’s cute. He also thinks that Yoongi is cute, with his shy smiles and slightly flushed cheeks. They both order drinks (Namjoon gets a coffee, black and simple, and Yoongi gets a hot chocolate, claiming that he will not deny himself the simple pleasures in life), and they share a chocolate cake, Yoongi’s favorite. Relaxing into conversation with Yoongi is easy, talking about anything that comes to mind is like second nature. Namjoon doesn’t feel the need to think and analyze before he says something, is relaxed enough to say stupid things and laugh about them and even feel proud of himself when Yoongi laughs with him, proud because he managed to make Yoongi laugh. They spend the good part of their afternoon there, and when they leave, they walk around for a while, hand in hand. Namjoon’s never walked while holding someone’s hand, not like this, but it’s nice, it’s probably one of the nicest feelings Namjoon’s ever felt. The way in which their hands fit together, as if they were made to walk hand in hand, is odd, and something Namjoon thought he’d never experience. He wants to write poetry about it and sing songs about it. He thinks he’ll settle for telling Taehyung about it though. The conversation between then flows like water, sometimes they fall into a lull, into silence, but it doesn’t feel awkward. Namjoon doesn’t feel the need to talk and fill the silence, is comfortable just letting it be. He hopes Yoongi is comfortable too, hopes that he’s enjoying this as much as Namjoon is, hopes that he’ll get his kiss when the date ends. That would be nice, getting to kiss Yoongi would be nice. Namjoon ends up walking Yoongi home, ends up right in front of his house with him, standing facing him as Yoongi explains how his friend ended up with green hair instead of brown. He almost wants to interrupt him so that he can kiss him, but there is no way that he’s doing that, because he doesn’t want to kiss him without permission and also because listening to Yoongi talk is far too captivating. He has a subtle way of talking, doesn’t gesture or wave his arms around much, but his lips quirk up and his eyes crinkle and his head tilts slightly, and there are so many little things that he does and Namjoon wants to remember all of them. When he’s done, and when they’ve said goodbye and I should go three times already, Yoongi leans up and kisses his cheek, promises he’ll give him a different kiss after their next date. And, funny thing is, Namjoon isn’t disappointed. Sure, he wishes he could have gotten a proper kiss from Yoongi, but waiting for it, just knowing that Yoongi likes him for him and not because the Universe demands it, is a nice feeling. So Namjoon is content to wait.

       It’s on Namjoon to plan their second date, and he stays up until six in the morning with Taehyung as they make the perfect plan together (to be fair, half of that time is spent on Namjoon recounting the first date and just gushing about Yoongi). It takes a lot of planning, and some googling, but Namjoon finally decides that going to the amusement park isn’t a bad idea. It’s summer! They should go out and have fun! Plus, Namjoon is more than a little curious about how Yoongi reacts to more high energy situations. They meet up there, and Yoongi greets him in the same way that he had said goodbye after their last date, a kiss on the cheek. It’s cute. Falling into a conversation is as easy as it had been on their first date, effortless in a way that Namjoon is unfamiliar with, but in a way that he very much enjoys. Yoongi comes prepared with topics to talk about, questions to ask, doesn’t let their conversation fall into a lull for too long. They have similar opinions on a lot of things, but not on all of them, of course, because that would be weird. They both like similar music, and where their tastes diverge it’s not drastic. He isn’t sure why, but the music thing is important to him (okay, so he knows exactly why - it’s because music is important to him in general, the amount of meanings layered on top of each other beautifully performed over the perfect beat. It’s important to Namjoon, but he doesn’t want to admit just how important it is). They don’t talk while on the rides, but Namjoon gets to learn a lot about Yoongi regardless. He gets to learn what Yoongi looks like when he’s scared, excited, eyes closed, lips stretched out into a wide smile, gripping onto Namjoon. Yoongi is beautiful. He’s beautiful no matter which expression he’s wearing, and Namjoon finds himself falling in love every time he looks at him. They have lunch at the amusement park, and Namjoon finds out that Yoongi eats more sweets than actual food. He’s not at all surprised, even though Yoongi looks like the type that likes bitter and sour things. He’s softer on the inside than he appears on the outside is the impression that Namjoon gets. They spend almost the entire day there, and yet it feels like no more than an hour had passed. Namjoon finds himself wishing that time would stop, so that they could be stuck in this bliss forever. It’s a nice thought, but not one he shares with Yoongi. Maybe next time. Namjoon doesn’t get to walk Yoongi home this time, but he doesn’t get to kiss him either. Turns out Yoongi’s idea of a different kiss is kissing his other cheek (which, you know, credit to him, but Namjoon hadn’t even noticed that Yoongi had kissed the same cheek in greeting at the beginning of their date as he had at the end of their last one). But Namjoon can’t be mad, because it’s so cheeky and so Yoongi, that he can only smile (and it’s weird, how he feels like he knows Yoongi so well already, but Namjoon is trying not to read into all the weird things). Namjoon can only laugh when Yoongi promises him a proper kiss at the end of their next date.

