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weepingvoidpenguin · 4 years ago

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Unfortunately Yours

Summary: When you and Bucky successfully infiltrate a HYDRA auction, you’re told to stay another day due to max capacity on the jet. But how are you going to survive a night alone with this insufferable Super Soldier? Especially considering the miniscule size of the room and the obvious dilemma presented; who gets the bed?

Warning: S M U T , the smuttiest thing I’ve ever written, language, spit kink, daddy kink, ptsd symptoms, slight voyeurism, slight exhibitionism, hate-s e x, rough, more like enemies-to-lovers kind of thing, gagging, m!receiving, f!receiving, lots of receiving lol, 18+, M

Word Count: 10.6K (Whhhyyyyy)

Your body burned with exhaustion and the sheer weight of your extremities felt enough to drag you to the floor and mirror a coma with the length of your hibernation. You no longer had the minimal strength required to pick up your feet properly which resulted in the sound of shuffling to fill the small, and by small you meant miniscule, room you’d been assigned to.

Well, you and Bucky had been assigned to.

You’d both played your parts well enough over the course of the last few hours. You’d sauntered into the ran-shacked looking bar with Bucky’s arm tossed lazily over your shoulder, his distaste for the assignment evident on his face, but he’d cleared it away the second his foot crossed the threshold. He pulled you in tighter to his body and raised his chin into the air, emitting the energy of a man not to be trifled with. You’d portrayed your role as a damsel just as, if not more, convincing as Barnes’ opposite. Your shoulders hunched over and your steps were small and quivering, the wig on your head a tool used to curtain the hair in your face.

You were the lamb to this White Wolf.

Word had traveled through the dark and twisted grapevine that a certain showing of sorts took place tonight and a high-ranking target was rumored to be amongst its audience. You and Barnes were on the first flight to Germany within minutes.

Bucky had pulled you through the crowd moving along to the thundering music in the background and halted at the edge of the bar. His grip on your shoulder tightened once he’d caught the man’s attention and you winced, his fingers digging a little too deep for your liking.

The bartender scanned you over and took in your frame, making you feel smaller than you had already displayed yourself to be. It took him a while to conclude but when he took in Bucky’s domineering gaze, a look as if to say Deny me, I dare you, he nodded once and wrote something down on a napkin, sliding it over to Bucky.

Scum. All of them.

You nearly blew your cover trying to throw Bucky a look but you refrained from the hellfire clawing its way out of you. You had to be perfectly in control, emotions and beliefs aside. You were a damsel and you had to make certain they believed that. You knew they were watching; they always were.

“Relax,” Bucky hissed, pulling you under his arm and bringing his lips to your ear.

“When you pretend you’re the one being put up for auction, then you can tell me to relax,” you muttered, never looking up from the ground.

“I have been.” When you paused your movement, he pulled away to scan the room, “Nothing’s gonna happen to you. I promise.” He led you backstage and turned the corner to a dimly lit hallway, barren of any decoration in sharp contrast to every other section of the building, “Besides, once they realize how insufferable you are, they’ll be begging me to take you back,”

He opened an iron door and pushed you into the room, sending you tumbling down onto the carpet. He tsked, stepping over you and not looking back after shutting the door behind himself. You counted thirteen pairs of feet and judging by the way some of them were turned towards you, they had to be watching. You observed your hands for a second, counting slowly until you figured you’d stalled long enough and sent your trembling gaze to the exit. Bucky let out a low chuckle and clasped his hand around your upper arm, launching you back onto your feet and twisting your body to face him.

Oh, darling, German fluently escaped his tongue and you nearly rolled your eyes at the condescending tone settled in his words, You know better than that, don’t you?

His hold tightened and you winced, holding back the whimper in your throat. If you saw any hint of a bruise forming on your arm, you would give him hell later . . . and possibly even if you didn’t.

You bit your tongue and let him lead you towards a leather chair before he pulled you swiftly down onto his lap where his hand remained on your thigh, brushing the inside softly. Had you not been so annoyed, you’d have been humiliated at all the stares devouring the scene unfolding before them.

Good girl, he drawled and pressed your back flat up against his chest where he could put you on display.

You knew you should’ve been annoyed, or at least settled so into your role as his temporary whore-for-sale that the sensation coming alive between your thighs shouldn’t have made an appearance. But sometimes, the way Bucky brought his voice down real low and cooed an insult or jest your way just had an affect that your body would not deny. It kept you awake a lot.

Instead, you swallowed hard and let yourself be splayed against him. You ignored the scent of sandalwood in his cologne.

Your body trembled from the cold breeze floating around in the room and you shifted in Bucky’s lap to block everyone’s sight from the way your chest reacted to the change in temperature.

Don’t be shy, he murmured and removed your arms from your breasts, letting the thin, practically see-through fabric show you to the world.

“Buc-” You started, your panic creeping through the cracks at the cheshire sneers sent your way, but at the first sign of your discomfort, he retracted his hands and twisted you around gently, throwing your legs over the side of the chair and spreading them but forcing your upper half to face him. Effectively, cutting your chest off from their line of sight.

You trembled out a sigh and he grabbed your face tightly, drawing your eyes to his. He examined you, his hardened gaze shouting words he couldn’t currently say. But you understood. He could be a jerk, but he wasn’t a bad man.

Your body instinctively leaned into him for warmth as another breeze engulfed you, resulting in a shiver that made its way up your spine. “Are they still looking?” you inquired and he gripped your neck with a ferocity that made you squirm in his lap. Fuck.

He pulled your ear to his lips and licked the helix. You whimpered. “No,” he whispered, running his thumb along your jawline, “But if you don’t quit fucking squirming you’re gonna have a problem, Doll,”

You opened your mouth in question when you felt a sudden twitch on your backside and you swallowed. Hard. He never broke eye contact with you, instead choosing to raise a brow in mocking. Your chest heaved up and down and how you could feel his breath grazing on your cheek almost had you rubbing your legs together for some form of desperate friction. No, you had to keep yourself composed, keep the act going. But he’d seen it. All of it.

You nod your head and slowed your breathing down until he released his grip around your throat and turned his attention towards the dim stage. You leaned back into him and followed suit, making sure to keep your attention downcast and appear disheveled.

“There,” Bucky whispered after a few minutes and you lifted your head only to find the man you had come all this way for walking straight towards you.

Like a moth to a flame.

“How much?” The older man inquired, his grotesque gaze settled on your spread legs.

Bucky looked up at the balding man as if this was the first time he’d noticed his presence, “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”

The man lifted his brow, or what would’ve been, and smiled wickedly, “I’ll give you double your price if you give her to me now,” he offered, his eyes slithering up to the apex of your thighs and this time you didn’t have to fake the shiver running up your spine.

A small smirk formed on Bucky’s face and he waved his hand dismissively at him, “Get in line,”

The old man sneered but Bucky was right, most everyone had their attention fixated on what was happening currently and it was apparent there was, indeed, a line.

Bucky rested his gloved hand on your upper thigh and gripped tight, whether to refrain from hitting the guy or just to touch you, he wasn’t sure but he couldn’t keep you away when the man said, “I’ll give you four times the asking price but I want her now,”

Bucky’s grip on your thigh tightened and you squeaked at the pain, jumping slightly in his lap. “How about I give her to you for free for ten minutes and you tell me if you can handle her,”

You jerked your head towards Bucky and furrowed your brows. Free? Dick. You nearly scoffed.

The man gripped onto your calf and you shifted to kick his hand away when Bucky’s own shot out and and ripped his off of you, “Don’t touch my stuff,” he spit and the man let out a yell but that only spurred Bucky on and he tightened his fist, “Until terms are agreed upon, she remains mine to do with as I please. Understood?”

The man nodded hastily and Bucky threw you off his lap when he stood up. “Anyone else?” Bucky shouted to the room, daring others to test his limits when it came to you. After a few moments of silence Bucky scoffed, “I didn’t fucking think so,”

Bucky’s grip on the man remained and he stared down at the hunched figure, “Now, you,” he addressed and the room remained silent. This was allowed here.

Normally, merchandise couldn’t be touched until it was purchased. No buying before the auction, no discussing what you’re offering, no negotiating but most importantly don’t try to steal from anyone. These are criminals and that being said, they handle things amongst themselves. They know the rules and the risks they take breaking them.

So, when Bucky drags the poor bastard away, you follow right behind him. Not a protest to be heard. Bucky throws open the door we entered through and finds the nearest room before chucking the HYDRA agent inside and locking the door behind you.

The room was brightly lit, with all four walls a dull cream color and dark brown couches strewn casually about. There’s no real order to this place. All cement corners and LED bulbs. Pure business.

“Let ‘em know,” Bucky orders and you turn around to argue only to find the man pulling a gun out of his jacket pocket.

You jerk suddenly and kick Bucky square in the stomach, launching him towards one of the couches just as a shot rings out. You blanch at the sound, the noise filling your head and drowning everything else out. You hear yelling but you can’t make out the words, only the panic intermingled within them. Your hand reaches out around you and you grip the small button lined into your thin clothing, pressing it four times how you’d been instructed.

Everything moved slowly and people began filing into the room. How did they get here so fast? No. It wasn’t possible, they were a quarter mile down the road, there was no way they were your backup.

Hands began flying in the air and you were picked up and dropped multiple times, each time landing harder than the last. You tried to blink back the spinning but the blows landing on your face and torso made it all the worse.

Instinctively, you threw your hands up to protect your face and fought to find some footing to help. Bucky was good but he wasn’t a God, he would need help. When the first blow met your forearms you reached out to grasp the hand and used your other to drive your fist right into the person’s nose. The bone crunched under your blow.

You took a hit, then another when you managed to analyze the enemy’s fight pattern and waited until he left himself open before driving your knee into his rib cage. He bent over in pain and you grabbed him by the hair, hearing another crack when you shoved your elbow upwards against his nose.

You heard a shout and whipped your head over to see Bucky on his back, a looming figure with a gun aimed straight towards him. You galvanized towards them and threw yourself in the air, using your weight to kick him off of Bucky when another shot rang out.

Bucky shot up and crushed the gun with his metal arm. You scoured the room for the familiar HYDRA agent but found him nowhere. You shot out of the room, knocking into an opposing wall as you turned the corner and ducked when the sound of a bullet whizzed past you.

This is not going good. You had lost your target and rummaged through room after room until you’d become lost. Fuck. Where the hell did he run off to? You winced after breaking out into a sprint but pressed on, not allowing yourself to slow down. There was no way you were going to fail this mission, especially after coming so close to success.

Sweat trailed down your face and your muscles screamed at you to halt, their exhaustion beginning to wear you down. Your breathing grew rapid and your vision blurred and just as you went to lean on a wall to rest, your shoulder exploded out in pain and you collapsed with a cry.

“Dirty whore,” the HYDRA man seethed, a cane raised over his head. He brought it down and you spun to the side, feeling the air breeze past your ear.

Your hand latched onto the cane and you shoved it into his gut, pushing him away. SHIELD wanted this guy alive, so alive they would receive him. That didn’t mean he had to come in one piece though.

You tore the walker out of his hand just as he tumbled onto his ass. You stood up, grunting along the way and hovered over his body, fear sprawled along his features.

“You can either stay still or get beat with your own cane, it’s your choice,” you offered, aching to bring the walker down onto his face. “Please test me. Please.” You begged.

His gaze shifted between you and the weapon and he brought his trembling hands up in defeat. He must’ve been an agent of some Intelligence branch because his fighting abilities were evidently subpar at best.

You sighed, sad to see the opportunity go but brought the cane down none the less. “That’s unfortunate,”

You turned your attention to the sound of running coming around the corner and moved to drag and hide your captive in a nearby closet only to roll your eyes when Bucky came ‘round. You tossed the cane back and forth between your hands and smiled proudly towards the agent on the floor.

“Look who I caught,” you toyed and were met with a grunt.

“Only because you let him get away,” he retorted, pulling the balding man up to his feet.

Everything began to slow and the hellfire you’d kept under mounds of ice had finally melted through its freezing cage. “What?”

He turned his back towards you and trudged the hesitant man behind him towards the exit.

“I said,” you hollered, not caring how the halls carried your echo, “What?”

“I heard what you said,” he called back to you, not bothering to turn around.

And there you were left, frozen and dumbfounded for five solid minutes before you could pull yourself together enough to stomp your way back towards the rendezvous point. You remained hazy for the most part while debriefing. You tried to recount everything but the way your anger engulfed you in its flame obscured your memory so you kept it short.

It was quickly brought up that SHIELD captured more HYDRA agents than expected and were gonna be at max capacity so you and Bucky had to stay at a base a few miles down the road. You grumbled in compliance but Bucky didn’t respond, not even a godforsaken grunt.

What SHIELD had failed to mention though, was that this bunker was clearly meant for one. It barely counted as a room. There was a small bathroom in the corner just big enough for a shower and toilet. No sink. And a small counter with just enough space for a stove, microwave and radio. If you were to lay down vertically or horizontally you’d nearly be touching wall each way. Not to mention the singular bed.

And that’s how you got to where you were now. Miniscule room. Exhausted body. Drained mind. Patience long gone.

You huffed and dropped your bag in front of the entrance before walking to the bathroom and turning to slam the door closed. You turned the faucet on and ripped the wig off, discarding your clothes in a pile before stepping into the shower. The warm water was nice and welcoming but your body already felt aflame so you twisted the knob and held your breath when the cold stream trickled down your body. It was difficult to breathe at first, but your body soon adjusted to the temperature and you began wiping the muck off your skin with the bar of soap supplied. But that’s all the was supplied. Clearly, this place was meant to be a quick pit stop.

You sat on the hard floor as the water streamed onto your body. You could nearly fall asleep to its rhythm; It was only when your head hit the wall that you realized you were so you begrudgingly stood up and shut off the water. You grabbed the only towel in the bathroom and pat yourself dry, noticing just then that you left your clothes outside.

You let out a long sigh and twisted open the doorknob to find Bucky toying with the radio on the counter; not even purposefully, just looking for something to do while he waited.

You opened your mouth to ask him to hand you your bag but after what he said to you earlier you’d sooner eat hot coals than ask him to do anything for you. You stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped neatly around your chest and you bent over to open your bag. The shuffling on the radio stopped.

“You could’ve at least left me some warm water,” he grumbled and you rolled your eyes.

You searched in your bag for the fresh clothes residing there only to turn around when you found them and have the bathroom door shut in your face.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You shouted, pounding your fist against the door.

You could hear the water running and you groaned, pounding harder. The door opened for a split second and you were hit in the face with the clothes you’d left inside only for it to instantly be slammed shut again.

You punched the door with all the frustration built up over the past few hours and felt the wood crack with your force. Why did this man have to be incredibly baffling? You were not nearly paid enough to deal with such an unbearable partner. He would have you bald from stress before you knew it.

You spent the next few minutes grumbling to yourself after you changed and scribbled your frustration onto a small notebook you took with you everywhere. It was only when you heard the water shut off did you remember something. You still had the only towel. A villainous smirk tugged at your lips and you placed the folded towel on the edge of the bed, away from the door.

Then you heard the creak. “I will walk out naked if you don’t give me the towel,” Bucky threatened.

You shrugged despite him not being able to see you from your position on the bed, “I’ll just laugh at your dick,”

“You weren’t laughing earlier,” he shot back.

Oh. So he did remember. Good. You thought he’d gotten amnesia within the past few hours, maybe he was just too ashamed to mention it.

“Too disgusted to insult. Plus, I was playing a character,”

“Fine,” he responded and quickly came into view, haughtily sauntering over to your side and you shouted.

“Dear God!” You held the towel up to block your sight of his barren body. It was disgusting. He was all wet, hair dripping onto his muscled torso, water gleaming off his taut skin, 5 o’clock shadow drenched and straight out of a wet dream. Jesus.

“Prude,” he commented, snatching the towel from your grasp and wrapping it around himself.

“Respectable,” you corrected, crossing your arms and shoving him away. “You get the floor,”

He lifted his duffle off the ground and rummaged through it. “Then I get the blanket,”

“You get fuck all,” you stated, flipping off the lamp beside you and snuggling into the warm cot.

When the shuffling stopped and the bathroom light was shut off, you shut your eyes and let the wear of the day grab at you, lulling you into the beginning of slumber. That is, until the blanket was hauled from around you, damn near throwing you onto the floor. You shouted out and caught yourself last minute.

“Barnes!” You yelled, steadying yourself and reaching over the edge to grab the blanket back. Your hand fisted at the faux fur and you pulled with all your might to no avail.

He swatted you away as though you were a pesky fly and reached over to turn the light of the lamp on. You glowered at him and stood, wrapping the blanket around your arm and pulling upwards. Your arm strained to its capacity but the man on the floor didn’t budge. Only turned his back to you and shut his eyes. You reached over yourself and flipped the switch of the lamp, once again immersing yourself in the comforting darkness.

Bucky stiffened and opened his eyes then turned and froze you in your spot with his stare. He reached around and lit the lamp, slowly retracting his arm and daring you to turn it off again. So you did.

He yanked the blanket from your grasp and threw you back onto the bed, bringing light into the room. “Light stays on,” he growled.

“No! You’ve had your goddamn way since you stepped foot into this room. Light goes off and I get the blanket!” You shouted, not concerned about anyone else hearing considering the room was soundproof.

“No. You get the bed so I get the blanket. Tell me how that doesn’t make sense,” he countered.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting that it did, in fact, make sense. The floor here was wooden and clearly uncomfortable, plus he hadn’t even argued about the bed situation.

You retreated, “Fine, light still goes off,”

“No,”

“Yes,”

Silence fell between the two of you but you weren’t budging. Barnes had faced plenty of monsters, he could handle the dark.

“I need the noise to fall asleep,” he admitted and it was then you could hear the slight hum the bulb emitted.

You didn’t speak for a while but reared back and pulled out your phone, “What do you want to listen to?” You scrolled through a few sounds you had stored on your phone, “We’ve got: nature sounds, frequencies, guided meditations, etc. You name it, but I’m not sleeping with this forsaken light on,”

Bucky studied you, his expression changing a mile a minute but the one of indifference conquered, “Rain,”

You nodded once and selected the audio, placing the phone face up on the nightstand and turning the light off for the last time. Hopefully. You hunkered down into the thin mattress and reached down, grasping at the thick blanket. When you pulled, there was some give. He’d let you get just enough needed to cover your body if you laid at the very edge and your hand hovered in the air when you laid your arm over the side.

Minutes flew by with your eyes shut and the exhaustion slithered over your body but your mind ran wild with the events from earlier. You tried not to get angry or sad or . . . bothered. Your breathing deepened when you began to succumb to your body’s fatigue and you drifted inch by inch into the welcoming void lulling your name.

You didn’t hear when he shifted, only managed to register the faint tracing of his fingertips on your hand before finally giving out.

You weren’t sure what time it was when you opened your eyes for the first time that night. This regularly happened. You’d wake up multiple times during the night to shift positions or throw off the sheets, no matter how insignificant the desire, your body always found a way to wake you for it.

You opened your eyes slowly to a hazy vision and blinked at the sitting figure on the floor, “Bucky?” You croaked, bringing a hand up to wipe at your face, “What time is it?”

“It’s almost one, go back to sleep,”

“What are you doing?” You persisted, ignoring his demand and sitting up slowly, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Couldn’t,”

A heartbeat. Then another. And another. He didn’t care to elaborate.

“Do you want the bed?” You offered, stretching yourself out and already placing yourself down on the floor, “It’s too hot up there, anyway,”

His attention turned to you for the first time but you’d already began closing your eyes, not really having the energy to argue with him. You could hear shuffling from his spot and the ground disappeared below you, strong hands grasping your body and lifting you up to place you gently back onto the cot.

“I prefer the floor,” he insisted, wrapping the blanket around you, “Besides, you’re a horrendous liar,”

You didn’t hold back the singular chuckle, your haze still enveloping you. “Then why aren’t you sleeping?”

He sat at the foot of the bed, his hand hovering over your leg in hesitation, “It’s complicated.” He dropped his hand to his side.

“Isn’t the rain helping?” you mumbled, your sight now adjusting to the dark.

“Yes,”

“Then what?”

“I just . . . don’t want to wake you,”

“Well, I’m already awake if that makes you feel better,” you jeered, a small smile forming on your lips.

“It doesn’t,”

“Nothing does,” you retorted, the inevitable annoyance you always felt when conversing with him already made its way up into your tone.

He scoffed and stood from the bed, placing himself in the same spot on the floor with his head leaned up against the wall and his arm resting on his perched knee.

“Oh, so now you can’t handle a little attitude,” your tone came out incredulous, “You didn’t have any issues earlier when you blamed me for that guy’s escape. Which, he didn’t even get to do, might I add,”

“I was projecting,” he replied, gaze still focused on the door opposite to him.

You blinked, “Are you so tired that you’re actually admitting to being a dick?”

“I know I can be a dick, but you threw yourself straight into the line of fire twice today. So I don’t really give a shit if I was mean to you,”

“I only did that because you almost got shot twice today. Don’t take your anger out on me for your incompetence. Just say ‘thank you’ and move on already,”

“Incompetence?” His head jerked in your direction. “What was incompetent was that you couldn’t keep yourself composed,”

You sat up. “What in the hell are you talking about? My behavior is what got our target to basically give himself up to us! It was me that trapped him, not you!” His composure tensed and you crossed your arms over your chest, “You’re just mad your dick got hard so if anything you’re the one who couldn’t keep their compos-” His hand was wrapped around your throat and you were pinned to the mattress before you could finish your sentence.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed at you, his face mere inches from yours.

