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littlefreya · 5 years ago

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White Honey

Summary: Waking up the morning after you lost your virginity to Henry, you muse of the night before while feeling hungry for more.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Word count: 2K

Warning: Smut, loss of virginity, mentions of blood, mentions and slight oral, unprotected sex, bodily fluids.

A/N: Written by anon request. Slight, gentle-rough. Many thanks to @agniavateira for the beta! Please remember to give feedback and reblog.

Title: White Honey.

Pale sunlight shone through an ocean of white linens that draped around you securely. The surroundings still felt like a misty collection of dreams: mellow and saccharine, holding you in their embrace. Yet, a throbbing twinge at the apex of your body welcomed you into a newly-found awakening.

You were no longer a virgin.

Every muscle strained to remind you of said "stolen" innocence. Looking down your naked form, bruises peered in return. Dull, purple fingerprints covered your breasts, hips, and thighs; each mark indicating the blood vessels that ruptured under Henry's greed and desire.

You stifled a pained groan, reaching a hand between your aching thighs to soothe another throb that quaked your sore mound. Henry tried to be tender, at least when he unravelled your seams and penetrated you for the first time. But his size and weight were both generous; once he began moving, all control was lost. He was drawn into you in a daze, adoring the reaches of you with every jerk of his hips.

It was as if he just stepped into heaven and yearned to fill his soul with every inch of it.

Sanctified in a primal dance, you made passionate love. His thrusts were slow but rough, unaware of his strength and of the fire in his blood that drove him to get more and more. Your words made no sense, neither did the beating of your heart. Though breathless gasps told a story: You needed this emotion to go on like an endless ocean, with your legs engulfing him tightly, pulling him deeper until your bodies became laced together in euphoria.

A soft blush stained your cheeks at the memory, and your flesh felt ablaze again. The man who claimed your virginity was asleep by your side radiating warmth, inviting you to bask in his pungent musk. Feeling a soft longing, you sneaked a quick glimpse, watching how his furry chest rose slightly in his sleep. His scent was still on you, and yours was on him; it was as if you've been carried by the calming breeze, floating in a sea of creamy light.

A foolish smile tugged at your lips, and you shook your head at yourself, feeling unbelievably immature and frivolously in love. You rolled on your side, wincing at the soreness in your core while determined to sneak out of his bed.

A firm grip pulled you back beneath the covers into the hardness of Henry's broad chest.

Low and pleasant, his groan tumbled in your ear like a bear awakening from his slumber. His torso entirely covered your spine, making your heart flutter as your skin grazed together, and his heat embraced you.

"Morning kitten," Henry murmured, voice still husky from sleep.

It was as if you were already together for a hundred years, his lips and hands felt familiar as they secured you. He dotted your exposed neck with languid kisses and cradled your jaw between his stark fingers that painted an invisible pattern on your jawline.

"Hi," you replied coyly and grinned to yourself, trying to shake off an onslaught of giggles as his stubble tickled. Entangled limb to limb, you felt small. Henry wrapped himself around you, declaring you as his through the language of his body. His knees pushed between the back of your thighs, forcing your legs open which accidentally elicited a dry whimper of pain out of your throat. Embarrassment burned in your cheeks; it was enough that he made you cry out as he tore through your seal the very night before. There was no need for another embarrassing vocal reminder.

"Aww sweetheart," Henry cooed, pushing you to lie flat on your back while he shuffled to lean on his elbow. His blue gaze focused on your blushing face, a comforting grin tugging his lips. He bumped his nose against yours before offering a chaste kiss.

"You're sore?"

You nodded quietly, watching as he raised a hand and placed it on your sternum. The air left you at once, lungs shuddering as the pads of his fingers glided down your supple skin. His big blues followed, watching how you sunk and caved, bound to his strokes like a tamed lioness.

"Was I too rough?"

"No…" You replied and pressed your chin into his shoulder shyly. "Maybe a bit, but you're just…" You never thought your cheeks could burn this much. "You're really big, and everything kinda hurts right now."

"I'm so sorry," he answered sincerely as he leaned to brush his lips over your nipple ever so delicately. "I don't want to hurt you."

Your eyes fluttered shut, your breath suddenly shallow. It felt so natural to feel his mouth on your skin as if it always belonged there. Flowing down your abdomen, he left wet markings that felt chilled upon his departure while his large palm smoothed itself down your apex. Fingers etched at your ripe cherry, massaging gently to soothe your discomfort.

Immediately, you flinched. No one touched you there, no one but Henry. And he was the man you pined for, perhaps your entire life, without even knowing so.

When he held you, it was as if every cell came to life, tingling as both past and present blend into a sweet whirlpool of physical touch and emotions.

"Good?" He asked, his thumb sensually circling your pearl.

"Good." You hummed, arching on the mattress as more kisses followed down the long trail of your torso. Henry attempted to take your distress away as he tasted your body. His loving lips coated every bruise while his palm rubbed your swollen womanhood protectively.

You jolted as you felt something wet snake down your navel, briefly realizing it was his warm, skilful tongue that descended gracefully to the valley of your pelvis. Henry was specifically enthused to work the magic of his mouth on you, as proven many nights before. He made love to you with nothing but his tongue, drinking from the fountain between your thighs.

No one made you come like this before, thrusting and grasping onto the sheets with desperation as another orgasm rocked its way through your body. In your mind, you screamed for him to fuck you already. But even if you did vocalize your desire, he'd wait.

Henry wanted you right when you both stood at the edge of frustration.

Grasping your legs, he unwrapped you once again, folding them up while settling in-between. The mixture of brownish-pink dried blood and semen was evident beneath your behind. You hid your face beneath your hands and shook your head in protest as you peered down and noticed what Henry discovered.

He chuckled at your response and pressed his lips to your inner thigh. "Don't worry", he said, trying to reassure you. "It's a nice something to remind me of my first time with you."

"No, it's embarrassing." You retorted, your answer muffled by your palms. A moan broke out of your lips as Henry's mouth lined your inner thighs, dangerously inching toward your sacred entrance. You shivered as you felt him huffing against your slit.

"Hen…" you called out, your legs visibly trembling in his grasp. He hardly minded your state, intent on making the burn inside you subside. It only ignited a different type of warmth, and as his lips found yours.

You felt the fire rise again, drenching your core with want, the void within calling to be filled.

You ached for him.

"I need you," you begged, your fingers reaching the messy bundle of dark curls that grazed your torso as he held his mouth at the edge of your groin. "I need you inside me."

The air pushed out of your lungs as Henry dragged you down to meet him, massive and brooding. He soared from above, his groin resting between your spread legs. One hand pressed the side of your body while the other seized his shaft and bobbed it between your lust-coated folds.

"Are you sure?" he asked, but you felt as if it was nothing but mere courtesy as he already teased the tip of his erection at your now deflowered sleek. Panting with exhilaration, you nodded frantically, desperate for the cure of the sudden loneliness inside you.

You were reduced to vocal begging, mewls coming out from your throat while your talons reached to scratch as his shoulders.

"Please, please."

Answering your plea, he pressed himself between your silken petals, carefully driving into your ripe haven. Slowly, an inch at a time, rediscovering the kingdom that he now owned.

It still felt like the first time; your hot mouths hovered agape onto one another, exchanging loud gasps, astonished by the union.

"Henry!" you mewled his name, your nails sinking deep into his back. Your canal was still too taut, too raw. The awkward sting inside made your thighs clench around his hips, and you couldn't help but tear.

There was a war between pleasure and pain inside you.

Sheathed all the way in, he stilled inside you. Immediately, reached to kiss your temples, collecting the tears that escaped your closed eyes. He whispered something in your ear while wrapping his arm around your back and drew you near.

You couldn't make sense of it as all you could think of was how his large cock pulsated between your closing walls.

Opening your eyes, you saw him staring down at you with love burning in his gaze. His lips were a tad gaping, quivering ever so slightly as if he meant to speak but couldn't find the words.

There was no need to say it, though. You both felt it, and your response was the wider spread of your hips as you attempted to take him deeper, and the snake-like squirm as you pulled against him. Henry followed, his hand fisting your hair as he began to stroke you within, grunting as he felt the pull of your body.

"You feel amazing," he panted as your walls wrapped around him rhythmically, sucking him deeper like an ocean sinking a ship, threatening to never let go. But he welcomed his demise, letting himself drown into your mysterious depths.

The serene ocean of sheets turned into a humid whirlpool of sweat and groans. You pushed against him with desperation, a whimpering mess. Your breasts squeezed at the wall of his chest, and your bodies slammed with demand while your groin shifted upward.

Fire began to spill from your gut as your clit grazed against the bone of his groin. Henry continued to move harder into you, stretching you to accommodate him with every push and shove. Yet, you could only feel your body fighting to grip onto him more. He groaned in your ear, his face buried in your neck while his body continued to crush you.

The stroke of his hairy abdomen against your belly made you shiver; you felt yourself being consumed by the flames that spread throughout your soul. Once more, you experienced the type of wholeness that made you sob.

This love made you weak and fearful of how intensely you felt.

Blackness fell on your sight and behind your eyes; golden butterflies spread their wings as you ascended into euphoria. Coming undone you cried his name and reached to grab the cheeks of his behind, clutching them hard urging him to fill you.

"Come inside me," you begged, peering at him through a veil of tears. "I want you to fill me, please."

Henry snapped, pulsating hot inside you. He rode you earnestly, the muscles of his behind flexing inward and you could sense him swelling bigger and pulsating as his climax drew near.

An onslaught of grunts and animalistic roars tore from his throat. Henry's chest lifted from yours, and he threw his head back as he spilled himself, pumping you full of his hot seed. His cum felt like a soothing warm lake of honey inside you, taking the very last tendrils of pain away.

Humming to yourself you tried to relax, hugging the bear of a man on top of you. Your hearts still fluttered as the pleasure lingered, surrounding you both in a euphoric aura. As the air shook through your lungs and your tears dried, you kissed his cheek and moved your lips to whisper in his ear.

"I think I kinda like it when you hurt me..."

Henry growled gently, shifting his head slightly to brush his lips against yours and bump your noses together.

"Well it's a good thing that we have all weekend to ourselves, we can stay in bed and test some... boundaries. Shall we?"

_______

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #littlefreya's fiction #henry cavill rpf

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keigoslovebird · 5 years ago

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Next Chapter

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Warnings: Manga spoilers!! Pregnancy and references to pregnancy, you have a child (obvi), aged up characters, breeding kink, negative self image (on Toshi’s part), references to alcohol, self deprecating language, very fluffy Daddy Toshi shenanigans

Genre: Fluff, smut

Word count: 8.3k

Author’s note: I had so much fun writing soft husband Toshi, if it isn’t obvious by the word count. I just want to rub his soft belly and tell him how much I love him. Hopefully you enjoy this as much as I did writing it!

Note: Flashbacks indicated by italics

Wakatoshi Ushijima has always been a man of few emotions and even fewer words, with just one thing on his mind—volleyball.

Since he was a young child, he has always slept, eaten, breathed volleyball. Nothing came close to his fiery, burning passion for the sport, not that he had the time to care about anything else.

That all changed when he retired from professional volleyball at the ripe young age of thirty-one, the years of wear and tear on his body finally catching up to him. He knew it was time when the pain in his joints was so severe he could no longer keep up with his much younger teammates. It was a difficult, emotional decision, but he ultimately viewed it as passing the torch to the next generation of volleyball players.

The announcement of Wakatoshi’s retirement was met with great sadness from the sports community at the loss of such a talented, renowned player, but he left behind an exceptional legacy marked by achievements and historic wins.

His final game with the Schweiden Adlers concluded in a symbolic victory, this chapter of his life drawing to a close the same way it began—with Wakatoshi as an indisputable champion. Every player, coach, and audience member rose from their seats, clapping and screaming words of encouragement. Each of his teammates got on their knees, lowering themselves to press their foreheads into the floor of the stadium, bowing in an ultimate show of respect. The sight of his peers, his coaches, the entire auditorium giving him such an impassioned send off made a heavy lump form in his throat that refused to go away, no matter how many times he tried to swallow it down. Tears pricked at his eyes but he didn’t want to cry, not in front of all of these people.

The dam broke when you sprinted across the court, wrapping yourself around him in a bone crushing hug.

“You did so well Toshi. I am so proud of you,” you praised through choked sobs, pressing your tear-stained face into his neck. Your watery eyes and trembling smile shattered whatever willpower he had, his own tears streaming down his face like a waterfall. All those late night practices away from you, the excruciating injuries, the heartbreaking losses, all led up to this moment. This was the last time the Super Ace would step foot on a volleyball court as a professional player, but all good things must come to an end.

The screaming and clapping was so loud you could barely hear his quiet, trembling whisper of, “I love you.”

----

It took him awhile to adjust to what one would call a “normal” life, one that didn’t include daily flights from country to country or backbreaking practices that lasted from sunup to sundown. Sure he still went to the gym and practiced with the volleyball net strung up in your backyard, but it was nothing like his grueling schedule when he was a pro athlete. To make matters worse, the blinders he wore his entire life that blocked out anything but volleyball prevented him from finding any real hobbies of his own. This meant for the first few months, your husband followed you around the house like a lost puppy, just wanting to be a part of whatever you were doing.

You would be cooking dinner, some soup simmering on the stove, when Wakatoshi’s massive form would come up from behind you to shyly peek over your shoulder.

“What’re you doing?” he wondered, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

You could feel a smile tugging at your lips at how cute he was being, getting used to domestic life, something you never really got to experience until now. Before, you would often be sleeping when he came home at night, and still be asleep when he left in the morning. “I’m just cooking, do you want to help me?” you asked, holding a knife out to him to cut some vegetables. He nodded silently as he took the knife from you.

His chopping skills left much to be desired, but what could you really expect from a man who only ever held a volleyball?

Another time you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through Twitter on your phone. You could feel your husband staring so intensely you were afraid he’d pop a blood vessel in his head.

Looking up at him, you cleared your throat and asked, “Did you need something, Toshi?” You set your phone down and gave him a questioning look, hoping to solve whatever was troubling him.

He was pensive for a moment, his eyebrows scrunching as he figured out what he was trying to say. “No, I just… There’s nothing to do,” he answered finally.

You nearly burst out laughing at his concern for simply being bored, but you held it in. “Of course there’s something to do!” you exclaimed, “You can go on a walk, read a book, watch TV, or even just take a nap.”

His head tilted quizzically, unsure of what you were suggesting. “A… nap? Why would I sleep? It’s the middle of the afternoon,” he questioned, sounding like you had proposed he eat sand and not to take a quick snooze.

You chuckled and walked over to the chair he was sitting in, plopping yourself down into his lap. “Sometimes people sleep in the middle of the day because they’re tired, or just because they want to,” you clarified, “We can go take a nap right now if you would like.”

Suddenly Wakatoshi stood up, causing you to squeak in surprise, his arms securely carrying you bridal style.

“W-what’re you doing!?” you squealed, panicked by your sudden lack of solid ground, slightly struggling in arms.

He tilted his head again, reminiscent of a pet confused by its master’s orders. “We’re going to take a nap together, yes? I’m taking you to our room,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of your shared bedroom.

You stopped squirming once you took in his words, your belly fluttering with affection. Sighing happily, you snuggled your face against his chest, giving him a simple “mhm” in response.

That day Wakatoshi took his first nap since he was six years old and to this day, he still swears he’s never had a more restful, peaceful sleep in his life.

Those instances happened less and less often as he figured out ways to occupy his time that didn’t involve volleyball.

You adopted a dog, a commitment you didn’t want to make in the past due to both of your busy schedules, but your lives became a lot less hectic after Wakatoshi’s retirement. Your husband made it a daily ritual to take your puppy Leo out on a morning run, both of them returning tired and sweaty before promptly passing out for an hour. He took up a job at the local university to help coach their men’s volleyball team, deciding to try it out when the requests to lend his wisdom and skills kept coming in. Although, his favorite pastime now consists of him standing outside on the patio, beer in hand as he sweats over the flames of his fancy silver grill.

But perhaps the most significant change in your lives came in the form of your son, Hidetoshi.

Much like your refusal to commit to taking care of a dog, neither of you wanted to have kids while your lifestyle was so unfit to raise a child. You didn’t mind making those compromises for your husband, having known the path he would take since you started dating in high school. Frankly, you didn’t mind not having children at all, so it surprised you when he was the one to broach the subject.

“What if we did?” he inquired under the darkness of your bedroom.

You turned over to face him, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek. “What if we did what, my love?” you murmured.

His eyes flitted across your face with an uncharacteristic nervousness. “What if we decided to have a child?” The shock on your face made his stomach churn uncomfortably and he almost regretted saying anything at all, but his fears quickly vanished as your expression melted into a soft smile.

“We’d have to talk about it more but I’d love to have your children, Wakatoshi Ushijima.”

You had a deep, lengthy conversation about your wants, needs, plans for the future, and whether or not a kid would fit into them. Once all of your cards were on the table you decided to start trying to get pregnant, a mission that your husband took very seriously.

Even as a teenager Wakatoshi’s sex drive wasn’t very high, and his frequent absence and exhaustion in his adult life made it somewhat difficult for you to have sex often. You made up for it where you could, having phone sex and masturbating together over FaceTime, once you convinced him to do it. When he was bewildered as to why you would suggest such a salacious act, you explained you were a grown woman with needs and if he wasn’t there to take care of them, he’d have to help you in other ways. Once he realized how serious you were, he agreed.

But your husband as a young adult and your husband post-retirement are almost two completely different people in regards to sex. He has seemingly unlimited reserves of stamina, built up over years of rigorous, intense training, and he no longer had an outlet to expend them. So, his new outlet to test his endurance became you and your body.

He began fucking you every chance he got with the vigor and gusto of a hormonal teenager, seeking to make up for lost time. He asked for sex at all hours of the day, waking you up in the middle of the night with the insistent prodding of his arousal and lazily thrusting between your thighs in the early hours of the morning before you had to leave for work. He fucked you in every room in your house and on every surface—on the dining room table, in the shower, on the living room floor, and even on your back patio when you both got a little too drunk on some cheap rose.

You welcomed Wakatoshi’s insatiable hunger with open arms, unable to resist your strong, ridiculously handsome husband, but that, coupled with his seemingly limitless stamina, spelled trouble for your muscles and pelvis. In the first year after his departure from professional sports you had to call in sick to work seven times, too tired to function, too bruised to look presentable, and too sore to walk to the bathroom. At first he felt guilty for fucking you out of commission, but the way you begged him so sweetly to pound your needy, gushing cunt deeper, harder, faster and how you whimpered with delight when he bit bruises down your throat, he didn’t feel that bad. A baser, more primal part of Wakatoshi’s brain purred at his marks covering our body and relished in the way you limped. You were just too tempting, too irresistible not to ravage you every chance he got.

After you agreed to start trying for a baby, your partner’s already voracious sexual appetite became downright menacing now that he had a goal to strive for.

“Gonna breed you, gonna fill you so full with my cum and knock you up,” he grunted as he battered into your sore, dripping hole, your body folded in half in a mating press.

“P-please Toshi! Ah~ please,” you babbled, nonsensical and uncertain what you were even asking for. He had been fucking you for so long everything was muddled into a singular dreamy, intangible haze of pleasure and ecstasy.

Wakatoshi gave your clit a slap, hard enough to make you cry out. “Please what? Please breed you like a bitch in heat? Please stuff you full with my cum?” He leaned down to wrap his fingers around your throat, squeezing with enough force to make your head swim and forcing you to look into his wild olive eyes. “Well, what is it?” he demanded.

“W-want you to b-ah! Want you to breed mee,” you slurred, too drunk on the delicious feeling of his cock dragging against your pulsing walls to form a more coherent sentence.

His thrusts grew sloppy and uncoordinated with his impending orgasm. “G-gonna give you what you want, you cock hungry slut, I’m—” He came with a choked, shuddering groan, his warm cum flooding your awaiting womb.

You were both basking in the afterglow, exhausted and soaked in sweat and your combined fluids, when you noticed the furious blush spreading across your husband’s cheeks. “I apologize for what I said during sex. I… I don’t know what came over me,” he confessed, giving your shoulder a remorseful squeeze.

Giggling, you leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I really enjoyed it,” you proclaimed, “I love it when you get rough with me.”

Trying to get you pregnant gave your husband a new goal to strive for and he has never been one to do anything with less than his all.

Thanks to your husband’s dedicated efforts, you got pregnant six months after you started trying, to your shared elation and delight. Those two little lines filled you with as much excitement as they made you anxious, but as long as Wakatoshi was by your side, everything would be okay.

Seeing your little bundle of joy in a 3D ultrasound changed you, changed Wakatoshi forever. Up until then you had only seen him as a colorless little blur on a computer screen, but getting to watch his precious face scrunch and his chubby legs kick reminded you that he was a real living being. The late night sprints to the bathroom, horrible morning sickness, and miserably aching back were all worth it when you were able to hold Hidetoshi for the first time. With his olive eyes, brown hair and chubby cheeks, he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen and to this day he still is.

Taking after his father from the start, Hidetoshi was a happy baby that rarely fussed or cried, not that you complained. He slept soundly through most nights, so soundly you slept in a chair by his crib for the first month to periodically check he was still breathing, despite your husband’s insistence the baby would be fine. Your mother-in-law had insisted that you and Wakatoshi would be exhausted for the first several months after the birth. Imagine her surprised when you and Wakatoshi looked just as well-rested as usual, better even, since you no longer had to deal with pregnancy. Many people, relatives and strangers alike, were astounded at how charming and polite your son was, even as a newborn. He was happy to just sit and play with his toys as you had lunch, smiling and waving at everyone who passed by.

A man as attractive as your husband with a boy as sweet as your son meant that, much to your irritation, women were tripping over themselves to flirt with him. To make matters worse, Wakatoshi picked up your son alone most days due to your office job preventing you from leaving early enough to go with him. This meant many of the moms at Hidetoshi’s school thought your husband was single and they weren’t shy in their pursuit.

A crowd of women surrounded Wakatoshi as he waited for school to end so your son would come running out with his arms spread wide, confident his daddy would always catch him. Most of the moms simply stared at your husband with dreamy looks in their eyes, attempting to make small talk with him.

One especially bold mother reached out and stroked his bicep, slightly squeezing to get a feel for his muscles. “My my Ushijima, you’re so handsome and strong,” she purred, batting her eyelashes at him.

“My wife thinks so as well,” he grunted as he gently but firmly removed his arm from her grasp.

The woman looked as if he had slapped her across the face and cursed her family. “Y-you’re married? But you don’t even have a wedding ring!” she spluttered, “If you have a wife then where is she everyday?”

“I do have a ring. I just don’t wear it on my finger because I’m afraid of losing it,” he clarified, lightly tugging on the chain around his neck for emphasis, his ring clinking softly against the metal. “I’m happily married to my wife who cannot be here because she is hard at work providing for our family. Do not disrespect my wife or my marriage again or we will have a problem.”

After that the other moms kept their distance, choosing to admire Wakatoshi from afar. It did not, however, stop them from staring with envy on the rare occasion you came with him to pick up your child, glowering at you with an intensity that surely wished you would drop dead. Your husband paid them no mind and neither did you because at the end of the day, you’re the one he chose to marry and have a child with. They can all flirts and look as much as they want, but they’ll never have him like you do.

----

Fast forward to present day, Wakatoshi is seven years into his retirement at the age of thirty-eight and Hidetoshi is now six.

Your husband is an assistant coach part time for the men’s volleyball team at an up and coming university, the rest of his time divided between you and taking care of your son. Hidetoshi just started kindergarten, growing far too fast for your liking. He seems to have gotten a double dose of his father’s genes as he’s already several inches taller than his classmates, though you can tell by the way he smiles and the slope of his nose that he’s yours as well. He’s the perfect combination of both of you—he has Wakatoshi’s tenacity, work ethic, and confidence and your sense of humor, intelligence, and empathy. He continues to amaze you every single day and you nor your husband couldn’t imagine a boy more wonderful than him.

These days your lives are a lot less busy than they were when your husband was still a pro, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. With all the playdates, school functions, and parent-teacher conferences combined with your own job, Wakatoshi’s games, and regular house chores, sometimes it feels like you’re right back where you were ten years ago. This time, however, you have your incredible husband and son helping you and you wouldn’t trade your life for anything, no matter how hectic it may be.

Today is Saturday, it’s the weekend, and you’re only awake because of the bright sunlight that’s streaming through your bedroom window and hitting you directly in the face. You rub the sleep out of your eyes with the back of your hand, yawning loudly as you stretch your tired limbs. As soon as you try to get out of bed Wakatoshi’s arm around your waist tightens, pulling you flush against his solid, muscular chest.

“Don’t leave. Don’t need to be anywhere,” he mumbles into his pillow, voice even deeper and raspier with sleep. His legs entangle themselves with your own so you’re completely enveloped in the warm, comforting embrace of your husband.

“Need to start getting ready for the party,” you sigh drowsily, but make no efforts to remove yourself from his sleepy but surprisingly strong clutches.

“Not yet,” he says simply, and that’s when you realize when he’s doing. He’s slowly, lazily grinding his morning wood on the soft curve of your ass. You’re a little more awake now.

“Oh I see what this is about,” you chuckle, wiggling yourself against him teasingly.

He groans quietly under his breath, but you can feel the sound rumble in his chest. “Want you,” he says, still groggy from just barely waking up. His fingers find the hem of your shirt and he slips them underneath it, trailing his digits lightly down your stomach, making you shiver.

“Little man will be up soon,” you halfheartedly protest, but you can feel the warmth pooling between your legs.

“He’s not up yet, we have time.” The movements of his hips become more insistent, more demanding and you have to stifle your mewls behind your hand. Wakatoshi easily maneuvers his hand into the waistband of your panties, making a satisfied hum when he discovers you’re already dripping for him.

You’re still resisting, though it’s weak and feeble. The list of all the preparations you have to make for the barbecue still manage to just barely cut through your sleepy arousal. “We have so much to d—ahh~” You try to sound firm, but it just comes out as a breathy moan when he begins rubbing your swollen clit.

He uses his other hand to push up your shirt that’s actually his shirt, tracing small circles around your nipples with his rough fingertips. You try to push your hips into his hand in hopes to gain more friction, but his arms keep you locked in place.

“No need to rush. Let’s just enjoy this,” he insists, but the finger massaging your bud gets faster, knowing just how to make you whine after all the time he’s had to learn your body. He pinches one of your nipples between two fingers and squeezes with just enough force to make you gasp.

His erection has gotten even harder at the sound of your mewls and whimpers, hot and achingly hard against your ass and your cunt clenches in anticipation. Your slick is dripping out of you in thick, syrupy strings that makes your thighs sticky, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Please Toshi, need you,” you beg, desperate for your husband to stuff you full just as he’s done so many times before.

Wakatoshi doesn’t respond, opting to push his pants and underwear down to his knees and you almost sigh in relief, just needing to satisfy the desire that’s threatening to burn you from the inside out. You’re so hot you feel like you’re burning and you throw the comforter off of you to try to escape the heat. He removes the hand that was in your panties, instead using it to rub his hard length along your slick folds. You’re keening and so so needy, gasping each time the head catches on the tight ring of muscle around your entrance.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he grits out, barely able to control himself.

Your breath is coming in short, uneven pants as you try to sink yourself down onto him. “I love you so much I...”

That’s the moment when he sheaths his entire cock inside you in a singular fluid movement. You let out a strangled moan, relishing in the familiar burning as you stretch to accommodate how thick he is. Your pussy clamps down on him like a vice, molding perfectly around his length.

“It’s like you were made for me, made to take me,” Wakatoshi growls, sending another wave of arousal rippling through your body. He stays still for a moment, breathing deeply because he doesn’t want to cum and have this end so soon.