       Yoongi is supposed to plan their third date, but he never gets the chance to. Or, perhaps he does plan it, but Namjoon can’t bring himself to think that Yoongi would plan a date quite like this one. Namjoon gets a call from Yoongi’s cell that tells him that Yoongi is in the hospital, but tells him nothing about what might be wrong and how serious the situation is. Namjoon has never moved faster in his life; he gets to the hospital in record time. He finds Yoongi after spending too much time trying to explain to the nurse who he is and why he’s here. Yoongi is lying in bed, looking almost fine but at the same time incredibly tired. Namjoon rushes to his side, and after that his world comes crashing down around him. Yoongi admits that he has a curse, a curse that has been in his family for countless generations. He explains then, with a heavy heart, that the curse cares for nothing except age, that it takes your life regardless of what you’ve done and achieved. And Namjoon doesn’t even have to protest for Yoongi to tell him that True Love’s kiss doesn't work, not even the first one. They’ve tried everything, he says, in previous generations, have tried everything there is to try, legal or otherwise. Nothing works. Nothing will ever work. And, damn it, but Namjoon doesn’t think that’s fair. He’s only just gotten to meet Yoongi, has only just started to fall in love with him, and now some stupid curse that can’t be broken is already taking him away and it’s not fair. Is Namjoon just supposed to live the rest of his life alone? He can’t possibly try and move on, can’t even think about falling in love with someone else. The risk of taking someone else’s True Love from them is far too big. And how could he ever dare to go against what the Universe has planned for him? What the Universe has planned for him. What a joke. The Universe doesn’t know anything. The Universe is responsible for this, responsible for so many mismatched True Loves, responsible for people living their life thinking that they might never meet their True Love. The Universe is to blame. And yet, the Universe continues to hold this over their heads, demands that they spend their entire lives searching for, waiting for, praying for their True Love to come to them. What a bunch of bullshit.

       As Namjoon kisses Yoongi then, as he’s lying there, heart gradually slowing down, he’s aware that they have two very different sentiments. Yoongi is happy that the curse gets to die out with him, that he has no children who will be tortured by it. Namjoon, on the other hand, can’t help but feel immense grief wash over him, because their first kiss is also their last one.

       Later, Taehyung will ask him what it feels like to live in a world where you know your True Love is dead. Namjoon has a hard time explaining it, has a hard time even focusing on the feelings enough to fully understand them, but he knows that voicing them is important, so he tries. The best he comes up with is this: “It’s like living in a world without a sun, but also nothing like that at all. I constantly have this feeling in my chest, I’m constantly aware that it’s there and no matter what I do I can’t ignore it, can’t forget about it, can’t just wish it out of existence. It’s a heavy sort of feeling, like someone is pressing a hand against my heart and they just won’t let go, no matter how much I beg. I constantly feel like something is missing, like something is there, in the corner of my eyes, but when I turn to it I can’t find it. It’s like a string of rainy days where you get a little gloomier each passing day, expect you can’t hope for the eventual sunshine to break through because you know it will never come. It’s living with the constant knowledge that the Universe has robbed you of something, robbed you of something it has promised you. It’s being handed hope, only to have it taken away and tossed aside where you can no longer reach it. It’s like living in a world without a sun, but also nothing like that at all.” He doesn’t think he does the feeling justice, but it feels a little better to express it to someone, to let it be heard.

       They say that True Love’s very first kiss can break any curse, fix any spell, unchain any bound heart. They say that True Love’s kiss can break almost any curse, fix many spells, unchain most bound hearts. What they don’t tell you is that there are things that True Love’s kiss cannot fix, be it the first one or not. When he was young, Namjoon thought this meant only things concerning the actual relationship you develop with your True Love. Let the magic of the kiss worry about almost everything, and spend your time instead focusing on bettering yourself, so that you may deserve your True Love’s adoration. They tell you that the Universe will take care of it.