“Why?” You spoke hoarsely around his tightening grip, “Does the Big Bad Wolf not like that he was turned on? Who’s the prude now?”

“Turned on?” He spat, his free hand resting by your head to cage you in, “You think what you did earlier turned me on?”

You grasped at the hand around your throat and pried slightly to speak, “Fight me or fuck me, Barnes. But stop lying to yourself, it’s getting old,”

The room seemed to freeze over and Bucky paused. His hesitation was enough to elicit the fire from earlier and your legs squirmed a little underneath him. God, you hoped he chose the latter.

Then his lips crashed against yours.

You squeaked at the sudden onslaught but threw your arms around his shoulders and pulled him in tighter against you. He dropped when you intertwined your legs, his full weight pressing against you deliciously. You ground up against him, your core aching from the previous hours and the small friction elicited a moan from the both of you.

“So impatient,” he scolded, bringing the hand from around your throat down to your hips and pressing you into the bed. “What a whore,”

His breath danced along your cheek and you mewled at his words. Gods, he was going to be the death of you. Or the beginning.

You breathed in deeply, his sandalwood scent intoxicating you in a manner that alcohol never could. When you drank, you were just drunk. But when you took a sip from the tall glass that was Bucky, it brought you to life. Your body sang melodies wherever you were plastered against each other and your skin burned with need.

Touch me, your body screamed, touch me.

“Fuck off,” you groaned and Bucky jerked your head to the side, exposing your neck for him to scavenge.

The goosebumps that danced across your skin when he ran his warm tongue up from the curve of your neck to the bottom of your ear brought an arrogant smirk onto Bucky’s face. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged when he reached a particularly sensitive spot that had your legs shaking when he kissed it sloppily.

Your mouth hung open in silent pleasure and your breaths were short and rapid, your body betraying all forms of control you previously had over yourself. The hand that wasn’t residing in his hair trailed down his muscled arm and you gripped at the brawn this man possessed. His skin reminisced lightly of silk despite the rough texture of his hands.

The same hands that now made its way into your hair and tugged at the strands at the base of your neck, jolting your chin higher into the air. Your grip tightened around his biceps and the strength they emitted sent a pool rushing to your core. You continued hunting until you found the hem of his black, cotton shirt and you made your way up his taut abdomen. You let out a sigh and he jumped lightly at the sensation of your cool fingertips across his scorching skin. It was a nice contrast for him.

You gripped at the shirt and hastily ripped the cotton upward. Bucky broke away from his descent down to your chest to let you remove the fabric and you’d suddenly wished you’d turned the lights on first. He mimicked your action and tossed your shirt in a deserted corner of the room to potentially be abandoned. You gasped when the cold air of the room grazed upon the perked mounds of your breasts.

His lips returned to their spot on the dip of your neck and his tongue slithered down in between your breasts. Your breath hitched when his wet muscle made its way up to the apex of your chest. His right hand mirrored his tongue and swirled around your nipple, his teeth pulling eagerly every so often and you hissed at the delectable pain. Your eyes devoured the scene unfolding on your chest and you reached over to flick the light on, desperate for a clearer image.

Bucky halted and his metal arm reached over to switch the light back off but you swatted his hand away and he backed up lightly, his irritation evident on his face.

“I want to watch,” you grumbled and shifted up to bring your lips back up to his. He let you. He pushed back lightly with his own lips and leaned in sync with your movements. He parted his mouth slightly and you followed suit, letting him lead his way into yours with the same muscle he’d just had flicking across your breasts.

The light went off.

You pushed him away and shot towards the switch but metal met your wrist firmly enough to keep you in place. “Bucky.” You wrestled against his hold and turned your full attention back to the figure hovering above, “I want to see you,”

Despite the darkness, you noticed his mouth twitch but his grip on your wrist remained solid. You sprawled back onto the bed and wrapped your free hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down onto you, pressing his surprisingly soft lips onto yours. You broke apart, his lips a hair’s breadth away from your own. “I want to see you,”

He didn’t move, only scanned your face over a few times and you brought him back down into a kiss. This one wasn’t like before. This one was warm, soft, patient. A ballet compared to its previous mosh pit. He danced along with you, an admission hidden somewhere in his tenderness.

You hadn’t realized you’d been freed of his hold until you were wrapping that arm over his shoulder and the sound of a light humming began.

“Fucker,” you jeered and the previous gentleness dissipated.

“Shut up,” he ordered, pinning you back onto the bed and resumed his ministration on your breasts.

The moan slipped past your lips at the sight and your chest heaved upwards, desperate for more stimulation. You licked your lips at how his mouth encased your nipple, his tongue flicking against the perked skin and you dropped your head back, shutting your eyes. You centered all of your attention anywhere that his bare skin touched your body and rubbed your aching clit against his v-line.

Your chest was pressed against the mattress before you could register what happened and the hard smack that met your ass evoked a yelp. Bucky pressed fully against your backside and he ground his dick down into your ass. He groaned at the sensation and you raised your ass onto him. You yelped again when Bucky ripped your leggings down and smacked the exposed skin on your ass.

“Try something like that again and I’ll gag you around my cock ‘til you’re crying,” he growled, “Understood?”

You nodded, wide-eyed and a mewling mess from the threatening promise of this God.

“Good girl,” he cooed, rubbing at the raw skin. “Now stay still for Daddy,”

Bucky’s hand lingered on your reddening ass and the mattress dipped when he shifted to your side. He traced gentle circles onto your backside and pressed his lips on your shoulder blade, the butterfly kisses making their way down towards your spine and then lower. Your breathing grew uneven from the sheer amount of restraint you displayed. Your grip on the edge of the bed tightened when his tongue dragged from the point where your thigh and ass met all the way up to the bottom of your spine.

“Fuck,” You shuddered, white-knuckling the blanket beneath you.

Your skin blazed when you were met with another harsh slap. You mewled at the sensation, loving the fire that spread across your flesh and relaxed when his metal hand cooled the area.

Then his teeth bit into the cooling flesh and you jerked away despite yourself. Bucky tsked lowly and you chuckled at the hint of fear sprouting in your chest; you did not want to see whatever sinister expression resided on his face.

A strong hand gripped the roots of your hair and hauled you up. You followed his direction and knelt onto the ground between Bucky’s sprawled out legs, settling in your new position.

“Oh, Doll,” he chastised, “you were so close,”

“That shouldn’t count,” you retorted while Bucky pulled the blanket off the bed and lifted you up with his metal arm, shoving the barrier between your knees and the hard ground.

“But it does.” His hands dove into his underwear and sprung his cock out onto your lips. “Now get to work,”

Your eyes widened at the sight before you and you had to physically hold back from gulping. You were ashamed to admit your mouth watered in anticipation. You lifted your hands from his sculpted thighs and wrapped them around his length, enveloping just the tip past your parted lips. Bucky sighed and twitched in your mouth.

You welcomed him in fully, or as much as you could anyway, and got straight to work, not bothering to act abashed at your desire. Your tongue swirled around his tip and you leaned into him until he hit the back of your mouth but you continued on, gagging around him when he’d gotten inside your throat. Bucky groaned when your throat tightened around him and he threw his head back, using his flesh hand to guide you up and down his shaft, showing you what he liked and didn’t.

“Fuck, Doll,” he groaned, “Just how I imagined your mouth would feel,”

You pulled off him to comment when he shoved you all the way down to the hilt and you threw your hands up onto his thighs to hold yourself back. He used his metal arm to hold himself up and thrusted up into your salivating mouth desperately. He continuously hit the back of your throat and thick saliva coated his cock. Just as he promised, tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and he didn’t stop until your cheeks were drenched in the liquid.

You let your jaw hang open, your tongue no longer swiveling around meticulous spots that you knew would make his legs buckle. No, you let him have the reigns. Let him fuck your mouth ‘til your throat grew bruised and jaw ached with fatigue. You committed his cries of pleasure to memory, the sounds euphoric to your ears.

He lifted his head and stared down at you with half-closed eyes. He was in heaven and you knew it. He watched you, how the tears trailed down, how your hands gripped at his thighs, how you stuck out your tongue just as you’d made it to the base of his cock to lick his balls in the most intoxicating way. Fuck. You were the intoxicating one. You brought out this side of him. This carnal desire that became him until he’d had to step out of the room just to compose himself. And he didn’t like being out of control. That’s why he always kept you at an arm’s distance.

But now, watching as you sat between him with your mouth agape like the good girl that you were for him, he knew he’d never deny himself this pleasure again. Especially since you were so fucking good at it.

He groaned, pulling you off his cock and grabbed tightly at your cheeks, nearly pinching your mouth together. “Tongue out.” He growled, waiting for your compliance.

Your jaw ached with exhaustion but you managed to stick out the wet muscle as he pulled you closer into him and watched when he parted his lips above you, letting the saliva trail down from his mouth into yours.

“Swallow,” he ordered.

But it was already done, and you left your mouth hanging open for more.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky grumbled, putting his face right up against yours and feeding you once again; this time with a sloppy kiss that coated both your mouths in saliva.

He brought you up from the floor and tossed you onto the bed before settling between your legs. The excitement in your eyes grew and he indulged in every minute of it. Bucky’s hand trailed down from your lower abdomen right above your pubic bone and pressed his palm into your neglected clit. The cry you let out was the unholiest thing he’d ever heard.

He slid his finger under the waistband of your underwear and flitted his gaze back up to your eyes, “Can I?”

You nodded eagerly, dumbfounded that he would even ask and fought the temptation to grab your phone from the nightstand and record everything that was about to unfold.

At the first nod, Bucky slid your underwear down your legs and made a show of bringing the material up to his face. Your own went red hot and you hid behind your hands, poking through every millisecond to shamefully watch. He threw the panties into his open duffel and you squirmed in anticipation.

“Remember the rules?” Bucky asked, brow lifted and already descending to your inner thigh.

You nodded again.

“I need to hear it, Doll,” he mumbled, kissing the inner part of your thigh, each placement closer and closer to where you needed him most.

“Yes,” you whimpered out, “I remember the rules,”

Bucky wanted to dive right in, he really did, but the way you sprawled yourself out so vulnerable for him, it incited a new pace that he wanted to follow. So, he did. He looked at you for a few moments, watched how the anticipation danced in your eyes, how your legs shook in wait and how you were already so goddamn wet for him.

“This all for me?” he teased, mesmerized at your desire for him.

You dropped a hand down to your side, near where his hands were wrapped around your thighs to keep you in place - and against his face. He cocked his head to the side, waiting for your answer.

You nodded sheepishly and when he lifted an eyebrow in mock confusion you said, “You. Just you,”

Like music to his ears. Just him. You weren’t for anyone else. He thought he felt his heart palpitate.

He lowered himself down to your core and kissed your lip, drawing a desperate plea from you. You couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t deal with the teasing. You were wet enough, needy enough, ready enough to take him, all of him. You’d been ready damn near the moment you first laid eyes on his arrogant smirk.

“Buck - please,” you cried, drawling out the final word.

The first kiss placed upon your soaked cunt erupted a sigh of relief and you laid back on the pillow, your eyes closed and mind gone with the sensation of those sloppy kisses blessing your needs. He flattened his tongue on your lips and licked upwards, stopping when your hips twitched into his mouth.

“Sorry!” You apologized, fighting the desire to grind into his wet muscle. He’d just gotten started and you certainly didn’t want it to end so soon.

He lifted his gaze up to you and you bit into your fist at the view, using the extremity to hold back your moans. He flicked his attention down again and repeated his motion, lapping at your fluids ‘til his beard was soaked in it. He shook his head into your cunt and his nose rubbed along your clit. The mewling that left your mouth urged him on and when you felt his muscle prodding at your entrance you threw your head back.

“Please, Bucky.” You begged, bringing a hand up to tease your nipple.

He prodded some more, his tongue gliding up from your clit and back down to your entrance, poking through enough to frustrate you. He wanted you to break for him. To lose all composure and control and just let him. He wanted you to submit to him but it wasn’t just that, it was more that he wanted to destroy you for any future experience you may have without him. He wanted you to come back to him, to need him, to beg for him and leave you with the understanding that nothing - no one - could compare to him. He wanted you. To himself.

So, when he could no longer refrain and had to use his metal arm to hold your hips down from squirming beneath him, he slipped two thick, rough fingers into your begging cunt. And the sound you emitted caused that carnal instinct to claw at the barriers caging it in.

Your hand shot down, tangling itself into his hair and pushing him harder against you. He allowed it. Your thighs held him in place, crushing him with your soft skin and he groaned at the warmth you gave off. You pulled your hand away from your mouth and grabbed at his metal one resting on your pubic bone, pulling it up to your chest and wrapping his fingers on the sensitive bud for him to tease. He slowly retracted from your chest and brought it back down onto your hips and you huffed in annoyance. You looked down at Bucky but his eyes were shut, completely engrossed in the feast before him. You bucked when his fingers glazed across that sensitive spot inside your velvety walls.

“There!” You cried, your fist tightening in his hair when the all-too-familiar wave of ecstasy began to pool together, waiting for its release.

Bucky complied, dragging the pads of his fingers up against that spot over and over again. Your legs caged him in tighter as his tongue swirled over the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves and you cried out at the way your body tensed.

“Fuck,” you cried, your hands desperately grasping onto Bucky’s metal wrist and tugging at the roots of his hair. Bucky’s groan of pleasure was what tipped you over the edge.

You gasped when the pool building released, your body shaking with euphoria and the flood crashed down onto you. And apparently, onto Bucky as well. He pulled his mouth away but continued rubbing at your clit when warm liquid squirted onto his face and his expression of surprise mirrored your own.

When Bucky looked up at you, your face burned with embarrassment and you threw your head back, using your hand to cover your countenance. Not to mention the sight of him with your juices all over his mouth was one of the hottest things you’d ever witnessed.

Bucky chuckled at your sheepish apology and removed your hand from your face, bringing his soaked mouth up to yours and having you taste yourself. You devoured each other, your arms wrapped tightly around the other, pulling so fiercely at the innate desire to become one in shared pleasure. He could feel his pride swell at your hidden confession. You’d never squirted before and he was lucky enough to be the one to give you that experience for the first time.

You clawed at him, divulging in the warmth his body radiated and intoxicating yourself in everything that was Bucky. You couldn’t get enough of it, of him. It was nearly too much.

His hand trailed up to your gaping mouth and he inserted his fingers, “Clean them,” he ordered.

Your hand gripped his wrist and pulled his fingers deeper into your mouth, never breaking eye contact with him, loving the way he ate up everything he was seeing. You noticed the way he swallowed.

He retracted his hand and wrapped it gently behind your head so you were resting on him. He brought his full weight down onto your body and a warmth emanated in your chest when he brought his lips up against your forehead, each kiss closer and closer to your lips until they met their destination. When you parted your mouth against his, it wasn’t merely an action of carnal desire, it was like you were exchanging life forces. Merging and meeting in a manner that had your body exploding and crying out for more of the faint familiarity. Like seeing an old friend for the first time in years.

Bucky looked down between your bodies at where you were about to connect before staring back up at you, taking you in as if he would never have this opportunity again. His thumb brushed your cheek and came to a rest on your bottom lip. “Ready?”

You chuckled, “Fuck me,”

He shoved inside in one clean motion and a breath of pleasure slid past both of your lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hand tightening slightly around your neck and he pulled out slowly then shot back inside and you moaned.

You were still so sensitive from your previous climax that every brush against your clit sent you into a whirlwind of pleasure, the sensations shooting through every nerve in your body.

“Bucky,” you whined when his pace quickened and the sheer force of his thrusts drove you deeper into euphoria.

He filled you just right, his girth and length impressive and you wondered why you hadn’t tried to screw him earlier. He slid past your tight walls, each thrust causing the room to echo with the sounds of skin slapping and moans of ecstasy.

He kept his actions controlled, not wanting to build up to something so intense just for it to fall short and end fast. No. Despite how good you felt wrapped around his aching and swollen cock, despite how warm and welcoming you were, how you spread yourself out for him to consume, he had to leash himself. This was going to be just as good for you as it was for him.

He kissed you one last time before gripping the back of your knees and bringing your thighs up to your chest, a shout of praise falling off your lips. He was drunk on the sight of his cock going in and out of your cunt and he threw his head back with a groan.

“What a fucking pretty pussy,” he breathed out and you whimpered, biting your lip at the welcome profanities.

At this angle, he was fucking against your g-spot and using his pubic bone to rub against your clit and watching the thin layer of sweat sheen off his skin was all too much to keep yourself put together. His eyebrows scrunched together and you caught him taking in your form, watching how your pleasure displayed itself on your face for him to bear witness to. Only him.

He growled at the intrusion of thoughts that came to him. He pictured someone else in his position, someone else witnessing you so vulnerable and open to them, someone else fucking you and making you beg for them. It disgusted him. He brought his torso down and latched his teeth to your neck, biting down hard enough to have you tearing up.

“Mine,” he growled into your ear and lulled his head forward when you tightened around him.

A sinister smirk came to his face and he licked the shell of your ear, your breathy moans feeding him, “You like that?” He asked, pistoling further into your cunt and you shouted at the increase of pace, “You like when I tell you who you belong to?”

Your mouth hung agape and the one arm wrapped around his shoulder pulled him closer to you, your desperation for his warmth taking control. “Fuck . . . off,” you hissed between breaths.

He pulled out and yanked you up by your hair, twisting you around and pressing your torso into the wall but keeping your ass propped up for him to admire. You hissed at the pain when a sharp smack met your ass and your hands gripped at the wall for any way to ground yourself and prevent from becoming putty in his hands.

Another hard smack met your ass and you lurched forward to get away from the sting. Bucky kept your head pinned to the cement, his hand holding your cheek from scraping the wall but applying a pressure that had your tongue lolling out of your mouth.

You moaned at the intrusion in your pussy and he plummeted in and out, a mix of your grunts and groans bouncing around the room. His pace constantly changed. One second it was fast, the next it was slow but filling, going so far as to hit your cervix a few times and leave you a crying mess under his hold. Your shoulder scraped along the wall and you fought to push away only to have your chest slammed harder against the cement.

You brought a hand out, reaching behind yourself and grasping for Bucky’s hip, pushing him deeper into you when he slowed. Your nails dug into his flesh and the sound of his hiss shot straight to your core.

“What a goddamn whore,” he spat, bringing his teeth down onto your neck and you gripped at his hair.

You laughed at his statement, “You’re the one that can’t get enough of this pussy. Why so desperate to claim it? Afraid I'll fuck someone else?” Bucky pulled you back and slammed you against the wall with vigor, causing you to flinch

He stopped his thrusts altogether, “My patience only goes so far, Doll,” he threatened, tugging at your hair and you bit back a cry, “Choose your words wisely,”

You nodded hastily, the rough texture of the wall digging into your cheek and splitting skin. You wriggled up against him to continue moving but he retracted completely and flipped you over so he was laying on the bed and you were straddling him.

“Move,” he ordered, his hands digging bruises into your waist.

You leaned over, pressing your chest against his to lift your hips up and down on him but he pushed you back up and held your arms behind your back to keep you in place. You whimpered but the cry quieted when you rubbed your clit against him and your pussy clenched at the friction. You moaned out a breathy fuck and swiveled your hips around his, noting how much deeper he filled you in this position.

“Buck-” you huffed, eyes glued to the glistening abs beneath you. “I’m gonna cum,”

“Already?” He jeered, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

You’d lost all energy to sneer at him, your focus solely on how the sensation grew and began pooling in your cunt. “Cock . . . so good,” you breathed out, barely able to keep yourself from melting into him.

“What was that, Doll?” He stilled your movements and you groaned in annoyance.

You wriggled in his hold and you could tell by the furrow of his brow that he was fighting to keep control as well. You leaned over him, your lips hovering over his, “Mine,”

His grip flew to the back of your neck and he crashed your lips onto his, giving you full reign again. You bounced your hips on his dick, slamming down vigorously and rubbing your clit in effect. It didn’t take long for your climax to build again.

“’M gonna . . .” you whispered and Bucky placed you back up, gripping your hips and swiveling you around how you were earlier.

“Cum, Doll,” he allowed, “Cum all over this cock,”

You cried out, your toes curling as the dam in your core snapped and your climax washed over you. You hadn’t realized your fingers were intertwined with Bucky's until you came back down from your high, your chest heaving for breath.

He sat up slowly and pressed his lips against your neck. “You’re beautiful,”

Your body tensed at his words and you pulled away to give him a look of confusion. But he didn’t take his statement back, only slipped his hands around your back and gently placed you onto the bed, hovering over you.

He moved with caution, like his gentleness might scare you off if he touched you too tenderly or stared too long in admiration. But he couldn’t help it, he did admire you.

He spread your legs open and nestled between them, pushing into you slowly until your hips met and you both breathed out. His movements weren’t nearly as brutal as they were earlier, these thrusts were slow and deep and full of intention. He brought his torso down onto yours and you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer to you.

He ran his hand, the only one he allowed himself to touch you affectionately with, through your hair and stared down at you, waiting. His gaze shifted between your lips to your eyes and he ran his thumb delicately along your mouth.

You looked at him then, really looked at him with fresh eyes and your heart leapt into your throat at the realization. “Kiss me,” you whispered and he lowered himself onto your lips, setting off an explosion in your chest.

“I’m yours,” he whispered, not able to bring himself to look at you, “I’ve been yours,”

You opened your mouth to respond but he silenced you with a deep thrust and a moan erupted instead. He quickened his pace, watching where you connected and pushed deeper and harder, your cries of pleasure driving him. He had to fuck you, he couldn’t love you, he couldn’t make love to you, just fuck. That’s it. He couldn’t allow himself to replay your look of shock at his confession, though the scene would surely be on loop for the next few days until he could get over it. Just fuck. Nothing more. Not with that look of disbelief on your face.