He starts moving his hips, thrusting slow and deep to reach the spongy spot inside you that makes you scream. The hand on your breast reaches around to grab your throat, stifling your moans into small, stuttering gasps. You whine each time he shoves himself deep inside you, his cock dragging deliciously against your spongy walls.

You stay like that for a while, bodies joined in the most intimate of ways as Wakatoshi moves his hips in leisurely, unhurried strokes. Your body is hot, sweaty, thrumming with the pleasure that’s so overwhelming all you can focus on is the intoxicating feeling of your husband’s cock deep inside you. The tightening in your core signals your impending orgasm, but each time you get close to the edge, it escapes your grasp over and over again. You need him to pound into you faster, harder. You need more.

“Toshi please, I-I need,” you manage to stammer out, but your words are stolen from your throat as he sharply thrusts as deep as he can, the tip of his cock smashing against your cervix with just the right amount of pressure.

“Don’t worry. I know just what you need.”

Wakatoshi is fucking you with so much force that your eyes are rolling back in your head, and all you can hear is the wet slapping sound each time he’s sucked back into your wet heat. He’s close, you can tell by the breathy groans he’s making, but so are you. You clench and spasm around him, growing impossibly tighter and bringing both of you closer to climax. His merciless pounding of your insides just gets faster and rougher, and his other hand moves down to rub your clit in tight, fast circles.

The pleasure that clouds your senses is overwhelming, just dancing on the edge between pleasure and pain and your body can’t take it anymore. Your vision goes white as you cum, cunt clamping down so hard Wakatoshi can barely move. You clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming, your body shaking and trembling as you gush around him. The endless clenching of your muscles practically milks his orgasm out of him, a stifled groan leaving his lips as his thick, hot cum coats your insides. All you can do is moan softly in appreciation, too incoherent to say anything else.

Your husband presses a kiss to your sweaty neck. “Are you okay?” he asks, taking in the sight of your limp, spent body.

You haven’t caught your breath yet and your lips won’t form proper words, so you make the only noise you can, “Mmfmm.”

You whine as he slowly pulls out his softening length with an audible pop, sensitive cunt spasming at the slightest stimulation. He untangles himself from you and you want to reach out for him, but you’re too boneless to even attempt to do anything yet.

As Wakatoshi gets out of bed to get a warm washcloth, you hear the familiar sound of little footsteps making their way towards your room and you shoot up in bed, fully alert. You quickly pull the covers over your body, just in time for Hidetoshi to come bounding in.

“G’morning Mama! Where’s Daddy?” he wonders, his little head poking around the corner.

Your husband comes out of the bathroom, now fully dressed and washcloth in hand. “I’m right here, Hidetoshi.” The boy runs straight towards his father who picks him up effortlessly, swinging him around in the air as he squeals with delight. “Did you sleep well?”

Hide bobs his head enthusiastically, “Mhm! I had a dream I was a professional volleyball player just like you.”

Your loud, exaggerated sigh draws both sets of olive eyes to you, but you train your gaze on your husband. “Have you been putting ideas in his head?”

Wakatoshi shakes his head no, but the child in his arms pipes up first, “Daddy has been showing me videos of his old matches from when he was with the Schwimmy Addles.” Your husband makes a noise of surprise, a guilty look on his face now that he’s been found out.

“You two are going to be my undoing, I swear,” you chuckle as you flop back into the fluffy pillows.

Hide squirms in his father’s arms, reaching out to you, but the man recognizes the warning look in your eyes and tightens his arms around him. “We should let Mama finish waking up first. Why don’t we go downstairs and make breakfast?” he asks, tickling his sides.

The boy shrieks with laughter and wriggles even harder in Wakatoshi’s arms. “F-fine Daddy! Stooop it!” Your husband stops his tickling and hoists your son over his shoulder, gently patting his back.

He passes the washcloth to Hide. “Why don’t you give this to your mama? Then we can go have something to eat.”

Hide uses his little arms to hold the cloth out to you and you take it from him, nodding with gratitude. “Thank you sweetie, now go with your daddy.”

Your husband starts walking towards the door as a small, chubby hand waves bye to you and you blow kisses to them as they disappear into the hallway.

Using the washcloth, you clean the mess between your legs and muster the monumental effort it takes to get out of bed. You begrudgingly walk over to your dresser to put on clean pajamas and brush your hair so you’re presentable for a meal with your family. The sound of the fire alarm going off has you racing downstairs to the kitchen where Wakatoshi and your son should be.

As you slide into the kitchen and almost fall on the slippery hardwood in your haste, you realize your panic was for nothing. There’s a pan on the stove, grey smoke billowing out of it. Upon further inspection you discern that it’s eggs, you think, that are simultaneously under and overcooked. The guilty parties are sitting at the kitchen table a few feet away, a jug of milk and a couple of boxes of cereal surrounding them. Hide is shoveling spoonfuls of Cheerios into his mouth as your husband eats his own breakfast, only slightly neater in his approach.

“So… you tried to cook?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow at the large man chewing his Wheat Chex. He looks over at you and nods, mouth full with milk and cereal. “I’m guessing it didn’t go very well, judging by all the smoke,” you say slowly. Your husband simply shakes his head no, unbothered by the fact that he nearly gave you a heart attack.

Deciding it’s not worth the argument or the work to make a proper breakfast, you sit down next to Hide and pour yourself a bowl of Cheerios. He smiles at you, mouth open and full of disgusting half-chewed food, but you still return his beaming grin and ruffle his hair. The both of them are troublemakers in their own ways, but they’re your troublemakers nonetheless.

After you’ve all eaten breakfast, you lay a notepad in front of them that has a list of all the things you have to do before your guests arrive for the barbecue.

You’re standing between them, pointing at each task on the list. “I still have to sweep and vacuum the house, Toshi you need to go to the store and buy all the food, and Hide you need to pick up all your toys that are in the backyard. We have a lot to do today and everyone has to do their part, okay?” you urge, looking between the males on either side of you and they both nod emphatically.

With everyone so busy, it’s difficult to find weekends where they’re all available so this get together has been planned for months. You’ll all be seeing friends and loved ones you haven’t seen in a long time, and it’s a team effort to make sure everything is ready for tonight.

----

You finish all of the tasks on time, with an hour to spare thanks to your joint efforts.

Hide is playing in his room while you and your husband get dressed and ready for what will likely be a long night of socializing and entertaining.

As you’re doing your makeup and getting ready for the party, you notice Wakatoshi staring at himself in the mirror, shirtless. His brows are furrowed, a deep frown on his face as he scrutinizes his reflection. He pinches his belly with both hands, scowling at the softness that used to be hard muscle. Tracing a finger along the stretch marks on his stomach and arms, he sighs heavily.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” you ask from the bathroom.

Your husband walks over to lean against the wall behind you, his unreadable expression reflected in the bathroom mirror. He hesitates before answering, “I’ve let myself go.”

You set your mascara down on the counter and spin around to face him. “Wakatoshi, what in the world are you talking about?”

“I just said what. I heard a couple of my players say that I’m not as strong or as fast as I was when I was a professional.”

You loosely wrap your arms around his torso, squeezing gently. “Of course you’re not what you used to be, Toshi.” At the sight of his deepening frown you quickly add, “You’re so busy being a father, husband, and coach you don’t have the time to work out like you used to.” Getting on your tippy toes, you press a kiss to his nose, “And that’s okay.” It’s a rare occasion that he looks this vulnerable. His anxiety and self-consciousness are so clearly written in his features and it makes your heart ache for him.

“It doesn’t bother you that I don’t look like that anymore?” he asks, pointing at the framed photo of his first win with the Japan National Team that hangs on the wall.

“Why would it bother me? This is the body races my son across our backyard, helps me fix our home we bought together, and makes love to me every night. I love you just as much as I did back then, and even more now that we have Hide,” you reassure him and you mean every word of it. Sure he’s not the most romantic of husbands, but he’s your husband and you love him just the way he is, with or without muscles.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips and he squeezes you even tighter to him. “I know I probably don’t say this as much as I should, but I love you.”

You pepper kisses all over his eyelids, lips and nose. “And I love you more than anything, Wakatoshi. More than you will ever know.”

Your hands lovingly caress his chest that’s softer now, but still sturdy and muscular, and his arms that are not as lean anymore, but are still just as powerful and capable. “For the record, I love how soft you are these days. It’s great cushioning for when we cuddle.”

“Hidetoshi says the same thing,” he recalls, smiling at the thought of your beloved son.

After giving him a knowing look, you go back to putting on your makeup. “See? I told you. That boy is just as smart as his mother.”

It’s nearing five o’clock so Wakatoshi goes to the backyard to start grilling the food for everyone, while you and Hide finish plating the fruits and vegetables you prepared earlier.

You work in comfortable silence until your son turns to you, his eyes shining with unanswered questions. “Hey Mama?”

Putting down the strawberry you were holding, you sit down on the stool next to him and hold his hands in yours. “What’s on your mind, sweetie?”

“Do you not want me to be a volleyball player like Daddy? Is that why you got mad when I told you he showed me the videos?”

You almost break your neck with how fast you shake your head in denial. “Of course not! I wasn’t mad, it’s just…” you start, trying to find a way to phrase your thoughts that he’ll understand. “Daddy’s job was very hard. His body still hurts a lot from all the times he got injured when he played volleyball. And… his job took him away from me and I missed him a whole lot.”

The look on his face is so reminiscent of his father, it’s like young Wakatoshi was frozen in time and plopped into the chair right next to you. With the way his eyebrows are scrunched up and his mouth is downturned as he thinks, he really is the spitting image of your husband. “Did it make you sad?”

Taking a deep breath, you hold your arms out to him so he can climb into your lap. “Sometimes it did. Mostly at night when I was all alone and Daddy was really far away.”

He rests his head against your shoulder, looking up at you. “Do you wish Daddy had a different job?”

You look out the window at your husband who’s starting up the grill, then look back at the sweet, round face of your boy. “No, I don’t. Daddy’s job was really important to him and it made him so happy that I grew to love it too, even if it made me sad sometimes.”

He sits up in your lap, thinking hard about what you said as he plays with your necklace. “Does Daddy still wish he could do it?”

“Probably, but it’s okay. If he hadn’t stopped, we wouldn’t have you, and you make our lives so much brighter and happier. Your Daddy and I love you so much, you couldn’t even imagine it.”

He spreads his arms out as far as he can. “This much?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Even more.”

“Wow, that’s a lot.” Hide’s eyes are wide with surprise, mouth slightly agape as he tries to imagine something so large and vast.

Laughing, you press a kiss to his head. “It sure is a lot, baby. Now why don’t we finish putting out all the food so we can go see what Daddy’s doing?”

Your son leaps out of your lap to grab handfuls of grapes and blueberries from the cartons on the counter, dropping them into the divided sections of the serving platter. “Aren’t you going to help me, Mama?”

You give him a look of mock offense before standing ramrod straight, giving him a mock salute. “As you command, Commander Ushijima.”

You carry both trays of food out to the backyard, not trusting Hide’s ability to hold them upright, while he carries a volleyball in his arms. Wakatoshi turns at the sound of footsteps, a small smile on his face as your son drops the volleyball, barreling straight into his legs with a force that makes the man grunt.

Hide looks up at his father, both arms wrapped around his legs. “Whatcha doing Daddy?” he asks.

Your husband reaches a hand down to ruffle his hair, a slight look of pain in his eyes from the boy slamming into his shins. “I’m just getting ready to start cooking the food for tonight. Do you want to help me?” He bends down to pick him up and Hide quickly hops into his arms, well practiced and effortless with how strong your husband is. The man points to different parts of the grill, explaining what they do, taking care to keep the boy far away from the flames.

Setting the plates down on the table, you inform Wakatoshi, “Hajime and Tooru should be here soon, so should Tobio and Eita. Satori called and said he might be late, something about his luggage getting lost.” At that moment the doorbell rings, signaling your first guests are here. “I’ll get it. You two stay here and get the food on the grill.”

You open the front door, greeted with the familiar faces of Hajime and Tooru. “It’s so nice to see you two! Come on inside, don’t be shy,” stepping aside, you hold your arm out to welcome them into your home.

“Mrs. Ushijima you get more and more beautiful each time I see you,” Tooru teases as you snicker in response.

“I see marriage hasn’t changed you at all, has it?” you question, more so directed at Hajime.

“I tell him people are going to get the wrong idea,” the shorter man replies, sounding exasperated.

You usher them towards the backyard before picking up various soda and beer cans. “Wakatoshi and Hide are both in the back. You two go ahead and keep them company while I bring these out.”

It takes a few trips before you join them in the backyard, handing each adult a can and a juice pouch to Hide, who’s sitting at the picnic table with Tooru while Hajime chats with your husband.

“How old are you now, little man?” the brunette asks.

Hide holds up five fingers plus his thumb as he swings his legs back and forth. “I’m six! I just started kindergarten.”

They both wave at you as you join them, sitting on the other side of the table. Tooru leans in towards you, a hand cupped around his mouth, and you tilt your ear towards him. “He’s so… polite and well-mannered. Are you sure Ushiwaka is the father?” he whispers, narrowing his eyes.

You lightly smack his head, glaring daggers in his direction. “Yes, obviously. Look at them, they’re basically twins.” Tooru looks at the boy sitting next to him then at your husband standing at the grill, then back to your son, then back to your husband. Hand on his chin, he takes in their matching olive eyes and hair and similar expressions, nodding seriously.

“I was just making sure.”

The doorbell rings a couple more times, Tobio and Eita arriving one right after the other. With almost all of your guests present, everyone is drinking and catching up, some casually passing a volleyball back and forth with Hide.

You’re in the middle of telling Tobio that Hidetoshi is too young to be thinking about his future career when the doorbell rings once more, indicating the last of your guests has arrived. You rush inside to get it, not bothering to check who’s there because you already know who it is. Swinging the door open, you pull the man into a tight hug.

“Satori! We’re so glad you made it,” you exclaim, giving his back a few hard slaps.

The redhead pulls away from you, smiling. “I’m so glad I was able to make it in time. The airport lost my luggage, then my parents forgot to leave me a key to their house so I had to wait until a neighbor could let me in. To make matters worse, I got stopped by security when I landed because of this,” he says, holding up a white box with a bow around it.

You quickly grab the box, shaking it to try to hear what’s inside and sniffing it for good measure. “Ooh la la, did you bring us some fancy French chocolates?” you ask. “Actually, don’t tell me, Hide will want to open it.” You hand the box back to him and gesture him to follow you, “Everyone’s in the back so just follow me.”

With Satori in tow, you step onto the back porch and call your son’s name. He hands the ball to Eita before running over, eyes lighting up when he sees the man standing next to you.

“Uncle Tori!” he shouts, launching himself into Satori’s arms.

“Hey there Little Toshi, how you been? Keeping your dad out of trouble?” he asks, hugging the boy tightly.

“I think so! Well… we burnt some eggs this morning and the smoke machines started beeping, but that doesn’t count, right?”

The red-haired man waves his hand dismissively. “Of course it doesn’t. Any crimes committed in the name of breakfast are excused,” he insists. Pulling the box out from behind his back, he offers it to Hide. “I brought you something all the way from France, do you know where France is?”

Hide takes the present from him, “Yeah, it’s in Europe! Daddy showed it to me on a map.” He struggles a bit with the bow before he decides to just rip it off, lifting up the lid.

Satori points to the various chocolates laid on top of wax paper. “This one is filled with something called ‘ganache,’ which is basically just more chocolate, but it’s liquidy. That one over there has caramel, and the one right next to it is a bonbon filled with strawberry jelly. I picked all the best ones just for you.”

The boy smiles, eyes wandering over the chocolates like they’re bars of gold. “Thank you Uncle Tori! I bet they’re really yummy.”

He pats Hide on the head. “I hope you enjoy them lots. Now I gotta go say hi to your daddy, where is he?” Your son points to where Wakatoshi is standing at the grill, a spatula in one hand and a beer in the other as he chats with Tobio. “Thanks Little Toshi,” he says, ruffling his hair.

Satori walks over to your husband, pulling him into a crushing bear hug before he can say anything. “Wakatoshi, it’s been too long! I sure get lonely all the way in France, have you guys ever thought about moving?”

Wakatoshi freezes for a moment before giving in, hugging the man back, though slightly stiff in his movements. “We will not be moving to France. Hidetoshi will be raised here in Japan.”

The redhead releases him, sensing his discomfort. “Well, it was worth a shot. How’s your retirement? You miss being a pro?”

“I do miss it sometimes, but it was necessary to let a better, younger player take my place. I wouldn’t trade a few more years on the court for the life I have now with my wife and my son.”

Satori lets out a loud whistle. “I never thought I would hear the day that Wakatoshi Ushijima would say he cares about anything more than volleyball.”

“Volleyball was my entire life before, but they’re my entire world.”

The shorter man just smiles, silent for a moment before pointing to the apron your husband is wearing. “I didn’t think you’d actually wear that thing, Wakatoshi!” The apron black with bright red lettering that says ‘Wakatoshi: Grill Master,’ with a drawing of a flaming steak next to it.

“It keeps my clothes clean. Why wouldn’t I wear it?” he asks, genuinely curious. The redhead just laughs and shakes his head, patting him on the shoulder.

Your husband finishes grilling the food, much to the excitement and relief of the many hungry men who have been circling him like a hawk. Everyone takes from the piles of meat and vegetables, noticeably happier now that their stomachs are full. You’re all sitting around the picnic table, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

Hajime recalls a story from when he first signed on as the athletic trainer for the national team. Wakatoshi had approached him after practice, saying he had a serious issue that he wanted someone to take a look at. Concerned for his player’s wellbeing, naturally he took him into the locker room and Wakatoshi took off his shirt. At first, he thought he might’ve stretched one of his ligaments too far or had even torn his rotator cuff muscle. Imagine his surprise when Wakatoshi pointed to an ingrown hair on his back, saying it was inflamed and causing him pain. It was then that Hajime had to explain that he’s not that type of medical professional, and that he should make an appointment with a dermatologist.

The sun starts to set, but with the fun everyone is having they barely notice. The night begins to wind down once Hide yawns, rubbing his eyes tiredly, and it sets off a chain reaction of yawning that reaches every person at the table. Your son starts tugging on your sleeve, informing you he’d like to go to bed. Not wanting to leave him alone in the house and taking note of the exhaustion on everyone’s faces, you politely suggest to end the night early. A chorus of heads bob, indicating their desire to head home and sleep.

All three of you hug and kiss everyone goodbye, waving to them as they drive away. You sigh from exhaustion and head inside to put Hide in bed. You and your husband hold each of his hands and take him to his room, pulling back his covers so he can climb in.

He yawns again and closes his eyes, settling into his bed. “Night night Mama, Daddy. I love you.”

You stroke his cheek lovingly before placing a kiss on his forehead. “Goodnight sweetie, I love you too.”

Your husband comes up from behind you to kiss Hide as well. “Sleep well, Hidetoshi. I love you.”

With your son asleep in his own bed, all you have to do is take off your makeup and brush your teeth before you too can sleep.

You’re in the middle of washing your face when Wakatoshi comes into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“I enjoyed tonight, I hope you did too,” he says.

You turn around to look at him and smile. “I did, it was amazing to see everyone in one place. It’s been years since we were all able to see each other.” After you finish washing your face, you stretch and yawn loudly, telling your husband, “I’m getting in bed now, join me when you’re done.”

Climbing under the sheets, you nestle yourself into the softness of your bed. You nearly doze off right then, but the shifting of the bed under Wakatoshi’s weight keeps you awake just a bit longer.

He slides in behind you so he can spoon you, an arm slung over your waist.

“Goodnight Toshi, I love you.”

“Goodnight, I love you too.”

Before he falls asleep, Wakatoshi thinks of all the things in his life that led him here, to you, his wonderful wife, and his precious son.

Leaving professional volleyball was one of the hardest decisions he’s ever had to make in his thirty-seven years of living, but the end of that chapter of his life gave him Hidetoshi.

He knows that every moment of uncertainty, suffering, and hardship was worth it because it ultimately led him to you and your son, to this life you’ve built together.

He’d do it all over again a thousand times over if it meant that your beautiful, shining face would be there to greet him in the end.

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #hq smut #hq fanfic #reader insert #hq reader insert #hq imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #ushijima smut #bunny scribbles

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babylooneytoonz · 4 years ago

Text

monster

part two of bear

Ft. Geralt of Rivia x Reader

summary: when Geralt loves the monster inside of you, you think you have nothing to worry about. But what happens when someone frames you when you are innocent and poisons your lover's mind, turning him against you?

warnings: angst

*Please reblog if you like it, do not repost, copy or claim my work as yours.

[My Masterlist]

The smouldering heat from the fire warmed your blood and bones to no extent, but what was the point of it? You looked at the blanket of the stars above you, but the brittle tears in your eyes made your vision blurry and difficult. Bringing your fingers gingerly to the side of your blood stained face, you pinched the bridge of your nose, waiting for the midnight to strike once more and your wretched curse to take over you.

He was your respite, in this cruel world of harshness. He, in his own different way, his outer shell hard and impossible to crack; used to be soft and gentle just for your eyes. He was like your little flicker of fire, that reflected in your eyes, warming up the cold in your heart. Geralt of Rivia. Fucking White Wolf. The bloody bastard that did this to you, and now you were out here, in the middle of nowhere, hunched underneath the canopy of the trees, warming yourself up by the little fire that you had lit, afraid of being caught.

The deeper you stared into the sizzling embers, your chin resting unceremoniously against your knees, that you had pulled up, and had an arm locked around, the more the thoughts and the memories plagued you, of the countless times the Witcher had shown you how he wasn't like the others.

The way he made love to you that night he found out about your curse. It was gentle, and raw. He held you close to his chest after that, the heat radiating from his body warming up your frame, as his lips tenderly explored your shoulders, and your lips. He held you to his chest, his thick, beefy fingers stroking through your course sweaty locks, his firm body pressed to you as he shared your bed, night after night, except for the days he was out on a monster hunt.

Geralt of Rivia looked at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. His fingers delicately traced the line of your lips, down your neck, over the valley of your breasts, and his breathing hitched, his lips pursing together, his golden orbs radiating with a warmth every time he was around you.

After midnight struck, and you turned into the bear you turned every single night into, Geralt didn't run away. Instead, you did. The first three nights of being with him, you ran away every single night the second you transformed, and it was a more a feeling of disgust on yourself, than a fear that you would end up hurting Geralt.

Then, from the fourth night, and the fifth, he began following you; his adept, athletic form running after you, jumping over the hedges and the thorns, just to make you stop running from him.

The sixth night, he finally stopped you, cornering you to a stone hill, his hands raised slightly, on either of his side, his chest heaving up and down, "It's me, my love." You knew it was him, but he was trying to make sure. You turned your animalistic front away from him, turning your back towards him. Geralt didn't go away, instead he took a step closer until you felt him place a hand on your back, the first touch barely grazing you, but it was as if he was waiting for your reaction. When you didn't flinch or try to attack him, he began stroking your fur tenderly and a growl emancipated from your snoot.

He was taming the monster in you, slowly yes but he sure was. You didn't run away from him this time.

That night, or the few nights after that, Geralt didn't leave your side even as you turned into that bear again. He stayed, nuzzling the side of your massive face with his nose, his fingers gently scratching your neck, just beneath your snout.

Your mornings with him were the best, especially when you changed back into your own human form upon the touch of the first sunlight, Geralt was with you, holding your hands in his as he watched your bear form melt away. He smiled, as though welcoming you back after a long journey, pulling your tiny, naked form against his chest to give you the warmth as he took his shirt off and let it slide over your frame. Holding you close to his side, he walked you back to the shared shack the two of you now lived in.

What had gone wrong so terribly that you were forced to hide in the thick woods, away from the humanity and away from Geralt?

Geralt didn't know what to believe. He didn't want to believe. There was blood everywhere the smell of it so strong, it was making him sick. Little children, young adults, women, no one was spared. The entire shack now lay abandoned, with bodies lined to the front door with massive claw marks that looked like that of a bear. His heart sank.

She was never like this; she was never a monster but he wasn't so sure anymore.

The stench was unbearable, the whispers of the villagers growing louder and louder into Geralt's ears. He could feel their hatred piercing through his flesh, their fingers pointing at him, blaming him for sheltering the monster they should have dealt with a long time ago. Was it a mistake saving her? Was she actually a monster hiding her true self under a blanket of kindness? For the first time, Geralt of Rivia had no answers.

Dejected, his head hung low, his mind dazed, not with the amount of ale he had had to drink, but rather the plague of his unrelentless morbid thoughts, Geralt walked back to the shack he shared with you, dreading coming face to face with you for the first time.

As he stepped into the shack, he could hear the utensils cracking against each other as you hunched over the sink, cleaning the brass vessels under the running water, your palms scrubbing the oil off them. You were humming to yourself in a low voice, and usually Geralt melted at the sight, wrapping his thick, veiny arms around your waist as he pulled you to him and kissed all the knots and the stress from his body away. But this time, things were different. You were the cause of his stress.

"You're home, love," you whispered, finally aware of his presence. Geralt wasn't specifically silent, with his heavy, burly frame and the armour that was in the least extremely noisy, "I'll get your bath. And the broth is almost on the last boil."

Geralt didn't respond, instead he began stripping down his armour until he was dressed in just his underwear. By that time, you had warmed some water in a metal tub for him, and Geralt stepped into it, hissing slightly as some old healing wounds on his feet came in contact with the warm water; as he sunk in comfortably, placing both his hands on either of the sides. He had a lot to think about.

You regarded him carefully. His shoulders were tense; his body hunched slightly and the old scars on his back were glistening under your candle that lit the room. You strolled towards him, pulling up a stool behind him and came to sit down, your fingers gently trailing over his back until you were scrubbing his back. He stiffened to your touch, and your touch suddenly felt foreign to him.

"Geralt, what's wrong?" Your lip quivered, and your heart sank, at how distant he was being. Yes, Geralt had always been a man of few to no words, but where his words fell short, his actions told you how he cared for you. But today, it was like you had been left to stand in a cold winter night, and Geralt had locked himself away, with the only source of warmth with him.

Suddenly, he stood up, splashing water all around the tub, soiling the flooring and you stood up too, frowning as to what had come over him. He leapt out of the bathtub, his naked form flashing in front of your eyes as he turned his bum towards you and began drying himself off with the cloth you had laid out for him. Once done, he pulled his tights up his toned legs and turned briefly towards you and started wearing his shirt, "Leaving."

"But Geralt, you just –"

"I need a fucking drink. I'll be at the tavern. Don't wait for me," He cut you off, brutally tearing through the soft coating of your tender heart, and you couldn't help but swallow his rudeness, and nodded. You grabbed a mop, and began cleaning the mess he had made on the floor, only to glare at him as he sat down against the side of the bed and began throwing his boots on.

"Leave, and don't even think of coming back into bed in the middle of the night, shit drunk and stinking like a pig," you snarled taking a sharp breath through your nose as you turned away from him and began mopping with your back turned towards him, your shoulders rigid and tense, your arm movements fast and angry.

"I sleep with a fucking bear, can me stinking like a pig be worse?"

You dropped the mop unceremoniously to the floor with a loud clash and turned towards him, your eyes narrowed down and you felt an unrelentless rage inside of you, and this rage was mixed with hurt.

"Get the fuck out, Witcher," your voice was low pitched and dangerous, and with one glare in your direction, the steps of the Witcher faded into nothingness.

That night, as you laid in bed, waiting for that cruel minute when you would turn into an animal, you couldn't help but let your eyes bleed with hot , salty tears, running down your cheeks, soiling your bedding. You whimpered and curled into a ball, burying your face into your hands as you began crying.