       They don’t tell you that the Universe does a very poor job of taking care of it. Some people will get a True Love that has lived millennia before they were born, others will get one that is yet to even exist by the time they draw their last breath. Some will get a True Love that hates them with every fiber of their being, and others will get one that they can barely stand. And some people will get a True Love that is dying, and there is nothing that they can do about it, no kiss that they can offer that will fix this. They don’t tell you that sometimes you will have to live an entire life without your True Love, that you will exist in a world that does not have your True Love in it, for whatever reason. They don’t tell you that living like this is hard, that it sometimes even seems impossible. They don’t tell you that the Universe doesn’t hold any answers at all. They don’t tell you that you can go against the Universe. There is a lot that they don’t tell you, so Namjoon vows that he will tell the world instead, that he will not let any more innocent souls be fooled by such a harsh lie. If they won’t tell you, Namjoon will.

[shirtlesssammy]

4x20: The Rapture

Then:

This happened. And Sam’s sucking demon blood.

Now:

I always say that the fireworks scene in Dark Side of the Moon is my favorite moment in the series, but man, I really love this scene as well. I love this shot of Dean and Cas especially. Dean’s enjoying a moment of peace in his dreams. Cas visits him and hands him a piece of paper with a location of where he wants Dean to meet him.

Dean awakens, and the brothers head out in the dead of night to find Castiel. They explore a warehouse on the unlucky end of some kind of cosmic fight. They find an angel banishing sigil on the wall, and an unconscious Cas on the floor. Only, it’s not Cas, it’s Jimmy. “Where the hell is Castiel?” Dean asking the important questions. Cas is gone.

Sam and Dean take Jimmy to a motel and buy him some food. He ravenously tears into the food while Dean watches in disgusted awe.

Jimmy doesn’t really remember anything from being possessed or what happened in that warehouse. He does remember his life before his time as an angel vessel. He recounts his story to the brothers: He’s Jimmy Novak. He’s from Pontiac, IL. And he’s a devout man with a wife and young daughter. 

About a year ago, Cas first made contact with Jimmy through his television. (Of course he did.)

The brothers confer outside. Dean wants to send the man home to his family. Sam wonders if there’s a possibility he knows more, and just needs a little prompting to remember. Sam ultimately wins with the realistic conclusion. “If we want to question the guy, you can damn well bet the demons do too.”

Jimmy is less than amenable to the idea of not going home. He’s done. He gave his time and now he wants out. Listen, when a bright, shining, charismatic angel of a man is cast to play you, you just have to face the reality that you’re going to be sticking around. No measly 3 episode guest-arc for you.

Later that night, for science:

Sam heads out in secret to get a hit of demon blood. Jimmy, pretending to sleep, also heads out when he thinks the coast is clear. Meanwhile, Dean sleeps like a baby.

Jimmy escapes on the bus, and we get more of his backstory with Castiel. It seems that Cas continued to connect with Jimmy via media wavelengths. This time, Jimmy listens to him by putting his arm in a boiling pot of water, and much to his wife’s surprise, no harm comes to him.

While driving, the brothers get a surprise visit from Anna. 

Anna calls Dean out for his awkward flirting and Sam out on his drinking problem. She tells them that Cas got sent back home and “that’s a very bad thing. Painfully, awfully bad.” Cas bby.

Jimmy arrives home, and sees Claire inside. He remembers the time before, when he was completely convinced his devotion to the angels was what God wanted. Amelia just wanted him to take his meds. I had a hard time concentrating during this scene. Damn Jimmy and your stupid gray t-shirt and weird spiky hair and not-Cas voice. Amelia tells him that if he won’t get help, she’s taking Claire to her mother’s in the morning. So Jimmy dons the, now iconic, trench coat, and prays to Castiel for guidance.

He then allows Castiel to possess him with the understanding that his family will be ok (sure, Jan). Claire finds the newly possessed Jimmy and implores, “Daddy?” Cas turns to her, confused, and as he walks away says, “I am not your father.” This transformation always slays me. How he can look like Jimmy one second and Cas the next with one messy tie change is amazing. (This also sets up a lifetime of anger issues for Claire.)

Present day, JImmy rings the doorbell, and Amelia answers. She’s shocked. He’s dead. They thought he was dead. He apologizes, and later they sit in the living room and talk. Jimmy regrets his actions. He was wrong. “Heaven, hell, none of that matters. The only thing that's important to me is you and Claire.” He just wants to come home. Amelia isn’t sure she can do that, but dinner would be a small start.

On their way to find Jimmy the Winchesters stop at a truck stop for fuel. Sam leaves hissed voicemails on Ruby’s phone telling her that he needs MOAR BLOOD.