He held himself up with his forearms but you pressed him against you and wrapped your legs tighter around him. “Harder,” you whispered and he complied.

He groaned when your tits bounced and brought his mouth to a nipple, the faint taste of sweat lingering on your skin. You brought his metal hand up to your chest and made him grip the flesh there but he pulled it back and placed it beside your head instead.

“Bucky,” you whimpered and grabbed his hand again, bringing his open palm up to your lips and placing delicate kisses on the metal. “You can feel with it, right?”

He nodded, hesitance sprawled on his face.

“Then touch me,” you urged, bringing the hand down between your bodies and pressing the cold metal against your clit, “Feel me,”

His brows furrowed slightly but the look of your certainty forced him to dismiss his own perceptions of his body; or rather, that arm. And when he began rubbing circles into your bundle of nerves the expression on your face made him hate it a little less. Only a little.

You stared up at him, his pace growing erratic and sloppy and you knew he was close. “You wanna cum?”

He nodded, his hot breath coming out haggard and strained. You placed your hand on his cheek and brought him up to your kiss.

“Then cum,”

He shook his head, “You first,” he swirled his finger around your swollen clit and you gasped at the force of his thrust.

Your body tensed and you centered all your focus on his ministrations, “A little more pressure,” you directed and he quickly found a pressure that had you wobbling in the knees. “Close,” you murmured, gripping Bucky’s side and bringing your lips up to his neck to pepper the skin there.

He groaned and judging by the way his dick twitched inside you, you knew he wasn’t far behind.

“Bucky,” you whispered, pulling his attention towards you and his gaze brought you closer to the edge, “I’m yours,”

He blinked and his pace faltered for half a beat. He examined your facial expression, like he didn’t believe the words you’d spoken. Not like he couldn’t believe them, but like you’d said them just to appease him.

You placed your forehead against his, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to center yourself in the haze of this fucking. “Yours,” you repeated, all the emotion residing in your chest poured into the singular word.

And then he was back to drilling you into the mattress, a new vigor fueling his thrusts. You cried out and Bucky pressed his sweaty torso flat against your own and it felt like the essence, the being, in your chest intermingled with his own and all the climaxes you’d previously experienced couldn’t hold a match to the flame, the intensity, the rawness of the one that washed over the both of you in that moment.

Bucky moaned out, his hips bucking into yours and you rode out both of your highs. The sensation consuming and overwhelming and welcome on both ends as it flooded through your bodies, meeting at your point of contact.

His arms flexed above you with the ferocity of his climax and the display had you writhing beneath him, already desperate for more.

“Buck,” you whispered when his breathing evened out after he collapsed onto you.

He didn’t respond, afraid it had all been a dream, a trick, despite still being inside you. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to shatter the perfection of this moment. What if you’d only said that to get him to finish faster? What if you’d only fed him what he wanted to hear? What if-

“Buck,” you repeated, pulling him from his daze and he lifted his head only slightly. You gripped his chin lightly and forced him to look you in the eye. “You’re . . . mine?”

He wanted to shake his head, to tell you that he got caught up in the moment but instead he said, “Yours,” because he knew anything else would be a lie and he was tired of lying.

You studied him and nodded, “Yours,” you stated, already rolling your eyes from the smirk forming on his face, “Unfortunately,”

He brought your face to his and planted a tender kiss on your lips. He started shifting his position and grabbed the underwear he’d been wearing earlier before pulling out and using the cloth to clean the mess pooling out of you. But not before taking a mental picture, of course.

After a few minutes of laying together, his hand playing with a few strands of hair, you felt the warm welcome of sleep beginning to drag you into its embrace. You opened your eyes groggily and looked up at Bucky who was already looking down at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I know about your night terrors,” you whispered and his actions halted momentarily before returning to brush through your hair, “I hear you sometimes. And I understand why you don’t want to go to sleep but,” you sat up slowly and placed the thick blanket down on the floor, dragging the pillow down with you and patting the open space beside you, “you should rest. I’ll be here to calm you or stay up with you. Whichever one you need,”

He didn’t move at first, his ears drowning out any thought he could have while processing what you’d said. He’d stayed silent so long you’d thought you’d crossed a line.

“I can always sleep on the bed if you’d prefer, though,”

Bucky shook himself from his thoughts and edged closer to the floor, slowly descending into the available space and wrapping the blanket around the both of you as much as he could. “No,” he said, “I want you here,”

You hummed in response and snuggled into his waiting arms, lightly wrapping your own around him, making sure to kiss the part of himself he hated the most before fatigue swept you up into its clutches. Bucky followed soon after.

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sketching-shark · 2 years ago

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Would you say that the LMK writers don't understand Wukong as a character? Of course, there are different interpretations and adaptations of not only this character but many other beloved characters from different stories.

But I think if 10 different writers create a story about, say, Spider-Man. Even if they all do something different with the character, Spider-Man should still be recognizable as Spider-Man. Like there are inherent traits that simply make the character who they are.

Do you think LMK Wukong is missing those inherent traits, or I guess completely misses the point on who SWK is a character?

Monkie Kid spoilers below:

I guess I'd have to start off by saying that I'm very hesitant, especially as someone who is neither Chinese or of Chinese descent, to say whether there's a truly "wrong" way to understand or write the Monkey King. Hell I've often poked fun at the way Sun Wukong has frequently been written in Chinese retellings of Journey to the West, and it must be acknowledged that there is a MASSIVE numbers of very different ways that Sun Wukong has been depicted in Xiyouji retellings, from a silly little guy to a hardened war criminal. For example, here's a Sun Wukong who's definitely an evil little bloodthirsty scamp as presented by Stephen Chow in Journey to the West: Conquering the Demons (2013):

youtube

And here's a panel of the Monkey King "Aku" from Marjorie Liu's (who's of Taiwanese descent) Monstress. Here he's feasting on fruit while watching the souls of a bunch of kids that he had slaughtered be tortured for information:

So yes, there's a pretty big difference between these version of the Monkey King and many others, including his multifaceted presentation in the og classic and the laid-back goof that Monkie Kid seems to be aiming for! THAT SAID, and even while acknowledging that the Monkey King as a character has gone through innumerable transformations (lol), I can't help but feel like the writers for Monkie Kid might be letting their Sun Wukong fall prey to the all-too-common push for "more epic!," "The antagonists were right all along," "Pile on the angst!" and the kind of standard taking out the "intelligent" in "intelligent stone monkey" that you see in other western versions of the Monkey King. For example, Netflix's The New Legend of Monkey stars a muscleheaded and illiterate Monkey King, and while it was more of a one-off jest that was quickly disproved in Monkie Kid it is a bit well bothersome how to this day you'll find "lol Sun Wukong can't read!" jokes being bandied about.

I also don't think that anyone can deny that lego show Sun Wukong has been presented as less and less of a competent or even heroic individual as the story's gone on, and personally I'm starting to suspect that this is partially because the writers A) didn't know how to make Qi Xiaotian shine as a hero otherwise and B) to make the Six-Eared Macaque change from obvious antagonist to a true member of team good guy. It's undeniable that Macaque is the firm fandom meow-meow and has been for awhile, and if memory serves correctly the "Sun Wukong sucks" rhetoric started to really take off after Macaque presented his shadow play back in season 2 in which the Monkey King is ultimately framed as nothing but a selfish jerk who betrays his friends on a whim. And while there's basically 0 reference in either recent canon or fanon to the stuff the shadow simian put Qi Xiaotian and his loved ones through up until the end of season 3, it's hammered in time after time after time again just how completely Sun Wukong hurt and still hurts everyone around him because of what he did or what he failed to do. As it is, now we've seen Zhu Dachu yell at SWK for failing to protect Qi Xiaotian, an entire play that framed him as a terrible person and Macaque flat-out saying he's a terrible teacher (and then the plot going out of its way to somewhat confirm this), many people yelling at SWK for his plan to use the Samadhi Fire being stupid and poorly thought out, Long Xiaojio screaming at him for failing everyone especially the people who care about him while she's on fire and in pain, the Azure Lion referring to SWK as someone who's corrupted Qi Xiaotian with his blindness, and the ink clone of Qi Xiaotian--you known, the manifestation of his scariest but truest fears--referring to SWK as a fraud and a force of destruction. So now SWK and the lego show story have been left is this weird place where it seems that in large part the "SWK completely sucks and hurts everyone" truthers were right--and you see this sentiment reflected CONSTANTLY in canon and in fanon--and yet when people just say that explicitly there's a certain amount of scrambling to argue otherwise. I know it's been discussed before, but I think it bears repeating that not that long ago the hatred being leveled at SWK for supposedly being Qi Xiaotian's deadbeat dad on top of everything else he ruined forever got to the point where a writer felt compelled to go on twitter to confirm that SWK is not the father. I think it was the same writer who said that SWK is trying his best, but as others have noted if THIS is his best (world seems like it's in danger of being destroyed every other week) well lol and also lmao. Idk, personally I think if they noted there were THAT many people ready to condemn SWK for something that wasn't even proven one way or another they should step back and think about why that is. And it definitely doesn't help that they keep saying that there's more to this story from SWK's perspective and/or what actually happened, but then they won't actually show it.

So in the end, I'm not sure if in Monkie Kid's case it's so much a instance of not understanding the Monkey King as much as it is about not wanting to stick with what makes the Monkey King so beloved in the first place, the writers themselves not having a firm idea about where they ultimately want his story to go, but also even if unconsciously using him as a punching bag/sacrificial lamb to further the stories/likeability of other characters. And who knows, maybe later episodes will give SWK a backstory that is so tragic and well written and that explains his failures in the present so well that I'll feel stupid for saying all of this. Honestly I would love it if that was the case. Because Monkie Kid seem to have become one of the main ways that a lot of people in the west are learning about the Monkey King and Journey to the West in the first place, and it would kind of suck if the main impression that they ended with was with SWK as nothing but an constant failure that basically everyone who's ever loved him or even spent time with him comes to distrust, resent, and flat-out hate for very legitimate reasons.

#anon answered #monkie kid #monkie kid spoilers

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goldenroutledge · 4 years ago

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hiii! could you please write 26 & 27 from list b and with rafe?

mad at you

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

wc: 1.2k

prompt(s): “Are you angry...?” and “I wish I could be angry at you.”

a/n: of course you can babes! im sorry it took so long for me to get to it. i have a hard time writing blurbs for some reason lol. thanks so much for the request :)

rafe masterlist

The destruction left from Hurricane Agatha was going to need all the help it could get in order to have a clean island again. So of course being the kind and helpful soul you are, went around with Sarah to help some neighbors out and attempt to make yourselves useful.

You weren’t aware of where your boyfriend and his friends were, urging him to get up and help too but Rafe was a late sleeper. It was no use. You practically gave up on trying to wake him up and had been productively working for hours along with Sarah.

“Excuse me?” A younger girl called out, causing you to turn around. You looked down to see her, kneeling down to her height. “Can you help me find my stuffed animal please?” She asked shyly.

“Oh, sure! Do you remember where you left it last?”

“Our boat. But it’s all the way down there.” The girl pointed to the boat on it’s side, near a beam that had fallen during the storm.

After inspecting the scene for a moment you decided if you were careful you’d be fine. The girl had such a sad look on her face and you couldn’t turn her down. Sarah followed you, telling you she’d distract the others from panicking. The last thing you needed was to make a big scene and accidentally get electrocuted.

You put a foot out to test the sturdiness of the beam, asking the girl what her stuffed animal looked like before fully stepping on. “She’s my elephant. She has a trunk and blue ears.” She informed. You nodded, making your way onto the beam carefully and avoiding the wires wrapping around it. “Be careful of electricity!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.” You insisted confidently. You were so focused in fact, you didn’t notice your boyfriend and friends make their way towards you.

They still kept their distance, chatting amongst themselves before Kelce caught their attention. “Hey, isn’t that Y/n up there?” He pointed in your direction.

“What the hell is she doing?” Topper inquired.

Rafe ripped his sunglasses off as he watched you wobble on the beam as you tried to keep your balance. “Y/n! What the hell are you thinking? Get down!” He bellowed, Sarah rolling her eyes at his command.

“Rafe, calm down. I’m an athlete, remember?” You shrieked playfully through a laugh.

Sarah kneeled beside the little girl, telling her you’d be fine and she’d have her stuffed elephant back in no time. “There’s 14,000 volts in those wires!” One of the neighbors called out nervously.

“You’re gonna get electrocuted, Y/n. Get down!” Rafe reprimanded, Sarah covering the little girl’s ears.

“Shut up, Rafe! You’re scaring her!” She scolded her brother, referring to the worried girl shielding her eyes away from you.

“Little fried Y/n.” Kelce jested, receiving a glare from Topper to cut it out. If Rafe wasn’t so worried about you, Kelce would’ve heard it from him.

You moved closer to the boat, spotting the stuffed animal inside at the bottom. “I see her!” You announced to the girl. She clapped her hands excitedly, anticipating to see her elephant again. You also caught sight of the disconnected wires, letting out a sigh of relief to yourself that you didn’t have to worry about them. But your mind had a better idea, smirking to yourself at the thought of scaring the shit out of everyone. Rafe especially.

The rest of the people around you couldn’t peel their eyes away as they watched, before they broke out into commotion as you dramatically fell and shook in the boat. You let out a chilling scream, collapsing and letting your body go limp.

“Y/n!” Rafe yelled, voice wavering as he ran over to the boat. The boys and Sarah followed, the little girl also screaming in fear once you hit the boat. “Y/n?” He repeated, more anxiously this time, making his way as close as he could without touching the wires himself.

While your boyfriend demanded that Topper call 911, you sat up quickly, holding up the stuffed animal in victory. “Gotcha!”

Everyone’s jaws dropped, as they all sighed in relief at the fact that you were alive and unharmed. Rafe closed his quickly, face dropping as he backed away in shock. Kelce and Topper broke out into laughs, just as surprised that you would play such a prank.

“They’re disconnected!” You noted, swinging around the wires in your hand jokingly. “Rafe, you should see your face!” You teased, standing up and making your way back to the land. “Absolute sucker!”

As everyone was laughing, Rafe took off his backwards baseball cap, throwing it to the ground with force and mumbling curses under his breath.

“She got you, man.” Kelce let out through laughs. “Congrats, pussy. You’re officially her bitch.” He added. Rafe tugged at his dirty blond hair, glaring at you with a pissed off expression.

You high fived Topper and Kelce as they praised you for your bravery. “Lighten up, baby. It was just a joke.” You reminded Rafe.

“Yeah? Well it wasn’t fucking funny.” He spat, crossing his arms over his chest, turning around and walking back towards the houses.

“What’s that about?” You asked the boys at Rafe’s annoyance and pouting.

They shook their heads and shrugged. “Don’t know. He was fine earlier.” Topper stated.

“I think he’s just pissed at your little prank. That shit was funny, though.” Kelce gushed, regaining his composure from the previous laughing fit.

“I better check on him.” You sighed. “Never meant to make him mad.” You told them regretfully, following Rafe’s path.

He didn’t turn around when you called his name a time or two. You had to jog to catch up with him, jumping in front of the boy before he could go any further. “Rafe? What’s wrong?”

“What the hell were you thinking, Y/n? Why do you do scary shit like that?” He admonished.

“The wires were disconnected, Rafey. It’s fine.” You countered, reaching out to wrap your arms around his waist before he moved away from your grasp.

“Don’t ‘Rafey’ me right now. I thought you died.” He muttered angrily, just loud enough for you to hear. He looked down at the grass to avoid your eye contact, the blue eyes that you could’ve sworn were clouding with tears.

“Oh, baby.” You cooed, reaching to cup his face and make him look at you. “I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to.” You apologized. “Are you angry...?”

He didn’t say anything else, pulling you into his bone-crushing embrace as he held on for dear life. “I wish I could be angry at you.” He spoke into your hair, letting a tear slip out and down your neck. “Please never scare me like that again, okay?”

“Ok, Rafey. I’m sorry.” You conceded.

“It’s alright, angel. I’m glad you’re okay.” He admitted, kissing your forehead but still holding you close to him.

“Aside from the gnarly bruise forming on my arm right now, yeah. I’m okay.” You quipped, relaxing in his embrace. “Totally worth it, though. Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

He chuckled at your attempt to lighten the mood, shaking his head. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you, country club.”

a/n: lol i like this one a lot. let’s not talk about the fact i’m still working on the valentine’s day blurbs ok thanks. also lets pretend barry didn’t give rafe the nickname country club ok i thought it’d be cute

taglist: @ilovejjmaybank @missevi @nxsmss @cameronsrafe @msgorillagripcoochie @bibliophilewednesday @tovvaa @freddymaybank @annab-nana @babeyglo @sunsetholland @moniamaybank @outerbankspreferences @laneybobeczko-g @jjpouggues @j-j-may-bank

rafe taglist: @vintageobx @givetaylorherscarfbackjake @drewstarkeysbitchh

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #obx rafe #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #drew starkey #my valentine’s sleepover

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Too Late To Apologize?

Requested By @rosiesandlilies: “I was wondering if I can request a Rosé x female reader story where Rosie is an idol who also happens to be ur wife and since she and BP are taking over the world by storm, she starts to forget about you and whenever u ask her to spend a little bit of time with you, she gets upset and fights with you. You’re also an important person but you always make time for her. Can it be angsty with fluff 🥰”

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,026

Warnings / Misc: -- Angst, Self Doubt, Strained Marriage / Relationship, Crying, Some Swearing, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Oooooo lord, here we go. I am feeding 👏 you 👏 all 👏 today! This one took a while to write, but I’m pretty happy with it. I wrote it all in one go, starting at like 3am (as usual lol), so forgive me if it’s a little rough. I put a lot of effort into it, though, so I hope you guys enjoy. Thank you for requesting -- Happy reading!

PS ~ I highly recommend that you listen to these songs as you read this:

You Were Good To Me -- Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

Surrender -- Natalie Taylor

The Night We Met -- Lord Huron

I Found -- Amber Run

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Hongdae, Seoul -- 8:00 PM

“Good evening, everyone! Before I open the doors, I’d like to thank each and every one of you for taking the time out of your day to stop in. We couldn’t have done this without your support, and we’re endlessly grateful. We hope you have a wonderful experience with us tonight. Now, without further ado, welcome to La Rêverie!”

To your amusement, the sizable crowd erupts into a fit of cheers once your opening speech is over. Echoes of the joyous sounds carry across the city, wiggling their way through the alleys and streets, bouncing off of the nearby buildings. The customers slowly filter in, greeting and congratulating you on their way; you’re beyond excited to start this new journey, and seeing people so happy to be a part of it only makes you more proud.

Eventually everyone makes it inside to their seats, and you join them.

--- Later That Evening ---

“Y/N, we have a private party that would like to see you. They’re eager to meet the woman behind all of this,” Pierre smirks, quirking an eyebrow suggestively. His demeanor confuses you slightly, seeing as how this isn’t the first time high profile celebrities have requested your presence -- that’s just one of the perks of being a world renowned chef. You brush off his remark as playful banter and send him to tell them that you’ll be out soon.

---

“...yes, actually. Y/N and I were fortunate enough to meet when she was studying in Paris; we were being trained by the same chef. We’ve been close ever since. I’m not surprised that she hired me, though; I’m practically a master in the kitchen.”

At Pierre’s cocky words, your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. A small grin plays on your lips nonetheless, and you smooth out your top one more time before rounding the corner.

“What’s this idiot on about now? Did he tell you about the time that he nearly got kicked out of our mentorship program for giving Anthony Bourdain the wrong dish?” You ask the table, sending them a glance while ruffling his hair as you come up behind him. They all snicker at that, and it’s his turn to roll his eyes; with an annoyed shove, he scolds you for bringing that story up again.

“Must you always tell people about that?”

Your smile widens, spreading cutely across your face. Mocking him is one of your favorite things to do. “Mhm,” you say simply, nodding your head for emphasis. He attempts to hide his embarrassment, but it only brings a deeper blush to his cheeks.

At the VIP table, the suppressed sound of laughter carries over to you, and you’re reminded of your reason for being here in the first place. Upon offering your full attention to the table now, no longer distracted by Pierre, you’re met with 4 different pairs of eyes on you. Warm, yellow light illuminates the area, the classy overhead fixture emitting a soft glow to cast down on the guests beautifully. It’s cozy and inviting, just like you had intended it to be, and the sight makes you happy.

As you quickly scan over each of the girls, your brain pieces together where you know them from.

“My oh my, it’s Blackpink themselves. To what do I owe this honor?” All of the natural charisma that you possess takes over now, doing its best to override your nerves. It’s definitely not the time to fangirl over them; you have to act cool. One by one, you shake their hands, making sure to give each of them a glimpse of your award winning smile.

Jennie is the first to speak up. “Yourself, of course. You’re the talk of the town, Y/N, how could we miss this?” The way that she says it so casually, already skipping past the formalities, puts you at ease.

“Ah, you’re too kind. Was your food prepared to your liking?”

A chorus of approving noises leaves the table, successfully boosting your confidence in the process. “It was truly incredible, Y/N.” Rosé gushes, her adorable accent adding something magical to the simple phrase. For the first time tonight, your mind goes blank; ever since news broke of your plans for this new restaurant, you practiced to avoid this very thing. As you stand there floundering for a beat, she takes notice of the effect that her words have on you; it doesn’t take long for her to realize how much she loves to make you blush.

“Thank you so much. We’re so glad to have you here tonight.”