You pressed your fisted palm to your mouth, pressing it tight against it so your cries subsided, for you could suddenly hear the sounds of footsteps outside your home. Of course it wasn't Geralt, you were sure of that; the footsteps weren't of a single person, and it felt like an entire army was marching down on you.

You sat up in bed and slid to the edge, standing up as you ran to the window. The villagers were all heading your way, holding lit torches, their faces angry and most of them were yelling.

You cried in pain, looking down at your bleeding thigh were a villager's dagger had managed to cut you. They had found you hiding in the forest, and since you hadn't transitioned into your animal form yet, they had tied you up in chains and were dragging you along the muddy path, their movements fast and calculated. They had to reach the prison before midnight.

The walk to the prison didn't take more than a few minutes, and soon you were pushed face first into one of the empty prison cells. It stank of piss and blood, and you weren't sure which smell was stronger and you couldn't help but crouch into a corner as they tied you up and let your head rest against your knees.

The villagers gawked at you like you were a specimen on display as you turned into that bear, but the restrains that were holding you still were stronger than your bear form, and you couldn't break them, no matter how hard you tried to free yourself.

Geralt hated the tavern, he hated the village and the villagers that lived in it, but when he needed the ale, his hatred was forgotten. He had a lot running through his mind as he drank the last of his ale, and turned towards one of the windows in the tavern. The sky had turned a pale orange, and within the next few minutes to an hour, the sun would be gracing the world. He wondered if you were still in the shack, or you were out running in the forest somewhere. The images of the impaled and clawed out corpses came spiralling into his mind, and his grip on the pitcher almost tightened in reflex.

He was almost about to leave, when Jaskier pushed open the door, his panic stricken eyes scanning the interiors of the tavern until his eyes spotted the white haired man. He pushed a man aside, making his way towards him.

"Geralt, listen–"

"Not now, Jaskier," Geralt growled at him, his eyes glowing with anger.

Jaskier lowered himself into the chair opposite the Witcher and just looked at him, exasperated.

"Aren't you just one bit concerned on [Y/N]'s wellbeing? You're getting yourself drunk, and the villagers are planning to kill her for something she hasn't even done–" Jaskier added.

"the villagers know what they are doing," Geralt took a deep breath, shifting his gaze from Jaskier, and staring idly at the sun that was now rising.

"You what? You–" Jaskier fumbled; he couldn't believe his ears. "They poisoned you too, didn't they?"

"I saw those bodies, Jaskier," Geralt stood up, his chair noisily clattering against the cold floor of the tavern. Ignoring Jaskier, who was now sitting with his palms curled into tight fists, he made his way to the tavern owner, shelling out his pouch of coins. He pulled out the coins and placed them on the counter, and without glancing back at Jaskier, he began walking out when Jaskier came running towards him, and began following him.

"I don't want to be a part of this, Jaskier."

"Listen to yourself, Geralt. That's [Y/N]. She is being framed. I know it in my heart, she cannot do this, please Geralt. They will kill her and once you come back to your senses, it will kill you."

Geralt grunted under his breath as his palm swiped over his jaw. He stiffened as he heard a few villagers began speed walking towards the right, and Geralt frowned, grabbing one of them by their collar.

"Get your hands off me, Witcher. What the fuck–"

"Where are the villagers going?" Geralt grumbled.

"Why? To the market of course. That cursed bitch is to be publicly killed for the murders of our children–" he pulled his shirt off the Witcher's grip, and without giving him another glance, he joined the other villagers and they walked off.

"Wake the fuck up, you monster, and get your tits off the floor," someone threw you an old looking dress, and you opened your eyes to the commotion around you, only to realize that the villagers were all standing outside your cell. You sat up, hurriedly pushing yourself to the wall as you brought your knees up to cover your breasts. You hurriedly reached for that torn dress they had given you; for something was better than nothing, and your own dress was now nothing but pieces of torn fabric strewn here and there. You pulled it over your head, bringing it down to your body, when someone grabbed your arm and pulled you up.

"Can't wait to finally get rid of you, you Satan's spawn," one of them spat on the floor just next to your feet, as one of them began walking out, your chain in his hands. The other one held you by your arm, yanking you to move out and you had no choice.

"Why?" You whispered, your eyes already beginning to cloud with your tears, your eyes widened in fear as you stepped out of your cell and the men began walking out.

Outside, it felt like the entire village had gathered just to watch what was going to happen to you. The looks on their faces were far from sympathetic, there was hate in their eyes and you closed your eyes and let out a cry, as a stone hit the side of your face, just beneath your temple and blood started oozing out of the cut the stone had given you. The villagers were now chanting the words 'kill the beast' again and again, as you were being pushed through the crowds.

The realization was beginning to sink in, as blood trickled down your temple; your heart raced mercilessly. This was the end, it finally was. You couldn't help but think of Geralt as you walked with them, you wondered where he was and if he cared enough. The fight last night had been strange but even stranger was the fact that he wasn't here to save you from these people today.

Even bigger was the realization and the hurt that arose as a result of it; that Geralt too thought of you as a monster. Maybe you deserved this.

"fucking bitch," someone yelled from the crowd, and just then, a massive stone was hurled at you, right at your face, hitting you square in the jaw. Your body twisted when it hit you, your face falling to your right as the pain grew. Your face felt like it was on fire. When you looked up, you realized that you were standing alone; so hopelessly alone, and the villagers all stared at you with venom laced in their eyes. Their leader or whoever this man in the front was, had his sword drawn out as he spat, "any last wishes, you monster?"

You closed your eyes, your body giving up, when you heard the galloping of a horse. When you opened your eyes again, you saw Roach pushing her way through the crowd; though technically the people were moving out of her way , for they didn't want to get crushed under its legs. Geralt's white hair flew due to the wind, and his lips were pressed together, as Roach galloped towards you. When Geralt was close enough, he suddenly flung himself to his side, his legs still secured by the saddle as he grabbed you by your waist and flung you up onto the moving mare.

Angry cries of disdains and yells sounded from behind you, but you weren't looking. Your eyes were fixed on Geralt, as you were clinging on him for life, but he was looking straight ahead, as Roach galloped away.

The air hit your face like ice lollies, and Geralt's body felt nothing like the warmth it always gave you. Although you were now sat in front of him on the mare, the distance between you two felt like two ends of a river bank.

Finally, the mare lowered it's pace as it came to a halt and you squinted your eyes only to realise that you were now on the outskirts of the city, on the other side of the forest.

"Get down," Geralt's cold voice said.

Without a word, you got down, and following you, Geralt hopped off Roach.

"Geralt," you mumbled.

"Leave this village. Go anywhere. I won't be around to always save you from them."

You looked at the man's sublime face. The sun shone down on him, making him look even radiant than he already was. You bit your lip, your face contorted in hurt as you nodded and ran your hand across the side of your face to straighten your ruffled up hair.

Geralt turned away without saying another word ad he began climbing on Roach's back once more but your words stopped him,"Just why Geralt? What did I do wrong?"

He turned but not completely. It was like he couldn't bear the sight of you any longer.

"You're a monster, and the next time, I don't think I will be the one saving you."

You blinked, watching him ride away, his fiery white hair flowing with the wind, his shoulders tense, until he was out of sight.

Henry Cavill All Characters Taglist + Bear Taglist:

@bitchynicole @libbymouse @petitefirecracker10 @naughty-koala07 @maan24 @pterodactylterrace @shipshipshipau @lharrietg @dashingcavill @kmuir1 @weallhaveadestiny @ayamenimthiriel @thatslovelymoony @inlovewithhisblueeyes @the-soot-sprite

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#geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia works #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x reader #the witcher #henry cavill x reader

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starksvixen · 4 years ago

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Both Good and Evil

Summary: Darth Regius has a mission sent down from Emperor Palpatine. Entice Anakin Skywalker to the Dark Side using any means possible. But as the two draw closer, learning more about their pasts, they realize the balance of both good and evil.

Warnings: Ends with angst, darker themes, LONG ASS FIC

“Careful, Anakin, too harsh of a swing and you can hurt yourself!”

You tuck a bit of your bottom lip underneath your teeth as you look at the hologram of the handsome young Jedi training with fervor, his blonde braid gently swaying with each swing of his saber.

“I’m glad you find him attractive, you’ll need that...” a general says from behind you.

“And why is that?”

“You’ll need to use your...sexual capabilities to draw him over.”

Turning towards the bitter old man, the sharp static nips at your fingers as the dark Force flows through you, imagining his throat slowly closing under your grasp.

“You will not comment on my capabilities again unless you like your little hands there, General,”

Throwing him to the ground, you ignite one of the tiny dagger like lightsabers concealed in your corset and send it straight into the General’s head. A soft sizzle and subtle smell of pennies fills the air as you analyze the Jedi from his hologram state.

Anger fills his stature with each calculated swing, a certain glint in his eye. One that obviously hungers for revenge. A weakness, something to prey on.

Something to lure him to the Dark side...

You feel your eyes flutter to a close, the world around you turning to static as you feel for his dark energy. Then you find it, the tiniest of sparks. Before you can prey upon it, your eyes are forced open, a voice echoing from behind you:

“Who are you? How did you get into the Jedi temple?”

There he was, lightsaber raised, fear in his eyes. A fight he knew he might not win against the renowned Darth Regius.

But as you look around your surroundings, it seems as if he was on the ship with you, standing as if he had boarded minutes ago.

“I could ask you the same thing, how did you get on my ship?”

He refuses to answer, the words on his tongue fighting against his lips, a stoic face to hide his fear for the vixen of power standing before him. You cock your head softly to the side, walking closer to him as you feel the dark static you feel pulsing through your veins exuding from him.

“You want revenge, I can feel it. You want power and to feel free from the shackles the Jedi Order have locked on you.”

“You’re wrong!”

His voice wavers, his saber drops the slightest touch, his shoulders ease. The idea tickles his ears as it runs like a mad man throughout his train of thought. Slowly, you bridge the gap drawn between the two of you, holding out your hand towards him.

“Show me your pain. And I can show you freedom.”

You can see the switch in his mind, feel the light side burning you with its touch as an even more real burn makes its way towards your extended hand. The connection ends as the lightsaber lands, leaving singed skin and grimaces.

But you saw it, the Dark side taunting him, pulling him in slowly.

He just needed a little push.

You sit in your black armchair, looking at the stars as they whiz by, your tongue enveloping the bitter coffee as you sip it.

“How did you know I wanted revenge.”

You smirk as you place the cup back on the saucer that delicately balances on your lap. Turning your head, you quirk an eyebrow at the shirtless man before you, obviously roused from sleep.

“Well, good evening to you too,”

“Answer the question.”

A soft chuckle bounces across your throat before you lift your small cup and take another sip of coffee.

“Why the Force of course,” you say softly, looking out at the stars once again. “You’re taught that the different sides of the Force are just that, different.”

“Because one is used for evil and the other good.”

“But the Force doesn’t determine that, the person wielding it does. Some don’t choose either side, some choose to be the balance. Like how you were prophesied to be. The Jedi Order is delusional, thinking that balance means goodness restored.”

His eyes widen softly with interest, his shoulders releasing themselves from the cords that hung them close to his ears. You gesture towards the chair in front of you, to which he slowly takes.

“Listen, Anakin, I understand the Order is your entire life. But there is so much you don’t know, what they’ve kept from you. Because balance is not one way or another. One cannot exist without the other. You’re prophesied to bring balance to the Force, not be the Order’s puppet.”

“But that balance means the fall of the Dark Side, that’s what I was meant to do.” he says, his face contorted into confusion.

“Not necessarily. While yes, I do believe you will be the fall of the Sith, the Dark Side will always be around. I believe you are not a sole vessel for goodness. You are a vessel of great complexity, holding both good and dark in your hands.”

Silence fills the vessel as your gaze is drawn back towards the stars. You feel his eyes on you until he fades away, yet another connection broken.

“Jedi are swarming the ship! We need to evacuate!”

Grabbing your lightsaber, you secure it to your corset filled with saber daggers, their handles at the ready. Rushing out from your room, you look at the battleground before you.

“There she is! Darth Regius!”

A group of young Jedi’s yelled this as they ran down the hallway towards you. But as you pulled the handle from your corset, relinquishing the burning blade, they ran like chickens.

“(Y/N)?”

Turning around quickly, you’re met with a stunned Anakin, his lightsaber at the ready. Without hesitation, you take the first swing. As confusion interrupts his beautiful features, you project a message through the Force.

Look like you hate me. Wouldn’t want your master to find out about our little chats now would you?

Quickly, forced hatred plasters onto him as his strikes become more and more aggressive. As his force becomes harder and harder to block, you become more frantic. No way were you about to let a padawan bring you down, even if he was your mission.

Without a thought, your next swing strikes him in the face, causing the smallest of scratched burns to form. With a gasp, you watch as he reels back from the blow, a small smirk coming on his face.

“You owe me a rematch,”

With that, he runs away with his other Jedi as the entire ship cheers in defeat of the Jedi attack. Everyone around you chants your name, but you don’t have the same fervor. Instead, your mind replays the moment over and over again, one sentence coming out in front it all.

He finally trusts me.

"Why trust me?” you ask softly from your desk, different forms needing to be signed glaring at you under harsh light.

“I don’t,” Anakin replies, his lightsaber humming with each swing as he twirls it around with accuracy, pacing back and forth in your room.

You stop what you’re doing, laying the pen down straight against the papers before standing up. Anakin stops his twirl pacing, looking towards you as you hold out both hands to him.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you something to trust.”

A few minutes pass as you hold your position in front of him, your hands beginning to shake under the weight of vulnerability. Eventually, he drops his saber somewhere unseen, and the calloused hand as well as metal seamlessly slide into yours.

You project your worst memory, Emperor Palpatine murdering your parents. They were meant to keep his child safe alongside you, raising the two of you together so you would become dyad’s in the force, a perfect storm of darkness.

But then the child ran away.

A dyad unmade.

A deal broken.

The tears fall as you hear their screams, the buzz of a lightsaber silencing them with one fell swoop.

“Come, child,” his gravelly voice echoes.

Filled with fear you follow, the memory ending, leaving you reduced to tears in front of the boy you had just barely gotten to know.

“You’re...young, like me?” Anakin says shakily, looking at you with unshed tears. “I was always told you were older.”

You shake your head, shaking the tears away, shaking the pain and loss off your heart.

“I worked hard to survive. Be the child Palpatine lost or face the same fate as my parents.”

“Have you tried to escape? Call for help from the Order?”

“They are the reason my parents are dead!”

You harshly pull your hands away from his, the broken and war torn fingers digging into your own hips.

“A Jedi saw Palpatine’s child and helped him escape, to bring him away from the dark side. That Jedi signed my parents’ death warrant...”

Turning your back to him, you sigh, lifting a shaking hand to wipe away any sign of weakness left on your face. But another wave of sadness hits you as something different enters your mind’s eye.

Anakin, his nightmares, her dead body, the slaughter, all of it. It plays in your head like a nightmare before his force slowly withdraws.

Your body disobeys your mind as you twist to the broken man in front of you.

“You’re not the only one who’s lost someone.”

Walking over, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close. His strong arms wrap around your waist as you chuckle softly.

“We’re both pretty fucked up, huh?”

“I guess we are,”

A knock on the door makes him suddenly disappear, leaving only the shape of him in your curled arms.

Warm water drips down your skin as you struggle to see through the steam in your small refresher. You reminisce on the months that had passed. What began as long talks across galaxies became long talks across bedrooms. You knew you had a job to bring him to the Dark side, how dangerous a connection to him could be. You repeated the mantra every night. Slipping on the silky robe you placed on the black marble counter, you walk out to your bedroom to find Anakin sitting upon the silk sheets.

His padawan braid was gone, his dull beige robes replaced by dark leather that showed off his frame quite well.

“I see they’ve let you graduate, Anakin.”

“Finally...”

“I told you that they wouldn’t understand your power, that they would hold you back,”

A scoff comes from the man, causing a smirk to come from you. Walking towards him, you gently lay a hand on his cheek where the smallest of scars lays on his handsome face. As you analyze his features, the way his eyes look at you full of lust and adoration, you slowly lay down, laying a gentle kiss on his plush lips. Your hands make their way into his hair as his hands pull you closer to him by your hips. Slowly, your lips break apart but still stay closer together, your mumbles tickling his lips with each word:

“You should grow out your hair, it would suit you,”

A soft smile, one that only you got to see (but you never knew that) appeared on his face as he gently pulls your hand away from his scalp.

“You flatter me too much,”

“Only because you deserve it.”

His gaze falls, guilt pushing his shoulders to cave in towards his chest. Your heart shakes, threatening to break. Taking a step back, you take a deep breath as you turn towards the doors of your refresher.

“You deserve the truth...” you whisper.

Slowly, you turn back towards him.

“I was tasked to bring you to the Dark side. Emperor Palpatine is part of the Sith, he is not who you think he is.”

His eyes widen at your sudden divulgence, only to be quickly filled with anger.

“So all of this time you’ve been manipulating me?!”

“No! Nothing I ever did was to manipulate you!” you walk closer to him. “Because I found not a broken boy but a strong man meant to carry out his prophecy. Please believe me!”

Anakin pushes you away with the Force, an evil glow filling his eyes. You had done your job, but never had you felt worse.

“Well, I guess you completed your task.”

And with that...he was gone.

#anakinskywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #jedi!reader #darksidereader #darkside!anakinxreader #unburnt!anakinxreader #skywalker x reader #starwars #star wars #star wars x reader

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mattzerella-sticks · 5 years ago

Text

Desperation, Baby! (coda to 15x19 “Inherit the Earth”, Dean & Lucifer, Dean/Cas, 2.3k, T)

ao3 link

Death took her sweet time parsing through Chuck's book, meaning Lucifer spent longer than he'd like surrounded by his former vessel, his brother, his son, and a man whose obvious longing made him want to vomit. Instead of returning with his prize, Chuck welcoming him back, he must waste his valuable time playing 'nice; with those he can't stand.

Not that it matters. They don't trust him, each member of this ragtag group of survivors watching Lucifer in shifts. Never leaving him alone.

It's Dean's turn now, and he's driving Lucifer up a wall by doing nothing at all save for broadcasting a never-ending supply of feeling. Can he cut the signal without showing his hand, or put Dean's heart to good use?

It’s pathetic, truly. Lucifer huffs, deflating, sinking further into his seat. Weighed down by obscene amounts of longing that poured freely off Dean like a broken hydrant. Funneled into his awareness because its usual drain was cordoned forever. It flooded these now silent angelic air waves, Lucifer growing more annoyed with each, excruciating second. Until, finally, “Holy hell, can you please quit it?”

Dean startles from where he stood, jaw tensing. Mouth flattening in a thin line as he glares, “What?”

“Quit. It. Quitit!” He hisses, leaning forward. Stretches his arms across the table, reaching for Dean. Fingers twitching, Lucifer imagines Dean’s neck between them. “Seriously, you’re giving me a migraine with all your feelings.”

“Good.” Dean surprises Lucifer with his response. No attempted denial, nor misdirection. His gaze unflinchingly pierced through Lucifer’s vessel, pride bolstering its blow. Lucifer cannot detect any shame that usually clings to his soul, none of that smell lingering. He’s grown since they’ve last seen each other. Stunning character development. “Deserve it, after that dick move you pulled earlier.”

“You still upset about that?” Scoffing, Lucifer rises. Meanders across the room towards Dean, gaze never straying. Easy since it’s only them. “I thought my gift would have more than made up for that.” He grins, rocking on his heels. A breadth of space separates them now. “How else was I supposed to get in, anyway?” he continues, “Not like if I called as myself you’d’ve rolled out the welcome mat.”

“But… Cas?” Lucifer savors the taste of his brother’s name, drenched in sadness. Ripped from Dean’s heart in a barely controlled sob.

“Nasty habit,” he giggles, “Though the results speak for themselves. I mean – you know how easy it was smooth-talking little Sammy when I looked like his ol’ flame, Jess?” Dean doesn’t laugh, snarled lip suffocating Lucifer’s airy mirth. “You’re no fun.”

“Sorry,” Dean growls, “why don’t you try later when the world’s not ending.”

“It’s always ending. In one way or another.” Lucifer waves his hand and a chair drags itself over. He straddles it, gazing up at Dean. “If we waited for peace to enjoy life, there’d be no time. Better to… say what’s in your heart, even if it kills you.” He frowns, mockingly, “Or in Castiel’s case… did kill him.”

Dean slams his fist against the wall. “You have no right –“

“Timeout there,” Lucifer smirks, eyes glowing red. Reflection of Dean’s entire face, blood rapidly swelling his cheeks. “Don’t want to do anything you’ll regret…” He holds Dean there, frozen, waits until the other man seems calm. Dips his head, tries catching Dean’s gaze. “If I let you go, will you behave?” Dean remains silent, yet Lucifer hears him. Tunes into his frequency, actively sifting through his frenzied emotions. “Seriously,” he lets Dean go, hunter falling on his ass, “how are we supposed to work as a team if you’re not willing to cooperate?”

“This… isn’t a team,” Dean spits, “you’re working… with the Empty.”

“And the Empty’s trying to take Chuck out!” he argues, “So, enemy of my enemy is my friend or all that nonsense –“

“Go to hell.”

“I wish I could, but I’m kinda on a short leash.” Bored with Dean’s resistance, Lucifer threads his next few words with seriousness. “Listen, once Betty’s done with the book I’ll flit on out of here and one, two, three – humanity is saved from dear, ol’ dad! We can make this all painless if you’d just trust me, or we can keep doing what we’re doing. I, personally, am tired of this bullshit. Rather be napping back in the Empty, but no…”

“You should be.”

“Beg pardon?”

Dean bares his teeth, roiling hatred knocking Lucifer back a few inches. “You should still be sleeping, back there,” he says, “if anyone were supposed to come back, it’d be Cas. Not… you…”

“Ah, Castiel, yes…” Lucifer sighs, “that would make sense, wouldn’t it? Of course, he lacks my raw power and charm, but… yes, you’d trust anything that he said.” Hand on his throat, he affects his vocal cords. Mimicking the other angel’s gravelly tone again, “Dean, please go along with Lucifer’s wishes and help him –“

“Enough!” Dean kicks at a chair leg, interrupting Lucifer. Tears threaten to pour, dangling from his lashes like morning dew. “If you really wanna play nice, you’d stop doing that.”

“This is nice, buddy.” Lucifer pokes at Dean’s leg with the toe of his boot. “Why don’t you grow some thick skin, huh? Where’s the real Dean Winchester? That tough guy with endless bravado instead of this sad, sorry piece of shit that’s pining after some dead guy?”

Dean turns, Adam’s apple bobbing. “That isn’t me. I… he never was.” An intimate confession whispered into ancient brickwork. Meaningful for a different crowd. Except Lucifer shows little care, sarcastic clapping shattering Dean’s moment.

“Wow, Dean… really fantastic. Amazing!” He climbs off the chair, crouching closer. Tongue dragged over his lips, smile wide. “Your verbose diction astounds me… did you whip that together after my brother got dragged into super hell? Are you still workshopping it – okay if I give you a few notes?” Lucifer pinches Dean’s cheek, poking this rabid grizzly. “At least you’ve got that face. Clearly Cas didn’t fall for your emotional maturity, your observational prowess or timing…”

He weakly bats Lucifer off him, “You don’t know anything…”

“I think I know quite a lot,” Lucifer challenges him, “Between the both of us, only I managed to slip inside my tight-ass little brother. Probably why I knew all his little… perversions, although it was clear as day how he felt about you to everyone – well… almost everyone.” His hand settles on Dean’s chest, atop his heart. “Do you know amazing it was, when I slipped my blade through him? You were a buffet that night… fear, relief, hope… despair. I could’ve ended him in that other dimension, but I waited until he crossed back. Knew how much more painful it’d be.”

“Monster,” Dean says, “Fucking psychopath.”

“The old me, maybe.” Lucifer teleports, sitting on a nearby table. Legs absentmindedly pedaling, stirring confusion within Dean. “But I’ve been reborn on the right side, Dean. Nobler. I’ve got purpose.”

“You’ve got a load of shit,” he accuses, standing on shaky legs, “that you’re trying to sell me. Us.”

“Come on!” Lucifer groans, hands flying skyward, “Isn’t this supposed to be your eleventh hour? How can you be so stubborn? Here I come, with a Hail Mary, and you’re turning your nose up at me like some snob. Like you have better options waiting. All because you won’t work with the Empty –“

“It’s not just that,” Dean corrects him, “I also don’t want to work with you.”

He crosses his arms, pouting. “You’re gonna have to suck that up. So the Empty wouldn’t send your boytoy, do you blame them? For a broken, little thing he sure is popular. Who’s to say Cas’d come back once this all wraps up? At least the Empty trusts me.”

“I guess something has to.”

“You can, too, if you want.” Lucifer casts his reel wide, waiting. Eyebrows waggling like baited worms. “It’d be a hell lot easier than what you’re doing now. Come on…” he needles, “why is it so hard to believe in miracles?”

“Please…” Dean says, hiding his face behind his knees. Arms circled around his legs, curled into a ball. “Stop talking.”

He relents for the time being. Proud of what cracks in Dean’s armor he made. When Chuck sent him, he asked Lucifer to ruffle a few feathers. Mess with their heads, ensure this ragtag group of losers would stay down. Accept their fate, end this miserable experiment called humanity in sadness. “Don’t provoke them too much, though,” Chuck warned, fists curled along his jacket’s lapels, “Betrayals only work when the other side doesn’t expect them. Plot’s stretched thin as it is, bringing you back doesn’t really make sense –“

“I love you too, dad.”

“That’s why you need to lay it on thick,” he said, “steer them away from why, keep the action moving.”

Lucifer stared down at his father, frowning. “Anything else you need?”

“No,” Chuck clapped Lucifer’s shoulder, nodding. “Just be yourself.”

Except none of them wanted him. Especially Dean. He wanted… Castiel.

It’s a little off-script, but Lucifer bets Chuck will enjoy what he plans. Even if it’ll involve his least favorite character. Lucifer hops off the table, grace burning across his body. Razing this vessel’s form, stealing its characteristics and distinguishability. A tall mound of clay left that he molds into a new body. Darker hair, sturdier frame, and bluer eyes. “Dean,” he says, swallowing his laughter. “Dean…” He tries again, sounding exactly like him.

Like Castiel.

Dean tenses, “Cas?” Barely audible, Lucifer strained to hear his prayer. That hope, sweetness quickly bittering as Dean digests the scene. “No…” he sighs, mumbling into his legs. “Lucifer, thought I told you to quit it.”

“Lucifer is gone, Dean,” he lies, kneeling. “I’m here… please, Dean, look at me.” Lucifer grabs at Dean’s head, thankful the other man lets him. Green finds masked-blue, their ‘reunion’ drawing a pained breath.

“What?” Dean asks, a single tear slipping free. Trails along his cheek until it falls off his chin. “How – how is this happening?”

“Because of you, Dean.” Lucifer’s hands shift, a thumb smearing that tearstain while he runs fingers through Dean’s hair. “You refused Lucifer’s help, even though what he said was true. The Empty saw and decided, if we were to truly end Chuck, the risk of sending me will be worth it.” Expression darkening, Lucifer leans into dramatics. Lips quivering as he recites his next line, “Though not without conditions, Dean – I… you know I can’t stay, right?”

“You will,” he says, “Cas – we will… if this book really can end Chuck, and we take him out, what can the Empty do –“

“Take you,” Lucifer cuts him off. “Take you… Sam, and Jack. I step even an inch out of line and we all get sucked into their being, with no hope of actually defeating my father.” He nearly breaks character, watching how the light in Dean’s eyes flickered before being snuffed. Lucifer regains composure, growling his next words. “You understand this, then? What it means?”