Back with Jimmy he finally gets to hug Claire. Amelia puts together a quick meal of sandwiches and they all sit to eat. Jimmy grabs the food right away and when Claire asks him if he’s going to say grace he says, “No honey, I don’t think I am.” He cries into his sandwich. And...my heart just BREAKS thinking about his crisis of faith, all he’s lost, all he’s regained...and all he’s about to lose again.

Dinner is quickly interrupted by the next door neighbor, Roger. He saw Jimmy get back and wants to get in some bro catch-up time. Jimmy’s relieved that his long ordeal is over when Roger’s eyes flick black and he says, “I’m gonna gut your daughter while you watch.” Jimmy snatches up an impromptu weapon and bashes Roger over the head with it while yelling at Amelia about demons. Amelia is super assured of his sanity now.

Jimmy herds his family into the pantry to try and protect them with salt but they break out of there. Roger captures Claire and holds her at knife point while another demon captures Jimmy. They’re all rescued just in time by the Winchesters and their handy dandy demon blade. Sam tries to use his demon mojo to exorcise one of the demons but his power sputters out. They all flee in the Impala.

Cut to the Impala parked in some remote parking lot while the Winchesters convince Jimmy that he has to leave his family behind. (They dangle the spectre of vivisection over him if he gets caught. Really? That seems like some major conjecture. It’s not like vessels are NEW or anything.) Also… Man, you can really hear the ridiculously low voice of Dean and Sam when Misha’s all up in the show talking in his normal voice.

Jimmy decides that he’s going to send Amelia and Claire away while he goes into hiding. Sam hotwires Amelia a car and Jimmy says his goodbyes. Well, at least Amelia and Claire are safe, right? After the Impala drives away Amelia slaps Claire and her eyes turn black. ARGH

Later, Jimmy’s sleeping off his super stressful day in the back seat of the Impala while Dean asks Sam what the deal is with his mojo. He wasn’t strong enough to pick off a low level demon… Why’s he so low power?

Jimmy gets a call from Amelia. It’s...not good news. Later, they pull up outside of an abandoned warehouse where the demon possessing Amelia is holding Jimmy’s family hostage. Jimmy stalks off and starts shout-praying to Cas. “I gave you everything you asked me to give. I gave you more.” Castiel promised to take care of his family...and Jimmy begs him for help.

When he gets no answer he storms inside to find Amelia standing guard over Claire. He begs her to let his wife and child go.

Dean and Sam get nabbed by more demons and brought into the room. Amelia pulls out a gun, trains it briefly on the Winchesters, and then shoots Jimmy right in the gut. One of the other demons heads for Claire with a knife and Jimmy watches in despair as he bleeds on the floor. Claire rises up at the last minute and stops the demon with preternatural strength. It’s Castiel! Yay?

The Winchesters fight with the other demons and Sam nicks one of the demons with his blade. He gets a whiff of blood. Mmmm blood. Sam leans right down and drinks it while Castiel!Claire wanders calmly around the room and burns demons from their vessels.

Dean is 100% okay with Sam drinking demon blood.

Sam, now juiced up, exorcises the demon from Amelia. Castiel!Claire kneels by Jimmy who’s painfully dying on the floor. He tells Jimmy that it’s time for him to die. He’s earned his rest, his reward. Jimmy looks at his possessed daughter and begs Castiel to take him instead.

“As you wish,” Castiel replies (fucking me right up since I’ve only recently been on a Princess Bride bender). Cas jumps from Claire to Jimmy.

Cas then coldly stands up, leaving Claire and Amelia weeping on the floor. He starts to wander off.

Dean stops him. “What were you going to tell me?”

Cas looks at him with a cold ass stare and tells Dean that he learned his lesson while he was away. He serves Heaven, not humanity - and not Dean.

Later in the car Sam tries to get a rise out of Dean on the blood drinking thing. Dean tells Sam that he doesn’t care. He’s tired. He’s done with it all. Bobby calls. He needs some help so the Winchesters head for Bobby’s house.

Bobby and Dean trick Sam into getting into the safe room and lock him in there tight. Let the detoxing party begin!

Natasha: Full disclosure I forgot to do any note-taking the first time I watched this for this very recap. And then, watching it again, I almost did the same thing. I just...love this episode so much. Jimmy’s journey is intensely riveting to me. And while I know the story of Jimmy’s possession was written to give more dramatic weight to Jimmy’s choices I just love the idea of Cas wooing his vessel through tests of faith. It’s something no other angel does on the show and I love to think that this is yet another way that Castiel is unique among the Host.