“We’re happy to be here! Rosé hasn’t stopped talking about it for the past week.” The Australian’s eyes go wide as Lisa exposes her, and she shoots the younger girl a shocked look. Lisa only smirks at this, her shoulders rising and falling in a nonchalant shrug. Jisoo nods in confirmation, adding, “Yeah, she’s been super pumped.”

On the inside, you’re freaking out. Rosé was that excited to try out your creations? There’s no logical explanation for that one. Your own surprise is evident in your voice as you respond, “Oh really now? And why’s that?”

“I-I’ve just heard a lot of great things, you know? You’re pretty talented.” She tries to sound confident, but the stutter in her voice betrays her. The tips of her ears are burning with embarrassment, and after sending her yet another smile, you decide to spare her by changing the topic.

“Well thank you, again. It’s truly a privilege to cook for you girls.” The conversation continues from there, effortlessly moving from subject to subject, and you love how welcome they make you feel. Occasionally you excuse yourself to check on the other guests and ensure that they’re enjoying their dinner, and every time, Rosé finds herself sorely missing your presence. Despite only officially meeting tonight, she feels like she’s known you her whole life. The two of you clicked instantly, and she can’t seem to get enough of you.

After spending the better part of 2 hours chatting and getting to know one another better, you grow bold and ask the question that’s been rolling around in your head all night.

“Would you guys like to come back to the kitchen for a bit? I could give you some tips and we could make a couple dishes, if you want.”

Rosé nearly interrupts you from how eager she is to accept the offer. The second that you’re done asking, she’s already saying yes. The others happily agree as well, and soon you’re leading them to the back to get prepped.

_________

“Just like this, everyone. Cut thinly here,” you inform, using your knife to point to the areas in question, “...then turn it and follow through with the slices. It should come out diced, like so.” The girls observed your swift motions, peeking over at the small cubes once you’re finished. Things continue on like this for a while, and soon you’re halfway done with the veggies while they’re barely done with the first part of their batches.

“Slow down, Y/N! You’re too fast for us grandmas.” Jisoo jests, her voice bouncy with amusement.

“Okay, okay! I’ll wait, just let me know if you need help.” Your knife comes to rest against the cutting board, and you take the opportunity to lean back against the countertop to watch them work. Your eyes trail over to Rosé, only to find her already looking at you; she tenses once she realizes she’s been caught, and she returns to her previous duties. You decide to tease her.

“Everything alright, Rosé? You seem a little distracted…” She momentarily shuts her eyes at your words, trying to refocus her thoughts and collect herself. A subtle snicker from Lisa can be heard, and Rosé delivers a quick jab to her arm. The maknae lets out a little “oww” before setting her things down to rub away the newfound soreness of her arm.

A little later, Jennie requests some assistance, prompting you to make your way over to her. The station that she’s working at just so happens to be next to Rosé’s, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t thrill you.

“Do we peel this first or leave it on?”

“Cut the ends first, then slice it in half and remove the outer layer.”

Under your watchful eye, she follows your instructions and is soon back on track. She thanks you, and you bring your hand up to give her a pat on the back. Although she feels childish for it, the action works to make Rosé the tiniest bit jealous; she wants your attention on her.

The blonde clears her throat before speaking up. “Y/N, I need a little help, too.” Your heart jumps at her words, and you fight hard to keep yourself in check as you spin around to face her.

“Of course, Rosé.” She sighs at the way her name rolls off your tongue, and she’s completely convinced that you’ve secretly put her under some type of spell. Her thoughts of you and your mysterious ways are interrupted when you come to stand next to her, your hip lightly brushing against hers.

“Oh, well there’s your problem: you’re holding the knife wrong. Here,” you start, reaching out to reposition her hand in a better spot. Now she’ll be able to control it better, and she won’t run the risk of cutting herself.

“Better?” You ask innocently, missing the way that she bites her lip. The close proximity of your bodies is making her head spin, and she can’t decide if she wants you to stay or go. “Yes, thank you.” She looks like she wants to say something else, but she doesn’t, so you take that as your cue to go check on the other girls. Rosé silently curses herself for missing that golden opportunity to flirt with you, but she takes solace in the fact that she catches you stealing glances her way fairly often. You feel the connection too, and she’s pleased with that -- maybe she was doing something right after all.

The next stint of the night is spent preparing and cooking the dishes you promised them while trading jokes, banter, and teasing remarks. A mini food fight also took place, but for the sake of professionalism you won’t mention that. You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day.

----

“Goodnight girls. I hope you come by again sometime soon!”

They all assure you that they’ll be back before you know it, and you believe them. After all, they gobbled those dishes down like they hadn’t eaten in days -- it’s safe to say that they enjoyed them.

Rosé lingers in the doorway, eyeing you as you work to clean off the counter. She doesn’t want to go; she’s loved getting to hang out with you. Contemplating her options, she decides to be brave; she tells the girls to go on ahead, that she’ll be there in a minute.

“Rosé, did you forget something?” You ask, looking up at her as you reach forward to wipe any remaining debris off the sleek surface.

“Yeah, your number.” Somehow, she possesses all the confidence in the world now, her new demeanor completely opposite to its previously shy counterpart.

You tilt your head at her, a dumbfounded smile parting your lips ever so slightly. “Bold, are we? Alright, I’ll bite.” You say, holding a hand out for her to give you her phone. Her eyes widen a bit -- was she not expecting you to say yes? There’s no way you could turn down a chance like this. She fumbles around in her bag until the smooth screen of her phone comes into contact with her fingers, letting her know she’s found it.

“Here you go,” she chuckles cutely, an adorable little pattern of blush rising to her cheeks again.

After entering your number, making sure to save the contact and even take a goofy picture of yourself for it, you give it back to her. “Call me anytime, love.” Her smile spreads even farther at the pet name, and she ducks her head to hide her reddening cheeks.

As she slowly approaches the door, walking backwards, she says, “I will… love,” offering you a little awkward salute at the end of it. You giggle at her antics, and soon bid her goodnight.

No more than 5 minutes later, your phone dings as it displays a notification from an unknown number.

“I’m usually not that awkward 🤦‍♀️ pretty girls just make me nervous.” The message makes your heart flutter, and you quickly save her number to your contacts.

“Really? We have yet another thing in common, then.”

The girls watch as Rosé does a little victory dance in her seat, her movements a bit limited by the belt stretched across her body. She’s practically glowing with excitement, her fingers already firing off another reply.

________

3 Years Later -- Rome, Italy

Upon seeing Rosé saunter down the aisle, your emotions get the jump on you; before you can stop them, tears flow freely down your face, and you bring a hand up to your mouth to quiet yourself. She looks bruisingly beautiful: the natural curves of her body are accentuated by the silky material of her dress, and her shoulders are covered in lace. An angel cast down from the heavens above.

She smiles at the audience that’s filled with your close friends and family, offering little greetings as she passes them. Once she and her father make it to the altar, he pulls you in for a big hug, a few tears escaping his eyes. After he takes a step back, he looks between the two of you with pure pride on his face, his hand resting on your shoulder.

The song ends, signalling for the two of you to join hands and face each other, and he returns to his seat.

“We’re gathered here today to celebrate the joyous union of Y/N L/N and Roseanne Park. Two souls destined to find their way to one another, travelling millions of miles in the process. We come together to revel in this fact and send them into their new life together with all of our support.” The officiator says into the microphone, smiling at the two of you. You can tell he loves his job, and he’s damn good at it.

Rosé’s grip on your hand tightens as she tries to contain her tears, but you’re quick to assure her that it’s alright. “You can cry, baby.” At your words, her lip is released from between her teeth, and her tears begin to flow. You wipe them away, stepping closer to rest your forehead against hers.

The ceremony continues on and the two of you recite the personal vows you wrote. Somehow, unbeknownst to you, there doesn’t seem to be a limit to how much you can cry in one sitting. Rosé is having the same problem, seeing as how her makeup is smudging some as the tears wash the substances away. You don’t care though, and you make it a point to remind her of that; she’s never looked more beautiful to you.

“I do.” You choke out, beaming at her as you run your thumb across her knuckles.

“I do.” She responds, impatiently bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waits for those final words from the officiator.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Her lips are on yours before he even finishes the phrase, her hand resting on the back of your neck as she pulls you in closer. Your lips move with hers in perfect time, working to seal your union in the best way possible. “I love you, forever,” she whispers against your lips.

____

Present Day, 1:17 AM

In order to spare you from the overwhelming sadness that you’re being subjected to now, your brain takes you back to those happy times from the past. When Rosé still made time for you; when she loved you.

Even though you hate it, you still find her in everything. The bright sunshine of the early morning reminds you of all the times she would wake you up with kisses, holding you close. The songbirds outside of your window bring to mind when you’d come home to find her at the piano, alternating between striking the keys and strumming her guitar as her beautiful voice carried out across the house.

You miss that Rosé, so, so much. The Rosé that would call you in between sessions at the studio, if only for 5 minutes. The Rosé that longed to hear your voice after a long day; who fell into your arms the second that she shuffled through the door after practice.

As time has passed, though, she’s seemed to fade more and more from your life; missed calls and texts have become a given, and it takes everything in you to mask your sorrow. Anyone who knows you well at all can easily see through the facade: you’re now a shell of who you once were, your normally vibrant and cheery self gone. You attempt to hide your sadness behind a smile, but it never really works out; your eyes don’t shine like they used to, and your lips don’t quite tweak up at the corners in the special way they had before.

But you’re getting ahead of yourself again. Your reason for crying tonight is simple: for the hundredth time this month, she’s cancelled your date night plans, opting to spend the time working instead. The argument that the two of you had earlier replays in your mind:

"I don't have a choice."

Except, she did. She could choose you, choose to take a break, if only for the evening. You never ask too much of her, knowing that she can't handle even more stress competing with what she already has from the company and media. Being an idol is hard enough, and you know you can never fully wrap your head around everything that's expected of her.

Though, that makes this all the more ridiculous. All you've asked for is a couple hours of her time -- for her to relax with you and get away from it all. Earlier that day you had gone to the store and picked up all the necessary materials to treat her to a little spa day, complete with bath and body oils, face masks, and even some bath bombs.

"Asking my wife to spend an evening with me is not unreasonable, Rosé."

"I'm not having this argument again, Y/N. I get enough shit from everyone else; I don't need any extra from you."

Maybe it was something in how she said it, so final and hateful, her face coming to rest in a scowl. Her arms were crossed as she stood in front of you, and you could see the muscles in her jaw clench and release repeatedly. In some twisted way, part of you was glad to have this encounter; it hurt like hell, but at least she was paying attention to you. She hadn't looked at you for this long in a while.

Before you can even get another word out, she sighs, saying, "I don't have time for this. I have to go back to the studio."

Just as she turns to go, you catch her wrist. With a slightly annoyed look, she turns to face you.

"If you walk out that door then I'm leaving; at least for the night. We need to talk about this, but if you don't care enough to even give me that, then…" you trail off, tilting your head slightly. You want her to apologize, to say how wrong she's been for doing all of this to you -- but she doesn't. Her expression is tired, irritation written plainly for you to see. She pulls her arm away, offering a petty, "Oh well," with a shrug before exiting the house.

How could she be so cold? Maybe that's what hurt the most. Seeing the love of your life turn into someone completely different than who you fell for stung more than any argument ever could. The reality is that she's not the same person anymore. Accepting that would be half of the battle in and of itself.

Your heart is betraying itself, stuck in a sticky situation: you're constantly struggling between your love for her and the respect you hold for yourself. Half of you wants to stay, to make her listen and fight for this; but the other half of you, perhaps the more rational side, knows that that won't work now. You've tried that already, you reason with yourself, racking your brain for any new way to get through to her.

Sometimes it's like she forgets all of the sacrifices you make for the relationship. Despite having your own busy schedule to deal with, you always make time for her. So why could she never do the same for you?