Dean nods, snaking his hands across Lucifer’s wrists. “Means we don’t have long,” he barks, squeezing tight. “I have to set it right, right now.”

“Dean –“

“No, Cas,” Dean talks over him, guiding Lucifer’s hands off where they rested. Silences the disguised archangel by chaining him, making Lucifer a helpless victim. Awe real as he waits for Dean, cowed by longing powerful than his earlier annoyance. “I… I need to get through this because – well, the last time you didn’t let me get a word in edgewise and I, there was a lot left unsaid that I don’t want to stay that way. If we can’t have a future, then at least… at least we have here.” He laughs, choking on it. More tears dance their way down.

“When you told me you loved me, I couldn’t believe it,” Dean confesses, “and then, when you told me why I – I was… I believed that less. I mean, you… you’ve listened to your heart more than I have. Even if a few of those times it was wrong, everything you did was for love. Knowing you was – that was my happiness. Having you, in whatever way you’d let me. Because there you were, this shining beacon, and for some reason you kept on letting me bask in your glow. I felt I… I didn’t deserve it. That I didn’t deserve you.”

Dean brings Lucifer’s knuckles to his lips, pressing a light kiss along a patch of skin. The gesture disgusts him. “And you were right about how – I thought of myself so… so poorly, it kept me from saying and – and doing things I wish I’d done sooner. All my life I thought there were things I couldn’t have, rules I had to live by, and I never questioned them until you saved me from hell. Literal and figurative. Because of you, I wanted to be a better person. I wanted to be good. But I never believed I could. Then you tell me you loved me… because I was good. I already was the kind of person I thought seemed impossible. I couldn’t believe it. What’s stranger… I didn’t have to believe it, to know it’s true.” Dean smiles at him, Lucifer mirroring his gesture though it pained him. “I’m the person I always wished I could be, and even when you’re gone I’ll still be that person. I’ll miss you, Cas. Always. I’ll miss you, and I’ll love you. I’ll love you always.”

It happens before Lucifer realizes. Distracted, nauseated by Dean’s powerful emotions, he missed how a hand snuck its way towards his neck. Pinched there, startling him. In that second, Dean forces Lucifer into an embrace. Lips crashing together, Lucifer stays frozen while Dean attacks his mouth. Mewling, whimpering.

Disgusting.

He pulls the curtains back, reverting to his previous form. Delights in how Dean senses the change, peeking with one eye as Castiel’s face vanishes. The other man violently hurls himself to the side, gaping at him. “Why Dean,” Lucifer grins, awkwardness heavy in his tone, “if I had known that’s how you felt about me…”

Dean sobs, wiping at his lips. “How… what the –“

“You really thought I was Cas, didn’t you?” Laughing, Lucifer towers over him. “I figured you’d catch on but… I underestimated you. And for that I’m sorry.” He devours these new emotions radiating from Dean, eagerly lapping them up. “I’m also sorry that you’ve convinced you deserve a happy ending,” he twists the knife further. Dean flinches, turning. Fleeing. Lucifer shouts at his retreating figure. “That’s not your story, Dean! Don’t ask for more, be happy with what you have!”

Then, as he waits for his next babysitter, Lucifer’s eyes glow red. “Because soon enough… you won’t even have that.”

#supernatural #spn #spn15 #15x19 #15x19 coda #15x19 inherit the earth #dean winchester #lucifer #castiel #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #supernatural fanfic #deancas fanfic #spn fanfic

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qatirna-can-read · 4 years ago

Text

It’s Not Murder if They Deserve It - O

Heavy Trigger Warning for Violence, Abuse, and Sexual Assault.

Not a moon passed since Oleta reached her fourteenth nameday and she’d been working under this man for less time than that. She knew him before now, he was part of the crew, but up until this point she had gone out of her way to avoid him whenever possible. In all honesty, the behemoth of a Haragin scared her. He stood well over three fulms taller than her, his body wrapped in muscles as much as scars. A mean drunk - who was always drunk - the ship’s carpenter agreed to teach Oleta his trade as long as she did “<what that little cunt is focken told.>” That her mother and father not only sanctioned, but actually arranged this, was truly a testament to their parenting.

Oleta was motivated, driven. One day she would have her own ship. One day she would captain her own crew. She knew every place on that vessel, every part and piece to keep it running. She knew every role, each crew member, what they did and why. Now she just had to learn how to run it. After a few moons she could take another job, she just had to grin and bear it until then.

For weeks now Oleta received frequent beatings for mistakes real or imagined. If the shipwright was unsatisfied with his ale, she’d get a backhand to the jaw. If she drilled a hole in the wrong part of the wood, she’d get a blackeye. That mistake she wouldn’t repeat. Tonight she didn’t even know what mistake he accused her of, he was too angry and incoherent for her to understand. In the hold he roared at her violently while she stared at him, mouth agape, confused and nearly as furious.

“<Don’t you look at me like that you little slut!>” he shouted as he slapped her hard enough to knock her to the floor. Only a moment passed before she glared back up at the shipwright, shooting daggers with aurelian eyes. Fuck this. Wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth she stood defiantly. With a puffed chest and a scowl she spit in the man’s face, pink flecks speckling his leathery skin and scales. He responded to her slight with a heavy punch to the gut, doubling her over and back to the ground.

She knelt on the floor, her forehead nearly touching the grimy wet wood. She couldn’t breathe. Silent ineffective gasps dragged her heaving chest up and down in an attempt to catch air in her lungs once more. Before her throat had the chance to open again, he kicked her hard. A thump and a cracking sound came from her ribs as she fell to her other side.

He watched with a sinister smirk as she writhed on the dirty ship floor. One arm wrapped around her side where he’d kicked her. Her other hand slapped at the wall limply as pathetic croaking sounds broke through her throat. At least a minute passed before a desperate choked inhale finally graced her lungs. She coughed and sputtered on the floor, finally catching her breath while he laughed.

Pressing her body against the wall, she used the leverage to pull herself back up to standing. Her arm still wrapped below her sternum. She raised a fist and lunged for the man with a frenzied scream. He easily interrupted her attack, grabbing her by the upper arm and pinning her back against the wall. He roughly took her by the wrist protecting her ribs and pinned that arm to the wall as well. He pressed his entire body against her, putting pressure on that broken bone. A sobbed howl escaped her throat and she looked away.

“<I see you need a lesson on respect, whore bitch.>” His grasp still tight, he dragged his hand from her bicep to her wrist, tugging both her arms harshly up and together. He could hold her there with just one hand now. His free hand grabbed her jaw, pulling her gaze back up to his. Despite tears in her eyes, she still scowled at him with insolent fury. He still wore that sinister smirk as he bent down, forcefully licking from her collarbone to her chin. His breath smelled of pungent acrid ale. Now trembling, she pulled her head away in disgust but his hand on her jaw held her face forward.

Her indignant golden eyes locked with his cruel bemused greys. Once again she spat in his face. He growled as he kneed her in the stomach and she cried out in pain. She began thrashing, screaming, shrieking at the top of her lungs. If she couldn’t get out herself, maybe someone would come? That’s when he clamped his free hand down over her mouth.

“If you make one more sound you filthy cunt, I’ll do the same to little Avalyn.” Her sister hadn’t yet reached her twelfth summer. Oleta’s eyes went wide and pleading and terrified. She just shook her head quietly and acquiesced.

She cried silently the whole time as he grunted on top of her. When he was finally done he stood up, buttoned his trousers, and walked off without so much as a second glance her way. She laid curled up on the floor of the hold, shivering, bruised, revolted. No one but Avalyn asked about where she was when she didn’t rise with the rest of the crew at the crack of dawn.

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

The next morning Oleta woke in pain and confusion. The bruise that formed on her side during the night was massive. A deep purple spanned almost the entire length of her torso, blackened near the point of the break. Beyond her obvious physical injuries her entire body felt wrong. Like it no longer belonged to her. Like it was nothing more than a sick puppet of broken flesh and bones that she had the misfortune of living in.

She pulled herself up to hands and knees just as a sudden sour rush of saliva overwhelmed her mouth. Her face twisted and she expelled what little stomach contents that remained from the day before. That convulsing of her body made her muscles tighten against her ribs and she released a heavy sob in agony.

For most of the morning she stayed in the hold from the shock and the pain and the exhaustion, fading in and out of consciousness for several bells. By the afternoon, despite still being in immense pain and still being exhausted, dehydrated, and hungry, she stayed hidden away in the hold out of shame.

Just before sundown she gathered enough stubborn will to survive to pull herself off the ground. With the walls as her crutches she slowly made her way out of the hold for the first time in more than a sun. Rounding a corner she came face to face with a woman who looked quite similar to Oleta. She was older, and far more covered in tattoos, but she had similar rose colored skin and soot black hair.

“<Been lookin’ for you all day, girl.>” she scolded, then realizing her daughter was injured followed up with. “<Let’s get you to the surgeon.>” She began hooking her arm under Oleta’s to help support her weight.

“<Fuck off, Mum!>” She flailed to keep her mother away but the movement of her arms made her recoil from the pain in her chest. Her mother just sighed and continued the motion to hold up her daughter, helping her get to the surgeon where he could look her over. Her mother dropped her off and left, she had work to do.

Oleta lied about how she got her injuries, and she only let him examine her upper body. Made up some shit about pulling too much lumber at once and it crashing onto her torso. The surgeon almost believed her and patched her up without further questions, leaving her to rest on a cot. The break wasn’t life threatening, but they didn’t have any magical healers on board. She would have to heal the old fashioned way - with time.

She refused to go back to work for the shipwright, at least until her ribs healed, she promised. So her assigned position changed to working in the kitchen under a kind Dazkar man who had married into the Haragin crew.

Slowly she healed, regaining her strength, her drive. The Dazkar she worked under helped. He was gentle with her, and patient. Mistakes were minor and easily rectified. Accomplishments were praised. He started her on easy tasks, things she could take care of while healing - chopping or tending pots on the stove, he taught her how to brew beer and wine. As she regained her strength she could help with lifting heavy bags and boxes. Eventually she even learned to slaughter the chickens and pigs they kept alive on the ship for meat. At the time she didn’t yet realize that she was practicing for more than just butchering as she honed the skill of sharply pulling a blade across the arteries of an animal’s throat.

Oleta began feeling like herself again, despite the carpenter still sharing the same ship. Her anger never faded, but her revulsion did some. At least her revulsion with herself. Something that continued weighing on her though, was how he threatened Avalyn. The young girl was more sensitive than her elder sister, softer and gentler and not at all interested in the harsh lifestyle of piracy. Oleta protected her fiercely. The only thing that made this situation different was the gravity.

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

Two moons passed without much conflict. Oleta felt physically better at least, but as her physical pain diminished her fury grew. She kept her eye out for the shipwright at all times, waiting for a night when he let his guard down. A night when he found himself drunk and alone.

The new moon provided no light to the darkened deck and in the still night almost none of the crew remained above the sleeping quarters. As per usual, the carpenter stayed on deck, drinking and watching the dark ocean under the night sky.

Oleta stole two carving knives from the kitchen. She was amateur, but after a life on a ship she was also strong. She knew every place the boards creaked, knew every obstacle, every hidden corner, every break in the hull. She crept up to the deck. He was alone. Silently she glided up behind him, a phantom of his sins. She pulled out the first knife. With careful and purposeful aim she pulled her fist up to slam the blade into his back, right next to his spine, just managing to puncture the lung.

A gurgled choke of surprise and pain sputtered from his mouth and he gripped his chest, reeling about to get a look at his attacker. A light trickle of blood bubbled to his mouth and his eyes widened in recognition and rage.

“<Why you little -- >" The second knife interrupted his rasped threat as Oleta quickly but crudely dragged the blade across his windpipe, slicing through him like an apple. She knew to tug that sharp edge through the cartilage on the side of his neck to burst the artery. A torrent of crimson spilled from the wound accompanied by the wet strangled sounds of desperation. She spit in his face once more and pushed him back, over the ledge and into the black waters below.

She stood at the railing for what felt like a lifetime, but was probably only a half a bell, watching as he splashed and flailed in his salty wet crypt. She watched as he fell out of sight, whether from his inevitable sink or from the ship sailing away too far - she wasn’t sure. She watched the merciless sea take the shipwright to his grave and continued after he was certainly gone.

Oleta reluctantly turned away from the deep dark waters of her willing accomplice to clean up in the kitchen. She washed the blood from her body and the remaining carving knife she held, as if performing a ritual. A sacred ceremony for retribution. She left that blood stain on the deck. She wanted that reminder.

In the dead of night she slid through corridors to the hammock where Avalyn slept and crawled in with her younger sister, holding on with tenderness she would never express for anyone else. For the first time in nearly three moons she slept soundly, her only regret was that he got off so easy. A burial at sea was too good for him.

#Oleta #TW #TW SA #Oleta's first murder

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pilot-boi · 5 years ago

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Beginnings: Chapter 1

Life at the Academy was stifling, with the expectations of his family hanging over his head everywhere he went. He had to get out.

Had to get out there, in the universe, where it was full of shine and sparkle and his life could really mean something. Through the window of his dorm room, Jaune could see the glitter of the stars, a million worlds populated by billions of people.

People in danger, maybe, who he could help. Who he couldn’t help from his dorm room. Out there in the real world, where something new and amazing and dangerous could finally begin.

Sketchy Departure

The firestorm ignites last thoughts of a life by candlelight. I'd gladly give my life for one night as a justice acolyte

AO3 LINK

Jaune stared at the note he had left for Sapphron on his pillow. It wasn’t much. Just an apology and an explanation of where he was going. Staring at it, though… He felt anger building inside him. He grabbed it and tore it up, letting the pieces fall to the floor.

If his older sister wanted to know where he was, then she could ask.

He glanced outside his dorm room, making sure no one else was out past curfew. Then he stepped outside, carrying all his personal items and a small assortment of rations in a bag on his back. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to get him back home.

As he quickly walked towards the docks, thoughts raced through Jaune’s mind. This was what was best, right? With his grades dropping and the scholarship being pulled, there was no way he could keep going to the Academy.

‘You could always work hard and get your grades back up,’ something inside of him whispered, but Jaune pushed the thought aside. He was sick and tired of being the only Arc who wasn’t good at everything. The pressure to live up to others’ expectations for him felt smothering.

If he was being completely honest with himself, he had stopped putting effort into his classes ages ago. His grades had been going downhill for months, and his perfect attendance score had become… well.. A lot less perfect.

It wasn’t that Jaune hated being here. He loved flying. And it had turned out he wasn’t even that bad at it,after he’d gotten over his near-debilitating motion sickness. It was just… all these people expecting him to be something he wasn’t. Expecting him to stay at the top, all while plodding through each day doing things he hated.

It was just wrong.

Jaune needed something different.

The docks were silent when he arrived, and the only security guard on detail was fast asleep. Jaune slipped inside the pod nearest to the exit.

He turned on his vessel, the engine purring silently. He’d always hated these things. The controls were awkward and allowed for little actual pilot control. The fuel was inefficient, the steering relied too much on auto-pilot, and they always smelled like sweat.

Luckily, that meant the GAAP wouldn’t miss on if it happened to go missing.

---

“Log Date… Uh… I don’t remember how to do this, part three. There’s a planet in sight. I’m hoping I can land there before this piece of trash runs out of fuel. Hopefully there’s civilization there that has transports headed back home. Um, yeah. Signing out.”

Jaune leaned back in his seat, cringing as his stomach rumbled. He should have packed more rations. It had been three days since he’d left the Academy, and rations were low. He only had a few nutrition bars left, and his water was down to a few gulps.

The dashboard beeped, yet again reminding Jaune that he was running low on fuel.

Jaune closed his eyes tight. At this point, he’d be happy if he crashed.

---

Jaune was not happy when he crashed.

It had happened so fast. One moment he was entering the planet’s atmosphere, the next alarms were blaring and flames were streaming out of the left engine. He braced for impact… and then something hit his head and everything went dark.

When he finally woke up, red lights were flashing from the dash, and his ears were ringing. Something sticky trickled down his forehead, and his shoulder was on fire. Pain was pulsing up from Jaune’s arm. Everything felt numb and far away, but the longer he sat there, the sharper it became. The sharper it became, the more Jaune wanted to go back to sleep.

He groaned, looking down at his arm. It twisted in a position it definitely was not supposed to be in. Gingerly pushing the sleeve up, swearing every time the fabric touched his skin, he looked it over.

It could be worse. No bone sticking through the skin. Just bruising and the awkward angle. It was broken, that much he could tell. Basic medical classes back at the Academy told him to put it into a splint, since there was no bone visible.

His shoulder on the other hand…

Every time he moved was pure agony. It was dislocated. That was something he was something he was going to have to fix before he could move. Jaune had never done this before, but it couldn’t be that bad… right?

Jaune positioned himself against the dash, holding his shoulder with his good hand. One big breath in and… he pushed.

It snapped back into place.

Jaune screamed.

---

He had landed on Talbos Prime. Facts Oobleck had drilled into his mind in class floated through his pain-delirious brain. Dominant species: Nuxoin, an omnivorous species. Main export: Lumber and other natural resources. The entire planet was forest and a few freshwater seas. If he weren’t in so much pain, Jaune might have actually appreciated the scenery surrounding him.

Jaune had managed to get himself bandaged up, propping his arm with a splint kit. It wasn’t great, but it was better than nothing. Looking over his injuries, he was glad for once that his dad wasn’t human.

Blood already soaked the bandages on his leg, and the ones on his head were going to need to be replaced soon. It was obvious the crash would have likely killed him had he been completely human. Having a slightly thicker skull than normal humans, with the ability to replenish blood faster, was coming in handy in this sucky situation.

It still sucked though.

With the medical kit intact, he’d be able to keep himself alive until the ship was fixed. The ship was definitely fixable, but he would have to get to work soon if he wanted it to fly again. Talbos Prime didn’t have many populated towns, and the closest was over a day’s travel away. He wouldn’t make it.

Jaune readjusted the splint on his broken arm and set to work.

As much as Jaune hated these scrappy ships, they held their shape pretty well. He wouldn’t need to fix much, but what he did need to fix was time consuming. Hours passed as he worked. The first sun set and the second rose. A few of the local wildlife gathered to watch him at him at one point.

He paid them no mind, hardly noticed them in fact with how engrossed he was in his work. When Jaune finally managed to focus on a task, he was focused.

The ship was already looking in better condition as the final sun disappeared below the horizon. Sealant held the tears in the wing together and covered the multiple cracks that littered the surface of the front window. The burnt engine parts had been replaced, and the fuel was slowly refilling. Thank god for GAAP adaptability fuels. As long as the planet had some form of fuel in the atmosphere, he could slowly refill.

Jaune sat inside the ship now, struggling to screw a panel back in. The screwdriver fumbled in his hand, dropping below the dash.

“Fuck! Where’d you go now?” He cursed the tool as he bent over and peered below himself.

He reached for it, but in doing so pulled his injured arm. He gasped in pain, recoiled back and held it to himself. Once it faded, he stared at the screwdriver with hatred. It was like it was mocking him. Too weak to grab a stupid tool. Too useless.

“I’m not weak,” Jaune growled at it.

He lowered himself down gently, wincing through the pain. He took the tool and finished screwing in the panel.

“Not too bad, Jaune,” he said, smiling at the interior of his ship. Only two more flashing lights to stop, and then he’d be homeward bound again. “Jaune Arc: Pilot, part-time mechanic, full-time genius.”

---

“Arc?” the flight instructor called, sounding incredibly bored.

A young Jaune stepped forward, looking confident and eager. The instructor sighed and opened the top of the small ship. The model looked and functioned similar to most GAAP standard single person vehicles, but was unable to reach half the altitude of the real things. Jaune clambered inside, trying his hardest not to fall over on his first day.

“Just a few laps,” the instructor ordered, glancing at her clipboard, “and then land here. Remember, this is the real test. You will be scored on your take-off, speed, control, and, finally, landing. This test is the true determinant to see if you make it into the GAAP Academy. Do your best, and good luck out there, future pilot of the Galactic Assembly of Allied Planets.”

Jaune grinned nervously, giving his sister a thumbs up as the top closed over him.

It was easy. The test flew by in a blur of whoops and speed. Jaune had been flying since he could reach the controls, as soon as he’d realised that at least there was one thing he was solidly good at.

As he approached landing, he felt tempted to show off. Just a little wouldn’t hurt… right?

He increased the speed.

Just before it became too late, Jaune pulled up on the controls. The ship groaned under the sudden change, but it obeyed him. Gently, he set the ship down in front of his classmates. He hopped out with a grin.

The instructor looked furious.

“Arc!” She stomped towards him. “That was reckless and dangerous! Your flying was beyond GAAP regulations. I am surprised you made it past the entrance exams.”

Jaune clenched his fists, “I’m the best pilot in my class, ma’am. My transcripts prove that.”

“Not when you fly like that,” She scorned. “Report to your commander.”

Jaune turned and stalked away, anger clawing in his gut. He was a great pilot. He knew what he was doing.

---

Jaune ruffled his regulation-short hair and let it fall evenly over the bandages wrapped around his forehead. He was sitting outside of the ship, popping berries into his mouth as he waited for the fuel to fill back up. He figured out before he left that these ones were safe, and harvested enough to fill a small container he’d found on the ship. “Berries blue; good for you,” he hummed through a mouthful of the sweet treat.

The ship beeped and blinked to life, only slightly more jittery than it had been at the Academy.

“There you go, you piece of junk,” Jaune sighed, getting to his feet to pat the nose of the ship. “Now we can go home.”

The ship rumbled as he took off, but Jaune wasn’t about to complain about the ship now. It was certainly better than staying on Talbos Prime and paying off a Velm to not steal his last tank of fuel.

See you never again, Talbos Prime, Jaune thought as the forest planet faded into the space behind him. From now on, it was smooth sailing to Ventos Beta.

---

Two days

It was going to take him two days to get back.

Once the adrenaline of crashing, frantically trying to fix his ship, and getting off that planet had faded his body finally caught up with how badly he was actually damaged. He was quickly running out of bandages, and black spots were beginning to dance in his vision.

He looked back down to his arm. He couldn’t quite tell if he set the splint correctly, but at this point a poorly set arm was the least of his worries.

“Log date… uh… I don’t even know: I can’t help but shake the feeling that I’m slowly dying, which I probably am.” Jaune took a deep breath in, trying to not fall asleep then and there. “If I don’t put in another log tomorrow, I just wanna let anyone who’s listening to know that I’m sorry. Sorry, Mom. Signing off.”

He missed the off button several times before he finally hit it, bits of blackness taking up more and more of his vision. Leaning heavily into the chair, Jaune ran his good hand through his bloodstained hair, realizing he needed to change the bandages again.

---

“Log date, i-it doesn’t matter,” Jaune’s words were labored and his words often slurred together. “Ventos Beta…I can see it, I don’t know if I’m gonna make it in time,” He paused, taking a shuddering breath and putting a hand on his chest. The heartbeats themselves were rapid, yet they became progressively softer and less pounding than they were in the beginning. “I-I’m still sorry.”

Jaune didn’t even bother to say signing off, or even stop the recording.

---

“Why don’t you go meet our new neighbor?” Jaune’s mother suggested.

Her only son sank lower into the couch. His lower lip stuck out in a pout.

“I heard they have a son in your year.”

Jaune let out a long sigh, and changed the channel on the projected screen again.

“It’ll be good for you.”

He gave his mom a glance. She was staring back at him with a look that said “You are going to take these cookies and you are going to like it.”

Fine.

Jaune took the cookies, trotting over to the door of his new neighbor’s house. He rang the doorbell and tapped his foot impatiently. If they didn’t answer in the next fifteen seconds he was going to-

Before Jaune could finish his thought, the door swung open. A teenage Graeldur boy stared down at Jaune, a single rocky eyebrow raised in confusion.

Suddenly feeling very awkward, Jaune held out the plate of cookies. “My mom wanted me to bring these over as a housewarming gift,” he said.

“Uh… thank you,” the Graeldur said, taking the plate. “My name’s Ren.”

“I’m Jaune.”

They stared at each, the awkward moment stretching out much longer than Jaune liked it. Ren finally looked down at the cookies, back behind him, and then back at Jaune.

“My parents aren’t home,” he said after a moment of consideration, that Jaune spent shifting from one foot to the other. “Do you want to eat all of these with me?”

Jaune grinned, “Sure.”

---

Jaune had never felt lonelier than he did now. Sitting in the pilot seat, watching the planet grow closer and closer, he felt like everything was collapsing in on him. He wanted his mom… oh god, his mom was going to be so mad at him. He could already hear his mom scolding him for being so reckless. He did completely deserve it, but that didn’t stop him from dreading it.

A sensor on the dashboard beeped at him, telling Jaune that he was ready to make contact.

The autopilot on the GAAP ships might be one of Jaune’s least favorite things, but now that he could barely use his limbs he was grateful. The ship lowered itself into an open field, gently setting down and then powering off.

Jaune just had to use whatever bit of strength he had left to hobble over to Ren’s place. Just get to Ren’s house. That was all that mattered.

The sky was dark when he left. Each footstep echoed back in Jaune’s brain and made the simple act of walking unbearable. By the time he made it to Ren’s front door, he could feel consciousness slowly slipping away from his grasp.

Leaning heavily against the doorframe, Jaune was able to give two, hard knocks. The few agonizing minutes it took for Ren to answer made Jaune want to let his muscles relax and slump down to the floor. In fact… he let himself slump farther down the frame. Oh, this was worse.

The handle jiggled a bit until the door opened with a far too loud creak. Jaune managed to look up, meeting his friend’s eyes.

“Oh my god…” Ren’s eyes went wide as he took in the state his friend was in, almost forgetting to breathe.

Jaune pushed what little trace of a smile he could onto his face, “Hey Ren.”

The world went black and numb.

#rwby #jaune arc #lie ren #saphron cotta arc #mama arc #mine #my writing #space rwby #beginnings #chapter 1

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sweetness47 · 5 years ago

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The Newcomer

Pairing Cas x Dean x Sam

@castielspnbingo – pirate AU

@spndeanbingo – Castiel

@samwinchesterbingo – dry humping

@deanandsambingo – bed sharing

WARNINGS: MATURE 18+ READERS ONLY!!!!! Smut, threesome, wincest, three men, sub! Cas, amnesia, near death experience

“This is gonna be one hell of a shitstorm Sammy!” Dean’s words carry through the walls of the cave. The waterfall gem was one of the best finds the brothers had discovered since landing on the island. It had proven a life saver many times, shielding the boys from the occasional tropical hurricane that passed through.

They had formed a routine for storms, the first was making sure the shelter was secure. Food was piled for the long haul, as the storms could last anywhere from a couple of days to a week. The boys made sure there was enough dry wood to last, then they spent their days and evenings huddled for warmth, fucking, making love.

Sam loved being the big spoon. He was taller than Dean, which made him a better cuddle buddy. He usually woke first, and he was always rock hard. Sam would grind his erection into Dean’s ass, the two pairs of thin boxers providing little shielding. He would start humping his older brother, holding his hips as he assaulted him. Dean loved how it felt, it was his favorite way to wake up, moaning as each push got more intense. When he couldn’t take it any longer, Dean would pull from Sam’s hold so he could turn and face his lover, their lips colliding in a heated exchange that left both needing. Sometimes Dean would go first, sometimes Sam, but neither one left unsatisfied. Their life was perfect.

“Captain! Hurricane!!!” Gabriel shouted. Cas looked to the skies, his eyes taking in the dark threat, mentally preparing for the worst.

“Secure those barrels! Get the sails rolled up! Move! Anything not tied down needs to get below deck! It’s coming in fast!”