Quotestiel:

Where the hell is Castiel?

More private? We’re inside my head.

It’s easy to act chivalrous when your wonder girl powers aren’t working.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[lilreesenerd]

Guardian Archangel

Summary: Turns out your best friend from childhood is really the archangel Gabriel, of all things.

Insp by Imagine from @nothing-but-spn

Warnings: I'm not a good writer

You had never been the extroverted type. I mean, you weren't captain of the sports team extroverted, but you also weren't the kid in the back of the class that said all of 2 words in a week. You kept to yourself because that's what made you feel most content: not the gossiping, fake friends you saw everyone else had. Out of the entire school, there was one guy who wasn't terrible: Gabe.

You two had been best friends for as long as you could remember. You always stuck up for him (being a theater kid wasn't easy for him), and he kept your life interesting. Gabe was always dragging you to a carnival or some obscure coffee shop. The best part about Gabe, though, was that he gave you your space. He knew you needed alone time to recharge. And that was okay with him.

You were smart, but not as smart as you realized. You had been accepted into a private college not far from your hometown on a ridiculous amount of scholarship money, but you weren't quite sure that was the path you wanted. It was the only path you knew, though. Well, besides working at McDonald's or being in your parents' house forever.

"Ms. (Y/L/N)," the professor called on you, knowing you weren't paying any attention.

"Uh," you knew you were in Calculus, but other than that, you hadn't been listening. Your mind scrambled to figure out what the question was as you scanned the room for clues. A question on the board asked to find the derivative of the equation below. Suddenly, you remembered the answer, "5x - 3."

Your professor was unimpressed. "Please pay attention, Ms. (Y/L/N). Finals are approaching, and you need to maintain your grades if you still plan to attend that school." She returned to scribbling derivatives on the blackboard and droning about their importance.

You nodded your head to her back and caught Gabe suppressing a laugh across the room. You stuck your tongue out, an old habit from your younger years that you just couldn’t kick. Gabe always brought out your fun side.

With the professor turned around, Gabe flicked a paper football at you. It landed perfectly on top of your green notebook. Opening it, you read his sprawling yet elegant handwriting, "Since you're so tired, let’s get coffee after class. I found a new spot downtown ;P."

You tried to look annoyed, but those big goofy green eyes of his made you give in, tucking the note into your pocket with a nod.

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

"No way. Frost was a genius!"

"Definitely not. Everything he wrote was either too obvious or too cryptic to be poetry." You took a slow sip of your scalding coffee with 3 sugars, happily goading Gabe into an all-out frenzy.

"Seriously?!" Gabe is livid. Hair awry, face red, and fists clenched. "You're like the smartest person I know, and now I think you're quite possibly the most uncultured!" He slammed his fist on the table, nearly over-turning his double chocolate chip iced mocha with extra chocolate syrup.

You laughed. "Gabe, you're going to need to control your temper if you want to win the debate next week. You have to metaphorically smash the competition, not literally." You remembered the time someone had pushed you over in the hallway while still in middle school, which resulted in Gabe being suspended for a week and the other kid being in the hospital for just as long.

"Hmm," Gabe sat down and took a long drink of his sugary concoction. "Oh," he straightened himself as if remembering something, "bacteria is the only culture some people have." He liked memes and knew you would appreciate the science-related joke.

You choked on your coffee in an attempt to keep it from flying across the table and onto your friend who is practically rolling on the floor with laughter.

While you're recovering from the near-death experience and hacking up a lung in the process, the cute barista smiles at you two from behind the counter. "Hey you should ask her out," you said to your friend who was known to flirt with any breathing female. "She seems nice," you wiggled your eyebrows, "and I'll bet she's domesticated."

"Yeah," Gabe shot the barista a smolder and a wink, nearly causing the woman to swoon right then and there, and said, "she's definitely more domestic than you are."

"Hey now, watch it." You threatened playfully.

The two of you returned to your coffee, reminiscing about your childhood. Catching bugs, wrestling in mud holes, skateboarding down the middle of the street, and eventually graduating to four-wheeling through the woods behind the neighborhood, were some of your most treasured memories. For many years, the two of you would always come home covered in mud, grass, or some odd mixture of the two. By the seventh grade, Gabe was starting to discover a love for theater. He wanted to write, produce, direct, and star in his very own works. You decided on almost the complete opposite. A quiet life on a farm, an honest life, sounded perfect. You had worked on friends' and family's cars for practice whenever you got your own car. You preferred domestic brands like Ford and Chevrolet, and eventually wound up with a pickup truck made the year before you were born. You enjoyed fishing and shooting competitions (you didn't hunt because you had a soft spot for animals, fishing was different, though). The oddity of your person was that you wanted a simple life, but you were so smart that your school advisor kept telling you to be a doctor. Interrupting your thoughts, the barista crept over, refilling your coffee and sliding Gabe a napkin with her number on it.