It's obvious that in its current state, this relationship is only wrecking your mental health -- a testament to that is every night you've spent lying awake, sobbing into your pillow as your list of insecurities grows longer and longer. She used to be the person you'd run to when negative thoughts plagued your mind, her sweet words of love showing how much she valued you. But all of that's gone now, leaving you with a shattered heart and racing mind. When had you stopped being enough?

~~~~~~~

It’s late, well past 4AM when Rosé manages to make it home. Practice absolutely wrecked her today, leaving her body exhausted from dancing and throat sore from all the singing she had to do. She’s more than ready to collapse into bed and pass out.

One thing that always stayed the same was your sleeping arrangement. No matter how much Rosé hurt you, you still slept in the same bed. Her subconscious was always kinder to you than she was, anyway; the two of you would cuddle in close like before, her arms wrapped around you as she slept peacefully. No arguments or yelling, you could always count on the nights to heal your heart a little bit.

As she enters the empty bedroom, the memory of your argument from earlier that day comes flooding back. She remembers that you said you were leaving, but part of her didn't fully believe you. She should've known better -- you always keep your word. Guilt washes over her, and she gently taps her head against the wall as a sort of self-punishment for her previous actions. Why did she say that to you? The hurt look in your eyes broke her heart, but she couldn’t afford to skip practice, especially with the comeback quickly approaching. In retrospect, she should’ve just told you that she didn’t feel prepared, and that’s why this practice had been so important. Even though she doesn’t show it, you still mean the world to her. She just so happens to be her own worst enemy.

With a heavy sigh, she makes her way to the bathroom; there she finds a cute little basket of goodies next to the tub, and a note on the counter of the sink. She approaches the basket first, quickly discovering that it holds some of her favorite self-care items from the local store. Yet again, a deep pang of guilt courses through her upon realizing that you had prepared that for her. Defeated, she picks up the note.

Roseanne,

If you’re reading this, then I’ve already left. I don’t want you to worry, if you even still care enough to do that, so I decided to leave this letter for you. I’ll be staying with my friend for the next while. I don’t know how long, but that depends entirely on you. I’ve tried to communicate with you, but we’re getting nowhere; we both know it. We’re not who we used to be, Rosé, and I hate that. I want us to be happy again, but it seems that I can’t do that for you. If you want to end things, let me know.

- Y/N

Rosé’s heart is breaking, splintering into a million different pieces and leaving her with no possible way to collect them all. How had she so royally fucked this up? She only has herself to blame, and she knows that; she can’t believe that she let things get like this. She had been so blinded by the stress that she lost sight of the most important thing in her life: you. It’s slowly sinking in that she very well might lose you for good this time, and she doesn’t know how to cope with that. She can survive without her career, but she knows she can’t go on without you.

----- La Rêverie, 2 Weeks Later -----

She only intended to walk by -- to see if you were there and safe. But as she gazes through the windows, peeking into the place that houses so many of her dearest memories, she’s transfixed. Her eyes land on you, finding you hard at work in the kitchen. It’s always been where you go when you’re stressed or upset about something -- two things that Rosé knows she’s the cause of.

You’re in your element, face donning a look of pure concentration as you prepare what she assumes is a new dish. Your hair’s in a bun, a few strands coming down to fall around your face as you move about. Gravity takes its time in gently coaxing them out of the tie's hold, and Rosé’s breath hitches at how beautiful you look; it’s as if she’s falling for you all over again. She’s always admired your skills, but they hold a whole new meaning now, an unspoken tension in every movement you make.

How had she been so selfish? You had been there for her all along, waiting patiently for the day that she would come to her senses. You would always have dinner ready -- usually one of her favorites, hoping that would spark something again -- but she always brushed you off. She never stayed long enough to see the crushed look on your face, or how the pain was becoming clearer and clearer by the day. She realizes now just how much of a toll her actions have taken on the both of you; you're still just as breathtaking as ever to her, but that special sparkle in your eye has long been eclipsed by something more dull. You're tired of being let down repeatedly, stuck in a constant loop of excuses and avoidance, and Rosé can't blame you for a second.

The time apart hasn't been kind to her at all; there hasn't been a single day that's gone by where you haven't consumed her thoughts. She misses you so badly it hurts, and even now, despite being so close to you, separated only by the walls of the restaurant, you've never been further away.

The distant sound of a car alarm cuts through the silence, simultaneously scaring her and drawing your attention. Before you can spot her, she ducks down; there’s no way that she can face you yet. Taking this as a sign, she decides to leave.

She’s spent the past 2 weeks attempting to spare you by not coming around; she thinks you need time away from her to deal with everything she’s put you through, and she doesn’t want to upset you anymore than she already has. Ever-torn, part of you is glad that she’s stayed away; however, another part of you just wants to see her again. You miss the nights more than you thought you would.

--- A Few Days Later ---

Steady sheets of rain pound harshly against the window, vibrating the latches with each gust of wind. Times like these are always the worst, especially when you don’t have Rosé to calm you down. Violent thunderstorms never fail to frighten you, and this one in particular seems like it’ll be the worst one of the season. Swiftly padding over to the window, you sneak a quick peek outside, only to find the branches of the large oak tree that occupies the yard swaying in the wind with reckless abandon. The sight terrifies you, but you do your best to keep yourself from panicking, even having to do some breathing exercises. Your friend can sleep through anything, and you know she needs the rest; so, you stay in the spare bedroom that she’s so graciously allowing you to reside in, and lie awake.

Across the city, Rosé is tossing and turning. The storm hasn’t fully reached its peak there yet, but she knows how worried you must be. Tears spring to her eyes at the thought of you huddled up under the covers, body trembling in fear as the storm rages on. The deep-rooted shame that she’s grown so accustomed to since you left plagues her conscience, making her even more disgusted with herself.

After turning over yet again, her eyes land on the picture she has of the two of you propped up on the nightstand. It was taken on your wedding day, that stunning view of the venue paling in comparison to your beauty. A sense of determination washes over her -- determination to make you that happy again someday, in whatever way she can -- and she gets out of bed to collect a few materials. She’ll do whatever it takes.

----

The sound of a car door slamming perks your ears up, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quickly pulling the curtain back, you’re beyond shocked to see Rosé out there, holding something in her hand. Just as you lean in closer to the window to try and see what it is, her caller ID pops up on your phone.

“Come downstairs, please.”

Even with the vast array of emotions coursing through you at the moment, you’re only focused on getting her inside and out of harm’s way.

You nearly knock the door off its hinges with how quickly you snap it open. To your surprise, she’s still standing by her car, but now you can see what she was holding before; a white sign with black writing on it. The words are barely legible with how much it's raining, the dye of the marker horribly smudged, but you can make out: “I’m sorry! I’m an idiot.” It’s like something out of romantic drama.

Before you can even comment on everything that’s happening, Rosé begins the speech that she’s been trying to piece together ever since you left.

She has to raise her voice so you can hear her over the storm. You wonder why she doesn’t just come in, but you think that maybe she’s doing it to show you that she’s willing to punish herself by standing out in the elements. “No words that I say will ever be able to fix the pain that my actions caused. You don’t deserve any of the shit I put you through, and I hate myself for being such a coward. I was too immature to look past my own struggles and just talk to you about them.”

Now, she takes a few cautious steps towards the front door, testing the waters as she scans your face to gauge how you’re feeling. “I guess I just thought I could deal with it like I always do. But losing you showed me how wrong I was; I love you so much, Y/N. I don’t want to end things; I’ll never want that. You’re my world, baby; I’m so sorry that it took me this long to see what was right in front of me.”

How are you to respond to that? Can you trust her? She looks more sincere in this moment than she has in a long time, and that puts you a little more at ease. Her eyes are begging -- pleading -- with you to believe her, and after a moment you step to the side, wordlessly telling her to come in. You don’t even realize that you’re crying until a few stray tears drip onto your shirt, leaving little marks in their wake. She has to restrain herself from reaching out and wiping them away; she has no idea when -- or if -- you’ll be able to forgive her.

Soft pitter-patter of the water running off of her coat echoes lightly across the foyer, serving as white noise for the conversation you’re having. Her sniffles work in tandem with it, and she bites back her sobs in order to get the words out.

“I know this won’t be fixed overnight, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me. I won’t blame you for a second if you can’t forgive me, either. I just couldn’t let you get away without a fight.”

With each new fresh batch of tears that settle in your eyes, you have to work twice as hard to blink them away. “I-I don’t know what to say, Rose. You’re the only person in this world capable of hurting me that badly, because you mean more to me than anyone else. But I never thought you’d treat me like that. Do you know how many times I doubted myself, thinking I did something wrong?” Your tone is bitter now, voice conveying the pain from those months of anguish that you had to endure, and Rosé hangs her head.

“I know that now, Y/N, and I know that I can never take it back. But God, how I wish I could. I’d do anything in my power to take that pain away. It was never your fault; none of it was.”

You know she’s being honest. After seeing the opposite for so long, it’s easy to spot when she’s telling the truth. You nod a couple times, deciding to pull her in for a long-overdue hug. She’s motionless at first, not quite knowing if you want her to return it or not, but the second that you quietly say, “Hold me, Rosé,” she’s scooping you up in her arms like her life depends on it. Her head rests in the crook of your neck, and the two of you cry together, letting all of the pent up frustration and sadness leave your bodies.

After standing there, embracing one another for who knows how long, she pulls away just enough to look into your eyes. Her gaze subtly falls to your lips, but you don’t fail to notice. “Can I?” She asks gently, raising her eyes back up to yours. “Yes.” You utter, nearly swooning as her soft lips brush against your own. You’ve missed them.

Her chilled hands cup your cheeks with purpose, and you can feel water running off the ends of her hair and onto your chest.

She kisses you in such a poetic way: softly, as if you might break at any moment, but urgently, like a lost soldier finally returning to the arms of their lover. She wants to make you feel how sorry she is, how much she loves you, and this seems like the perfect place to start.

“I love you, jerk,” you say through your tears, brushing your thumb along her cheek as you look into her eyes.

“And I love you, angel.” She picks you up, spinning you around a couple of times before setting you back down on your feet.

After a moment, you glace at the window. “Shhhh, wait. Do you hear that?”

She cocks her head to the side as she listens closely for any potential noise that you might be talking about, but she hears nothing. “No? I don’t hear anything…”

“Exactly; the rain stopped.”

“Huh. I guess it did its job, then.” She smiles, silently thanking the universe for working in its wonderful ways. It brought the two of you back to one another, and neither of you can contain your happiness. Maybe you don’t hate storms as much after all...

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wizardofrozz · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome to Westview!

Warnings: none

A/N: This chapter is on the short side but things start to pick up in the next few chapters and I’m excited! lol

Chapter 16

Clint POV

I tensed when Billy’s distraught voice rung out; I glanced around, and saw the twins were barreling towards Wanda. I grabbed Nat, dragging her towards Wanda and Pietro, making it to them at the same time the twins did.

“What? What is it, Billy?”

“I hear Dad in my head. He’s in trouble,” Billy panted, his small body rigid with fear. “I don’t understand. What’s happening to me?” The crippling panic radiating off the boy squeezed at my heart; I rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, attempting to ground him.

“Where is he? Where’s your dad?” Wanda pushed.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, sis. It’s not like your dead husband can die twice,” Pietro jested. It happened so fast that my brain needed a few seconds to catch up; Wanda growled, hurling her ‘brother’ into a bale of hay before turning back to her son. I jumped back, my hand falling away, and I stared wide-eyed at Wanda; Nat’s face mirrored mine as she gaped at her friend.

“Billy, I need you to focus.” Wanda grabbed his shoulder, focusing his attention again.

“I can’t tell. I see these….” Billy closed his eyes, his face scrunching in concentration. “…soldier.” His eyes flew open, tears welling up as he looked up at Wanda. “They think he’s dying,” Billy whimpered. I glanced over towards the rest of our friends as (Y/N) started towards us, but she froze mid-step. Silence filled the town square, and it seemed that time stood still; I willed my brain to move my feet, but the message apparently got lost along the way. Bright, red light erupted, covering the entire town, and I had to close my eyes when it started to burn.

***

I opened my eyes again to find myself standing at the end of our street with Nat at my side. I blinked a few times, but Nat grabbed my hand and pulled me towards our house, swinging our interlocked hands.

“Nat?”

“What’s up, dear?” Nat asked, looking up at me.

“How did we get back to our street? We were just at the town square.” I glanced around, noticing the neighborhood was quieting down as parents wrangled sugar-fueled kids inside.

“Uh, I’m not really sure….” Nat whispered, her brows pulling together. She shook her head and kept walking, but I pulled her to a stop.

“Natasha, tell me I’m not crazy. You know something is wrong,” I growled, pulling her close.

“Clint, stop it!” she hissed, yanking her arm back. “Of course, I noticed something was wrong, but I-I don’t know what to do about it!”

“We need to go talk to (Y/N),” I sighed, ripping the mask off my face.

“She’s felt it too?”

“Everyone has!” I hissed. “That’s why Bucky went after Vision. Enough is enough, we need answers.” Nat opened her mouth to say something, but pounding footsteps interrupted her.

“Have you guys seen Bucky?” Steve yelled as he jogged up to us.

“No, not since he went after Vision,” I replied, tension building in my shoulders.

“Should we go look for him?” Thor piped up from behind Steve.

“Let’s see if he comes home tonight. If not, we’ll help you look for him tomorrow morning,” I offered, resting a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Alright,” Steve sighed, dropping his head.

“Come on, Steve. I’ll walk you home,” Nat urged, lacing her arm with his. Thor and I watched Steve and Nat walk towards his and Bucky’s house.

“What the hell is going on here?” Thor whispered.

“I was just about to ask you if you noticed,” I mumbled, glancing at the blonde. “Where’s your brother?”

“I have no idea. I was about to check his house.” Thor glanced across the street, eyeing his brother’s house; I saw the living room light on and took that as a sign that they were home.

“Let’s go,” I huffed. Thor and I hurried towards Loki and (Y/N)’s house, slowing when we heard what sounded like muffled yelling from the sidewalk. Thor and I looked at each other, hurrying towards the front door; Thor threw it open to find (Y/N) and Loki frozen in the middle of a screaming match.

“What are you two yelling about?” Thor snapped, glaring at his brother and sister-in-law.

“It’s nothing,” (Y/N) barked, crossing her arms, shutting herself off from us.

“She thinks I’m hiding something from her,” Loki sneered, glaring at the side of her head.

“Are you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you feel how off things seem?” Loki let out a long, dramatic sigh, dropping his head to rub between his eyes.

“…yes,” he whispered.

“Couldn’t you just say that!” (Y/N) snapped, throwing her hands in the air.

“I sound like an idiot because nothing is physically wrong! It’s just a feeling!” Loki yelled back, mimicking her arm movement.

“Can you two rip each other’s heads off later!” Thor bellowed. The room fell silent, his commanding tone demanding compliance. “We need to figure this out. Bucky and Vision are missing, and Steve’s distraught about it. Fight later!”

“Sorry,” Loki and (Y/N) chorused, dropping their heads.

“Back to the issue at hand,” Thor huffed.

“Bucky, Steve, and Vision were with me at the office when that weird synchronous speaking happened.�� Loki seemed to sense the glare from (Y/N), but he avoided looking over at her.

“You didn’t tell me about that,” (Y/N) snapped, crossing her arms.

“I didn’t really get the chance,” Loki sighed, squinting at her.

“Anyway,” I sighed. “I saw something weird going on with Bucky’s arm when we were at the neighborhood watch meeting.”

“Weird?” Thor asked, tilting his head.

“It looked like it was made out of metal,” I stuttered. I everted my eyes as I shuffled in place; the silence of the room was deafening. “I think he noticed too because he looked just as freaked out.”

“I thought I saw armor on (Y/N),” Nat mumbled, brushing up against my side. No one seemed to notice Nat walk through the door but none of us dwelled on it for too long.

“Me?” (Y/N) squeaked. Nat nodded, glancing up at me before looking over at (Y/N); I wrapped an arm around Nat’s shoulders, rubbing her shoulder.

“I keep losing time,” Thor mumbled. “I don’t remember how I got to the end of the street earlier, and I feel like there’s something I’m supposed to remember but I can’t. No matter how hard I try, it’s just out of reach.” Thor dropped onto Loki and (Y/N)’s couch, folding in on himself, covering his face with his hands.

“How’s Steve doing?” I whispered to Nat, squeezing her arm.

“Shaken up but exhausted. I left him to get some rest,” Nat sighed, resting her head on my shoulder.

“Is Bucky okay?” (Y/N) shifted in place, wringing her hands and flickering her eyes around the room.

“We don’t know,” Thor replied slowly. “He went with Vision, and we haven’t seen either of them since.”

“We have to go find them!” (Y/N) shouted, lumbering towards the door.

“Darling, wait,” Loki pleaded, gently grabbing her arm.

“We already told Steve we’d look in the morning if he doesn’t come home tonight and Vision may already be home. Let’s just wait,” Thor urged, getting to his feet, slowly advancing towards his sister-in-law. Thor wrapped his arms around (Y/N)’s shoulders, pulling her into his chest; Loki sighed and kissed the back of her head before wandering towards the couch again.

“(Y/N), they’re okay. They have to be.” I tried to reassure her, but instead, her anger suddenly shifted; I could see he shoulders shaking slightly as she clung to Thor.

“We should head home, birdie,” Nat whispered, squeezing my bicep lightly.

“Yeah,” I sighed heavily. We walked across the room, and Nat gently tugged (Y/N) out of Thor’s arms and into hers, whispering against her head. (Y/N) nodded faintly before pulled away from Nat, ducking her head; I smiled tightly, reaching for my friend to pull her into a firm embrace. “Don’t worry yourself sick.” I cupped the back of her head, tenderly stroking her hair as she buried her head in my shoulder. Nat and I finished our goodbyes to the brothers and trudged onto the sidewalk outside Loki and (Y/N)’s house. Fear settled like a weight in my stomach as I glanced over at Nat, and it only intensified when I noticed the same anxious look reflected back at me.

“I don’t like this,” Nat whimpered, tears pooling in her eyes.

“Me either, baby,” I mumbled. “Me either.”

Chapter 17 | Series Masterlist

Taglist: @marvelfansworld @imagine-yourself-happy @alluringshawn @lovelokiqueen @neenieweenie @shadowolf993 @somegeekychic @wandas-love @jointhehunt67 @starks-hero

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straycat-writes · 5 years ago

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i saw that you write for ikemen vampire as well, so if it's alright with you i was wondering if you could write headcanons for mozart, vincent, comte, and arthur with a depressed/suicidal s/o who's main coping mechanism is humor? like they joke abt suicide a lot + make jokes abt feeling shitty when asked since they dont wanna worry anyone much but their jokes start getting increasingly concerning bc its smth i do a lot lol,, u dont need to do this if ur not comfortable.. thx and love your work!!

anon added: wait fuck i just remembered only three characters for headcanons so just do it for mozart, vincent, and arthur. thank u!

notes: Whaaat, come on, you cannot just do my husband dirty like that, of course I’ll do all four 😆 Before we begin, since everyone experiences stuff like this differently, our experiences might not be exactly the same, so these might not be universal. In any case, I hope you feel better 🥺💕

trigger warning(s): depression, mentions of suicide, and suicidal ideation.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

He did notice the jokes each time, but at first, he didn’t necessarily feel the need to intervene.

Once was alright, he thought you might just have a different sense of humor. Twice was morbid, but he brushed it off. But thrice was downright worrying, and he was starting to suspect something might be wrong.

He observed you make increasingly dark jokes for weeks on end, and brush off anyone who tried to ask you about them, before he decided that enough was enough.

“What is wrong with you?”

It’s a blunt question, completely tactless, but only because he’s actually quite concerned and doesn’t how else to put it. Nonetheless, it catches you off-guard.

“What do you mean?”

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t play dumb with me, (y/n). Have you been spending too much time with shitty Dazai again?”

When you don’t say anything, the scowl on his face melts into a concerned frown. He wants to help, he really does, but it’s hard for someone like him to deal with such heavy feelings, whether his own or someone else’s. After all, words have never been his preferred medium of expression.

So, he decides not to use them. Instead, he envelopes you in a long, silent hug. It’s a little stiff, but when you start crying softy on his shoulder, he gives in and pulls you even closer, gently stroking your hair.

Up until then, you had no idea that the stern, ice-cold Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart could ever feel so…familiarly warm and soft, with his arms around you.

“I’m not asking you to confess anything, (y/n). I’m not even asking you to tell me anything. I…actually have no idea how to fix any of this, but…Just…know that you don’t have to deal with this on your own.”

Vincent van Gogh

Out of everyone, it would probably take Vincent the least time to notice when something is wrong with you.

The morbid humor is one thing, but what really concerns him is how hollow your laugh has started to sound, and the glazed…empty look you get in your eyes when you think no one is looking.

He notices because he knows what to look for, because he has already seen too much of it, in himself.

“(Y/n), sweetheart, are you okay?”

“Hm? Yes, of course, Vincent. Why do you ask?”

“…Why do you think?”

There is a certain look in his eyes, so wistfully sad, as if mourning something he hasn’t even lost yet, and you just know that he knows. There is no use lying to him. In hindsight, you think, you should have known you could hide it from anyone except him.

When a lone tear slips down your cheek, he gently wipes it away and holds your face with both hands, looking into your eyes. To your surprise, and immense pain, his own are glistening with tears too.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“…Because it’s my problem and I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

You realize it doesn’t make much sense now when you say it out loud, but you knew he was all too familiar with this complete and utter despair, this emptiness you felt inside of yourself, and you never wanted him to feel it again, even if it was by proxy.

But now, he stands in front of you, hands on either side of your face, and he places a chaste, gentle kiss on your forehead. He doesn’t say anything, but you realize what he means. I’m here. I understand. You’re not alone.

(note: for those who don’t know, Vincent van Gogh committed suicide at the age of thirty-seven.)

Le Comte de Saint-Germain

He is used to the residents of his mansion having…strange sense of humor and habits, honestly.

Even so, when you make a jest about killing yourself for the fifth time in a row, he can’t help but be worried. There are only two explanations, you either just have a very, very dark idea of humor, in which case there was nothing much he could do except gentle advisory, or there was indeed something very wrong.

He keeps hoping it’s not the latter, but days pass and your jokes keep getting more and more morbid, and any attempts to talk to you about the issue are only met with smooth elusiveness.

“I’m only kidding, Comte. Of course, I’m not going to throw myself off the roof. Probably.”

“…I think we need to talk, ma cherie.”

That sentence in itself is enough to scare anyone half to death, and when you have so much to hide, even more so.

The talk is long and tedious, with quite a lot of repressed emotions involved. On your part, first there is the defensive anger. Of course, there isn’t anything wrong, how dare he imply otherwise? Then there is the desperate denial, because ‘ignore the problem until it goes away’, right? Except, this problem isn’t going away on its own, and you both know that.

Finally, there is the reluctant acceptance, and a lot of crying. Throughout this, he is as calm and collected on the outside as he always is, even when you grip the front of his coat and cry in his embrace. You’re barely holding yourself together, so he needs to be your support.