Michael and Luci grabbed the sails, while Gadreel and Gabe began moving lose items below. The brothers were the most feared pirates to ever grace the seven seas. Modern day thieves, the family of brothers turned to piracy as a way to survive after they were orphaned. Cas wasn’t the oldest, in fact, he was the youngest of the five. He was ten when their father had passed. As he grew, none could deny his natural ability to lead, to be calm and level-headed, even when things went south. Actually, his leadership and quick thinking had kept them from getting caught numerous times.

They had enough to retire 10 times over, but the urge to venture out, to feel the thrill of the adrenaline rush as they lifted precious cargo from various places without being caught, was too great to resist. The sheer power they felt after each successful heist was beyond addictive. They had encountered storms before, even hurricanes, but this one was darker, more menacing than any previous ones. Indeed, this one was far more dangerous, and Cas was pretty sure it was a category five.

FUCK!

High velocity winds and lightning set up them much quicker than they had predicted. Visibility dropped to near zero as the heavens opened, unleashing a torrential rainfall. Cas yelled for everyone to get below, to forget the kegs that remained loose. The lives of his brothers were worth far more than some cargo.

He watched the last brother reach the safety of the cabins just before waves crashed into the sides of the boat, catching Cas off guard. The last thing he remembered before his head slammed into the rails, was the lightning bolt hitting the deck, cracking the vessel wide open and flames erupting to engulf the entire ship.

The brothers peeked out after the three-day event, eyes taking in the damage from the storm. Leaves and branches littered the swim hole, but thankfully the shelter remained mostly intact. That was the one thing they were grateful for, the shelter that the cliff provided them. Dean volunteered to check the main beach, mostly because Sam had done it last time. They usually came back empty handed, but occasionally were graced with various gifts, including clothing, well-packaged food, blankets, and even toiletries.

Today was different.

At first, Dean saw only the wreckage: broken wood, tattered sails. He began to pick through the rubble, finding a few surprises, including rare gold coins and jewels, hell, he even found a few kegs of beer and wine. Then he noticed the movement under a distant pile of rubble, followed by low moaning.

Fuck! There was a person under there!

Dean ran over, grabbing the wooden planks and tossing them aside. He uncovered the man’s dark hair first, then worked on the rest. Finely tuned muscle and well defined hips had Dean licking his lips. Jeez Dean, focus!

He found some rope and a made a makeshift sleigh to bring him back to camp.

“Sammy!” he yelled.

The younger Winchester came running. “Dean? What the…” he paused when he saw the unconscious man on the stretcher.

“Found him under a pile of rubble. I didn’t get a chance to go through the rest of the stuff. Thought this should be our first priority.”

Sam nodded and knelt down beside the stretcher. He checked his pulse and checked for any major signs of injury. Finding none, he checked for ID next. The family crest was the only thing Sam did find on his neck chain, but there was no name with it.

“Well, whoever he is, he’s going to have one nasty headache. He’s lucky he survived.” Sam noted. “I’ll go check through the rest of the stuff. You stay here. And, Dean?”

His brother looked up, meeting Sam’s lips in a gentle kiss. “Yeah?”

Sam smiled. “Be careful.”

“Don’t worry Sammy, I ain’t planning on dying today.” With that, he playfully swatted Sam’s ass while sending him to check the shore line.

Moaning from the makeshift bed had Dean focussing once again on the newcomer. His eyes fluttered open, trying to adjust to the sunlight. His eyes took in his surroundings, then they landed on Dean. The man tried to scramble away and gain a defensive stance. Dean put his hands up slowly, palms facing out to show peace.

“Whoa, easy. I’m not going to hurt you. I found you buried under some wreckage and brought you to our camp. You’re safe here.”

The man relaxed, then gingerly brought his hand up to the back of his head, wincing at the pain. “Thank you for helping me. Where are we?”

Dean shrugged. “No clue. My brother and I have been here a long time, over a year.” He held his hand out in greeting. “Name’s Dean.”

The man paused for a moment, then took the hand offered. “Cas.”

Both Cas and Dean stared a few moments longer, as sparks passed between them. It was almost magnetic. Both men pulled away quickly, embarrassed. Sam returned later to find Dean and the stranger talking while consuming some fruit. Behind Sam, a sled filled with men’s clothing, bottles of wine, a few kegs of beer, and a slew of well sealed rations, including granola bars, toiletries, dried fruit, jerky, and first-aid supplies.

Dean lets out a low whistle, then turns to Cas. “Sam here is my younger brother.” Then he turned to Sam. “This is Cas.” The two exchange handshakes, and again both feel a spark, a magnetic attraction that neither would admit to. However, this doesn’t go unnoticed by Dean. But instead of jealousy, he feels lust, noting the three-way connection possibilities. Dean feels himself getting hard at the idea, wondering if Cas would be interested in joining him and Sam.

The evening is filled with talk and laughter and food. Cas notes that the brothers are very easy going, and has also noticed that they haven’t pressed him for any information about himself, not that he can remember. He can’t even remember his own name. The only reason he was able to give a name at all was he had seen it tattooed on his forearm.

Among the notable details is the closeness the two brothers share, and the spark he’d experienced with both men. They were both devastatingly handsome, an instant attraction no one could deny.

Eventually, arrangements were made for sleeping. The brothers offered their guest the choice of cave or the lean-to cabin they’d built. Both had decent sleep areas and a fire could easily be built in the cave if need be. Cas chose the lean-to, giving the brothers the larger quarters. They bid each other good night and Cas watched as Sam and Dean wrapped their arms around each other and walked toward the waterfall.

Cas couldn’t fall asleep. He tossed and turned, feeling like something was missing. The boys had made quite the home here, the bed was more than comfortable, so whatever was bugging him, it wasn’t the comfort level.

Then he knew. It was the sleeping arrangements. Cas couldn’t explain it, but the desire to sleep with Sam and Dean was overwhelming his mindset. He wasn’t sure if he swung that way, but his mind didn’t care, and neither did his cock, now rigid with the idea of the brothers taking him. If this was going to be his first time, he wanted it to be with Sam and Dean.

Before Cas had even blinked, he found himself heading toward the cave. The closer he got, the more excited he became, as heavy breathing and lustful noises greeted him. He glanced inside to find the brothers entwined in each other’s arms, dry humping, grinding as they kissed. Cas began rubbing his own hard cock, moaning softly as he watched.

Dean looked over to the entrance, seeing Cas standing there. He whispers something to Sam, who nods eagerly.

“Cas, both Sam and I would love for you to join us.”

Cas had never moved so fast as he did then, driven by lust and desire, his need to fuck and be fucked by these two sex gods dissolved any rational thought. Clothes flew in all directions as he strode toward his goal, till only his boxers remained. Dean grabbed him first, devouring Cas’s mouth with his own. Sam reached inside both men’s shorts, stroking the hard shafts that meet his hands.

They moan as the kiss heats up. Sam moves to stand behind Cas, nibbling along his neck and shoulders. He bites and sucks, leaving a few marks along the way. Dean breaks the lip lock long enough to suck on the other side, also marking Cas.

The brothers look at each other, then at their new toy. “Ours.” They said in unison.

With in seconds, all three are void of their shorts, eager for what’s to follow. Dean and Sam make a plan, then tell Cas.

“Cas, Dean wants to take you first. Then you’re going to take me, and then you watch Dean suck me off. Got it?”

Cas nods. Sam gets down on hands and knees, moving so his ass is in the air. Cas spits on his hand, then rubs it on his tip, mixing it with the precum that is already leaking out. He spreads the cheeks of the younger Winchester and pushes in slowly, groaning as he bottoms out. The shear pleasure it brings is more than Cas ever imagined.

Sam grinds against Cas, and Cas begins to move, pulling out then slamming back in, thrusting hard and without mercy, causing Sam to curse as he’s hit with mounds of pleasure. Dean’s eyes are full blown with lust as he watches.

“Hold still Cas. Present that firm ass for me.”

The command makes Cas even harder. The dominance radiating from both men has him whimpering with even greater need. He discovered at that moment how much he enjoys being a sub, being ordered around by the brothers. Cas bends down, covering Sam’s lean body with his own, shivering with anticipation.

Dean lines up with Cas’s tight hole, and first inserts a large finger, then a second. Cas moans as the large digits stretch and fill him. Dean pulls out and Cas almost complains, until he feels something bigger pressing in. Burning sensations jolt through him, then he sighs when Dean begins placing soft kisses along his neck and whispers in his ear. “Relax, take a deep breath. The more relaxed you are, the easier this is.”

Cas closes his eyes, willing his muscles to release the tension. He wants this more than he’ll admit, so he succeeds and the tension leaves. Dean feels the instant shift, and pushes his way in slowly. He stops to let Cas adjust, then pushes a little more. Each time he kisses along Cas’s back and neck, knowing he needs the tenderness for relaxing.

He finally bottoms out, and silence fills the cave for a minute. Then the three men begin, first Cas pulls out, then Dean, only to have Dean slam into Cas, which causes Cas to slam into Sam. The rhythm is almost too much, jolts of electricity envelope the three lovers, and they shiver with delight. They thrust again and again, picking up speed as they go. The cave echoes with the sound of skin slapping against skin, grunting, moans of ecstasy. Cas is the first to find release, his cock spilling inside Sam, then Dean follows, crying out Cas’s name as he cums inside the dark haired man.

But Dean isn’t done, as there is still one man that needs to be satisfied. Cas watches as Dean kneels in front of Sam, licking his lips as he eyes Sam’s erect cock, already dripping with precum. Dean runs his tongue over the hard phallus, teasing the tip, then taking his brother’s cock into his mouth. Sam grabs Dean’s hair and thrusts his cock forth, fucking his older brother’s mouth with gusto. Dean grabs Sam’s hips for support as the assault continues, and Cas practically drools at the entire whole scenario. Fuck! These brothers were hot and damn sexy! Sam doesn’t take long, a guttural cry escaping as he deposits his load, and watching Dean as his brother swallows every single drop. Dean stands, and taking Cas’s hand, the three men head to the pool to wash up before going to sleep, together.

@legion1993

#spndeanbingo #castielspnbingo #samwinchesterbingo #deanandsambingo

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whoareyouandwhyshouldicare · 6 years ago

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To all my fellow LoVe shippers who are feeling down I have one thing to say.

I can’t make the last 8 minute of season 4 disappear but I can recommend some really great LoVe fanfiction that will make you feel at least a little bit better. So without further ado here are a few of my favorite LoVe fics!

A Hard Habit to Break by mskatej Nothing gets Veronica over her failed relationships better than Logan Echolls.

...And Long For You by AbsolutelyIris It was moments like those Veronica wished she could be like Lilly- storm into his house and curse and yell and damn him to hell before demanding he fuck her...and like with Lilly, he would gladly, if reluctantly, do so.

“Any Love Is Good Love, Baby” by wily_one24 Apparently, Hollywood was wrong, the devil did not wear Prada, the devil wore butch black boots and tiny little skirts.

The Best (and Only) Kept Secret in Neptune by vixleonard Even when they hated each other, Logan and Veronica just couldn't stay away from each other.

The Burdened Vessel by vixleonard Veronica needs a favor only Logan can help her with.

Every Belt That Ever Hit Someone (Is Still Made to Hold Something Up) by igrockspock Logan doesn't get any votes for Most Changed at the ten-year reunion, which is bullshit when you think about it. In the past ten years, everything in his life has changed. He's joined the Navy, dated a pop star, and figured out that Dick Casablancas can occasionally behave like a real human being. Only one thing hasn't changed: he's still in love with Veronica Mars. Oh, and he's suspected of murdering his girlfriend.

"Fear and Loathing in Neptune" by wily_one24 Veronica Mars was going to get herself laid. Series Part 1 of Any Love

A Fine and Endless Cycle by kartography A freshman year at Hearst and the cyclical nature of love

Fireworks by AliLamba Veronica is technically not a virgin, and awkward results ensue. An AU version of LoVe's first time.

For the Sake of a Friend by jacedesbff What if Logan and Veronica were involved in a secret relationship throughout the events of Season 1?

The Game of Trust by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra) This time Veronica really did trust him, and she knew how to prove it...

Getcha, Getcha, Getcha, Getcha by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra) Veronica and Logan prank each other. Really, it's shameless the way they flirt...

Give Me The Ocean by scandalpants Post Season 3 AU. Veronica decides what she really wants. Spoiler: it's not Piz.

Home Is Where The Heart Is by: lv63 AU preseries and forward, begins in season 1. this story is all about veronica and her friends. angst, mystery, humor and romance, LoVe and MaDi. summary in prologue.

I Hate You Because by: SilverLining2k6 Mid 1X3 - Meet John Smith. Logan, Veronica, a pool, snark, and a made up drinking game.

i knew you were trouble when you walked in by youcallitwinter And, it's just— Logan had always been her intense high-school romance, sure. But she had, somewhere along the way, in some secret corner of her mind, convinced herself that was all he was; a high-school romance. Explosive, powerful, passionate, and bound to burn itself out eventually

(Im)Perfection by AbsolutelyIris The only real mistake is the one from which we learn nothing.

In a World by: my shangri-la A/U! Exploring the 'what ifs' that could have happened if Lilly Kane hadn't been murdered, and her secrets – and others – had come out anyway. Pairings: Lilly/Logan, past Duncan/Veronica, eventual Logan/Veronica. (Story begins with Lilly as a senior, the rest are juniors.)

In the kind of world where we belong by Anonymous There was always something missing. A Lilly Kane sized hole in both their hearts. Instead of going to see Aaron Echolls on October 3rd Lilly decides to comfort a friend and their lives change forever.A very smutty OT3 take on what might have happened if Lilly had lived.

Kid Things by sowell 5 years after graduation, Logan comes back to Neptune to ask Veronica for help.

King of Mars by: HGRising AU. In which everyone has a story to tell but not everyone gets the chance. And, things make more sense from a different perspective. Ever wonder why Veronica Mars was Lilly Kane's best friend? There's redemption for some and condemnation for others when the secrets come out. And everyone's got a good one.

Landmine by AbsolutelyIris It needed to be forgotten, and quick.

The Long Way Home by AbsolutelyIris "We should take the long way home."

Matching Pink Bikinis by Anonymous Veronica and Lilly wear matching pink bikinis to Logan's for a pool day. This is pure threesome smut, folks.

Pink Lemonade (Logan/Veronica/Lilly) On a trip to Honolulu, Lilly manages to bring Veronica out of her pink, frosty shell. Spoilers/Warnings: This is a threesome fic and therefore includes some femslash.

Playing Hide and Seek With the Truth by: jenwin23 Continuation of the Truth series. The kids go back to school. Old issues remain while more secrets will be revealed, relationships will change and lives will crumble.

The Real Thing by: Josielynn AU. Logan and Lilly are off again/on again. Duncan is dating Meg. Veronica was never friends with Lilly. Logan sees Veronica in her soccer uniform and wants to date her.

Scotch on the Rocks (A FanFic Tribute) by kmd0107 A long time ago...there was an incredibly hot LoVeLy trilogy fic (Pink Lemonade & Sex on the Beach) started over on Live Journal that never got its third part. This is a tribute to what that might have been. Logan POV of the evolving sexual and emotional relationship between himself, Veronica, and Lilly.

Scourging Fire, Blazing Soul by Nerdyesque What if Veronica didn't grow up with the 09ers, but came into their lives prior to Lilly's death? How would her presence affect Duncan, Lilly, Logan, the Kanes, and the Echolls? Also, who is Veronica without Keith Mars' loving protection?

Sex on the Beach (Logan/Veronica/Lilly) NC-17 Lilly's chapter in my Drinks Series. Nobody wants to talk about what happened in Hawaii, and it's driving Lilly crazy. How could she possibly make what happened less awkward? By making it happen again, of course!

Some Truths Hurt by: jenwin23 Jumping off point: V gets Duncan's journal in Echolls' Family Xmas. AU from there but many canon events happen too. All characters in the VM-verse make an appearance, but it is a LoVe story. In script format-but give it a try, it's well written.

The Third Kane by: Mac-alicious Lilly, Duncan and Veronica Kane rule the social scene in Neptune. The three are loyal and inseparable. They once believed there was nothing that could come between them. They didn't count on Logan Echolls.

Time, Make It Go Faster Or Just Rewind by kmd0107 Logan being ‘the real-Logan’ is so familiar that she almost can’t help but give in to it, even if it’s just a one night pass. She’ll embrace this moment out of time and the walls and armor can go back up tomorrow.AU from 1x4 Wrath of Con

Truths Too Big to be Told by: jenwin23 Sequel to Some Truths Hurt. It's summer time and more than the weather is hot. Neptune is embroiled in class warfare, Veronica is looking into the mystery of another dead girl, the fallout from Lilly's case continues, and more secrets will be revealed.

I’m also throwing in some of my favorite MaDi (Mac and Dick) fics because Dick needs a hug too.

The ABCs of Mac and Dick by: jenwin23 The ABC challenge with Mac and Dick. Created for Madi lover at VM Santa 2010 at livejournal. Cross-posted. In letter order, not in chronological order.

Bodycount by: BIFF1 Cassidy and Mac meet a little earlier and a little blood-lust gives him an entirely different problem when it comes to forming a real relationship with Mac. AU with MAJOR season two SPOILERS! Mac/Cass, Mac/Dick, Mac/Cass/Dick

Casablancas Kryptonite By: BIFF1 "You just don't get it. She's like kryptonite or something." Dick looked at his brother and thought about those blue eyes that cut and the way her mouth twisted around insults. Yeah maybe she was kyptonite. Casablancas kyptonite because isn't he just as weak.

Casual? By: BIFF1 It's just sex. Casual sex. no attachments, just good hot sex. But that was the summer and now school is about to start up again and Veronica's back from Virginia and can tell that something is up. They can stop, no problem...

The Charm Bracelet by: DalWriter Future Fic. Who Knew Prince Charming Would be Dick Casablancas? Mac reminisces as she looks at a charm bracelet Dick gave her.

Commitment Buffers by: BIFF1 Dick and Mac live with Logan and Veronica in their attempt to have some sort of commitment buffer between them. Only problem with the arrangement is that Mac and Dick tolerate each other at best which is a big improvement as far as their concerned. However living in such close quarters may prove difficult when it becomes obvious that they may actually sort of like each other.

Dark Day by: BIFF1 It's Cassidy Casablancas' birthday and the two people closest to him are falling apart. She just wants to hide away from the world for the rest of the week, just drink and cry and be with someone who gets it and no one gets it more than Dick. Not as angsty as it sounds, promise. Now complete with happy ending!

Electrify by: BIFF1 A guilt trip from Logan has landed Dick in a crowded tent with Mac. With a lightening storm raging outside he can't sleep and it appears neither can she.

Rendezvous by: BIFF1 A collection of one-shots. In which Dick and Mac are forced together by fate or friends and hook up. Because I apparently really like writing them hooking up.

Secret Santa By: BIFF1 Saw this homemade sweater from hell prompt from VMficRec. It's a November challenge but I couldn't help myself. Just some fun when Mac pulls Dick's name for Secret Santa. She figures a six pack and porn until he makes a big deal about not wanting anything handmade. She can't really help herself, she spends the month knitting Dick a sweater.

#veronica mars #LoVe #Logan Echolls #logan x veronica #fanfiction #fan fiction #season 4 fix it #veronica mars fanfiction #fanfic #logan deserved better

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plounce · 6 years ago

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god ik its a wm au but I would Love to hear more about beauyasha in this au.. also like what has yasha been up to on earth? how does she interact with beau and caleb before molly arrives? 💜🕊

>:)))! i can absolutely do so!!

so in the first two or so seasons before all the heaven/apocalypse stuff, beau and caleb met yasha in an episode. she never SAID she was a valkyrie but that’s what they assumed she was, since she had a lot of viking stuff on her and the accent and she sort of implied that. it’s what made sense at the time, especially because they had no signs that angels are a real thing.

then molly happens, and then when yasha shows back up again they recognize each other and WHAT! YASHA’S AN ANGEL ACTUALLY?? crazy.

basically what happened is that at around 200 bce or so, yasha fell in love. i’m gonna say that zuala was another angel in her garrison, and angels aren’t supposed to fall in love. they’re supposed to be conforming divine warriors who don’t have all the flaws (or strengths, or texture, or spark) that humans do.

zuala was painted as the main culprit in this transgression. rather than making her Fall (les mis voice) as lucifer fell (because by that point they didn’t want to add any more True demons to hell’s side) for punishment, they decide to just obliterate her a la the hellfire in the last scene of the good omens tv show. it isn’t pretty. yasha is made to watch. she screams, and it makes the sun flare.

the rest of the angels are going to have their memories wiped of her - including yasha - but she learns of this in time and breaks through the floor of heaven and plummets to earth. molly helps her escape, but manages to avoid getting caught doing so.

molly was in the same garrison as them, and his memory of zuala was wiped with the rest of them. he remembers yasha, remembers being fond of her, remembers that she left heaven voluntarily and that he helped her, but there’s so many blank spots. they have him move garrisons to the tomb-takers after that, who are very elite and militant, and he becomes a demon-killing expert. it’s meant to drown out all that. and it kind of works; molly remembers more of yasha when he sees her again on earth.

yasha falls and falls and her angel blade slips from her hand as she dematerializes. it plummets and falls deep into some wilderness. a glint streaking down from the shooting star in the sky that night.

what happens next is the thing that happened with anna - yasha has no vessel lined up and she wasn’t given permission to leave, and is swiftly getting her grace cut off by heaven, and her being is transformed into a human baby. she is born, and grows up in a little scandinavian village a little bit strange. her parents tell her how there was a huge shooting star the night she was born, how they think it’s a good omen form the gods, and she has a sense that she’s different - special. she’s strong and naturally gifted with the club and the axe and especially the sword - anything they put in her hands.

when she’s old enough, she’s chosen to go on their clan’s raids. she excels at getting the resources her village needs from the southern peoples. she’s a terror, and everyone knows that she’s blessed from above.

then one year, she gets separated from the raiding party and is making her way through the forest trying to make it back to the coast so she can find their boat. and out of the corner of her eye she sees a strange glint, and something in her pulls her to go to it. it’s a strange sword embedded in the rock, and she puts her hand on it, and pulls –

and memories and power flood into her. memories of zuala, of creation, of molly, of heaven’s gleaming pathways, of zuala, of the first things that crawled on land, of zuala, of the face of god, of zuala, zuala, zuala. smiling, flying, fighting, touching, burning. she screams. her howl echoes through the woods.

her people have been waiting for her back at the boat, because they can’t leave their best warrior behind. when she strides out of the woods, she’s different. she walks different, and has this power radiating from her. she climbs on the boat, tells them to go. she’s almost glowing a little bit. they row away, and yasha spends the entire journey staring up at the sky, out at the horizon.

after that day she’s different. even quieter. everyone assumes she had a holy experience that day, and she doesn’t disagree, because, well. after that day she’s keenly aware of the norse gods’ presences, and doesn’t age. when she realizes that everyone is moving forward towards death without her (humans seem so small now - she loves her human parents, she does, but remembering what the sun looked like in its infancy changes a viking), she leaves, and goes to asgard, and pledges herself to the ranks of valkyries. she’s not nearly as strong as she once was, but she’s strong enough to fit in with her new people, so she finds herself a place there among the aesir.

(side note im keeping my distance from how this world interacts with non-abrahamic religions - thats SO not my business - just know theyve got their own power and their own places that aren’t like. Beneath that of abrahamic god. because iirc spn was terrible about that) (also i say abrahamic bc iirc islam has a lot of angels and demonology in its culture but thats all im gonna say bc again: i am not a theology major, and this au is much more about the surface fun of it all rather than making any statements or assertions about ACTUAL religions (past or present) obviously) (also i’m never gonna mention jesus or the antichrist or whatever)

the angel blade is tied to her grace. her grace still exists up in heaven, locked away in the archives, so the blade still has its source. it also contains her love for zuala and molly and - and all that she loved before she was torn apart - and that fuels it, connects it to her. gives her access to its power. she’s mostly just sort of supernaturally stronger and can take more of a beating than a normal human, and on certain days/times of year she can fly short distances. days that were holy to her. she carves norse runes on her blade, because it’s hers now. she can’t age or die of old age, but she still does have human needs - food, water, sleep. she’s tough, but if she’s unlucky then she can be killed. luckily, she’s very good at fighting.

her wings… they’re not like they once were. being with the valkyries makes humans see them like other valkyries’, but the aesir can see them for what they are - decayed, fragile, skeletal things, with what remaining feathers there are barely hanging on. like her feathers in cr proper.

after ragnarok, when the surviving aesir meet in the fields of asgard, yasha thanks them for their hospitality, and returns to midgard. she wanders for a while, mostly by herself. she helps when she sees people who need her help, but mostly she just keeps herself alive and moving. quiet, contemplative. loving god’s creation even though heaven hurt her deeply. she spends years not speaking to anyone. what happened to the aesir was traumatizing to her, and she’s secure enough that she doesn’t need what they gave her when she was “younger.”

at some point she makes her way to north america. she wanders, builds cabins, and when she stumbles upon the opportunity she watches over what she once watched over. she’s aware of Hunters but is uninterested in them - they’re not hunting for food and while they help widows and the grieving that’s not their Business. not her business.

flash forward to early season 2. we know beau and caleb by this point and the basic premise of the show and the world. on a hunt in montana beau and caleb take shelter in a cabin during a snowstorm, and in the middle of the night the door opens. beau is taking watch and shoves a gun up in the intruder’s face - but it’s just yasha, holding a deer carcass and looking distinctly unimpressed. “you’re in my house.”

beau stutters an apology, caught entirely off guard by the 6′5″ mountain of a woman, and yasha shoulders past her to the table to stoke the fire and clean her kill. it’s her dinner for next month, yasha gruffly explains when beau asks what she’s doing. don’t like supermarkets.

caleb wakes up to beau helping yasha cut away the entrails. he is very frightened and confused, but when beau gives the all-clear he calms down a little. not entirely, because he knows this woman is beau’s type, and they’re still on a hunt.

they explain what they’re up to to yasha, who nods. says she’s noticed things have been strange. and beau helped her, so. she’ll help them. she’s also bored, and has a good feeling about these two.

so she helps out with the hunt, and throughout the episode beau clumsily flirts with her and yasha never turns her down but also never Flirts back. there’s a tension that’s mostly powered by beau but isn’t shut down by yasha (yasha thinks beau’s sweet and attractive, and she’s taken some human lovers over the last two millennia, but is still devoted to the memory of zuala. the audience doesn’t know that thought). she and caleb connect on a We Are Both Quiet Introverts level, like they do in actual cr (reminiscent of the shaving scene after bowlgate).

it isn’t until the end that caleb and beau think she’s anything but a mountain lady. then she pulls out a HUGE GLOWING SWORD carved with RUNES and THERE’S SOMETHING BEHIND HER THAT LOOKS LIKE WINGS? and then she nods, says goodbye, and walks away into the woods before caleb and beau can pepper her with questions about what the fuck just happened.

they run after her, but can’t find her or the cabin again. in the car ride back to civilization, caleb theorizes that she might be a valkyrie, and beau’s like yeah that sounds appropriately sexy.

yasha is a fan favorite. she had a whole focus episode and she was so mysterious and cool! the audience clamors for her to be brought back, and are sad when she doesn’t show up for the rest of season 2. beau and caleb mention her a couple times, so it’s made plain that she isn’t TOTALLY a one-off, but… hm!

beaujester shippers already existed by this point (jester was in season 1 and again in season 2), and beauyasha gains some popularity. beau having attractions to both of them is present in the show, but she isn’t dating either of them. there’s significance to both of them - they’re both people beau thinks of when she thinks of having Somebody.

a lot of fic about yasha is written between seasons 2 and 4, theorizing about her life as a valkyrie and what her and beau meeting up would be like… which is all then jossed when angels happen in season 4.

caleb gets taken to hell at the end of season 3 because of ikithon and for beau. during his last couple days on earth, he begs beau to find jester. or hell, yasha. don’t be alone, please. live and be happy. go get - go get powerlifted by one or both of them. i heard you sleeptalk enough about that. and beau tells him to shut up, don’t talk like that, i’ll - i’ll find a way to bring you back. and then you can see me get gay married or whatever it is you want me to do. because i’m gonna get you out of there. and caleb smiles, and his eyes say we both know you won’t.

there’s a whole genre of fic about jester or yasha (or both) comforting beau and settling into hunting/domesticity with her or helping her rescue caleb after caleb gets dragged away btw. idk why im making up fake fic about this au but you know what. i deserve this.

yasha is sort of put out of mind in the heaven excitement of season 4 and the arrival of molly as a third companion, turning their duo into a trio half the time. the apocalypse stuff isn’t quite happening yet btw (this is where i start diverging from the seasonal structure of spn), it’s just angels being real and caleb and beau being mysteriously important to them.

there is one point where during the beginning of an episode about halfway through the season where they’re regaling molly with a story of one of their hunts - beau is trying to embarrass caleb with a time he got enthralled by a siren, and caleb bats back with well, at least i didn’t let a giant woman with a dead deer push my gun aside so she could skin the thing with no enchantments on me at all. and beau’s like AW CMON DUDE DONT BRING YASH INTO THIS.

then there’s a shot where their bickering dialogue continues but the camera is focused on molly, who tilts his head a little, considering, then takes a sip of his orange juice (he hates coffee - too bitter! if he’s going to consume something to keep up the idea that he’s human, it’ll be something that tastes good!). then it cuts to the car.

it’s intentionally ambiguous if that’s about caleb getting seduced by a siren, beau being embarrassed, or whatever - it’s just an odd little moment. which is significant when they’re up north again, four episodes later, in a little restaurant off the highway, and they’ve just finished their meal and talk about the season plotline is happening when the door SLAMS open, and booted feet stomp across the dirty tile, strong legs in worn jeans, a huge backpack - beau’s eyes widen - and there’s yasha, striding directly to their table with a look of utmost focus and determination.

beau goes to stand, caleb’s brow furrows - yasha, what are you doing here - what’s going on - when, before they can act, molly stands up, causing the table to rock and their cups to slosh over. yashael! he exclaims, his face split in incredulous delight. you’re alive! you survived! you’re okay - it’s been millennia! what are you doing here?! oh, i don’t care, get over here. and he goes to her, and she hugs him, and beau and caleb are standing there, slack-jawed, as stony stoic yasha cracks a wide smile and hugs molly and lifts him off the ground.

did… did mollymauk just say ‘yashael?’ caleb says, stunned. molly is cradling yasha’s face in his hands, and her cheeks are round with joy. beau’s imagination could never have given her this smile, and she’s jealous a little bit, but also in awe, but mostly also trying to process the two puzzle pieces that just locked themselves together that she thought were totally separate from each other.