She left, and Gabe chuckled, bringing you the rest of the way back from memory lane, "There's nothing wrong with you not being totally domestic like cook, sew, have babies kinda thing. You're just...you. And there's no one else like you, so embrace that part of yourself."

"Aw, Gabe, you're making me blush," you mocked and made a pouty face at him.

"Watch it, princess, or I might turn my charm on and render you helpless." He smiled and put on his most suave air. Standing and extending his arm he added, "May I?"

Shaking your head in disbelief, you took one long gulp of your now-too-strong coffee (you hated getting your cup topped-off. It ruined the proportion of sugar to bean) and took his arm. "Where to?"

"Wherever you want to go, (Y\N)."

You laughed. He always knew how to get you to go along with his adventures. "Hmm," you thought a moment, "Fishing." You knew he hated fishing, but you wanted to see if he would go anyway.

"We went fishing last weekend," he whined.

You raised an eyebrow. Your big brown puppy-dog eyes ready to make him give in.

"Fine, fine, I did say wherever you wanted, just put away those weapons of mass destruction,” he teased, referring to your doe eyes, “but I get to pack the cooler."

"Just pack something non-diabetes-inducing for me, Hansel." Gabe had a real sweet-tooth. It was a miracle he didn't have a mouth full of fillings or diabetes.

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

That weekend, the lake was smooth as glass, the perfect sunset reflected as if another world lay beneath its surface. The fish were biting and the mosquitoes weren't: it was destined to be a great day. Until Gabe started snoring, leaned up against the cooler. Snoring is putting it lightly. He was sawing logs with chocolate on the corners of his wide-open mouth, clutching the small cooler with both arms.

You sighed, pushing him off the cooler and onto his stomach, noticing something shiny in his waistband. You cocked your head, wondering what it could be. Maybe a flashlight? Oh well, none of my business.

You fished for two more hours before waking Gabe. "Come on, man. Its not very gentlemanly to leave a girl unattended on an outing," you poked his ribs.

He swatted at your hand, murmuring and mostly asleep.

Unable to wake him conventionally, you went to grab his flashlight, planning to shine it in his eyes. As your fingers brushed the cold metal object, Gabe twisted around, grabbing your wrist, his eyes fully alert.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked harshly and accusingly.

"Chill. I was just trying to wake you up." You raised your hands more nervously than defensively, flexing your calf to make sure the knife was still sheathed at your ankle. Gabe would sometimes do this super-aggressive thing, and honestly? It worried you. You weren't scared, just prepared for the worst, and keeping your breathing level.

"Sorry, (Y/N)," Gabe rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, "you must've woke me up during a bad dream." You tossed him a candy bar, and he started to relax a bit, eyes shifting around the bank.

"That's bologna." You crossed your arms across your chest. "Why are you really on edge? And what's that?" You pointed to the silver object behind Gabe.

He sighed. "Flashlight."

"Show me," you challenged. You had known him as long as you could remember, and right now, he was lying. And he never lied to you. Ever. The one time he did, it was to keep you from seeing your dog that had just been hit by a speeding car. 

"Let's go somewhere else," he said and touched your forehead with two fingers.

One second, you're at the lake, the next, you're back in the coffee shop from before. Before Gabe can start explaining, you have the hunting knife unsheathed and in his face.

"What. The. Heck, Gabe?!" Snarling through bared teeth, you are barely holding it together. How am I in the coffee shop? We were just at the lake.

He scoffed. "Sit down, (Y/N). I have a lot to explain, and you have a lot to learn." He seemed irritated with you and oblivious to the knife in his face.

With your brow creased, you slowly sit down in the booth. Gabe snaps his fingers and a coffee, hot with 3 sugars, is in front of you, and his favorite sugary drink is in front of him. He takes a sip and a faint smile flickers across his face.

"My name is Gabriel, and I'm an angel." He quickly clarified, "An angel of the Lord. No. Not the harp-on-a-cloud type."

You are pretty sure your mouth is hanging open. He just answered the question you were thinking. Thinking. You managed, "Excuse me?"