But on the inside, there is a storm raging. You were supposed to be his responsibility. He was the one who brought you here, and he was just watching you wither away like this in front of his eyes? What kind of a person did that make him? Just how much of a failure is he?

“I’m so sorry for not noticing sooner, ma cherie. I have failed you.”

“Wh-what?”

“I was supposed to protect you from everything, including yourself. Evidently, I have failed at that, and my heart aches at the thought of you suffering all on your own. But I intend to rectify my fault a thousand times over.”

You stare up at him with wide eyes, and without a warning, more tears spill.

Arthur Conan Doyle

Peculiar taste of humor is kind of Arthur’s brand. He enjoys his shamelessly perverted jokes, so he assumed you enjoy your dark ones.

Even so, he does get a little worried when he notices how your first instinct to almost anything is self-deprecation and jokes about killing yourself at the slightest provocation, and how you laugh a little too loud and too much when asked about any of it.

The more he notices, the more concerned he gets, and the more confused about just what to do about it.

At first, he tries to deflect your morbid jokes with some of his own, just to see how you would react. But the moment he talks of killing himself, you go pale, asking him to stop with such distress in your voice that he ends up feeling guilty.

But even after that, it doesn’t stop you from doing it yourself.

“Welp, guess I’ll just go drown in a river somewhere.”

“Ahahaha, but consider this, how about you…don’t?”

He’s always so playful, and even fickle that it almost slips your mind that he is a writer, after all, and a very observant one at that. He is intelligent and notices every little thing, even if he doesn’t show it. That includes the fact that your laugh has been sounding more and more empty lately, your smile seeming more and more like fake plastic.

So, when he confronts you about it, it takes you by surprise.

“Whatever do you mean, Arthur? I’m fine.”

“Right…Stop lying to me, (y/n).”

You frown. You should have known how hard it would be to hide anything from Arthur for too long. How long did you really think you could keep up this façade? The realization comes like a slap to the face, and it’s almost like your metaphorical mask drops. You start crying.

He is distressed at the sudden turn of events, but tries his best to console you. As he hugs you to his chest, gently rubbing soothing circles on your back, he wonders if he could have done something to help you sooner.

“Listen, sweetheart. I don’t claim to know what you’re going through, but I do know that you need help. I know I cannot just fix whatever…this is, but I can promise that I’m going to be here with you, through everything”

You laugh bitterly, “It gets ugly.”

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, “I’m going to be here with you, whether you want me to be or not, and I promise to hold you together as you scream your throat raw trying to hold yourself together, promise to…stand by you as you save yourself. You do not have to do this alone.”

He kisses you softly, only for a moment, soft and true on the lips.

“Show me every dark and hideous, every bitter thing about your soul…and then, let me love you anyway.”

#wolfgang amadeus mozart #vincent van gogh #le comte de saint germain #arthur conan doyle #mozart x reader #vincent x reader #saint germain x reader #arthur x reader #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire #headcanons #imagines

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archived-themagicalmysticalboy · 4 years ago

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Iveneverrequestedanaskbeforesryifimlikeawkward

Anyways can you write a mclennon and theres a thunderstorm or something and the power goes out and one if them gets all scared and clingy to the other and they’re scared and it ends with cuddles? I love your writing btw <33

a/n: ah! thank you so much! hope you like this one too! ended up being a lot longer than i thought it would lol

Going to Kansas City...

Going to Get My Baby Back Home

The last note of Long Tall Sally tore from Paul’s throat and blasted into the exuberant crowd as the concert came to an end. He was smiling like mad as he looked between his bandmates and the people in the stadium. It was strange to not see every seat full but he didn’t care at all. There was too much adrenaline coursing through him to give it a second thought. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet as he sent a few thank you’s into the mic.

John held his shoulder and waved with him before going towards the speakers so they could prop their instruments up with the other equipment. “Fucking fantastic,” he yelled close to Paul’s ear.

“Aye, Eppy looks satisfied,” Paul yelled back and nodded to just off the stage where their manager stood.

With another smile and a pat on the shoulder, they both broke into a trot to the locker rooms, George and Ringo on their heels. Paul was still waving the whole way until they descended into the tunnel. Cool air hit his face like a blessing from above. They slowed to a slow stride to catch their breath.

Everyone was soaked in sweat and panting. They had every right to be dead tired but the electricity of the performance wasn’t about to wear off. Paul surmised they had a good 30 minutes before they were absolutely dead on their feet.

“Was weird hearing our own music. ‘Bout forgot what we sounded like,” George said as he wiped at his forehead with his sleeve.

“Small crowd and we still got paid out the arse for it. Screw a day off.”

Paul thought a day off still would have been nice. With it raining like it was when they landed, though, there wouldn’t have been much to do. Might as well make some more money. Maybe that’s why the crowd was so small - all that rain and wind kept people from arriving. It didn’t really matter -money wise- if 30,000 or 10 people came, though. The deal was at a set rate and they got paid the same either way.

“Glad to hear it was worth it, John.”

Paul turned on his heels, walking backward, to find Brian trailing behind. “Aren’t you glad we kept saying no? Got us far.”

“We should start refusing things more often,” Ringo chimed in, tapping the air with his drumsticks.

“All fab and gear and whatever,” George came up and grabbed Paul, jumping to put all his weight on Paul’s shoulders before turning him around and pushing him forward. “but let's get the hell out of these clothes and get some kip.”

There was a general agreement between laughs and jests. They set off to the dressing room while Brian went to ready their ride to the hotel. When they finally found the room in the maze of a stadium, the airconditioning was even better than in the hallways. A fan in the corner hit them as they walked in and sent Paul’s hair on end. He collapsed into a chair at the first opportunity and yanked off his boots, not bothering to unzip them. Taking the boots to the clothes rack, he undressed and hung his outfit up accordingly. When he was happily redressed in a t-shirt and jeans, he looked on at the mess John and George were creating.

George’s clothes were on the floor, surrounding a chair that managed to not so much as catch a sock. Whereas John’s clothes trailed from the door to the vanity. He was mostly undressed, wearing only unbuttoned pants and a tie, as he searched for his clothes. Paul eyed him indulgently as he moved about the room, feeling something between annoyed and pleased. At least Ringo had made a good faith attempt, clothes messily placed on their hangers with boots sat beside Paul’s.

Paul marched over and untied the tie around his neck. “How did you even manage that?”

“I like to keep a mystery.” John’s eyes were soft and dream-like.

“Save it for later, you two,” George exclaimed and made a fake vomiting sound.

Rolling his eyes, Paul leaned into John and picked up his discarded suit jacket, revealing John’s pile of plain clothes. “Looking for these?”

John laughed mockingly and snatched up his jumper. He had just pulled the thing on when the lights flickered out. The breath of the building cut out before wheezing back to life and illuminating the room again. John let out a low woah as they all eyed the ceiling.

“Mal blow a fuse unplugging the speaker,” Ringo joked, his gaze still fixed on the lights.

They stood there for a moment longer before going back to getting dressed and lounging. John got himself together and dressed rather quickly. Paul watched him closely but didn’t question him. When George and Ringo took a seat on either side of Paul, John was pacing the floor and tapping his thighs.

“I’m going to look for Brian. He’s taking too long.”

Paul stood. “John,” But he was gone before any protest could be made. “Great. I’ll go and get him.”

George propped his feet up on the table, taking one of Ringo’s drumsticks to spin between his fingers. “He’ll be alright. Maybe he’ll even get Eppy to tell us what’s going on.”

Paul weighed his options and dropped into the seat at the vanity. “Would be nice to know what’s keeping him.” Tapping at the maroon-painted wood, he noticed John’s glasses wrapped up in his tie. Paul held them up, pulling the tie off. “He’s got his contacts in, hasn’t he?”

“Took ‘em out, actually.”

“The git. He’ll never find his way back here if he doesn’t run into Brian.”

“Probably couldn’t find his way back with the specs. They’ll find each other though.”

Ignoring the advice, Paul was half out of his seat when a nerve-rattling bang sent him falling back. His breath hitched in his throat, his muscles tense and pulling against his skin. Ringo and George were just as stunned, leaning forward on the couch. Slowly, as if they might evoke more banging if they made a sound, the three walked to the door. Howling screams echoed outside, becoming more clear as Ringo placed his hand on the knob. When he opened it, a gust of warm and humid wind rushed into the room. The low howling wind whistled up in pitch.

There was a small set of stairs to their left that led to double doors. They were flung apart like unfolded lungs, rushing all its oxygen into the building. Outside, the parking lot was shrouded in a haze of heavy rain that made the street lights radiate a halo’s glow. They, consequently, did nothing in the way of providing actual visibility.

“That’s probably not very good.”

The lights flickered off and on again, making Paul grip the back of Ringo’s shirt. “No. Probably not.” His mind was a racehorse running through a blank expanse.

George pulled him back into the room. “Come on before we get sucked out the door.”

Steadying himself and pulling back the reins on his mind, he pointed to the other two. “I’m going to get John. Stay here in case Brian comes ‘round.”

“Can’t recall a single time when splitting up has been a good idea,” George said with a raised brow.

“Well, John’s already gone and done it. I’ll make it an even split at the least.”

No further argument was made and Paul went into the hall to find a few staff members going towards the open door. They took no notice as he went the opposite way. The once comforting cool of the hallway moved from humid stuffiness to icey cold in a matter of a few steps. He turned at the first opportunity and heard both doors close with a clank. At least that was handled.

Once he knew he was on the path to where they had originally come into the stadium, he called out, “John! You around?” There was no reply. Down the next corridor, there was another employee sliding a bolt into place at the exit doors. They rushed off, leaving Paul alone. He called out for John again.

“How the hell did I get back here?” John was standing behind Paul, one hand on his head, the other on his lower back. “I went in a circle…”

“These might have helped.” Paul brought over the glasses and slid them on John before grabbing his shoulders. “Better?”

John stuck his tongue out and shook off Paul’s hands.

“Aye, welcome. Now come on. Eppy’s probably this way.” The doors at the far end of the hallway banged against their bolts, rattling from the forceful wind that pushed through the cracks. “Let's pick up the pace, yeah?”

John only nodded, speed walking ahead while Paul struggled to keep up. He was a good 6 feet in the lead when the lights cut.

“Fucking hell.” Paul was getting tired of this finicky electricity.

“Paul?”

“Yeah. Haven’t disappeared.” He might as well have. The dark that blanketed the building was dense and consuming. He had no way to see anything at all.

“Where are you?”

“I’ve got my arms out. Just walk back towards me.” Having the clack of their boot heels would have been nice at the moment. Their sneakers were far too quiet to make out the location by. Regardless, John’s strong grip wrapped Paul’s bicep. “There we- oh-”

John’s arms wrapped underneath Paul’s, pulling them together by the shoulder blades. His head was buried into the crook of Paul’s neck. More banging echoed somewhere in the distance and John held tighter.

“Hey,” he gently rubbed circles over John’s back. “We’re alright, y’know.”

“I don’t like this.” John shook his head against Paul, trembling in his arms. His heartbeat was wild in his chest, thumping against his ribs so forcefully that Paul could feel it too. He had seen John like this before but only a handful of times. It sent Paul’s alarm bells off. “Paul, I can’t- I-”

“Okay… Okay. Let's sit, then.” They parted briefly and Paul led him to a wall so they could slide to the floor. “Come here.” John pressed against him, head on his shoulder and hand in hand.

Without the hum of electricity, the wind completely filled the deafening silence, only interrupted by the bang of doors and distant footsteps from the level above. Though that did let them know other people were somewhere, it gave an already ominous atmosphere that last nudged into horror. Paul might have been scared himself but he couldn’t think of anything other than John’s panicked breathing and shaking hand.

“I’ve got you, okay? We’re not going anywhere, neither of us.” John didn’t respond. “You need to breathe, love. Take a deep breath for me, please.” They breathed together - slow inhale and even slower exhale - over and over. “That’s good.”

He was shaking less when he fell into Paul. “Shouldn’t there be backup lights?”

Paul chuckled softly. “You’d really think.”

“You think it’s a tornado? Mal said this was part of Tornado Valley… Or was it Alley?”

“Tornado Alley? Only in America, I swear.” His fingers were still tangled in John’s hair, lightly massaging his scalp. “They got a state-designated for hurricanes too?”

“Actually, I think they do. Maybe Florida.”

Paul let out a wholehearted laugh. John slowly worked his way into one too. “Can’t wait to be back in England. I’ll take rain and no sun every day over whatever this all is.”

“Yeah…” Another clatter of metal echoed from the dark and John tensed.

Paul gave a reassuring squeeze of his hand. “And we will get back. In one piece too. Storms can’t stick around forever.”

They settled into a mutual silence as the aches of sleep crept into their bones. John ran a hand up and down Paul’s thigh and Paul held his head against his shoulder. They both jolted every now and again but were fairly still for the most part. Any footfall that was above them stopped some time ago. At least that had calmed John’s nerves a bit further. Though Paul found it more frightening now that they were gone - not that he’d dare to voice that.

He was too tired to be scared anyway. The nonstop concerts and traveling exacerbated the stress of all of this and left him numb. It was safe to be numb now. John felt slack against his shoulder, finally at peace. A weird tranquility slipped through his skin and sunk into his bones. The darkness deepened as his eyes fluttered shut.

“What are you doing on the floor?” A drawled voice drifted into his dream. “Paul.”

He grumbled and opened his eyes, only to be attacked by searing light. He sucked in a pained breath and shielded his eyes to look for the source of the voice. Squinting, he could make out George coming down the hall. He blinked away the sting and stretched a bit. John’s head was on his lap, still fast asleep.

“Morning,” he mumbled on instinct, rubbing any leftover sleep from his eyes. “John, love. Wake up.”

“Come on before someone sees you both all snuggled up like.”

John copied Paul’s wake routine down to the “Morning.”

“Yeah, yeah. Morning, morning.”

After some much-needed stretching, George hauled John to his feet though it was more for show than actual help. Paul followed, leaning on the wall as pins pricked at his sleeping legs. “How long have we been gone.”

George was taking the lead. He turned his head back to say, “Well, it’s past midnight. They just got the power on not even 15 minutes ago. I’d say you’ve been missing for three hours.”

Both men only grunted a response, swaying sleepily as they walked.

“Wish it was longer,” John groaned.

“Aye. I’m still wiped.”

“The storms passed enough to get to the hotel. Both of you can get back to your snuggling soon.”

A smile twitched at Paul’s lips. “Good.”

#read on ao3 #johns-diqi #the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #george harrison #ringo starr #mclennon #fan fic requests

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heartwoodventures · 4 years ago

Photo

Heartwood Hatchingtide!

A mysterious note had been posted on the company’s bulletin board, beckoning members to meet at Mih Khetto’s Amphitheatre for a Hatchingtide celebration! But beyond explaining that the event was to ‘help the youth,’ details were scarce. Who’s organizing this? And what activities will happen? You’ll have to go to the amphitheatre to find out.

And the place is absolutely decked out in egg-related decorations! But most prominent is the large and ‘in charge’ chicken, dancing mad on the road leading to the center. They wave at you two, and then continue to jig.

Intrigued by the odd note, Aislinn made the time to wander her way over to the amphitheatre. Whatever was going on, her curiosity got the better of her and she needed to find out.

Cravendy What is an egg’s least favorite day of the week? Fryday! Happy....friday! xD )) Cravendy I inflict pain unto myself everytime I make a pun ))

Riylli shuffled her way through the city, keeping her head down and trying not to attract attention as she made her way to the Ampitheatre. Whatever dour mood she was in would be briefly erased however as soon as she took in the dancing chicken that appeared to be waiting for her. "Er... Cravs..? Is that you..?"

"Twelve save us." Aislinn said, shaking her head as a smile worked its way across her lips. She paused a few seconds more to watch the chicken in its maddening jig, a laugh bubbling up from her throat. "You know, I'd bet gil on it."

Riylli (I love the way our heads move watching her dance Riylli (getting in on the beat Aislinn ((We're mesmerized))

Aislinn - She waves to the chicken. "So what's all this about helping out at Hatchingtide?"

“Cravs? Who’s that?” The chicken momentarily stops dancing and, somewhere in the distance, a kid groans in disappointment. Seeing that, the chicken slumps, but begins to groove once more. “I...I am none other. Huff. Than. Chickendy Hound! And it was I that called you out today on a mission...most. Huff. Important.”

Aislinn's smile widens. "Sounds like you've been dancing there quite awhile, Chickendy Hound." she noted in amusement as she plays along.

Riylli staaaaaaaaaaaared, bewilderment on her face as she tried to wrap her head around exactly what was happening here. That was definitely Cravs. Even without the giveaway of the name, the only other one in the company that tall was Rising, who Riylli was particularly sure would not be able to dance like the chicken was after the previous night. "Er... And what's that then?"

“Ay shite, I’ve been dancin’ for bloody who knows ‘ow long...” Cravs grumbles, and at that very moment a mother and child strolls on by. Cravs stiffens and clears her throat. “I mean. I can dance all day and all night! But now, the egg advocates would have us take care of another chore-I mean, thing of utmost importance. And that...is collecting eggs!”

Riylli pauses her judgmental staring to instead watch the mother and child pass, seemingly getting distracted for a moment before turning back to the chicken and letting out a sigh. "...Right. We gettin' paid for this or what?" She asks coldly, apparently back to whatever bad mood she had been in before meeting Chickendy

In contrast to Riylli's foul (fowl) mood, Aislinn seems to be enjoying this all too much. She makes a poor attempt to hold back any more laughter and nods to the passing mother and child. She couldn't begin to imagine how hot a suit like that must get. "Aye, of course. Harsh task masters, these egg advocates."

“No good deed goes unpaid! Which is to say, no, we’re not gettin’ bloody paid for this. I asked.” Cravs crosses her arms and I swear, you could see her chicken hat’s eyes furrow in grumpy anger. “Though they said we can keep any extra eggs, which ye can probably sell if yer strapped for cash.”

"....ye -do- get a free chicken suit though. That count for anythin'?"

"How, exactly, did they talk you into this, then?" Aislinn wryly asks.

Aislinn leans forward a bit and lowers her voice. "Did you lose a bet?"

Riylli let out another long sigh. "I hate this damned city so much..." She mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose as she seriously considered just turning around right then and there

"Ch-chickendy needs no reason to spread cheer in the world!" It's unclear if that's the whole truth, half, or not at all.

Riylli shot Cravs a glare, "Oy Chickendy, you better give me a better reason than that. How'd the scary pirate lady that can't even apologize end up in a situation like this?"

That earns a doubtful, though amused noise from Aislinn. "Yeah, if Chickendy is anything like Cravendy I'm not sure that math works out." Nevertheless, she shrugs a shoulder. She needed a break from building the prototypes at any rate, it was why she wandered out in the first place. "Alright then, I'm in for a bit of egg collecting." paused. "Chicken eggs, right?" she asked, deciding she better double check.

“HEY. I’m not so cold that I’d refuse to do some good in the world! That, and I didn’t say no right away. These folk sense weakness and twist yer arm until...” Cravs hears something approach from behind and freezes up.

Aislinn ((I'm going to hear this song in my sleep)) Riylli ( PA PAYA Cravendy pa paya! :D ))

An egg advocate comes over, peppiness turned dangerously past the dial. They drop a box containing chicken costumes in front of Riylli and Lin and - did they wink somehow? “You must be joining our friend here in setting up! A thousand thanks for choosing to spend your time spreading the festivities!”

Riylli shot the newcomer a glare so powerful that it could probably be tried as physical assault. "You have to be joking. You want me to wear that shite too?"

Aislinn eyes the chicken suit that was so unceremoniously dropped in front of her. "Wait...you were serious about the costume?" she looked the egg advocate over. The maniacal exuberance and zippered up smile a touch zealous. "Why the suits? We're collecting eggs, right?"

Aislinn ((It's all fun and games until you get stuffed in a chicken suit))

“Of course! The kids -love- it, and it’s said that wearing this’ll help you collect the eggyest of eggs! Chicken eggs!” The advocate unpacks the box’s contents, finds a suit fitting Riylli’s size, and thrusts it upon her without a moment’s hesitation. This person is awfully pushy, with all the strength of a traveling salesman who's got their foot in the door. “Now now, no fussing and get cracking!”

Cravendy laughs weakly.

Aislinn suddenly finds her arms weighed down in a similar fashion. She narrows her eyes slightly over the bulky armload, very likely imagining an unseemingly kind of violence that would wipe the peppiness right out of the pushy advocate. But then she cuts a glance to the still dancing Cravendy and merely sighs. The Seawolf was definitely in dire straits. "Fine. But we bring you back eggs that are eggier than other eggs and then ALL three of us are off the hook."

Riylli is forced to accept the chicken suit into her hands, blinking as her stare went from it, to Cravs, to the advocate. She wondered if it would be possible to evade capture from this deep inside the city if she were to commit some sort of crime right about now. Her attentions thankfully turn back to Cravendy. "The next time we go out drinking, you're paying for every round I feel like havin'" Riylli stated her demands, figuring it would be in everyone's best interest to ignore the advocate

The advocate squeals with glee and points to the west. There, you’ll find the chicken coops, the eggs, the hens! Best of luck! And as the three of them make their way over, the moment Cravs is a safe distance away from the advocate she slumps over. “Thank ye both...that person is frighteningly stubborn. Ye don’t want to know.”

Riylli lets out an absolutely exhausted sigh. "Figured you wouldn't be doin' this if you weren't in some sorta trouble... One day we're gonna have to teach you how to talk to people though." She muttered as she shoved the mask on over her head.

Aislinn stares at the retreating advocate's back, noting how a squeal was not a verbal agreement. A point that might have to be dealt with later. For now, she turns to Cravendy and shrugs. "Sometimes I think our contracts are easier to deal with." she added.

Cravendy nods in agreement with Lin. Clear cut rules, payment! But in the world of volunteering and do-goodery, there was a wide spectrum of folk to tussle with. She looks over to Riylli and snorts. “Looks weird with just the ‘ead.”

Riylli began idly fiddling around underneath her mask as she tried to get it to fit properly. "Course these things don't fit my damn ears... Nice to know nothings changed around here." She muttered angrily, definitely feeling very spiteful today. "EVERY. ROUND." Riylli reminded Cravs, then finally began to put on her suit, grumbling all the while

Aislinn - As they made their way to this special hen house, Aislinn struggled into the ridiculous chicken costume. "Know what this is? This is Nymeia's jest in return for me laughing earlier." she shook her head, her small frame almost swallowed up by the bulk of the costume. Looking down at herself, she laughed. "What is my life right now?" she pondered aloud.

Cravendy ALRIGHT so since the fates up, lets hop to it xD )) Cravendy whoever gets the most eggs...wins! )) Riylli (BAH, I SUCK AT THIS FATE THO Cravendy SAME LOL )) Aislinn Also same)) Cravendy GDI )) Riylli ( KNOCK ME TO VICTORY Cravendy these chickens have NO EGGCUSE being this rude )) Riylli (GAH Aislinn ((They're very eggcitable)) Cravendy at some point you get knocked around to much )) Cravendy you accept heavy as a way of life )) Riylli (using the aoe to dash me to other eggs Riylli (this is pro gaming Cravendy make sure to turn in your eggs! )) Riylli 16 Cravendy AGHF I keep interrupting myself xD )) Cravendy 12! LOL )) Aislinn ((9!)) Cravendy damn pro gamer over here ahah )) Riylli (Riylli shall win every hunt in this fc Riylli Y E S Cravendy EGG )) Cravendy OMG )) Cravendy thats cannibalism! xD )) Riylli (victory tastes so good Cravendy tho my parents own chickens and they egg their own eggs all the time lol )) Aislinn ((Are you eating them ALL? Cool Hand Luke over here)) Riylli eggsecution Cravendy STOP you'll overdose on them! )) Riylli (I aint doing it again you cant make me Aislinn ((EGGsplosion))

Cravendy limps away from the henhouse. Truly, these birds were in a fowl mood! But she’s managed to collect a dozen and that’s something, right?

Riylli finishes her hunt with sixteen total eggs in her basket, the ultimate hunter in both speed and grace. Of course, she may have thrown some chickens around and caused some children to cry, but victory is all that mattered in the end. If she had to be a chicken, she would be the GREATEST CHICKEN