(relevant posts to their reunion: art, text, text)

from then on yasha is part of their group, at least for that season. there’s a lot of caleb and beau commiserating over their attraction to two LITERAL ANGELS - especially when the truth of yasha’s fall is revealed. beau is torn up inside about all of it - an ANGEL, for the first part, and her dead angel lover (how could beau ever compete with an ANGEL) and, oh christ, molly’s odd humoring of her crush on yasha is cast in a new light now.

and then jester comes back and… well, now beau’s torn between two hot girls who are both important in the grand scheme of things! yipes!

it takes a long time and there’s probably also some romantic drama in that triangle etc, but beauyaster is endgame. because i have a huge fucking brain.

#chirps #wmspn au #HOPEFULLY THAT READMORE WORKS ON MOBILE BC THIS ONE'S A LONG ONE!#long post #robcr #qll #thank you for the ask!!#autisticbillpotts

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musicprincess655 · 6 years ago

Link

Ryuu has a few problems with his temper.

It’s not news to him. He’s always been a pot ready to boil over, always just a step from snapping and lashing out. Losing his home and his family to a fire No. 6 started didn’t leave much in the way of humanity, and trying to protect the new family he’d built in the West Block had taken care of the rest.

Even still, Ryuu tends to be calm on a day to day basis. He’s learned to pull his anger out when he needs it, and he’s never needed it in the room he and Gin share. They fight sometimes, of course they do. Sometimes they just look at each other and it’s on. No matter how much they care about each other, they were still children who had to deal with each other without quite knowing how to use their words, and every so often, they’re the same as adults.

But there’s never true anger behind it, just momentary irritation that sometimes can be solved quicker by throwing punches at each other than talking it out. Just siblings being siblings.

Nothing like what Ryuu feels, watching Atsushi cringe away from yet another loud bang from the outside. Chuuya had gotten an idea for using their roof to collect rainwater so they wouldn’t have to keep repairing the line down to the well, and when Chuuya got ideas, they tended to be executed loudly.

Which has all led to Ryuu, trying to enjoy a cup of tea in peace, trying to go through the latest information his robots have brought him from inside No. 6, and entirely distracted every time Atsushi flinches like a bomb just went off. It’s pathetic.

Ryuu refuses to consider that at least part of his anger might be that Atsushi came in earlier from a shift working with Kyouka, laughing with Dazai about something inane. Atsushi formed such an easy friendship with Dazai, something Ryuu himself has tried and failed to do for years. Ryuu has earned Chuuya’s respect over the six years they’ve known each other, but Dazai still withholds approval, and Ryuu craves it all the more.

So when Atsushi flinches so hard he knocks a spare bit of machinery that Ryuu was thinking about using to repair one of his rats off the shelf, breaking it, Ryuu snaps hard.

“Will you fucking stop?” he snarls, throwing the closest thing he has at hand at Atsushi. Which happens to be the pen he was writing with, and it does nothing to soothe his anger, so Ryuu reaches for a heavier book. “Nothing’s coming to kill you, just sit still and stop goddamn flinching!”

“It’s just loud,” Atsushi protests, ducking under the book Ryuu throws at him. Ryuu’s anger bubbles up, scalding and steaming. He gets to his feet, reaching for his knife. Dazai’s favorite or no, Ryuu cannot allow Atsushi to keep ruining the one place he feels safe and calm like this.

“So fucking what?” Ryuu demands, advancing on Atsushi, torn between swiping with his knife and throwing a punch. The knife would be more effective, but the punch would be so much more satisfying. “Leave if it’s that much of a problem.”

“And go where?”

“You think I give a fuck?” Ryuu shoves Atsushi back against the bookcase. Something else falls off, but Ryuu doesn’t have the time to care what it is. “I really fucking don’t.”

“Why are you-”

Atsushi freezes at the same time Ryuu does, cold bite of steel at their throats. Gin stands between them, holding a knife on each other them. If Ryuu wasn’t sure she’d actually cut him just to make her point, he’d flinch. They haven’t annoyed each other enough to pull weapons out in a long time.

“Enough,” she says. “Stop fighting, or I’ll make you stop fighting.”

“But-”

“No buts,” she says, holding the knife to Atsushi’s throat so hard it turns white and presses in, and a bead of blood bubbles over the edge. “Stop.”

She puts her knives away and flops back on her bed. Ryuu isn’t sure exactly what she’s doing. Some kind of tinkering, something that might maybe be a gun. Gin prefers knives, they both do, but a gun can offer a different kind of option, and they’re rare as hell out here. The best choice is to make one, and Gin’s been trying on and off for years to learn. This might be one of her new prototypes.

Ryuu flops back on the couch that doubles as his bed with a huff. He’d be doing just fine if Atsushi wasn’t here, projecting anxiety all over the place. The nervous energy he exudes is setting Ryuu on edge, and he can’t really be blamed for lashing out.

Atsushi sits on the chair he’s been sleeping on, picking up one of the robots.

“Hey, Cravat,” Atsushi says. “Doing good work?”

“Stop naming my fucking robots, Jinko,” Ryuu snaps. He keeps a tight lid on his anger, though. Gin will only warn him once.

“They’re so lifelike, though,” Atsushi says.

“Then at least give them better names,” Ryuu says. “Cravat, seriously? What even is that? Name them something strong, like Rashomon.”

“That can be the black one,” Atsushi says. “Rashomon. Rashomon. It sounds like a demon.”

It’s about the most civil Ryuu and Atsushi have managed to be with each other. At least Atsushi finally settles down, and it sounds like Chuuya’s called it quits for the day. Ryuu finally settles into the zone, focusing on his task, when something that’s not quite the right color catches the corner of his eye.

Atsushi had waved one of his hands, beckoning one of the robots over, and there’s a big black spot on his palm.

“What’s on your hands?” Ryuu asks. Is there a motor oil leak somewhere? If Gin spilled that again, it really will be a fight, because that’s a bitch and a half to clean up, and he’s not doing it.

Atsushi turns his palm, brows furrowed in confusion, before his eyes fly wide open in fear and what Ryuu thinks might even be realization. He slowly raises his hands to touch the back of his neck, and as soon as he does, he lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

Gin flies to her feet, and Ryuu flies to Atsushi. He shoves Atsushi roughly around, trying to see what’s on his neck. Is there something in the air? Are they all in danger?

“Cut it out,” Atsushi says through gritted teeth.

“What?”

“You have to cut it out of me.”

“Go get Dazai-san and Chuuya-san!” Ryuu yells at Gin. She doesn’t question him for a second, sprinting from the room. “Jinko, tell me what’s happening. What am I cutting out of you?”

“It’s going to kill me!” Atsushi screams, and he jerks away from Ryuu. Ryuu shoves him down on the bed, trying to get his knife in his hand as he holds Atsushi’s bucking body down.

“Jinko, I don’t know what’s happening, but hold still,” Ryuu commands. Atsushi seems to know what this is, even if Ryuu doesn’t, and if he says to cut something from the back of his neck, Ryuu will listen this once.

Atsushi twists, wailing in pain again, arms flailing like he might be able to reach for something to stop his pain. Ryuu flings a leg over Atsushi’s waist, using his ankles to dig into Atsushi’s calves. He has to use both of his arms to hold down Atsushi’s, knife dangerously close to Atsushi’s wrist, and Atsushi screams once more into the bed.

“Stop!” Ryuu shouts. “I can’t cut anything out if you’re fighting me.”

Atsushi isn’t using his body to its full advantage, but even so, he’s stronger than Ryuu, and it’s all Ryuu can do just to hold him down.

“Jinko, stop fighting me,” Ryuu says. “I’m going to help you, but I need you to hold still.”

Atsushi thrashes again.

“Hold still.”

Atsushi’s fists clench in the sheet, muscles shifting under Ryuu’s hands.

“Good.”

Ryuu gets to work, cutting open the back of Atsushi’s neck. His knife isn’t really suited for this – a scalpel would be better – but it’s what he has, and if he gets up off Atsushi to go look for the first aid kit, Atsushi will probably just start moving again.

If Ryuu isn’t careful, he could slice down too far and sever Atsushi’s spinal cord. The thought only occurs to him later. Now, he’s too caught up in the momentum of trying to follow Atsushi’s instructions to cut something from the back of his neck.

There’s a black mark on the back of Atsushi’s neck, same as the ones on his hands. Atsushi whimpers into the mattress as Ryuu spreads the cut apart, trying to see what’s inside.

A line is burning its way down Atsushi’s arms, making a pink line of burst blood vessels that almost looks like a snake. Ryuu doesn’t pay it any attention. He’s reaching into the cut, ignoring the risk for infection right now, and his fingers close on something round and hard. He pulls it out, and Atsushi’s body goes limp.

Ryuu stares at the thing in his hands. It almost looks like a half-formed pupa, an insect that wasn’t entirely ready to hatch. What was this doing under Atsushi’s skin? Was this some new horror No. 6 was inflicting on them?

“Jinko, what is this?” Ryuu asks, voice gone quiet. Atsushi doesn’t answer. He probably can’t. He did just have his neck cut open, after all.

Gin bursts back into the room, Dazai and Chuuya hot on her heels. Dazai takes one look at Ryuu pinning Atsushi down and his eyes harden.

“What did you do?”

Ryuu’s mouth drops open. He’s supposed to defend himself here, he knows, but he can’t find the words. He actually did the right thing here, at least by Dazai’s standards. He did exactly what Atsushi told him to do, and as far as he can tell, it worked.

“Saved me.” Ryuu turns back to where Atsushi is apparently awake enough to mumble. “He saved me.”

Ryuu is both furious and exhausted. He stands, leaving Atsushi’s limp body behind. Dazai opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Ryuu throws the pupa at him.

“This was in his neck,” Ryuu says. “It was killing him. I cut it out. He’ll need stitches.”

That’s all Ryuu says, because if he keeps talking, he’ll say something he’ll regret later. He’ll yell at Dazai for assuming the worst of him, just like always, when it wasn’t remotely justified. And Ryuu is just too tired for it now. He feels drained.

He needs to leave.

He pushes past everyone to leave through the open door.

“Oi, Ryuu-” Chuuya starts, but Ryuu ignores him. He’ll regret that later. He knows he will. But he’s done here. Everyone else can patch up the new golden boy Ryuu just saved. They don’t need him around for that.

#shin soukoku #sskk #atsuaku #akuatsu #bungou stray dogs #bsd #my writing #no. 6 au #systasis

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eddiemunsonsmiddlefingers · 6 years ago

Text

What all Fairy Tales Have In Common

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 2,970

Warnings: Y’all know how Sleeping Beauty wakes up. Well, that’s a plot element here. That’s all. Beta: EmiliaOagi

Gift for insominia on AO3 - It’s posted there, too, if peeps are curious.

---

The hunt was supposed to be little more than a milk run, but then again that’s how all their fucked up stories begin, isn’t it? They really should know better than to assume the best by this point in their career, but somehow they do, again and again, and this time’s no different.

Sam’s angry, so angry; at the hag that put them in this predicament, at Cas for losing his wings, and at Chuck for inventing supernatural creatures as a whole when the world would be much better off without. Mostly he’s angry at himself, lost in a fire storm of self-recrimination that has only compounded since he slid behind Baby’s wheel twelve hours ago.

He should have insisted on better precautions, should have realized they weren’t facing an ordinary witch, should have demanded more research when the lore didn’t quite add up. He should have done something different, even if the others had been impatient to just get it over with. He’s thirty-six for the love of Christ; it’s beyond time to learn to say no, even -no, especially - to Dean.

Dean. Impulsive Dean, protective Dean, self-sacrificing Dean...ridiculous, foolhardy, dangerous Dean.

Sam slams his palm against the steering wheel and studiously avoids looking in the rear view mirror. He doesn’t have to; he already knows his brother’s head rests on Cas’s thighs, his chest moving only enough for them to know he’s still alive. The last time Sam stopped for gas, Dean’s freckles had stood out like inverted constellations against increasingly pale skin; Sam doesn’t want to think of how that’s changed in the last four hours.

Sam’s eyes drift to the mirror despite his best effort. Castiel’s head is bowed and his shoulders hunched as he murmurs endless, desperate Enochian under his breath. The syllables are punched out one at a time, ragged and forceful, cracking between thunderous bass and pitchy soprano from one second to the next. It’s like he’s forgotten how to speak with his human vessel entirely, like he’s speaking through a galaxy of grief that Sam can’t begin to comprehend.

Sam has never seen the angel cry, and he’s not prepared to witness it now. Not when his own throat feels tight and thick with fear, when his eyes are heavy with the need for sleep and his body aches from being crammed into a car after being beaten to a pulp. He has to keep it together, however. He has to keep going long enough to get them to the Bunker, to Rowena, to someone, anyone, anything that might help Dean.

“No luck?” Sam tries to ask, then has to clear his throat and try again, because his voice breaks before the words even exit his mouth.

Castiel doesn’t respond, but his shoulders jerk and light flares in the mirror, impossibly bright for the brief moments it exists. Then it fades and Cas swears, an incoherent jumble of heresy in languages both current and long forgotten.

The angel’s fist slams against the window next to his head so hard the glass cracks on impact and Sam’s first thought is fuck, Dean’s gonna be pissed. Then he remembers his brother may never see the damage.

Sam mashes his foot against the gas pedal until it’s flush with the floor.

---

Rowena tries only one spell before hastily quenching her candles and dousing the chalice in water. “Ach, I’m sorry, my darlings. It’s draining his life, and the poor wee man has little enough as it is,” she explains when the angel and the hunter give her twin accusatory glares.

She stays for a while after, patting Dean’s knee as she shares what lore she knows. It seems there’s a variety of hags, and what kills one might strengthen another, and cause the victim of a third to shrivel and die. Dean’s life depends on them pinpointing the specific origins of this particular monster, and there’s very little to guide them.

---

Days fade into nights fade into days fade into a week or more of waiting. Cas finally puts his fingers to Sam’s forehead and forces the human to sleep despite his adamant objections. He carries Sam to his room and lays him on the bed, then returns to sit by Dean.

Cas doesn’t read, or watch TV, or even pace. In the greater playing field of the angel’s life, this time is little more than a moment of inconvenience, and thus he needs no distraction from his vigil.

In Castiel’s immediate experience, the hours until Sam wakes up are an eternity of hell.

When Sam stumbles back into Dean’s room with wrinkled clothes, the folds of his sheet imprinted on his cheek, he’s so angry the air palpably crackles. His knuckles are white around the edges of his latest book of lore and his breath is fast and uneven as if he’s on the brink of speech with every exhale, but for hours he won’t even look at Cas.

When Sam does finally speak, his voice crackles and blurs with emotion, shoulders shaking and chest heaving as he struggles to maintain some semblance of self control. He gets two sentences into his latest theory before the levee breaks.

Sam’s rage bleeds into every shouted accusation; Castiel stares at his own hands, fingers interlocked in his lap, and lets the words wash over him like a cleansing tide. He knows what Sam is really angry at, even if Sam doesn’t.

Cas feels no regret; the Hunter needed the rest.

---

There’s only so much grief a human can take before their heart and brain start healing themselves of their own volition, no matter how great the loss they’ve suffered. God designed the human race to be as infinitely resilient as they are malleable, after all, and they have no choice but to live up to their nature.

Cas knows this truth in theory. He even helps the process along for his friend, in whatever subtle ways he can manage, because Sam’s grief is boundless and terrible. Cas can at least give him the gift of peace, even if he can’t bring Dean back.

Even knowing that, however, the pain Cas feels the first time Sam goes to the kitchen to get coffee before checking on Dean in the morning is beyond imagining. The angel stares at the mug in Sam’s fist and tries not to think of the last time Dean casually flipped him off, eyes still sleepy and hair a wreck, the fingers of his opposite hand wrapped around that very dish.

It’s been nearly a month and they’re no closer to a lead.

---

Castiel doesn’t remember the last time he left the Bunker. He marks time only by Sam’s irregular appearances. The Hunter is increasingly tired, bloody, bruised, and wild-eyed as he talks about whatever creatures he demolished on this hunt or that. His big hands flex in thin air, as if unconsciously searching for something he’s missing, and he hasn’t shaved since Dean fell.

Castiel makes the mistake of touching Sam exactly once. A punch can’t truly damage him, but a fist to the face still hurts; from that point on he carefully avoids all contact as he heals his friend, feeds him, and forces him to sleep.

He knows Sam will forgive him. He might even forgive himself for failing Dean someday, though that’s more debatable.

Cas looks up from his latest book and realizes he’s alone again. It’s a passing thought; then it’s gone and he’s buried in research once more.

In the ensuing weeks, Castiel reads every single scrap of applicable lore in the Bunker multiple times over, scavenges the internet for leads every day, talks to every witch and shaman he can locate, and reaches out to his remaining brothers and sisters in ineffectual desperation.

He even summons a demon, staring at the creature’s grotesque true form in morbid fascination for long moments before making his inquiry. The exchange leads to nothing save a pile of ash and the stench of sulfur.

That night Cas picks up a book of children’s fables. He settles on the edge of the bed with distinct care, one leg hooked up beneath him and the other dangling to the floor as he looks at Dean. “I miss you,” he tells his human as he runs his finger over the gold-edged pages in his lap. “I don’t know how to help you, but I can’t give up.”

He talks to Dean all the time, but this feels more intimate, somehow. This time he’s not masking his feelings with discussion of a case, or research, or someone else’s problems. There’s no more business to discuss at all, in fact, no reason to maintain the mask he’s had in place for over a decade.

All that’s left to consider is the bond built between them, a connection so fierce it tied a soldier of God to the plight of mankind in every conceivable way.

Castiel exhales softly, eyes closed, then opens the book to the first story.

He reads aloud for hours, voice gentle and steady. The Frog Prince. Cat and Mouse in Partnership. Mary’s Child ...onward, every word carefully pronounced, every page turned with the same care as the one before. Hansel and Gretel gets his full attention, but the old woman in that tale is clearly a witch and nothing more. He moves on with the barest huff of disappointment.

He describes the illustrations when he runs across them. He tells Dean what he thinks of each story as he finishes it, talks about the probable origins for some of them, how oddly humanity has changed the stories over the centuries since their inception. Dean never wakes and he doesn’t need to sleep, so there’s no real reason to be concise in his analysis.

He soon realizes that there are repeating themes in every tale. Good is rewarded, evil is punished. Love threads through every single one, in one form or another: a child’s love for their parent, a parent’s love for their child. Sibling love, love between friends... true love. Love conquers every barricade, the stories tell him again and again. Love is the greatest power in the universe.

He finishes reading Sleeping Beauty and sets the book aside, studying Dean’s face thoughtfully.

“What’s the one thing all hags have in common?” He asks as his fingers trace the Hunter’s jawline. He pauses only a moment before supplying the answer. “They’re in these legends I’ve been reading, what you humans call fairy tales.” The specific details changed from country to country, but one thing stayed true: No matter what these creatures ate or what tool was used to kill them, the actual force behind their defeat was always love. Gretel’s love for her brother. Rapunzel’s love for her child. The prince’s love for Snow White or Briar Rose.

Cas licks his lips, glancing around with furtive unease as he contemplates his next move. He knows Dean doesn’t feel the same way for him that he feels for Dean, is unsure what Dean would think of this unorthodox attempt to break the curse.

“I don’t know if this works in the modern world at all, let alone if the feelings are one-sided,” he confesses, vaguely aware that he’s sinking closer to Dean’s face despite his doubts. “I have to try though. I love you too much to let you die.”

His breath gets faster as his nose brushes against Dean’s, the air crackling with energy pouring from his true form too fast for his vessel to contain. Sam’s anger at being put to sleep will be nothing to Dean’s if he wakes up with Cas’s mouth on his. Cas knows this. He knows this, and he’s accepted himself as collateral damage before he’s even made the move. Dean’s life is worth it.

“I’m sorry….I’m so sorry.”

His lips brush Dean’s in a chaste kiss, soft and small, barely there. Sparks arc between them and Castiel’s chest does a painful triple-pulse. He presses down again instinctively, this time firm and demanding. His grace extols the union, crackling energy declaring this is my human, you will not touch him.

He’s barely aware of any of this, however, because suddenly there’s an arm around his waist and fingers sliding into his hair, a mouth moving against his own... parting for him and how can that even be? He feels Dean’s tongue slip out to trace the outline of his lips and the arm around his waist tightens, manhandling him further onto the bed. The pressure doesn’t stop until Cas’s full weight rests across Dean’s body.

Dean’s mouth shifts, hot kisses drifting up the underside of Cas’s jaw to settle beneath his ear, licking and sucking there so long that Cas is sure Dean’s trying to bruise the unbruisable. It’s too much, far too much, yet not enough. Cas tilts his head to the side with a groan, his vessel and true form sparking and squirming in unison from the assault on his very core.

Sense returns reluctantly.

“Dean,” Cas growls, his hands pushing at the Hunter’s shoulders. He doesn’t want to stop; his head is spinning and his vessel is ablaze with unfamiliar heat. He could explore these feelings until the Earth returns to star stuff and still not have enough of it.

They need to talk though. He needs to understand. He needs to know Dean is okay, in more ways than one.

They part long enough for Cas to catch a glimpse of burning green eyes before Dean’s lips lock on his again in a desperate frenzy. The human slides one arm around his shoulders to pull him near while the other tugs Cas’s shirt out of his pants. His fingers brush bare skin and Castiel gasps for breath, suddenly so close to losing any semblance of control that he’s actually frightened.

“Dean!”

Dean pulls away with a frustrated sound. When Castiel collects himself enough to look down, the Hunter is sprawled across the pillow with a familiar smirk on his face, lips red and spit-slick, eyes glowing impossibly green in the light of the single lamp.

“How long have you been conscious?” Castiel needs to know, is desperate for answers he’s afraid to hear.

Dean hesitates, wetting lips that don’t need it as his eyes slide around for a distraction. Sam’s in Arizona and Cas hasn’t seen or heard from Jack or the other Hunters in a month or more. There’s no one to rescue Dean from the truth of this moment, and Cas is simultaneously pleased and overwhelmed by the possibilities that solitude presents.

Eventually Dean relaxes, though his arm remains locked around Cas’s shoulder. “For as much as I could force myself to be,” he says finally. “I had to sleep sometimes. Laying there with my eyes shut got real boring, real fast.”

“You were awake.” Cas can’t help it; he touches Dean’s face, traces the familiar lines of forehead, cheeks, jaw, nose, and lips with trembling fingers. There’s color in his skin again, Cas notices. “The- the whole time?”

He remembers frantic prayers, endless tears, frustrated declarations of how much he loves the human beneath him and how Cas cannot disappoint him again. Cas is rigid in his disbelief and humiliation.

“As much as any human would be, yeah.” Dean shifts beneath him. “I’m an idiot, Cas,” the human says. “You said you loved me, but I didn’t- didn’t know.” Overwhelming joy fights for precedence with Cas’s shame. It blooms with fierce interest when Dean reaches up, cupping his face in one palm.

“I am- humans are-” The angel tries to pull away, but Dean’s grip tightens, pulling him back.

“Shut up, Cas. I love you, too.” It’s so stark, so clear, so completely unexpected. Cas doesn’t need to breathe, but air sticks in his throat anyway as he gapes at the Hunter in stark disbelief.

The angel surges forward, once again laying his claim on Dean, on his human, the man who taught him to love and be loved. He does nothing to drown out Dean’s declarations of love, or the profanity and sacrilege the hunter cries into the silence of the bunker as Cas explores every inch of what is unquestionably and forever his. It’s the best prayer the angel’s ever received and he does his best to ensure it lasts a while.

Every glass in the room shatters when Dean returns the favor after, but neither of them notice until much later.

---

“.....You’re telling me true love’s kiss broke the spell?”

Sam’s sprawled across a chair in the Library. His arms are crossed over the back and his chin rests on the backs of his hands as he stares at his brother and Castiel in equal parts incredulous shock and amusement. He looks exhausted and a little suspicious, but there’s warmth in his eyes and they’re twinkling in a way Castiel hasn’t seen in months.

“Something like that,” Dean mutters, turning his beer bottle between his palms and refusing to look at either of them.

“Something exactly like that,” Cas says, arching an eyebrow as he stares at his lover.

“It was a curse, arright? Not like I have any control over how it was made or what breaks it,” Dean grumbles.

“Okay, okay Princess Aurora, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Sam holds both hands up, palms out, and Dean flips him off. Castiel leans back in his chair and closes his eyes, listening to the siblings pick on each other with a smile on his face and contentment in his bones.

Is this what happily ever after feels like?

A few minutes later, Dean leans over to press a gentle kiss against Cas’s lips before he passes into the kitchen, and Cas stares after him just long enough for Sam to tease him about having cow eyes.