Gabriela's mouth turns down, "Huh. I figured you'd take that worse than you did. Good job." He took another drink, gesturing for you to do the same.

You do so. It’s actually a really good blend. "Why are you here? I mean, are you on a secret mission or something?"

Gabriel smiles. "Oh, you don't know how right you are, kiddo."

Your head cocked to one side, asking the question for you.

"I'm your guardian angel. Well, I'm a lot of people's guardian angel, I just happen to really like you."

"Me?" You figured you must have fallen asleep at the lake, hit your head, and are now having trauma-induced visions. "I'm not special. Or interesting. Why are you really here?"

Gabe stood and gestured you walk with him. As the two of you wandered down the streets of the small town, he explained everything: Heaven, Hell, monsters, demons, angels, and even God, his dad. Turns out Gabe is really an archangel.

Everything starts to make sense to you: the perfect days when Gabe is with you, how you can remember things when he's around, and so much more. Like getting into your first choice college on a full scholarship.

"So," Gabe was approaching the reason why he was here, "you have a father."

“Well yeah, he died when I was little."

Gabe raises an eyebrow and smiles.

You are exasperated. “Oh come on, Gabe, that’s not funny.”

"Have I ever lied to you?" You didn't answer. He never had, not when it mattered. He always had your best interests at heart. "Exactly. Now listen, you have a father and two brothers who don't know you. Technically, there's a third, but no one knows about him yet either. They hunt these monsters and things, and they could use your help."

[rejectedusername-trashfics]

Madness is Contagious: Chapter 8- Divided and Conquered

Summary: After the Mad King is put back in jail, one of two his nieces is appointed CEO of Monarch Labs. The niece seems disinterested in the company, but in keen on figuring out how to cure her uncle’s madness. His other niece wants to keep the madness alive. After an attempt at a cure goes aerie, the madness is transferred to Vav. X-Ray ends up getting captured along with the new CEO niece. Will Hilda, Rusty, and the sane King be able to make things go back to normal? 

Chapter: 8/10

Word Count: 1,344

First / Previous / Next / AO3

Later that night was when they put their rescue plan into action. Ryan knew that even though he had keys into Monarch Labs, it wouldn’t be wise of them to enter in from the front. Hilda said she knew the vent systems very well after the last time she broke into her lab, so she could help navigate. Rusty also said that he had been guiding from an unmarked want during Hilda’s last break-in, but Hilda provided him with a mobile digital map so he could direct everyone to where X-Ray and Poppy were being held and still join the group. Jeremy could use his powers to help open the vents to give everyone access. The plan was foolproof.

The group met by a dumpster in an alleyway outside the building. A vent was located directly above it on the wall.

“So, this is where the plan starts,” Hilda announced.

“Excellent leadership, Miss Hilda,” ORF complimented.

“So, Hilda goes in first, then me, then Sane King and Jeremy, right?” Rusty asked for clarification.

“Actually,” Ryan interrupted to answer, “technically Jeremy will enter first,” he finished as he climbed up on the dumpster. Jeremy followed him up. “You ready?” Jeremy nodded to answer. Then he immediately shrunk down very small. When he was done shrinking, Ryan put his hand down on lid of the dumpster and Jeremy climbed into it. Ryan lifted his hand up to the vent and Jeremy climbed inside.

Hilda looked up, surprised. “Huh, he has size manipulation powers. When you said he could open the vent for us, I thought he was going to have metal manipulation.”

“I didn’t think he could get any smaller than he already was,” Rusty commented.

Suddenly, the vent opening popped open. Jeremy stuck his head out. “I resent that,” he responded.

“Okay, so are you going to try and lead now or something, or are you going to get out to let Rusty and I in, then climb back in?” Hilda asked.

“Actually, I can just shrink again and go back to my normal size once everyone’s in front of me.”

Rusty shrugged. “Eh, what works, works.” Jeremy nodded and shrunk back down again.

Hilda and ORF climbed into the vent first. The Rusty, then Ryan. “God, it’s dark in here,” Hilda commented. “ORF, can you light the way?”

ORF began to glow extra bright. “Flashlight mode activated,” ORF declared.

“The map says they aren’t being held captive near the security room,” Rusty told the group.

“You know, if they were being held in the security room, that probably would make things too easy for us, but at the same time that would probably throw us a loop,” Jeremy commented. Everyone paused to look back and stare at him. “What? I still read a lot of comics.”

Hilda sighed, “So, if we’ve established that they aren’t being held near security, but did you find up where they are being held?”

Rusty looked at the map to confirm. “Well, this is completely expected.”