Aislinn hurriedly clambers over the fence, a basket half-full of eggs and the sound of muffled curses coming from under her mask. "Those birds are not normal. I see why we need the damned suits now. They're protection."

Cravendy - “Never thought I’d be tossed around by a...by a chicken?!” Putting it into words doesn’t help at all. She peers over to Riylli’s haul. “‘ow’d ye manage to get so many?”

Cravendy LOL at any cost, Riylli will be the ultimate chicken xD )) Riylli (Shoving children over and stealing their eggs

Riylli puffed up her chest, somehow managing to look proud even inside such a ridiculous outfit. "When will you learn... Keepers are the greatest hunters there are! Doesn't matter if it's beast or bugs or... or eggs..." Her confidence wavered a bit at the end there, but she wasn't about to give up this opportunity to gloat

Aislinn pulls her mask off with a huff and pushes back the hair plastered to her brow. She quietly counts up the eggs between the three of them. "This better be enough to buy your freedom from this cult, Cravendy."

Cravendy “Smaller target is all. Chickens were too busy chasin’ me around.” Cravs smirks beneath her hat.

Riylli pulled her chicken hood off, freeing her ears from their confines and giving them a tentative flick. Despite herself, she was wearing a large grin that let Cravendy know this was not the last time she would hear of this. "Sure, sure, whatever you say."

“I ‘ope so too, Lin.” Cravs sighs, thinking back to how chicken-garbed strangers would pop out at the strangest of times, incessantly asking about when she was going to finally help out. But when she sees the smiles on everyone’s faces, a part of her gives. It’s not all to keep nosy birds off her back. “...OY WAIT. Cravs? It’s Chickendy!”

Aislinn starts peeling off the hen-pecked suit and shoots the Seawolf a wry smile. "Aye, aye. Chickendy. My mistake." she paused, struggling to fold the suit over one arm while holding her basket in the other. "Should we get these over to the amphitheatre so they can be...decorated or painted. Whatever they do to them next."

Cravendy sulks. She knows that tone. Call her crazy, but a small part of her had held onto hope that somehow the two of them hadn’t made the connection. “Ay, let's get this over with.”

Riylli glanced down at the mask in her hands and thought for a moment, before suddenly deciding to put it back on. "Think Ill keep this on 'till were out of the city... Personally I hope Chickendy sticks around though. She can dance for us next time we go out on a mission, keep our morale high." She teases

Aislinn slides a glance Riylli's way. "Might come in handy if we ever face down another mob of avians."

Cravendy nearly chokes at the thought of dancing to raise morale. But she fumes in silence.

As you approach the amphitheatre once more, the sounds of children laughing fill the air. All around you, families and friends excitedly partake in egg-related activities. The advocate happily accepts the party’s baskets, and then hands each of them a delicately painted egg. “You all did so good! Here, as a reward!”

Riylli silently accepted the egg, paused for a moment, then immediately dropped it. "Woops." She muttered, sarcasm absolutely dripping off her tone. It seemed now that the thrill of victory had faded, Riylli was back to her previously grumpy self. "So sorry, hard to get a good grip in this costume. You understand I'm sure."

Aislinn nods in thanks as she carefully takes the egg. She smiles in her quiet way as she runs a finger along its surface, appreciating the detail. After a moment, she looks back up at the advocate. "Those are quite some chickens you've got there. The suits did actually come in handy."

Cravendy takes the egg and pockets it. Somehow.

“No worries! Have another!” The advocate presents another gift to Riylli. A chocolate egg. They then turn to Lin, sunshine exuding from behind their feathered maw. “The finest hens in Eorzea! And they lay the tastiest eggs too!”

Riylli accepts the gift, and then drops the gift. "Woops." She said again, practically challenging the advocate to give her another. Pettiness was her specialty, and she could do this all day.

The henny-helper hums in thought, and then raises a finger as a lightbulb lights up above their head. They take out a sticker and plaster it on the center of Riylli’s chicken hat. Bock bock!

“I’m free now, right? I am, right?” Cravs asks, and the Hatchingtide worker nods. Cravs stumbles back in relief, and then looks to Lin and Riylli. “Thanks...er, strangers. Well, I must be off. To somewhere.”

Aislinn sighs softly. "Nymeia's breath." she says, barely audible. This way lay trouble, she could sense it. "Right, then. Ah...thank you, I suppose." It seemed the polite thing to say. "And...good luck with the rest of your Hatchingtide. We'll just be heading out now."

Aislinn begins back away slowly

Riylli stared, trying and ultimately failing to figure out a way to counter this attack as well. Giving up, she turned to Cravs. "See you later Chickendy, try not to make eye contact with any strangers on your way out." She said, offering her a wave. She followed close to Aislinn as she backed away, sighing heavily. "Lets go back to the house and burn this shite..."

Although they had been strongarmed into helping out, the three of them did good in spreading festive cheer in Gridania. But perhaps they would stay far away from any chicken-suited fellows in the future....just in case.

Aislinn - "Might come in handy though somewhere down the line." she says with such a straight face, it's unclear as to whether she's joking or not.

#ffxiv rp #balmung rp #ffxiv crystal rp #Heartwood Ventures #Cravendy Hound #Aislinn North #Riylli Aliapoh #Happy hatchingtide!

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thecassadilla · 5 years ago

Text

Sick Day

Word Count: 2,053/AO3

Pairing: New Dream/Rapunzel x Eugene

Summary: Rapunzel catches a cold and Eugene blows it out of proportion.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is my contribution for Day 4 of New Dream Appreciation Week - Hurt/Comfort! If I’m being completely honest, I don’t really know what hurt/comfort is lol. I’m not a big fanfic reader, so I’m totally out of my element with this one. I tried to do some research and it’s still not really clear to me lol. Whatever it is, I’m not sure that this is it XD. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

When Eugene woke up that morning, he knew instantly that something was wrong. Rapunzel was still sleeping and she always woke up before he did. He immediately glanced at the clock and saw that it was past ten in the morning. It definitely was not like her to still be sleeping this late, even though it was a Saturday. She was also snoring - something else that she never did.

“Rapunzel?” He whispered, but she didn’t answer.

He was having an out-of-body experience, for sure. Hesitantly, he poked her arm a few times and she stirred.

“What’s wrong?” She mumbled, her voice laden with sleep.

“Are you alright?”

“Mhmm,” she sniffled, her eyes fluttering open. She rubbed at her nose a few times. “Just a little tired.”

“You sound congested,” he pointed out.

She sniffled again, but shook her head. “I’m not.”

“Liar!” He exclaimed, hearing it in her voice. “You’re sick.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, starting to sit up. “I have a lot to do today.”

“Uh-uh,” he said, grabbing her wrist. “Yesterday you said your throat felt a little weird and today you’re sniffling? You should stay in bed and rest.”

As if on cue, she sneezed. “Fine, I may have a cold. But, I’ll live.”

“You’re staying right here and I won’t take no for an answer. You need tea, soup, and rest. And cold medicine, for sure, if we have it. But even if we don’t, I can go get some.”

She rolled her eyes. “Eugene, you’re overreacting. Besides, Christmas is less than two weeks away and I still have a lot of errands to run.”

“I can run your errands for you, if you want,” he said, and she sneezed again. And again. “You can’t go around spreading germs to the unsuspecting public.”

“You act like I’m the first person in history to have a cold,” she smirked.

“This is the first time you’ve been sick since we’ve been together, and you’ve always taken care of me when I was sick. Now it’s my turn to dote on you.”

She sighed. “Fine, but just this once. Would you mind bringing me a box of tissues?”

“Anything you need,” he promised, jumping out of the bed.

He ran to the bathroom and dug through the cabinet, looking for the aforementioned cold medicine, but as he predicted, they didn’t have any. He grabbed the tissues that she requested, and brought them back to her.

“Your tissues,” he said, as he handed her the box. “Now, we don’t have any cold stuff, so I’ll take a trip to the drug store after I get you some breakfast and tea.”

She took a tissue out and wiped at her nose. “That’s already too much.”

“Just let me take care of you, woman!”

She smiled at him. “Fine, fine.”

He did as he promised, and brought her breakfast and tea to the bedroom. He had planned on staying there and watching her until she shooed him away, so instead he commanded her to stay in bed and ventured out into the frigid cold to get her medicine from the pharmacy. He spent a long time in the aisle, trying to figure out what to get. It wasn’t until after a consultation with the pharmacist that he picked out two different types of cold tablets, aspirin, cough syrup, saline solution, a bag of lozenges, and more tissues.

He was completely expecting Rapunzel to be asleep when he returned from the store, and was shocked that, instead, she was sitting up in bed; one of her legs was bent at the knee and she was using it as leverage to draw in her sketchpad.

“What are you doing up?” He asked.

She looked up and furrowed her eyebrows together. “Drawing?”

“You’re supposed to be resting, sunshine.”

“You’re acting like I just had major surgery. I have a cold; I’m completely capable of going on about my day like I normally would, but because you’re insisting that I stay in bed, I’m drawing.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Creative interpretation of the rules. Alright, I’ll give you that one.”

“I should’ve snuck out while you were at the store,” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she smiled sweetly.

He glanced over at the nightstand. “Where are your dirty dishes?”

“I washed them.”

“Rapunzel!”

“What?”

“You were supposed to leave them for me.”

“You’re really blowing this out of proportion, Eugene.”

“And you’re the worst patient, ever,” he remarked, just in time for her to reach for a tissue and sneeze. “See! You’ve sneezed, like a dozen times.”

“I’ve sneezed once since you got back.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I got you all of this cold medicine,” he said, as he dropped the contents of the bag onto the bed.

She gasped. “That’s so much! I thought you were just going to get cold medicine.”

“Um, no. I talked to the pharmacist.”

“He told you to buy all of this?” She questioned, picking up a bottle. “I don’t even have a cough!”

“That’s a ‘just in case’ thing. But the saline is to help clear your sinuses. The lozenges are for your throat, obviously. The aspirin and tissues are also self explanatory. And one of those packets is a decongestant, the other one is an expectorant.”

She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. “So your trip to the pharmacy also included a lesson in pharmaceuticals.”

“I, personally, think that it’s wise to be educated on how different drugs work.”

“You’re a dork,” she giggled. “And seriously, most of this is so unnecessary.”

He turned his nose up. “Well, at least we’ll have it if one of us needs it in the future.”

“I appreciate your preparedness.”

He reached over and plucked the sketchpad out of her hands.

“Hey!” She exclaimed.

He raised a finger. “No protests. Take your medicine and get some rest.”

“Am I supposed to just lay here and twiddle my thumbs?”

“No, you’re supposed to sleep.”

She sighed. “Eugene, I can’t fall asleep on command. Don’t you think this is starting to get a little excessive?”

He shook his head. “You should at least try to sleep,” he answered, opening up one of the boxes of cold medicine and popping out a pill. “Here, take this.”

She accepted the pill, and swallowed it. “Do you need to check my mouth to make sure I’m not hiding it under my tongue?” She jested, sinking lower in the bed.

“No,” he sassed, in a high-pitched, mocking tone. He picked up the sheets from where they were resting near the foot of the bed and laid them on top of her, tucking them around her shoulders. “I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.”

“Okay,” she sighed.

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

When he came to check on her a few hours later, she was laying awake, with her hands folded over her abdomen.

“Did you sleep?”

“Nope,” she gave him a smug, ‘I told you so’ look.

“What did you do that entire time?”

“Died of boredom,” she jeered.

He glared at her. “Haha, very funny.”

“I played with my phone.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, I’m going to order Chinese food so I can get you some soup.”

She instantly perked up. “Ooh, will you please get me some lo mein instead?”

He gave her an odd look, almost as if he wasn’t expecting her to throw a wrench in his plans.

“Come on, you should be happy that I have an appetite!” She exclaimed in an exasperated tone.

“You’re right, you’re right,” he agreed, lifting his hands in defeat. “I’ll just get you both.”

“But I don’t even want soup,” she whined. He wasn’t listening to a word she said.

“It’ll make you feel better,” he assured her, turning away.

“I don’t even feel that bad! My nose is a little stuffy and my throat is a little scratchy. That’s it.”

But it was too late; he had already left the room and she could hear him on the phone with the restaurant. She was incredibly frustrated with the entire situation; she didn’t want to be cooped up in bed all day when she didn’t feel horrible, and she wanted him to listen to what she was saying.

After a very quiet dinner, Eugene announced that he was going to relax on the couch so that Rapunzel could continue to ‘rest’ without any distractions. She found herself restless, as predicted, and decided that she needed to talk to him about how he treated her all day.

“Eugene, we have to talk,” she said, as she entered the living room.

“What are you doing out of bed?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not bedridden, I have a cold.”

“You should be resting.”

“We need to talk,” she repeated, sitting down next to him on the couch.

His eyebrows furrowed together. “What’s wrong?”

“So, I just want to start off by saying that I am very appreciative of you and so, so grateful that you’re willing to take care of me when I don’t feel well, but -”

“But?”

“At any point today, did you stop and consider how I felt?”

“Of course, that’s why I got you all that stuff from the pharmacy, and -”

“No, Eugene. How I felt? Did you take my feelings into account? Or what I wanted?”

He didn’t answer right away, so she continued.

“I know that I’m a little under the weather, but you were acting like I was incapacitated,” she said, taking his hand in her own. “I know you were trying to do the right thing today, but I can get out of bed, or draw, or do the dishes. You were too busy trying to make me feel better that you didn’t think to ask what would make me feel better.”

He frowned. “Look, I’m really sorry, Rapunzel. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I’ve just never taken care of a sick person before and I thought I was doing the right thing. And you've always taken such great care of me, so I wanted to do the same for you.”

“I know. And I promise that I’m not mad or anything, but it is a little frustrating when you tell someone you feel okay and they don’t listen to you. Like with dinner tonight; I told you that I didn’t want soup but you got it anyway. Or when you took away my sketchpad.”

His eyes grew sadder. “I’m sorry, sunshine.”

“Don’t be sorry. It was probably better that I didn’t run my errands today, and I really appreciate that brought the entire pharmacy here. But next time, if I say that I feel well enough to get out of bed, please take my word for it.”

He nodded.

“I think it’s partially my fault, too. I was insistent that I was fine, which isn’t completely true.”

“So, what we learned today is that we need to communicate with each other. And listen when the other person is speaking.”

“Exactly,” she nodded, smiling. “And I promise that I’m really not a difficult patient. Do you know what would’ve made me feel better?”

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded.

“This,” she mumbled, curling her legs up on the couch and leaning her head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“I promise that next time I’ll ask you what you want instead of just assuming what’s best.”

“Much appreciated. And just as a forewarning, next time you get sick, I’m totally going to torture you,” she giggled, and then craned her neck to look up at him. “Just kidding.”

“Oh, you better be kidding,” he warned. “Or else.”

“Or else, what?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and find out,” he shrugged. “But, one thing I can tell you is that I happen to know that I’m absolutely adorable when I’m all sick and pitiful.”

“Are you now?” She smirked.

“Oh, yes. You of all people should know that - you’ve taken care of me when I was sick.”

“Mm, last time you were sick you were kind of whiny,” she teased, looking away.

He gasped dramatically, playing along. “I was not!”

She smiled. “Were too. But don’t worry, it was kind of adorable.”

#new dream appreciation week #tangled #rapunzels tangled adventure #rapunzel x eugene #new dream #day four #my writing

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extraordinarilyextreme · 5 years ago

Note

bc i'm obsessed with this fic~ "in another time"// They toast to the end of the world—east, west, everything and everyone.He asks her to cut his hair.“Who is Ding-daren divorcing?” she asks, but the shears don’t stop moving in her hands.Ding Rong huffs in lieu of a laugh. “We’re nearing the twenty-first century. What Manchurian traditions are you still reciting?”

yepp from in another time

lol you were a first-account witness of me struggling through the historical aspect of this fic... i thought long and hard about how approach the different time periods that Ding Rong lives through; i didn’t want the fic to just feel like a research project, yaknow? it had to feel like time was passing, passing a Lot, and somehow simultaneously in a blink of an eye and torturously slowly.

it made me really sad that history is marked so much by wars. my outline was just one war after the other... but i wanted this to be a good story, a feel-good story (even if my university prof would criticize me for simplifying things lol). i wanted this to be a Love Story.

god it’s so cheesy isn’t it? but i wanted Love (Ding Rong’s devotion to Wang Zhi, Ding Rong’s frustration with Wang Zhi, and everything in between) to dominate this fic. it’s Love that grounds Ding Rong in the present after he’s lived so long through so much death. it’s Love that keeps him going; Love is what keeps him alive, isn’t it?

so yea i played it fast and loose with the wars. “east, west, everything and everyone” is a pretty obvious allusion to WWII. there’s enough near-pornographic glorification of war.

here’s a quiet little moment between two immortals who both care about Wang Zhi instead. rather than the bloodshed, you get a peek at a celebration (even if it is in jest). two immortals who are both strangely human. they share a drink. Ding Rong gets a haircut from Cui-mama. they joke about divorce. human matters, human affairs, for people who are Alive despite the world feeling like it’s ending.

Cui-mama was a funny character for me to write because i dont actually think i have a super great grasp on her character. (to be fair, ok, like she’s not in That many scenes...) i just thought it was interesting that there was the setup of her going “i’m loyal to silver” as opposed to people and then she risks it all to save Wang Zhi from the prison. was the little Commander’s pay that impressive? it couldn’t be because he’d blackmailed her either right since then she would want him dead. she’s intriguing, and who better to be a beautiful lethal immortal than the elusive and aloof Cui-mama?

i wanted another immortal in this story because bro am i desperate for Ding Rong to have company. yes, this is a rongzhi love story. but also yes please god Ding Rong i just want you to have some friends.

(yes Cui-mama keeps Wang Zhi from Ding Rong in one life. but that’s also the only life that rongzhi spend as a happily married couple together.

in the midst of the opium wars, Cui-mama kept Wang Zhi safe and Ding Rong married him. sensing a pattern of beautiful human things among wretched human things?)

Li Zilong is i guess Ding Rong’s companion too. i was already convinced he wasn’t human just after watching the show and then @aloverdestroyed ‘s hulijing idea was just too good to simply ignore. in “a string of paper cranes”, i was gonna make Li Zilong a specific immortal or demon but then i decided it’d probably be more effective if i just don’t offer an explanation. he’s just a bastard for bastard’s sake.

and then the actual haircut. i wrote this fic while working on the Story of Yanxi Palace AU so i had the wikia for that drama open and “she cuts off her own hair, a taboo in Manchu tradition analogous to an outcry for divorce”. Hair is a very important aspect of Chinese culture i think (hence why i am SUCH a sucker for hairbrushing or braiding... in The Untamed fic that i never posted, WangXian also have a hair-related bonding moment lol). it’s just so intimate... so this scene was absolutely a kind of mending for Ding Rong and Cui-mama after their previous confrontation. (yes i WILL throw in found family and significant friendships wherever i can, you cannot stop me)

but Ding Rong getting his hair cut is a sign of the changing times. he’s returning to the capital after centuries of wandering. he thinks he’ll try and settle down properly for a while (at least, until people start noticing he doesn’t age). after seeing so much destruction, of knowing how easily it is to be forgotten, what with the way humans ravage one another and the earth, he Needs to preserve Wang Zhi. he loves Wang Zhi; it is as simple as that.

the divorce is of course because rongzhi Did get married in one life. Ding Rong is moving on—he has to, he has to find the strength to—otherwise his grief and devotion will drown him. he’s trying to convince himself that one happy lifetime was enough; he should be sated now. (should be, but is he?)

every incarnation of Wang Zhi is not Wang Zhi. that’s what Ding Rong believes.

if i say any more beyond this, i think i’ll be infringing upon the content of the next chapter lol

#rongzhi #ask #freedommouse #tsomd fic #mine

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izzy-b-hands · 5 years ago

Text

Take A Picture

A bit of Tim/Brian during the Smile years, with just a hint of poly!Smile (Tim/Bri/Rog) as well (to the surprise of no one, I’m sure.) Inspired by this picture: https://aboutthatmelancholystorm.tumblr.com/post/638509013423783936 which was brought up on the DL discord server with mentions of a fic needing to be written inspired by it...so here we are lol.

We get smutty in this, but there’s also my usual dashes of Emotions for extra flavor.

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

"This isn't the weirdest place we've taken a photo at," Tim says, as he clambers past the more rusted bathtub and into the slightly bigger one beside it. "It's on the list maybe, but it isn't the weirdest."

"I'm in a bath, Tim," Brian sighs, and folds himself in after him. "At the least, this should be high up on that list."

"We could get weirder," Tim teases. "More experimental." "I'm not taking my shirt off," Brian sounds like he's joking, but that doesn't stop Tim from blushing, turning away to fake inspection of the bath before Brian can see him.

"You're so damned buttoned up, how would you get it off?" Roger calls from behind the camera. "Will you two sit down and get comfortable already?"

"Right, comfortable in the tub that might give us tetanus," Brian shouts back. "Sorry, let me just recline like a model for you!"

"I don't care how you pose, just hurry it up!" Roger sighs. "I need a break from this." "You just want pictures taken of you," Tim says. "We'll get to you as well, Rog."

Roger grins, and it's always lovely to see. The mentality isn't dissimilar to 'if mother isn't happy, then no one is happy.' So long as Roger can be kept smiling, then the day will be an easier one, with a happy Rog to keep their spirits up.

"Alright, that looks like something," Roger says. "Smile!"

"Hang on!" Brian looks utterly frustrated, trying to fumble his way into a comfortable position. "This wasn't made for someone of my height!" "I'm cozy," Tim teases. "Stretch out some, there's room by me."

As soon as he says it, he realizes he's stepping close to That Line again. The one he and Brian dance around, but have never fully stepped over.

The one that makes them both blush far too easily around each other, that makes it hard to focus when they touch even the slightest bit. And it didn't always feel that way, at least not so strongly.

The line is headed for a breaking point, he knows. Brian manages a quick, slightly silly smile as Roger takes the picture, but he sighs as soon as Roger moves back from them.

"Aw," Roger smiles. "You both look lovely! Shall I scout ahead for other spots while you extricate yourselves?"

"That'll be fine, yeah," Brian responds, his shoes slipping as he tries to climb back out of the tub, bringing to mind a wet cat hoping to escape a bath.

"Let me help," Tim offers, ignoring the way heat flushes his body as he reaches for Brian. "You'll hurt yourself." "I will not," Brian fusses, but he takes Tim's hand as support to push him back out.

The tub, however, has other plans, and before either of them can do anything else, they're back in the tub, slipped down into it, with Brian on top of Tim.

It's a cacophony of limbs, but Tim finds he can't focus much on that.

Not with Brian's thigh in between his legs, hair soft as his head rests on Tim's shoulder, and his chest heaving, probably as much from the fall as the physical contact. "You okay?" Tim finally manages a moment later, forcing himself to say something, as he fights to remind his body that there can be no reaction to this, none.

"Um," Brian says slowly. "I...I don't think I can get up."

He's about to ask Brian what hurts, until he presses his hip up closer to Brian's, and it's apparent as to why Brian would rather not get out of the tub and go wandering the neighborhood. The Line is there in front of them, and very real, and then it's gone with Brian's lips on his.

Just for moment, before Brian lifts his head, and his eyes are wide.

"Why did you stop?" Tim asks, ignoring the wavering of his voice. "Roger won't be back for another minute at least."

It's Brian's turn to blush now, but a smile comes with it. "I don't think that's enough time."

And of all the things he expected to hear next, Brian attempting something like seduction was not it.

But he likes it. "Maybe we cut the photo session short," he swallows hard, focusing on controlling himself, even as Brian teases, tempts, hips grinding down just a touch to make them both shiver. "Tell Rog we need a lunch break. Then later today we can meet up, finish it, get some pictures of all of us?"

He expects a verbal answer from Brian, but he doesn't mind that he gets a kiss instead, longer this time, with more heat behind it.