Yes. The answer is yes.

#spn #destiel #spn fanfic #fanfic #sunny's writing #profound exchange: fairytales #fairy tales #sleeping beauty crossover #canon compliant

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spaceiplier · 7 years ago

Text

SPACEIPLIER: Origin

Mark stared at the note he had left for Bob and Wade on his pillow. It wasn’t much. Just an apology and an explanation of where he was going. Staring at it, though… he felt anger building inside him. He grabbed it and tore it up, letting the pieces fall to the floor.

If they wanted to know where he was then they could ask.

He glanced outside his dorm room, making sure no one else was out past curfew. He then stepped outside, carrying all his personal items and a small assortment of rations in a bag on his back. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to get him back home.

As he quickly walked towards the docks, thoughts raced through Mark’s mind. This was what was best, right? With his grades dropping and the scholarship being pulled, there was no way he could keep going to the Academy.

You could always work hard and get your grades back up, something inside him whispered, but Mark pushed the thought aside. He was sick and tired of being the one who was good at everything. The pressure to live up to others’ expectations for him felt smothering.

If was being completely honest with himself, he had stopped putting effort into them ages ago. His grades had been going downhill for months, and his perfect attendance score had become… well… a lot less perfect.

It wasn’t that Mark hated being here. He loved flying. It was just… all these people expecting him to be something he wasn’t. Expecting him to stay at the top, all while plodding through each day doing things he hated.

It was just wrong.

Mark needed something different.

The docks were silent when he arrived, and the only security guard on detail was fast asleep. Mark slipped inside the pod nearest to the exit.

Luckily, that meant the GAAP wouldn’t miss one if it happened to go missing.

“Log Date I-don’t-remember-how-to-do-this-part-three: There’s a planet in sight. I’m hoping I can land there before this piece of trash runs out of fuel. Hopefully there’s civilization that has transports headed back home. Um, yeah. Signing out.”

Mark leaned back in his seat, cringing as his stomach rumbled. He should have packed more rations. It had been three days since he’d left the Academy, and rations were low. He only had a few nutrition bars left, and his water was down to a few gulps.

The dashboard beeped, yet again reminding Mark that he was running low on fuel.

Mark closed his eyes tight. At this point, he’d be happy if he crashed.

Mark was not happy when he crashed.

When he finally woke up, red lights were flashing from the dash, and his ears were ringing. Something sticky trickled down his forehead, and shoulder was on fire. Pain was pulsing up from Mark’s arm. Everything felt numb and far away, but the longer he sat there, the sharper it became. The sharper it became, the more Mark wanted to go back to sleep.

He groaned, looking down at his arm. It twisted in a position it definitely was not supposed to be in. Gingerly pushing the sleeve up, swearing every time it touched his skin, he looked it over.

His shoulder on the other hand…

Every time he moved was pure agony. It was dislocated. That was something he was going to have to fix before he could move. Mark had never done this before, but it couldn’t be that bad… right?

Mark positioned himself against the dash, holding his shoulder with his good hand. One big breath in and… he pushed.

It snapped back into place.

Mark screamed.

He had landed on Talbos Prime. Facts from classes floated through his pain-delirious brain. Dominant species: Nuxoin, an omnivorous species. Main export: lumber and other natural resources. The entire planet was forest and a few freshwater seas. If he weren’t in so much pain, Mark might have actually appreciated the scenery surrounding him.

Mark had managed to get himself bandaged up, propping his arm with a splint kit. It wasn’t great, but it was better than nothing. Looking over his injuries, he was glad for once that his dad was alien.

It still sucked.

Mark readjusted the splint on his broken arm and set to work.

As much as Mark hated these scrappy ships, they held their shape pretty well. He wouldn’t need to fix much, but what he did need to fix was time consuming. Hours passed as he worked. The first sun set and the second rose. A few of the local wildlife gathered to watch him at one point. When Mark was focused, though, he was focused.

The ship was already looking in better condition as the final sun disappeared below the horizon. Sealant held the tears in the wings together and covered the multiple cracks that littered the surface of the front window. The burnt engine parts had been replaced, and the fuel was slowly refilling. Thank god for GAAP adaptability fuels. As long as the planet had some form of fuel in the atmosphere, he could slowly refill.

Mark sat inside the ship now, struggling to screw a panel back in. The screwdriver fumbled in his hand, dropping below the dash.

“Fuck! Where’d you go now?” He cursed the tool as he bent over and peered below himself.

He reached for it, but in doing so pulled his injured arm. He gasped in pain, recoiled back and holding himself. Once it faded, he stared at the screwdriver with hatred. It was like it was mocking him. Too weak to grab a stupid tool. Too useless.

“I’m not weak,” Mark growled at it.

He lowered himself down gently, wincing through the pain. He took the tool and finished screwing in the panel.

“Not too bad, Mark,” he said, smiling at the interior of his ship. Only two more flashing lights to stop, and then he’d be homeward bound again. “Mark Fischbach: Pilot, mechanic, and genius.”

“Fischbach?” the flight instructor called, sounding incredibly bored.

A young Mark stepped forward, looking confident and eager. The instructor sighed and opened the top of the small ship. The model looked and functioned similar to most GAAP standard single person vehicles, but was unable to reach half the altitude of the real things. Mark jumped inside with ease.

“Just a few laps,” the instructor ordered, glancing at his clipboard, “and then land here. Remember, this is the real test. You will be scored on your take-off, speed, control, and, finally, landing. This test is the true determinant to see if you make it into the GAAP Academy. Do your best, and good luck out there, future pilot of the Galactic Assembly of Allied Planets.”

Mark grinned, giving his friends a thumbs up as the top closed over him.

It was easy. The test flew by in a blur of whoops and speed. Mark had been flying since he could reach the controls. This was nothing. As he approached landing, he felt tempted to show off. Just a little wouldn’t hurt… right?

He increased the speed.

Just before it became to late, Mark pulled up on the controls. The ship groaned under the sudden change, but it obeyed him. Gently, he set the ship down in front of his classmates. He hopped out with a grin.

The instructor looked furious.

“Fischbach!” They stomped towards him. “That was reckless and dangerous! Your flying was beyond GAAP regulations. I am surprised you made it past the entrance exams.”

Mark clenched his fists, “I’m the best pilot in my class, sir. My stats prove that.”

“Not when you fly like that,” They scorned. “Report to your commander.”

Mark turned and stalked away, anger clawing in his gut. He was a great pilot. He knew what he was doing.

Mark ruffled his hair and let it fall evenly over the bandages wrapped around his forehead. He was sitting outside of the ship, popping berries into his mouth as he waited for the fuel to fill back up. He figured out before he left that these ones were safe, and harvested enough to fill a small container he’d found on the ship. “Berries blue; good for you,” he hummed through a mouthful of the sweet treat.

The ship beeped and blinked to life, only slightly more jittery than it had been at the Academy.

“There you go, you piece of junk,” Mark sighed, getting to his feet to pat the nose of the ship. “Now we can go home.”

The ship rumbled as he took off, but Mark wasn’t about to complain about the ship now. It was certainly better than staying on Talbos Prime and paying off a Velm to not steal his last tank of fuel.

See you never again, Talbos Prime, Mark thought as the forest planet faded into the space behind him. From now on, it was smooth sailing to Ventos Beta.

Two days

It was going to take him two days to get back.

He looked back down to his arm. He couldn’t quite tell if he set the splint correctly, but at this point a poorly set arm was the least of his worries.

“Log date... uh... I don’t even know: I can’t help but shake the feeling that I’m slowly dying, which I probably am.” Mark took a deep breath in, trying to not fall asleep then and there. “If I don’t put in another log tomorrow, I just wanna let anyone who’s listening to know that I’m sorry. Sorry, mom. Signing off.”

He missed the off button several times before he finally hit it, bits of blackness taking up more and more of his vision. Leaning heavily into the chair, Mark ran his good hand through his bloodstained hair, realizing he needed to change the bandages again.

“Log date, i-it doesn’t matter,” Mark’s words were labored and his words often slurred together. “Ventos Beta...I can see it, I don’t know if I’m gonna make it in time,” He paused, taking a shuddering breath and putting a hand on his chest. The heartbeats themselves were rapid, yet they became progressively softer and less pounding than they were in the beginning. “I-I’m still sorry.”

Mark didn’t even bother to say signing off, or even stop the recording.

“Why don’t you go meet our new neighbor?” Mark’s mother suggested.

Her son sank lower into the couch. His lower lip stuck out in a pout.

“I heard they have a son in your year.”

Mark let out a long sigh, and changed the channel on the projected screen again.

“It’ll be good for you.”

He gave his mom a glance. She was staring back at him with a look that said “You are going take these cookies and you are going to like it.”

Fine.

Mark took the cookies, trotting over to the door of his new neighbor’s house. He rang the doorbell and tapped his foot impatiently. If they didn’t answer in the next fifteen seconds he was going to-

Before Mark could finish his thought, the door swung open. A teenage Graeldur boy stared down at Mark, a single rocky eyebrow raised in confusion.

Suddenly feeling very awkward, Mark held out the plate of cookies. “My mom wanted me to bring these over as a housewarming gift,” he said.

“Uh… thank you,” the Graeldur said, taking the plate. “My name’s Tyler.”

“I’m Mark.”

They stared at each, the awkward moment stretching out much longer than Mark liked it. Tyler finally looked down at the cookies, back behind him, and then back at Mark.

“My parents aren’t home. Do you want to eat all of these with me?”

Mark grinned, “Sure.”

Mark had never felt lonelier than he did now. Sitting in the pilot seat, watching the planet grow closer and closer, he felt like everything was collapsing in on him. He wanted his mom… oh god, his mom was going to be so mad at him. He could already hear his mom scolding him for being so reckless. He did completely deserve it, but that didn’t stop him from dreading it.

A sensor on the dashboard beeped at him, telling Mark that he was ready to make contact.

The autopilot on the GAAP ships might be one of Mark’s least favorite things, but now that he could barely use his limbs he was grateful. The ship lowered itself into an open field, gently setting down and then powering off.

Mark just had to use whatever bit of strength he had left to hobble over to Tyler’s place. Just get to Tyler’s house. That was all that mattered.

The sky was dark when he left. Each footstep echoed back in Mark’s brain and made the simple act of walking unbearable. By the time he made it to Tyler’s front door, he could feel consciousness slowly slipping away from his grasp.

Leaning heavily against the doorframe, Mark was able to give two, hard knocks. The few agonizing minutes it took for Tyler to answer made Mark want to let his muscles relax and slump down to the floor. In fact… he let himself slump farther down the frame. Oh, this was worse.

The handle jiggled a bit until the door opened with a far too loud creak. Mark managed to look up, meeting his friends eyes.

“Oh my god…” Tyler’s eyes went wide as he took in the state his friend was in, almost forgetting to breathe.

Mark pushed what little trace of a smile he could onto his face, “Hey Tyler.”

The world went black and numb.

Mark was back in the ship. Something beeped periodically, but no matter how much he searched the cockpit, he couldn’t find the source of the sound. His movements felt sluggish, like he was moving through a pool of jelly. The colors were either too bright or too muted. Perspective zoomed and faded. Everything felt like it was tipping over. Was he tipping over?

“...days now…”

Mark’s head swiveled towards the sound. Tyler? When had he gotten in the ship? He was on Ventos Prime.

“... didn’t tell you anything?”

Mark’s head turned to the other side of the cabin. Mom? She certainly wouldn’t be on the ship. She- she hated flying. Why would… why would she be here?

Mark’s mind felt as slow as his movements. Exhausted, he let himself lean back in his seat. The beeping grew louder.

Everything hurt. Especially his arm. He groaned in pain and tried to sit up, but as soon as he did, what felt like several pairs of arms pushed him back down, and choruses of “Please, relax,” “Don’t strain yourself, Mr. Fischbach,” and “You’re gonna be okay.”

Mark blinked his eyes open, flinching back against the bright hospital lights. God, he hated hospitals.

As his eyes adjusted, he could make out the figures of his mother, Tyler, two nurses, and a doctor standing at the sides of his bed, all staring at him. He had a few IVs attached to his left arm, and his right arm was completely bound in a translucent fluorescent green cast. Little nanobots moved around his broken arm, going into it to fix the bone. Something was wrapped around his head, but he couldn’t tell what.

Despite the results of the previous attempts results, Mark tried to sit up again. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice hoarse and nervous. “Where am I?”

The nurses gently pushed him back down again.

“His head was injured badly,” the doctor said, ignoring Mark and turning to his mother and Tyler. “He might be a little out of sorts for a couple of days. We’ll have to keep him here for a while, until then…”

Everything faded to black as the nurse turned up the IV drip.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Tyler said, following Mark carefully down the side of the canyon.

“We’ll be fine,” Mark insisted, nearly losing his footing again. “Trust me.”

Tyler didn’t, but that wasn’t going to stop him from making sure Mark didn’t injure himself. Again.

They were walking through the cliffs where everyone was specifically told not to go. The rocky trails had led to many accidents, and were regarded as dangerous. Mark had never cared about danger, taking chances that often made Tyler feel more like the responsible adult friend.

Tyler’s heart might have stopped for a second as Mark started speeding down the trail.

“What can be so exciting that you’d risk dying and going against your mom’s instructions not to go down here under any circumstance?” Tyler asked, trying his best to keep pace with his speedy friend. It was no use. Mark was already far ahead of him.

“You’ll see!” Mark called from the bottom of the canyon. “Now hurry up!”

Tyler sighed and picked up his pace, jumping the last piece and landing next to Mark. “Okay, show me, so we can get out of here without getting in trouble.”

Mark grinned and grabbed Tyler’s wrist, pulling him behind him and through a crack in the canyon wall. The pair was plunged into darkness, and Tyler was glad Mark seemed to know where he was going. Suddenly, it was bright again.

Mark spun around and spread his arms wide, “Ta-da!”

Tyler gaped in awe, looking around the small cavern that had been invisible a moment before. A small pond sat at the center, and a crack in the ceiling let a beam of light illuminate the area. A few cliff birds chirped from their nests in the walls. Soft moss covered everything.

“I thought it could be our secret hideout,” Mark said, tossing his shoes and socks off and sticking his feet in the pond. It was so clear is was almost like glass. The ripples moved across the surface, making the pond moss wave.

Tyler followed suit, and the two let their feet drag in the shallow water.

“I like the sound of that,” Tyler said, his usually stoic face splitting into a wide grin.

Mark grinned back.

Tyler sat in the chair in Mark’s hospital room, watching his friend with eyes full of worry. Mark had woken up several times, still mostly dazed and panicked. With the nanobots working to fix his body - including his brain - he was having horrible nightmares. Mostly he just whimpered, but sometimes he called out for Tyler… for him mom… for anyone. It hurt Tyler seeing his friend so… so afraid.

He knew Mark was reckless, but this was something else. What could have possibly caused Mark to so suddenly just abandon the Academy? He’d worked so hard to get in, and from their correspondences, Tyler knew Mark was a promising student with high grades and a near perfect attendance.

Tyler snapped to attention as Mark stirred in his bed. When Mark didn’t move again, he leaned back again.

When Mark had shown up at Tyler’s door just a few days ago, Tyler hadn’t known what to think. He hadn’t even had time to think between rushing Mark to the hospital, calling his mother, and talking to what felt like twenty different nurses and doctors. Now that things had slowed down… Tyler was just trying to make sense of it all.

Mark had always told him everything that was bothering him. He should have known something was wrong when Mark stopped messaging him as often two months ago. He should have called, checked on his friend, made sure everything was really alright.

Can’t change any of that now, he thought, letting his eyes drift closed. What’s happened has happened. For now, he just had to make sure Mark recovered. Talking could come later.

Tyler watched from a distance as Mark’s mother yelled at him in that way only mothers could. Mark nodded along, apologizing and promising to “never do something so reckless again.”

Maybe it was just Mark still being tired, but he didn’t seem that focused on what his mother was saying. It felt more like Mark was focused on something else. He knew that stubborn look in Mark’s eye, and he’d known Mark long enough to know that was never a good thing. But maybe he was just imagining things.

Tyler really wanted to be imagining things.

“Mark, it’s nothing,” Tyler said anxiously, having to pick up his pace to keep up with his friend. “Really, I’m fine.”

Mark didn’t stop. “It’s not ‘fine.’ I’m not going to sit back while these idiots treat you like nothing because of me.”

Tyler felt himself come to a stop as Mark marched on. There was that fiery determination in his eyes. Nothing was going to stop him. Nothing, especially anyone who would even try and hurt someone Mark cared for.

Tyler was far enough away that he only caught a few words. The one’s he did hear, he hated.

“You’re nothing, half-breed,” one of them snapped.

“Tyler would be better off with us than with a filthy grett like you,” the other added, spitting on Mark’s face.

Tyler flinched when one of the boys pushed Mark backwards. Mark said something that made the boys faces twist with anger. Mark managed to dodge the first few punches, but they were bigger than him. It wasn’t long before they had punched him out. Tyler starting running towards them the moment Mark got punched, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop them from giving him a few kicks to the stomach.

They sneered at Tyler before running off.

Tyler grabbed Mark, throwing him over his shoulder and rushing him back to his house.

A few days later, Tyler was allowed to see Mark again in the hospital. Bandages were wrapped around Mark’s chest, and his arm was held delicately in a sling.

“I really showed them, eh?” Mark asked, laughing.

Tyler started to chuckle too before he noticed Mark buckle in pain.

“Broken ribs,” Mark said, smiling tensely at Tyler. “The nanobots are still working at fixing them.”

“You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days,” Tyler shook his head, half-teasing. The other half seriously worried that Mark would one day get himself killed.

“No, I won’t,” Mark responded. “You won’t let me.”

Mark never explained why he dropped out, and Tyler didn’t push. After Mark got out of the hospital, he had to stay home for a week to recover fully. Tyler took it upon himself to make sure that Mark actually recovered and didn’t go try and steal another ship.

Spending so much time with Mark, he saw the difference.

He knew low grades and a pulled scholarship weren’t the real reasons Mark had stolen a ship and almost died just to get back to Ventos Beta.

Usually he was a joking, amicable, jovial person, but when Tyler was talking to him, Mark felt more reserved. Like he wasn’t really there. Once or twice, he even snapped at Tyler before immediately apologizing and laughing it off as “just tired” or “cabin fever.”

Tyler knew something was wrong, and it wasn’t whatever Mark was blaming it on.

As soon as Mark could leave, he did. Tyler felt like a lost dog, trailing uselessly behind him. He wasn’t usually so focused, and Tyler began to be even more worried when Mark’s trail led down to the docks.

“It just feels good to see real ships again,” Mark said when Tyler asked him why they were there. “They hardly let us get near the big ones back there.”

That was another thing. Mark never said ‘The Academy’ anymore. Always just ‘them’ and ‘back there’ and ‘my dorm,’ and never with any fondness. In all the years Tyler had known Mark, he’d never heard him refer to something with such contempt.

“Bad memories,” Mark said, smiling reassuringly. “It’s in the past now.”

The only thing stronger than his anger at the Academy, it seemed, was Mark’s anger at himself. Every time a headache made him have to slow down, or his arm started hurting again, Tyler noticed him become frustrated and seething.

“I’m fine,” he’d insist stiffly, avoiding eye contact with Tyler.

“Just tell me what’s wrong,” Tyler said finally. “I want to help.”

But Mark only brushed him off and walked down to the docks again. It wasn’t like Mark to bottle things up, and Tyler was half convinced his head injury had done something more than make him delirious for a few days.

Eventually though, Tyler had to go back to work, and he couldn’t keep a constant watchful eye on Mark. While he trusted Mark’s mother, he knew she wouldn’t be willing to follow her son all over the city every day until he finally returned home late in the evening.

When he was able to visit though, Tyler spent his time with Mark trying to pry more information out of him without pressing his friend too much. It felt like he was interrogating a rock.

The day Mark got his cast off, he was out of the house almost as soon as they got back from the hospital. Tyler started to follow, but Mark turned and stopped him.

“I’ll be back later,” Mark said, but something in his voice told Tyler otherwise. He wasn’t meeting Tyler’s eyes.

A few minutes after Mark left, Tyler followed. He knew where Mark had gone.

The docks were filled with people. Traders, scavengers, GAAP agents, and regular citizens. Finally, after almost half an hour of searching, he spotted Mark. He was talking to someone. Handing that someone a card. Shaking hands. Stepping onto a ship.

Tyler ran forward, shoving his way through the crowd, “MARK!”

He saw Mark freeze and start to turn towards Tyler before stopping himself. Mark didn’t want to look back.

Tyler’s hand caught the door just before it finished sliding shut, and he forced it back open. Once he slipped inside, it slid shut behind him and beeped cheerfully. He took a step forward, and alarms suddenly started blaring around him, lights flashing red.

Mark appeared just as suddenly at the end of the hallway, his face going from confused to upset.

“I told you not to follow,” Mark said, pressing a button and turning off the alarms. “This isn’t… this isn’t smart.”

“I wasn’t going to let you run off and get yourself hurt again,” Tyler replied, folding his arms across his chest.

“Who made you the protector of me?” Mark snarked, folding his arms and standing his ground.

“Me,” Tyler said. “Because I care about you, and you’re not thinking clearly.”

Mark heaved a sigh and leaned up against the wall of the ship. “Sure. Okay.”

“You have to talk about this eventually,” Tyler said, taking another step forward. Mark stared him down, but he was wavering. “I need to know what’s going on. What’s wrong?”

Mark looked back at his friend, steely determination melting into frustration.

“I couldn’t stay there any more,” Mark began, looking down at his feet. “There was always this pressure to be the best, and for I long time, I think everyone thought I was. The best at flying, at least. Even if I got in trouble for my methods all the time.”

Tyler knew that. Mark had often called him, upset that the instructors didn’t let him fly how he knew how to fly.

Mark continued, his knuckles white and his jaw tight. “It got suffocating. My teachers didn’t push me. They either gave up or thought I knew everything so why bother. Everyone looked up to me as this perfect student who could do no wrong, and I hated it. I felt like I had to live up to their expectations for me, and if I failed, they’d hate me. I didn’t want those expectations. I just wanted to blend in, not be forced into the spotlight.”

Mark gripped his arm tight, digging his fingers into the fabric of his sleeve. “So I stopped trying. I stopped doing my homework. I skipped class. I cheated on tests I already knew the answers to or just didn’t complete them at all. I let my grades drop. I could have picked them back up any time, and everyone would have just put me back on the pedestal I had jumped off of. When— The day they sent me a notice, saying they were going to pull my scholarship, I started packing right away. I hid the letter from Bob and Wade, and kept my plan a secret from them both. Once I had everything planned out, I ran away. I stole one of the student ships that they use for short flights around the school and left. I crashed on Talbos Prime a couple days later. That’s when I—”

Mark glanced down at his recently healed right arm. “Yeah. I did my best to keep myself alive while I fixed the ship, but I think my anger at crashing kept me alive better than any bandages or medicine. Once I got off of Talbos Prime, I flew back here, and, well, you know the rest of the story.”

There was a moment of silence between them as the story sunk in. Then Tyler closed the space between them. He pulled Mark into a tight hug, making sure to be careful of Mark’s arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, pulling away. “We could have talked about this, or at least found a better way for you to leave the Academy than running away on a stolen ship.”

Mark shrugged. “I needed to do this on my own,” he said. “I had to make a decision for myself instead of just letting myself drift through life without a purpose. I couldn’t stay here either. If I stay here… I stay stagnant. I become a farmer or I just… ugh, Tyler there is nothing here for me!”

He met Tyler’s eyes with fury. “As much as I love Ventos Beta, my life isn’t going to go anywhere here. It’s out there! Out among the stars!” Mark’s eyes lit up as he spoke, passion building. “I want to see new worlds! I want to meet strange species, make new friends, learn new things! I can’t do that here, or at the Academy. I need to do this, Tyler. You have to understand.”

Tyler shook his head, and Mark’s face fell.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever understand you,” he began, “but I’m not going to stay on Ventos Beta and let you go out there and probably die.”

Mark’s excitement began to return. “Wait, really? You want to come with me?”

“Someone has to watch your back,” Tyler chuckled.

Alright,” Mark said, already beaming. “I guess this is our ship then?”

Tyler allowed a smirk to crawl onto his face. “Yeah. I like the sound of that.”

#official story #spaceiplier

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buckylogy · 6 years ago

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The World I Used To Know

Pairing: Bucky x fem!Reader

Summary: You’re living the perfect life; With your fiancé, non other than Bucky Barnes, you share a small but comfortable apartment. What’s left? Of course, the perfect job. Studying to become a doctor you leave your past behind to live the life you and your brother Tony always wanted. Safe and Sound. But what happens when the almost forgotten past comes back one day?

Warnings: fluff; angst; language; smutty references you must be at least 18 years old to read this, I’m sorry!

Words: 4.9k

A/N: This is the second chapter of the series ‘Step by Step’. Each chapter is a one-shot and can be read without knowing the content of the chapters posted before. As always: This story might include endgame spoilers, so if you haven’t seen it, save it for later! ♡ This one-shot will be continued with the next chapter. You still can read them separately!

“I’ll look back on this and smile because it was life and I decided to live.”

They say your past doesn’t define your future.

It’s the decisions you’ve made along your way that lead your way towards your future.

Whether it’ll be filled with light or drowned in darkness - - well, nobody can tell you what’ll happen, because it’s ‘in the stars’.

There it is, another quote of society to sympathize a future that’s hidden somewhere deep within the cold, thick fog. But that’s not the point, is it?

The thing is; when it’s not your past defining your future but your decisions, well - - those exclude each other, don’t they?

Because the decisions you’ve made in the past would define your future.

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

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Julia prompted through the phone, “Tell me it’s a fucking joke,” she laughed nervously.

You huffed at her hilarious reaction but knew as well that she was only ‘joking’ to hide her surprise. “Nope, not at all,” you said calmly, “I did it. I passed.” In your head you see Julia drinking a glass of fresh water, suddenly spitting it out all at once at your statement and you have to bite down your smirk.

“Seriously, you can’t be human. You’re a freak, damn it!” There was a break of silence before she added, “But I’m proud of you, you little freak. It’s finally going somewhere for you.”

“Why so full of surprise? You should’ve known before that I’m a genius. Of course I’d do it in such a short amount of time!” You joked with false pride in your voice.

Surely Julia knew you weren’t being honest with your arrogance but played along anyway.

“Hmm, you really are a Stark. I’d recognize that sound of arrogance anywhere. Tony teached you himself, didn’t he?” If she’d said that 2 years earlier you would’ve immediately said goodbye to her but, now that you’ve learned to progress your brother’s death, you could talk about—hell, even joke about him. Life was so much easier if you’d just allow yourself to mourn over the lost lives.

“Damn right you are,” you reply while laughing, “Name someone who managed to finish his studies within one and a half year, I’ll wait.”

“Always so bloody arrogant,” Julia stated with a tease in her voice, “little bitch.”

Neither of you could stay silent and you especially couldn’t care less at the weird glares the passengers sent you. You fished the keys to your apartment out of your jacket pocket while you pressed your phone between shoulder and cheek to open the door.

“‘Kay, I’m hanging up now, I’m home,” you said in a matter-of-fact, allowed Julia to say her goodbyes before you stuffed the phone into your bag. Opening the door to your apartment the first thing you do is throw your shoes into the next corner, soon followed by your bag, not caring about your phone at all.

“Buck, I’m home,” you announced into the emptiness. Walking through the floor to head for the kitchen to get yourself a fresh bottle of water you scream as two strong hands grab your waist from behind to pull you straight into a tight hug.