“Where?”

“Your lab.”

Hilda sighed even louder. “Every time!”

“You know, considering how adaptable the lab space is, it completely makes sense that that would be turning into a place to hold prisoners,” Ryan thought out loud.

“I thought you said you weren’t evil anymore!”

“I’m not, I’m just thinking about it, logistically!” Ryan defended himself.

“Whatever,” Hilda replied as she continued to lead the group forward.

“I think we have an upward climb coming up, then a left turn or two,” Rusty informed the group.

Hilda continued to lead until they got to the vent above the lab. “We made it,” she told the group.

“You can get the vent open by yourself, right?” Jeremy asked.

“Yeah,” Hilda said as she was about to open the vent. She paused when she saw X-Ray and Poppy were trapped in a big cage together, and she started to hear the conversation taking place below.

“Look, we’ve been here for a bit. I came to rescue you, but why haven’t you even tried to give me at least a ‘thank you’ kiss yet?” X-Ray asked Poppy.

“You TRIED to rescue me, emphasis on tried. But you failed. Now, we’re both captured. And I really, REALLY, don’t have any interest in kissing you,” Poppy scoffed.

“Are you going to open the vent?” Ryan prompted to get Hilda's attention back.

Hilda snapped back to reality. “Right,” then she pushed the vent open.

Then lid clattered to the ground. “Great, maybe they made the set up in here so shitty, that it’s gonna fall apart on its own before we’re dead,” X-Ray commented.

Hilda slid out of the vent first and dropped to the floor. Poppy got up off the floor as soon as she saw her. “Hilda!” she cheered. Next, Rusty slid out of the vent. Then Ryan dropped onto the floor. Poppy ran to the edge of the cage. “UNCLE RYAN!” she yelled, happily.

Ryan walked over to Poppy and reached in to rub her head. “Good to see you, kiddo,” he smiled.

Finally, Jeremy slid out of the vent. “What, no cheerful greeting for me?” he joked.

Poppy shoved her fist out of the cage. “What, you already know we’re bros.”

Jeremy walked over to return the fist-bump. “Hey, is he the guy who is your ‘not-boyfriend’?” X-Ray asked.

“I don’t know what she calls me, but you can call me Monster Truck,” Jeremy answered.

“You think we should actually work on getting them out of here?” Hilda asked.

Suddenly the alarms for the building started going off. “Yeah, we probably should have had Jer…, Monster Truck go disable the alarms,” Rusty pointed out.

Then, cell bars came up out of the floor and surrounded the whole group. They pushed everyone inward towards X-Ray and Poppy’s cage. Once the bars had pushed everyone a few feet outside of the other cage, the smaller cage bars sunk back into the floor. Everyone was now trapped in a slightly larger cage together.

The alarms quiet down and Hilda does a double face-palm. “Great. Just great.”

Mad Princess and Vav enter the room. Vav is dressed differently. Instead of his usual super suit, he is wearing combat boots and orange tight jeans. He has aa black t-shirt with a “V” on it, but the “V” is on fire. To finish off, he’s wearing black fingerless gloves.

He walked over to where X-Ray was. “You were too pathetic to rescue yourself, so you had to call a group together to come rescue you. But, they were too weak and got captured too. So sad,” he mocked.

“I think Poppy drew them here,” X-Ray grumbled in response.

“They were here for tart who will never love you, but not you. Perhaps she loves them more than she ever could love you.”

“GGGGGGGGGGggggggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,” X-Ray growled.

Next, Mad Princess walked over to Ryan. “It seems as though you came back for me,” she commented.

“Rose, you’re being ridiculous. Please stop this nonsense at once,” Ryan requested.

“Hmm, I don’t think I really want to. So, I’m not going to.”

Ryan sighed. “Darling, I thought you looked up to me. You’re not doing what I think the right thing to do is.”

“I don’t want to listen to you anymore.”’ Ryan opened his mouth to protest, but Mad Princess started talking again. “When Poppy hit you with her sanity ray, it transferred your madness and powers into Vav. You’re weak now. Vav is stronger than you ever were and he lets this princess rule like a queen. He’s someone I can actually call a partner instead of a boss mentor. He’s legues better than you ever were.” Ryan shut his mouth in dismay. “Come on, Pyro. Let us continue our plans to take over the city,” Mad Princess motioned for Pyro to follow her out.

Pyro bowed. “As you wish, my liege.” Then he got back up and the two of them began laughing manically as they exited the room.

Poppy laid her head in both of her hands. “Well, fuck,” she sighed.