“Bucky, stop it, stop I-,” you squealed as he tickled your sides. He let you back on the ground and you immediately turned around, standing on the tip of your toes, pulling him down for a sweet kiss. “I missed you, idiot,” you chuckle sweetly against his lips. With his hands still resting on your sides he pulls you impossibly closer and you feel the devilish heat radiating off his body, embracing your whole being and you can’t fight the shiver to run down your body.

“Missed you more,” he whispered, his lips too close to yours and he eventually catches your lips with his teeth, softly carrying you into the next kiss. Neither of you fought the rising tension and soon enough both of you decided it was time to get rid of your clothes.

“That’s so cliche, Bucky!” You laugh between wet kisses and dancing tongues. Bucky hummed in response, too far lost in the kiss but managed to pull one of your legs up to his hip and you immediately understood so you wrapped your other leg around his hip as well. He carried you blindly towards the bedroom, never daring to break the love-filled kiss.

Seconds later and your back hits the mattress of your king size bed and soon after Bucky follows, gently laying down on top of you, with his hands resting on either sides of your face to steady himself. The only clothes left were your bra and panties and his shorts but neither of you paid attention to that as you were still to focused on exploring each other’s mouth.

Bucky’s lips start their way from your mouth up to your nose to leave a small kiss, then moving to your eyelids, leaving kisses here and there before traveling back towards your mouth.

Every touch lights up a new fire in your skin and slowly but surely, you were growing impatient. You knew he took his time teasing you but as you pressed your hips against his he couldn’t hold back the deep, lust-filled groan coming out of his mouth. “Doll,” he whispered, his ice blue eyes shining dangerously, “we’ve got time and I’ll take it,” he grumbled, “no need to rush things.” He finsihes his words with yet another wet, passionate kiss on your lips and the way he did that - - you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth, while your panties were already soaking through; Gods, you were more than ready for him. Bucky was no different, though. He was already rockhard but when you try to sneak one of your hands inside his shorts he quickly grabs your wrist to pin your arms above your head.

“Sorry, doll,” he whispered against your lips, with your bottom lip between his teeth, “I had to wait for you the whole day, now let me welcome you properly.” That wasn’t true, at least not entirely. It was just afternoon and you hadn’t been out for more than eight hours. Damn, Bucky could be so dramatic. And needy. Of course you didn’t mind at all - - Sex with Bucky was always more than breathtaking. He was a damn sex god, not more and not less. That’s why you didn’t mind that you couldn’t tell him your great news, they could wait but the sex? Well that couldn’t.

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

“Something the matter?” Bucky’s flesh hand stroked through the strands of your hair, gently massaging your head as you cuddled your entire being against his warm, strong and muscular chest. You hum in reply, cracking an eye open to glance up at his beautiful face, immediately pressing yourself against his warm skin, seeking warmth. “I... passed,” you said in a yawn.

There was a moment of silence where Bucky slowly progressed your words before it hit him hard.

“Wha- You’re joking, aren’t you?” He sat upright within seconds, forcing you off his chest and you send him a pout but eventually follow his move.

“I ain’t joking, Buck.” You tried hard to give him a serious glance but your mind was too dizzy to keep up the facade. You were about to turn around with a yawn when Bucky’s strong arms shot around your chest from behind.

“Jesus, why haven’t you told be earlier? Damn, that’s amazing, doll. I’m proud of you. You did great,” he praised, squeezing you tightly as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“You’re right,” you yawned once again, “I’m sorry I didn’t. It’s just that, uh, I don’t know. Was busy having sex with you I guess.”

Bucky couldn’t help but grin at the teasing sound in your tired voice but said nothing in the end as you were obviously on the edge of falling asleep.

He never let his eyes off your peaceful sleeping form, smiling gently as he grabbed the blanket to you properly. With a kiss on your cheek he silently heaved himself off the mattress, heading towards the kitchen on naked feet - - after picking up his shorts, of course.

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

Heavy darkness all around, weighing him down. The blood of thousands on his hands. Death had once been his best friend.

Then came Steve and saved him; dragged his vessel back on his own, brought his soul back from the shadows and gave him a reason to live. Although... No, scratch that. Bucky still hadn’t had a reason to live. The only reason he hadn’t committed suicide was his friendship with Steve. He‘d felt like he owed him his life, even if it was in the way that he wouldn’t end it.

Memories of those he had killed still haunted him every night and no matter how hard Bucky tried, he couldn’t wash the blood off his hands. And the guilt... it had almost completely eaten him out from the inside.

‘Till the end of the line.’

Turned out the end of the line had been reached after the death of Tony Stark. Bucky had known the second he’d seen Steve on that particular day, that his best friend wouldn’t come back.

Once more on his own, the former asset of Hydra was forced to stay alive - - somehow.

Sam had been there, he remembered now. But still, Bucky had felt that drowning emptiness within his heart. A life worth living without the one person that believed in him? Ha, that’s out of the question.

With yet another hole in his scarred heart he’d left, standing on the verge of giving up.

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

Bucky breathes in and out as he stands in the living room, looking out of the great windows, embraced by the gorgeous view of the city.

He feels his heart beating weightlessly and even though those certain, painful memories haunt him from time to time, the former asset was able to brush them off without much effort. Once they were becoming too much, he‘d tell you and that alone helped to ease the pain.

Now that he was free from handling dangerous missions that would eventually turn into nightmares in his sleep, Bucky learned to enjoy the little things in life. But the greatest gift he‘d achieved so far was your love for him. Living the normal (for others rather boring) life with you in a small yet comfortable apartment with a normal job felt like a dream he’d given up long ago.

Brooklyn together with his family, his best friend... all that before the war. It had been a hard time and yet filled with joy and happiness.

His instincts had never been gone, they’d just been resting in the depths of his mind and it took one noise to wake them up. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and he feels a shiver running down his spine. Bucky wheels around, his body on high alert as he ghosts through his own apartment. At first he even plays with the thought to wake you up but seeing you in the threshold of the bedroom already tells him that what he’d just heard wasn’t an imagination. He sighs in relief as your instincts were back as well. As much as you tried to be normal, once you were an avenger, some habits would follow you anywhere and they turned out to be quite helpful in the end. Bucky presses a single finger to his mouth, motioning for you to stay in place to avoid the old floor cracking any traitorous sounds.

Standing on the tip of his toes he silently steps through the living room, careful not to leave any tell-tale sounds as he heads towards the front door. Every nerve told him to prepare for a fight. Whoever this intruder was and whatever his intentions were, they wouldn’t be here without a good reason. It was most unlikely though, for a burglar to break in during the afternoon.

Chances were that some certain ghosts of his past decided to hunt him down and by doing so, potentially hunting you down on their go as well. Bucky frightened at that thought. Never would he let something happen to you, his last beautiful fire that lightened his darkness.

The killer in him cracked his eyes open, yawning like a bear that’s just woken up after a long and hard winter, now ready once more to tear his victim into messy bloody pieces.

His hands didn’t need a weapon to kill; Bucky himself was the weapon - - the most deadliest the world had to offer.

Yes, he was close. He could hear the stranger‘s beating. Judging by the direction the intruder was either in the kitchen or close by.

Bucky glanced around the corner but saw nothing. He stepped forward, keeping his body close to the wall, his breath low, too silent for someone to notice.

One more step forward and he‘d be able to take another glance. He prepared his fists for a fight but when he stepped inside he found he was already awaited. He knew that man; he would never forget him. Bucky began to wonder what brought this man into his apartment illegally, instead of knocking or sending a damn message or something like that.

“Nick Fury?”

“‘m sorry, didn’t want to...,” Fury looked at Bucky from head to toe, searching for the right words as the former asset wore nothing more than simple black shorts on his hip, “disturb your love life.”

Bucky startled at Fury’s words. He’d been too focused to pay any thought at his clothes but the situation in itself was too weird to feel embarrassed.

“Why are you here?” Bucky asks instead.

“Not because of you. Where’s your other half?”

“Here,” you responded as you walk around the corner and into the kitchen, coming to a halt next to Bucky. He recognizes his shirt you’d put on, with lose shorts over your hips. Messy but still adorable on your small figure, he notices.

“You had no other options to bring me your... What brought you here, again?”

Your arms locked around your chest and you glare at your former director with an arched eyebrow. He knew not to contact you ever again. Whatever it was that brought him to you, you wanted non of it.

“It’s about Stark,” Fury tells you, his only eye on level with yours. Your confidence doesn’t crack, not even a little. As your hands wander to your hips you wait for him to continue.

“Could you be any less vague at least? I’m not thrilled to have you here, Fury and you know why.”

“Sure but maybe we should...,” His eye wanders over to Bucky, then back to you, “talk about this under three eyes.”

“No. Whatever you have to tell me, you do it before all our eyes. This is our home and I decide who leaves and who doesn’t.”

Fury sighs in both exhaustion and annoyance. You were such a Stark. “Fine,” he said, “but you may better take a seat.”

You huffed at his words once again, still pissed that he broke into your apartment instead of respecting your wishes. “Yeah, seeing that you already followed your own offer, I’m glad to be allowed to sit down in my kitchen.”

Bucky has to swallow his laughter, then coughs awkwardly with his fist before his mouth.

Once either of you are seated in front of S.H.I.E.L.D’s former director, heavy silence falls over the room. While Bucky is rather relaxed, though a bit curious, he feels you burning in anger and suspense. You’re kneading your tensed muscles in your hands, let the knuckles in your fingers crack while you all but stare Fury down with the deadliest glare you could offer.

Fury’s having non of it, glaring you down equally with his only eye and any other would’ve probably felt too small to withstand his authority but you never backed down in front of anyone. There was truly Stark’s blood running through your veins.

“So,” you muttered, “can we finally get this over with? ‘Cause I’m quite busy here.” A blatant lie, for sure, Bucky knew. You were done studying and had the day off, the only plans you’ve had were having sex with him and relaxing in bed for the rest of the day. It was obvious you wanted Fury out of your house. As much as you’ve accepted the past, you definitely didn’t want it back in your life now. Bucky had no idea as to why Fury was here but it definitely wasn’t for small talk, that much he knew about that man.

“Last time we’ve seen you’d been a lot more... talkative,” he commented but eventually reached the topic. “The reason I’m here is because you’re the best to deal with this - actually, you’re the only one.” You arch a single eyebrow at his dusty explanation. He knew you weren’t an avenger anymore and not a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, either, so what was he talking about?

“Some one infiltrated Stark Industries and managed to get his hands on Tony’s tech - the Iron Suits, to be more precise, as well as his A.I.” Oh, he must be joking, you thought. Your eyes are opened in shock, your mouth forming a slight ‘o’. During the next seconds you couldn’t push a word out of your throat, too much of an impact had the information on you. However did that surely hadn’t the best intention to use your brother’s tech. At the moment not a single soul would pass by your mind; you had no idea who would be able to do such a thing.

“Why- Wh- Why... me?”

‘Why are you telling me?!’ You wanted to scream at him. The new were heavy and managed to shake your precious wall that used to protect you from your past life.

“We don’t have any information on the perpetrator as of now, although I’m pretty sure with your help we’ll hunt down these motherfuckers in no time.”

He’s been right then, Bucky notices as Fury’s words reach his ears. He was really playing with the thought to send you after them - whoever they were. “N- No, I can’t... can’t do that,” you whisper, your body language telling how broken you suddenly are. “I left this life behind. Besides, there are plenty other people who’re able to do that. Ask some of the remaining Avengers, maybe Parker? I- I don’t know but don’t ask me, of all people!” All Bucky could do at that time was to hold your hand reassuringly to prove that he was there for you.

“Parker doesn’t have your abilities, Stark. No one does and that’s why you’re the only one to take over this mission. Tony was your brother. Don’t you think you owe him protecting of what remains of him?” Fury’s words hit you one after another and your strong, confident figure dared to break apart.

“Yes, he was my brother but he would’ve accepted that I’m different now. Tony always saw me as who I am. Sure I’m different from other - normal - people but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a normal life now. He wanted me to live the life he wouldn’t, couldn’t have,” you explained, “What happened is terrible, but I’m not doing this. I’m not going to drift into my old habits again. I know you have people able to track those idiots down and then get them, so don’t try making me feel guilty.” You make an attempt to stand up to send Fury out of your apartment. When he doesn’t move in his seat, however, you frown at him in confusion.

“I thinks that’s all, right? You better leave now and you should better stay away from us from now on, I mean it, Nick.”

It hurt to know what’s been done with Tony’s creations but you felt it wasn’t your place to save them. Or was it? You were torn between your decisions and your past. Sure, those people had to be stopped but were you the one to put a stop to their plans? You were somehow involved in this case, just because you were Tony’s sister. But still... What about Rhodey? Or Parker? Both had been close to your brother as well and they’d probably take over the mission wholeheartedly together.

“And I’m still convinced that you’re the only one who can manage this,” he says with that stubborn head of his. “At least take some time to think it through. I’ll send you everything we’ve got so far.” He finally rises from the chair, sends you one last intensive glare and turns around. “I’ll find out on my own, no need to guide me out,” he stated with his back turned to you.

“Yeah, figured as much,” you mumble between your teeth, aware that he wouldn’t hear your words anymore. It’s now Bucky who leaves his current seat to step beside you, turning you around gently to pull you into a comforting hug. He’s aware that no words would help you now so he does the only thing that helps. His metal hand runs over your back in circles while his chin rests on your small shoulder with his eyes shut.

Betrayal, that’s what you feel. Tony was dead and some idiots dared to get their hands on his work, no, his life! Madness joins the pool of your messed up feelings and you can no longer hold back the tears in your eyes. It doesn’t take long for Bucky’s shirt to be soaked through but he couldn’t care less about that. What mattered was you and only you. Always.

“Hey,” he whispers, “‘s okay... cry it out, I’m right here. You’re not alone, ‘kay?” He pulls you a little closer, careful not to hug you too tight in his arms. He wished nothing more than to take away the pain. You’d been doing so great for the longest time and it took one conversation with Fury to turn your strength into ashes.

“We’ll make it through together. ‘m not going to leave your side. Never. I promised you, remember?” You free yourself out of his arms if only just a little to meet his gaze. Your eyes are heavy red, your hair a mess but to Bucky you were the most beautiful being the world had to offer. Even though your world’s been shattered your able to send Bucky a small smile.

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes,” you sniff, your eyes shining with passion and love, “When everything’s breaking apart, you’re still with me. You’re my greatest support; always manage to keep me at bay. Thank you, Bucky, for everything.”

You stand on the tip of your toes, your arms thrown around Bucky’s neck as you pull him down into a soft kiss. He follows you into the kiss gladly, sucking on your bottom lip just a little bit. If he wanted to, he could’ve turned the kiss into something more but Bucky knows the situation isn’t right to do so. You were hurt, you needed comfort and he’d give you everything you needed without you even asking him to do so.

“What do you wanna do now?” He asks as he pulls away slowly, cupping your face in his cheeks, keeping your face close to his. “Guess I need to talk to Pepper. She’ll want to know if she doesn’t already. Probably will be as hard for her as it is for me... Maybe she’ll help me figure out what to do,” you explain, immediately feeling the ache in your heart.

“You know you don’t have to-,” Bucky started,

“No, I know but, I still need her opinion, Bucky.”

“Still, there’s plenty others who could do this. I don’t wanna see you-,”

“Bucky!” You shout desperately, close to shedding tears once more, “This hasn’t gotta do anything with you! Keep out of it,” Bucky stares at you with wide eyes. “Please,” you add silently, turning around to set your plan into reality.

Bucky could do so much more to help you through this but right now he’s left to watch you torturing yourself and he hates it.

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

“Hey Pep. Yeah, it’s me,” you greet her nonchalantly the moment she’s answered your call. “What’s going on? You sound... different,” she notices quickly.

“So you haven’t heard? Can’t imagine that actually,” you stated simply. “What’re you talking about? Is it about Stark Industries? Only thing I know is someone stole some of our products but that’s not a big thing. I mean, yes, it’s terrible but it could’ve been worse. You’re not calling me to tell me that, right?”

“Actually, I am. And it’s worse than that. We’re not talking about the things you sell on the market,” you start, thinking about how much you were going to tell her. “This is serious, Pep. Listen, Fury’s been at my apartment, told me some one got his hands on Tony’s suits and his A.I.” You let the words pass her mind a few minutes before you continue, “I- I don’t... know what to do, y’know? He was my brother and I feel like it’s on me to set things right; to save the last remaining pieces of him but, I’m torn, okay? It’s just that... I left this life behind for a reason and now I’m going to go back and I’m afraid and-,” Pepper suddenly interrupts your train of words.

“Stop,” she demands seriously, “You need to stop this, okay? I know how you feel, well, to an extant, I mean. Tony was the same way,” she chuckles weakly, “It’s strange to hear these news, you know? They didn’t tell me what exactly happened. I mostly run this company from home, because I can’t make a step into these walls, it’s too much... Tony. And Morgan needs me, too.” You’d been surprised as well to hear that Pepper hadn’t known the truth but understood why she’d chosen to coordinate everything from home. Now that you thought about what she’d told her just seconds before, you start to have some suspicions.

“Pep, who told you about it?” You had to think straight now. No feelings, no empathy, nothing.

“I-It was Fury. He called me.” He called her?

You couldn’t remember a single time he called anyone, no, he chose to break in their houses or send some of his agents. It wasn’t Fury. You choose to not tell Pepper, however, you didn’t want the woman to worry even more, she had a hard time already raising her daughter on her own while running the company from home.

“Okay, Pep, I’ll settle things right, I promise.” With that, you hang up the call and deactivate your phone. She’d try to call you back, you knew, trying to talk you out of all this. But there was no going back now. As much as you didn’t want to do this, you knew deep down you had to.

For Morgan and Pepper.

For Tony.

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

“No matter what you say, Bucky, you cannot change my mind,” you whisper with trembling lips. You’d walked into the bedroom, opening the wardrobe to quickly stuff some plain clothes into your bag. After receiving Fury’s reports you’d gotten immediately to the task.

“I know I’m not in the place to talk you out of this,” Bucky started, “but remember what we promised each other. If you’re going to do this, you’ll only end up falling further, back into that hole of darkness.” Oh how right he was, you agreed in your thoughts.

‘We’ll never look back, no matter what may come. We’ll only look forward from now on. That’s how we can deal with the pain. The past can’t be forgotten, but accepted. And that needs distance.’

The promise was fresh in your mind, as always since it was something you reminded yourself of every day. You wanted to scream at Bucky, admitting that you didn’t want to do it but if it weren’t you, who else would stop them? You’d known the answer before but that seemed forgotten as of now. It was on you, it’s always been on you and now that you’d faced the truth, you came to acknowledge that things would never change. Had you really been that oblivious, living in that one dream to escape your fate?

“I’m already falling, Bucky,” you muttered, more to yourself than him but he heard your words nonetheless.

“Then let me come with you,” he decides promptly, “If I can’t hold you back, I’ll follow you.” Your heart immediately skipped a few beats.

“Hell no, I dare you to come with me, Barnes,” you speak, stepping back towards the wardrobe to pull out what you’d thought you would never need again: your suit. Not an iron suit - those belonged to Tony.

Yours was similar to Natasha’s, also known as the ‘Black Widow’. The former spy had once been your best friend - until she sacrificed her very own life for a damn infinity stone.

“You’ll stay here. I’m not gonna pull you into this. At least one of us should live their life, got that?” You throw the suit onto the bed, then quickly start to free yourself out of your daily clothes.

“Well, that’s still on me, doll and I’m not gonna let you go alone. Told you I’d never leave your side. We’re in this together, remember?”

You’re only left in your underwear when you pause your actions with a sigh on your lips. “You’re gonna be the death of me one day, Barnes.”

“As long as it’s me, I’m alright with this, doll.”

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #james bucky barnes #black widow #natasha romanov #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic #bucky x reader #avengers #endgame #endgame spoilers #bucky x you

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midorikawa-lettuce · 7 years ago

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kay so for those of you who don’t know, my M.O. is to take things that have skeletal or shallow lore and over complicate the whole damn thing especially with specific mythos, creation stories, and deity pantheons, so Tokyo Mew Mew is no different; under the cut commences my long and convoluted bits of lore that I have headcanoned and fanoned the shit out of for this series

Ryou says at one point that he thinks it was “no accident” that Ichigo and the girls were the ones who became Earth’s defenders, after Masaya turns out to be Deep Blue. So time to extrapolate the fuck out of that.

All of the Mew Mews are very heavily coded, both in the anime and manga, to correspond to one of the four natural elements. Mint is Air, Lettuce is Water, Pudding is Earth, and Zakuro is Fire. In the manga especially, even, each of them uses the Mew Aqua to cleanse their specific element (Mint cleans the air from the Chimera Moth, Lettuce cleans the ocean, Pudding saves Tokyo Dome from collapsing due to instability in the earth, and Zakuro destroys the dome that causes an intense heat wave in Tokyo).

Then there’s Ichigo. Ichigo doesn’t correspond to one of the natural elements, but she does correspond to a somewhat common trope in five-person-elemental-teams: in other words, Heart (Captain Planet is that you?). This is furthered by the fact that in the manga, when she uses the Mew Aqua, it’s to save Masaya’s life, the person she loves. I would actually almost hazard to say that she’s meant to represent the whole of the planet itself, or even life itself, as her use of Mew Aqua in the manga also restores plant life to the earth, and restores life to others (the Mews, Masaya, and the aliens). In other words, Ichigo is the Sailor Earth. (How’s that for a Sailor Moon plot twist?)

Now what the fuck does any of this have to do with anything in this post about made-up lore? Well, I’m getting to that. Let’s put together a few more concepts first.

First: Mew Aqua. It’s both a liquid and a crystal, said to have been created by the aliens, the previous inhabitants of earth, but for an unknown purpose (I haven’t yet finished my rewatch of the series, but to the best of my knowledge, they never fully address why it was made). It’s an incredible force that can cleanse the pollution of the earth and restore it to its natural state, influence strange phenomenon like the sudden overnight sprouting of an entire forest in the middle of a city, and even restore life. That is a pretty INTENSE thing that these aliens made....and if they’re the ones who made it, and the aliens want it so that they can use it to restore Earth to what they want, why didn’t the aliens fleeing the original destruction of Earth just...use Mew Aqua?

The final concept I want to bring up before I move onto my actual lore is where Masaya/Blue Knight/Deep Blue fits into all of this. Masaya is effectively a member of Tokyo Mew Mew, as a complement to Ichigo. They’re not just a good couple, they’re a battle couple too: their attacks work together and Masaya is automatically tuned in to whenever Ichigo needs help. But we’ve already got a blue member of the team (Mint) so why the heck did they decide to color code Masaya and Deep Blue as well, blue? There were other colors available, like red or black, that might have even looked more aesthetically pleasing overall. It’s also important to mention that Kish, Pai, and Taruto refer to Deep Blue as a “god.”

So where the fuck am I going with this? Let’s start with this: I don’t think Deep Blue is the only god in this series. Warning: as we go ahead, I will stop referring to this as headcanon and start talking about it like it’s a legit theory. It is not. I just don’t want to keep saying “this is what I think” over and over again.

Deep Blue as a god, first. So, back to the question. Why is Deep Blue, well, Blue? Because Deep Blue is the sky.

Where Ichigo represents the earth as a whole, the planet itself, the terrestrial body, Deep Blue/Masaya is the complementary opposite: the sky and the atmosphere that surrounds the planet. The Mews then each represent a major part of the make-up of the planet in a more specific, lesser form: once again, Earth, Wind, Water, and Fire (take a drink if the song got stuck in your head).

It makes sense again when you look at Kish, Pai, Taruto, and their people. They specifically worship Deep Blue as a god, and if Deep Blue is the god of the sky, then their abilities are in keeping with this. They can fly, they don’t require oxygen to breathe and seem perfectly all right with varying pressure, allowing them to live quite comfortably in any part of the atmosphere, and they can teleport, moving between the air from place to place. All things that make sense for a people who are beholden to a god of the sky.

This is where my “”creation story”” comes in. Deep Blue is the sky, and Ichigo represents the Earth. Deep Blue is a god who lay partially dormant inside a human until he could be awakened. Masaya is human, but contains the remains of an ancient god of the sky. If Ryou is correct in that there was no mistake that it was Ichigo, the one who loved Masaya, who became a Mew Mew to face him, then why couldn’t Ichigo be the same way? Why couldn’t Ichigo just so happen to be the reincarnation/vessel of the remains of the god of the Earth?

So I suppose this is where the story starts. A very long time ago, when Kish’s people still lived on the earth, there were gods that lived among them. The most revered were the Mother Earth who granted them life, and the Father Sky who enfolded them. Also worshiped were the ephemeral and alien forces of Water, Earth, Fire, and Air, which had no shape or form but rather took the visage of the creatures that best represented them, and flickered from form to form when it suited them. Father Sky was known as Deep Blue, and Mother Earth was known as μ (Myu/Mew). It was said by their people that Deep Blue and Mew were in love.

By some strange, unknown catastrophe, perhaps by a mismanaging of Mew’s bounty or some unforeseeable disaster, or perhaps by some strange quarrel between Mew and Deep Blue, the planet underwent a series of natural disasters, making it nearly impossible to live on. It’s not certain what caused the rift between Mew and Deep Blue, or if in fact there was a rift at all, but something violently drove them apart. The peoples of the planet made reluctant plans to flee for a new home. The strain of their people leaving them behind was too great for the gods who depended on their people’s belief. Deep Blue went with them, but he was shorn in two, as the atmosphere could not fully leave the planet behind. Half of him went with the fleeing peoples, dormant and dying, and ensuring that no planet they found could ever be a happy home enfolded by a forgiving atmosphere. The other half fell back down to the earth, and was hidden among the souls of the creatures that still clung to life on its surface.

Mew, as the Earth itself, could quite obviously not be taken away with the fleeing people, no more than a planet could move out of orbit. But the loss of Deep Blue was so terrible, so painful, that she could only cry. And from her tears, which scattered across the whole of her, came the liquified crystals that would later be known as Mew Aqua.

As time passed, the earth settled once again, and creatures began to flourish. Humans evolved, and among them, the lasting spirit of Deep Blue began to slowly reawakened. After many thousands of years, when humans matured, the sleeping Mew sensed the approach of her love: the aliens were once again reaching out back towards the jewel they had left, and Deep Blue’s awakening self turned his eyes back towards home as well. But the thousands of years of sleep, and the ragged tear that had split him had caused Deep Blue to become angry and resentful. He no longer cared for either his people or Mew, but rather wanted to destroy that which he had been unable to keep.

Mew could sense his malice, and out of love for the creatures that were born on her soil, she did what Deep Blue’s spirit did. She consigned what remained of her faded self to the souls of humanity. Some years later, the new host of Deep Blue’s soul would be born. Near the same time, a girl with the soul of Mew would also arise. The souls of Earth, Wind, Water, and Fire were not human enough to be passed into a human soul, but they could give their blessing, and so they, too, blessed several humans with their hopes.

When Deep Blue and his people returned to the Earth, there were warriors waiting to meet him, to protect the planet from his yet hidden, murderous rage. Deep Blue did not remember everything, but he did know with a fiery instinct that these warriors were specifically his bane -- which is why he focused all his efforts on just them, on just their city, on just collecting the Mew Aqua, the tears of the one he had once loved, to facilitate his awakening.

I’m going to drop my narrator voice now and just say: this is a lot of shit that I had way too much fun crafting and I really fucking want to write fic about this but i need to figure out how to streamline it into a usable setting that won’t make me want to die with how much work it is, and for now i just want to dump this world building on SOMEONE because it’s been in my head for weeks.

that’s all i have now anyway thank you for reading this ridiculously long and unnecessary fake lore post

#tokyo mew mew #headcanon #fanon #lettuce talks #long post

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