He doesn't know where they'll go for their 'lunch break.' There isn't really a good spot that comes to mind.

But Tim knows he's willing to use the van if they must, so long as it keeps Brian close, and keeps that line permanently erased.

---

"Tell me this doesn't mean anything."

"What?" Tim can't help but sound as heartbroken as he feels, shirt off, trousers undone, Brian's hand still down the front of his pants, fingers reaching for his cock as they lay in the back of the van.

"Just...I feel bad," Brian mutters.

Tim gently extricates Brian's hand from his pants, and motions for Brian to get off of him.

This is it then. Only a fling, like every other boy he's fumbled with in the back of a van, in the dark room of a cold flat, colder in the morning when he's gone without so much as a note. "You aren't the first, and you won't be the last," Tim sighs. "But I'm used to it. So if you're still game, I am."

Brian is adorably befuddled, wearing it like a confused puppy. "What are you talking about?"

"How this means nothing, and you never do this sort of thing, and this doesn't make you..." Tim falters in repeating everything the other guys have told him in the past. He shouldn't be hurt by it anymore. But he is.

"No, I was-" Brian stutters. "I mean...does this mean something to you? Because it means a lot to me and everyone talks about how this shouldn't mean anything, it's just fun, and-" "You are a gorgeous idiot," Tim sighs. "And I'm an okay idiot, I think."

"Don't know what you mean by all this," Brian smiles softly. "But I do know you're more than okay."

And he's not sure he's blushed so bright or so hot before, and it would be Brian to make him do that, wouldn't it?

"I mean, I was sat here, sure you were telling me this didn't mean shit to you," Tim continues. "And that you just wanted to get off and go." "We are on a time crunch," Brian admits, with a peek to his watch, set so delicately on that thin wrist. "How long do you think it'll take Rog to eat a sandwich and a biscuit?"

"Not long enough," Tim replies, his heart pounding away louder than Rog on the drums (and that is frankly fucking loud.) "Maybe...I know I already cut us short, but we could pause this, finish the photo session with Rog, and you could come back to..."

He trails off without meaning to, his voice just simply gives out on him, nerves screaming at him that this is too much, Brian won't say yes.

"Yours? Yeah," Brian smiles but he's clearly nervous, and Tim has never been so happy to see Brian nervous before. "Good," Tim smiles and peers out the window. "We should dress; he's nearly here."

"We told him to take his time!"

"Yeah, but he was hungry," Tim reminds Brian. "As it is, we'll have to eat on the run."

But he doesn't really mind that. There are worse things in the world, and he's not so worried about his stomach right now as he fumbles to redress.

---

Roger is grinning like a cat with a canary. "I knew it."

"Roger," Brian scolds, but there's no heat behind it. "Please don't tease."

"No, I think you two can do plenty of that to each other without my help," Roger giggles. "Finally. You've lost me a bet with Bulsara though. I gave you another week before you'd break and one of you would make a move; he had estimated sometime in the last week or this one." "We'll make it up to you," Tim remarks dryly. His cock is already half hard again at the thought of finally getting decent time alone with Brian, and they've been stood talking in the street outside his flat for nearly a half hour. Love Rog as he might (and he does), but good god he can't wait any fucking longer.

"I'm sure you will," Roger laughs. "Go have fun then. Be safe, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"What would you do?" Brian and Tim ask together, and there's no hiding the shock in their voice (Roger's never mentioned interest in any lads.)

But his tongue laps for a quick second at his lower lip, and he smirks prettily. "Wouldn't you two like to know?" He waves and then he's off, leaving them both in a silent consideration.

"If he means it," Brian begins slowly. "And if we both want it, there are other nights."

"Indeed there are," Tim says, though his mind is racing with ideas now. Of nights with him in Brian's lap and Roger in his and noise complaints from the neighbors that he'd be almost proud of.

"But tonight, though," Brian stammers. "I don't have keys to your flat. Of course I don't, but I mean we want to be inside it, not out here, and you haven't got out your keys, and-" Tim takes Brian's hand and pulls him to the door front door, slipping his keys out of his pocket as he moves. "Better?"

Brian just nods, quickly and happily, with a look on his face like he can't quite believe what's happening.

And truthfully, Tim can't believe it either, but it feels like the most wonderful dream. Brian's hand warm in his as they traipse up to his flat, small, but technically capable of being called 'shelter.'

That hand slips out of his and lingers at his hip as they shut and lock the door behind them, and the warmth turns to a delicious sort of burn. "I don't..." Brian giggles. "I don't do this a lot."

"Bri, I know," Tim smiles. "We drive you home after each gig, remember?"

That could have stung, but Brian seems to realize it's meant in jest as he leans down some to kiss Tim.

He might be inexperienced in the emotional side of hook ups of any kind (more serious or not), but there's no inexperience on his lips, the way they linger at the corner of Tim's mouth just long enough to make him short of breath.

"Bed's that way, but the couch doesn't squeak," Tim gasps out when Brian finally let's his mouth free for a moment. "Couch for now, bed later?" Brian's smile is still nervous, but there's a hint of lust, something hot and happy at the implication he's made.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Tim teases, but he's not really worried about that. He's got a feeling Brian will be staying plenty long enough to make use of both.

Brian smiles and the flat is still dark, but as far as Tim is concerned it's just been lit up as brightly as possible.

They do actually turn on a light as they move, clothes dropping to the floor, but there's still some shadow, and that's what captures Tim's eye as they stumble to the couch.

The shadow of Brian on the wall as he kisses his way down Tim's bare chest, lips soft on his skin, is particularly enticing. Tim might still be working to lay comfortably on the couch (not entirely possible, the couch may not squeak, but it doesn't provide much comfort either as far as sitting or laying on it goes), but there's nothing that would move him from the spot now.

"Let me know if this is all...good,” Brian says hesitantly, a finger tip resting on the waistband of Tim’s pants. That’s all that’s left to remove, and Tim’s nearly at a point to beg him to rip them off if he has to.

“I will,” Tim tries not to sound fussy or impatient, he really does. But he’s done so much bloody waiting today, that even another moment of it-

“Okay,” Brian chirps cheerfully, then leans down and sucks at Tim’s cock through his pants.

It’s not something he’s necessarily considered himself as ‘into’, messing about like this with clothes still partially on. Brian, however, might just make him a convert.

His whining stops Brian for a moment. “Alright?”

“You stopped,” Tim doesn’t even try to hide it now; he’s sick of waiting and feeling bratty about it. “Why on earth did you stop?”

“That wasn’t that good,” Brian chuckles. “Please,” Tim begs. There’s no other way about it; he’s begging now. “Just touch me; this is torture.”

Brian moves up his body, climbs onto him gently, long legs tangling with his, and frots against him slowly.

“You said you don’t do this often,” Tim gasps as he pulls Brian close by his hips.

“I don’t,” Brian giggles, hips moving still much too slowly, his cock hard against Tim’s. “I’m winging it. Going off of things I’ve thought about.”

“Thought about when?” Tim asks, though he can well guess. But he wants, needs, to hear it from Brian.

“At home, getting myself off,” Brian replies. “Thinking about you, and me. Sometimes Rog too.”

“So that’s not just me then,” Tim smiles.

“Not just you,” Brian smiles, but he’s tense, pulling his hips up and away more with each stroke. “I felt ridiculous some nights, you know?”

“Why’s that?” “Because I couldn’t get you out of my head,” Brian says softly. “Like this, yeah, but...other ways. Stupid, little domestic ways. Sharing a flat, spending nights in together. Just...anything and everything.”

“You’re going to come, aren’t you?” Tim can’t help but tease.

Brian is flushed above him, barely able to grind his cock down against Tim’s without sighing or whining or moaning.

But he shakes his head quickly, seemingly more to convince himself than Tim.

“You can,” Tim says. “I fully intend to call Roger tomorrow morning and let him know we won’t be making it to practice. Plenty of time to recover and go again.”

Brian moans into his mouth as he kisses him, hips and cock rutting hard against him now in full contact, and within a moment he’s gone.

Tim hadn’t intended to come with him, but all it takes is the kiss and the feeling of Brian’s come warm through the material of his pants, and he’s there.

“Don’t stop,” Brian’s voice shudders and is muffled as he drops his head to Tim’s shoulder. “Keep moving. We won’t have to stop, probably.”

“Probably?” Tim asks, using his legs to hold Brian close, struggling to keep a rhythm. Even with the cloth in between them, it’s still oversensitive to keep moving as they are.

Brian’s hips stutter, but they don’t stop, and it’s wonderfully overwhelming. He resigns himself to letting Brian keep it all going, and drops his head back onto the couch, eyes closed.

For a moment, Brian stops, and Tim opens his eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Brian replies as he lifts his head, voice and breath still shaky. “Just admiring the view.”

Tim can’t help but burst into giggles. It sounds ridiculous, hearing someone speak about him like that. But all the same, he’s absolutely delighted to hear it coming from Brian.

“Is it that pretty?”

“Breathtaking,” Brian sighs happily. “I really want to go again, I do-”

“We’ve got all night,” Tim says, and pulls Brian down for a kiss. “And tomorrow.”

“And tomorrow after that?” Brian asks so softly Tim can just hear him, and even then, it takes a moment for it to click, for him to realize what Brian is really asking.

He can only manage a nod at first, before the words finally flow. “Yeah. And tomorrow after that, and more, if you’ll have me.”

Brian nods quickly and grins, peppering him with kisses, before climbing off of him and pulling him off the couch.

It’s the slowest he’s ever walked to his room, but it’s worth it to take their time, interrupting it with kisses and wandering hands and stripping off their pants finally.

He knows it might not mean Brian is moving in right away, regardless of any domestic fantasies either of them have had.

But as he falls into bed with Brian, he knows it’s the start of something all the same, something wonderful and hopefully lasting (maybe even with the addition of Roger, if he’s truly wanting to join them for more than just a night or two.)

And he can’t wait for the rest of it.

#text post #LeeH writes #Smile band fic #tim staffell x brian may #with a hint of tim staffell x brian may x roger taylor #but just a hint for now lol

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inspired-by-the-music · 6 years ago

Text

The Dance: Jongin x Reader

Requests are encouraged! Please read the guidelines before submitting your request!

Genre: angsty; happy ending; kind of a crack au at the end bc it gets a little chaotic lol; featuring ot9

Word Count: 2,756

You didn’t know how to react when Jongin invited you to go ballroom dancing with Taemin and his girlfriend. Initially, you were surprised because of how intimate that date sounded, especially when compared to your infrequent unofficial lunch and movie dates. And because you weren’t officially dating, all you could think was that if you didn’t commit to the date, he would ask somebody else; and that fear of being replaced prompted you to agree to go.

It wasn’t until later that you realized a glaring problem: you couldn’t dance. Frankly, you weren’t comfortable doing the Cha Cha Slide, let alone performing an elegant ballroom dance– especially with an amazing dancer like Jongin as your partner and his equally talented best friend watching nearby.

Finding yourself in need of positive redirection, you texted one of your best friends for advice.

And as ridiculous as it sounded, you really believed that Yixing was going to appear and make all of your problems go away by teaching you how to dance. But after a few days passed without another word from him, you were forced to create another plan, so you talked to your friend Sonae– a choreographer– and she agreed to teach you the basics as long as you brought a partner.

You had to bring someone roughly Jongin’s size; your partner should require less training than you; and, most importantly, Sonae said, “Don’t bring Baekhyun if you’re sure you want to keep things quiet.”

As much as you loved Baekhyun and wanted to trust him with your secrets, you knew that he had a big mouth, so you didn’t argue with any of Sonae’s specifications. Her guidelines left you with only one person to ask for help.

“Give me one good reason why I should learn about ballroom dancing,” Sehun challenged when you asked him for help over lunch.

“You mean you need a reason other than helping me? And aside from the fact that I’m gonna pay for your lunch?” You rolled your eyes when Sehun nodded, and you took the opportunity to tease him. “My dancer friend, Sonae, is gonna teach us. Don’t you have the hots for her or something?”

“Don’t say ‘the hots.’ It makes you sound like Junmyeon,” Sehun’s voice was even despite the blush reddening even the tips of his ears. “And yeah, I think she’s a cute girl.”

“Well, she has a thing for dancers who help their friends,” you hummed before sipping your water.

The cogs were turning in Sehun’s mind. His eyebrows knit together as he asked, “Do you think she might go out with me if I go to your little dance practices?”

You happened to know that Sehun had to do very little to impress Sonae since she had been crushing on him for months. Rather than telling him outright, you just shrugged. “I dunno, maybe. No girl thinks less of a guy for being helpful.”

Perhaps recognizing that you were being manipulative, Sehun groaned, but he agreed, “Ugh, fine.” And he picked at his food for a while before saying, “But Jongin better not get mad at me. I hate how he acts when he’s jealous, and I don’t want him trying to fight me.”

“When have you ever known Jongin to be a fighter?” You laughed at the unrealistic image of the guy you had always known to be gentle having an altercation with anybody.

You couldn’t hear Sehun as he grumbled, “I guess you have no idea how much he likes you.”

And neither of you had any idea how sensual your dance would become. As if to test your obedience, Sonae kept assigning risque dance moves, each more erotic than the last.

While you glared at her, reluctant to touch Sehun even for the sake of a dance, Sehun complied with every order, no doubt, to impress Sonae. Finally fed up with the dance and how Sehun insisted upon making eye contact with your friend while holding you against his body, you said, “Okay– cut it out. How is this even ballroom dancing?”

Sonae giggled, “Don’t be so stiff, Y/N, art is supposed to be passionate.”

“Yeah,” Sehun teased. He tore his eyes away from her to look you in the eyes as he jested, “Just pretend I’m Jongin.”

And that only made your pulse quicken as you seethed, “You’re both disgusting.”

Just as you relaxed enough to resume practicing the most recent additions to the dance, Minseok and Baekhyun entered the room in a fit of giggles. Baekhyun said something along the lines of, “I wonder why Chanyeol was trying so hard to keep us out of here,” and their laughter quickly faded as they adjusted to the sight before them: you and Sehun pressed against one another.

While Minseok stuttered, “Um– I’m just here to get my snacks… I left them here earlier…” Baekhyun released a low whistle.

“Ya know, Y/N,” Baekhyun said, “I’m hurt that you didn’t tell me that you’ve moved on to Sehun.”

“I haven’t,” you corrected once you recovered from your shock and shrugged out of Sehun’s grasp. And when Baekhyun, Minseok, and even Sonae looked at you skeptically, you repeated more emphatically, “I haven’t!”

Sehun explained matter-of-factly, “I’m just helping her learn to ballroom dance for some date with Jongin.”

And as you swatted Sehun for casually declaring your personal business, Baekhyun clicked his tongue. “Man, ballroom dancing sure looks a lot different in person.”

“That’s pretty much exactly what I just said to these two!” You gestured to Sehun and Sonae and asked, “Why am I learning the sluttiest dance ever?”

Baekhyun answered, “So you can impress Jongin with your moves, obviously.”

Reddening once more, you rolled your eyes. “All of you are perverts except Minseok.” And following that humiliation of being caught dancing with Sehun, you prayed that nobody else would find out about your secret dance lessons.

Just a few nights later, Baekhyun woke you with a text.

You couldn’t foresee how Baekhyun’s late-night messages related to your dance classes until the next morning when you and Sonae arrived at the studio just in time to hear Chanyeol declare in a booming voice, “Jongin and Y/N aren’t official, so Sehun can like her if he wants! Jongdae does, and nobody says anything!”

Excluding Sehun, whose eyes were trained on his dead phone screen, all of the members of EXO gawked at you as you walked through the door. Even Jongin, who sat, sulking, stared at you with widened eyes.

Petrified by the tension in the room, you decided, “I’ll just come back later.”

Junmyeon said, “Actually, Y/N, maybe you should stay. We’re kind of here because of you, I think.”

Despite Junmyeon’s pleading, you tried to leave, and you might have succeeded if your friend hadn’t blocked the door and gently pushed you into the room. And while she practically skipped to sit between Sehun and Minseok, while she took some of the latter’s popcorn and stuffed it into her mouth, you reluctantly claimed the small space between Baekhyun and Kyungsoo.

You only avoided sitting by Jongin because you were too intimidated by his pout. However, you regretted your decision almost immediately when Kyungsoo glared at you and asked, “Did you show up to meet Sehun for one of your secret rendezvous?”

"Excuse me?“ You gasped. But when Kyungsoo ignored you, you turned your attention to Junmyeon. Your gaze shifted between him and the eerily silent Sehun as you asked, "What’s going on?”

"That’s what I’m trying to figure out,“ Junmyeon replied, his eyebrows gathering in confusion. "Last night, I found Jongin and Sehun pushing each other around in the kitchen.”

"What?“ Sensing that you wouldn’t receive any reason from Sehun, you glanced at Jongin, who seemed determined to look at anything but you. "Why?”

Kyungsoo snapped, “By now we all know you were sneaking around with Sehun, so you can stop acting oblivious!”

"Don’t yell at her,“ Jongin ordered, but he still didn’t look at you as he spoke.

Unnerved by the conflict, Minseok squeaked through a mouthful of popcorn, "I really think this is a misunderstanding.”

"Don’t be naive,“ Kyungsoo scolded before Minseok had even finished his sentence. He narrowed his eyes at the maknae as he claimed, "If this was a misunderstanding, Sehun would have denied it by now. All he’s done is complain about Junmyeon stealing his phone charger."

Provoked by Kyungsoo’s aggression, Sehun spoke at last. "If my phone charged at all last night, I could have told Y/N not to show up–”

Jongdae interrupted to ask calmly– no, curiously– “But why were you meeting at all?”

Having adopted the role of Sehun’s defender, Chanyeol crossed his arms and demanded, “Why does it matter? Even if Sehun wanted to make out in the studio–”

"Hey, seriously, guys,“ Junmyeon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "don’t misuse the agency’s facilities. Make out in your cars. Or in the dorm– but only if I’m not home.”

While you hid your face in your hands because you were mortified by the conversation, Jongdae glanced from you to Sehun and wondered aloud, “Wait, so were you meeting to make out?”

And Chanyeol began his speech once more: “They can if they want to–”

But Sehun interrupted to ask, “Chanyeol, do you really think I’d cheat with Jongin’s girl– regardless of whether they’re official or not?”

Chanyeol answered quietly as if he were trying to conceal his words from the rest of the group. “Dude, what was I supposed to think when I saw you dancing together like that?”

"So you thought I was cheating? And you covered up for me?“ You removed your hands from your face to watch Sehun’s eyebrows lower with each word.

"Well, duh,” Chanyeol nodded, “wouldn’t you do the same for me?”

Sehun ground his fist into the studio floor. “Of course not! If I thought you were a filthy cheater, I would tell everyone how disgusting you are!”

"Anyway,“ Junmyeon cut in gently, "Sehun, if you weren’t having an affair, why were you secretly meeting Y/N?”

Before Sehun could answer, Kyungsoo spat, “Don’t tell me you don’t believe they were up to something!”

Rather than assert his innocence, Sehun leaned forward and yelled, “Why the hell do you care so much, kiwi head? If I say it was an innocent meeting between friends, that should be enough for you!”

Bewildered, Kyungsoo repeated the insult, “Kiwi head?” But he quickly shook his head and explained, “I care so much because Jongin really likes Y/N. He likes her enough to ask me to write this.”

As if he had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to do so, Kyungsoo yanked a manuscript out of his backpack and tossed it into the center of the circle where everyone sat.

Baekhyun, who had been miraculously quiet, supporting you only by keeping an arm wrapped around you, reached for the papers and asked, “What’s this?”

"Jongin’s confession,“ Kyunsoo answered.

Jongdae eyed Jongin before shaking his head. "You had Kyungsoo write your confession? That should come from the heart!”

Jongin broke his silence to argue, “I didn’t ask him to write that! I just asked for advice on how to make things official with Y/N!”

And while Kyungsoo– offended by Jongin’s rejection of his handwritten confession– reached over you to snatch his work from Baekhyun’s hands, Sehun asked, “Okay, so why am I in trouble for allegedly liking Y/N– when I really, seriously, definitely don’t– while Jongdae is openly lusting after her?”

You weren’t even allowed time to process Jongdae’s recently revealed interest in you before Jongin replied stiffly, “I already knew Jongdae likes her, and I can’t control that. And it doesn’t bother me because he hasn’t touched her–”

Unbeknownst to Jongin, Jongdae leaned across Baekhyun’s lap to simply poke your knee and smile before he was shoved away by Baekhyun’s karate chops.

"It doesn’t matter whether we’re official or not. And it doesn’t matter what your intentions were. It hurt me to watch you dance with her like that when I haven’t yet.“

Sehun frowned at Jongin’s heartfelt explanation, but he still didn’t say that he was only trying to help you learn how to dance, so you spoke up.

You forced yourself to look at Jongin as you said, "I was just trying to learn how to dance for our date, and I was too embarrassed to ask you for help. I’m sorry I hurt you– I didn’t mean to.”

Jongin met your eyes, and you breathed a sigh of relief, but he stole your breath again when he skeptically said, “That didn’t look like any ballroom dancing I’ve ever seen, Y/N.”

His reluctance to believe you even when you told the truth caused a frown to pull at your lips, and you were certain that Baekhyun could hear you wheeze at the sudden heartache.

That was why, you assumed, Baekhyun tried to lighten the mood with a stupid joke. He pointed at Sehun and barked, “Yeah! You shouldn’t have been grinding on Y/N!”

"Grinding?“ Jongdae and Jongin repeated, although in entirely different tones.

Minseok turned to Sonae and remarked, "I don’t remember any grinding.”

Junmyeon sighed once more. “There better not have been any grinding!”

And nobody seemed convinced by your laughing denial that any grinding occurred, but that didn’t prevent you and Baekhyun from inappropriately laughing at the situation.

"I don’t know what to believe,“ Jongdae said, pressing his lips into a thin line, and he suggested, "I think you should show me the dance.”

"Yah!“ Kyungsoo yelled and threw the cap to his water bottle at Jongdae. "Try to control your lust for Y/N– it’s disgusting!”

Sonae finally admitted, “It’s my fault that the dance turned out so slutty.” Everyone must have forgotten she was there because suddenly all eyes were on her and the room was uncomfortably quiet. She continued, “I thought Sehun had a thing for Y/N, and I was trying to see how much he liked her. I didn’t expect him to actually do all that choreography.”

While you glared at Sonae and considered throwing Kyunsoo’s empty water bottle at her, Sehun declared, “Well, the way I see it, I’m the real victim here!” And after the ensuing outrage died down, Sehun elaborated, “All of you accused me of being a cheater, Jongin pushed me and hurt my feelings, my phone is dead because Junmyeon stole my charger, I was tricked into dancing like a slut with Y/N, and all because I wanted to impress her friend!”

And although Sehun was embarrassed about admitting to his crush, the energy in the room changed instantly as Jongin anti-climactically said, “Oh.”

After a few minutes passed in awkward silence, Junmyeon said, “Anyway– I guess that means matters are resolved? And everyone owes everyone an apology– except you, Minseok, you’re an angel– keep doing what you’re doing.”

As everyone mumbled their apologies, Baekhyun demanded, “Yah! What did I do wrong?”

"You lied and said Sehun was grinding on Y/N which embarrassed her, hurt Jongin, tarnished Sehun’s reputation, encouraged Jongdae’s inappropriate infatuation, and ruined my brain a little bit,“ Junmyeon explained flatly.

Before Baekhyun could argue, Yixing walked into the studio. Judging from the luggage he was carrying, Yixing arrived straight from the airport. "Oh, hey guys,” he smiled at the other members of EXO before asking you, “Are you ready to dance?”

"What are you doing here?“ Minseok asked before throwing his arms around Yixing.

"Y/N said she needed to learn ballroom dancing.”

Sehun asked, “So you dropped everything and flew all the way here?” He laughed although he didn’t look very amused, and he said to Jongin, “I swear, I’m the only person here who doesn’t seem to like Y/N too much, yet I was almost burned at the stake!”

BONUS SCENE:

Sometime after Kyungsoo formally apologized once more for how he spoke to you, and after you and Jongin agreed that it would be best to start dating exclusively, Yixing encouraged you and Sehun to dance.

"Show me what you learned so I know where to begin,“ he instructed warmly.

After receiving Jongin’s blessing, Sonae played the song on her phone and counted for you to begin.

And despite Junmyeon’s laughter, Kyungsoo’s polite applause, Minseok’s light giggles, Chanyeol’s booming claps, Baekhyun’s whistling, Jongin’s quiet cheers, and Jongdae’s not-so-quiet cheers, Yixing ended the dance prematurely.

Midway through, he begged, "Please, God, save my eyes! Y/N, forget everything you’ve learned!"

But you noticed Jongin mouth, "Don’t forget.”

103 notes · View notes

seethekraken · 6 years ago

Text

No Mistletoe?

Merry Christmas @castielangeldelaguarda So I am your Secret Santa <33 I chose to do a Reverse AU for you. I’ll admit I patched it up a little from the main post lol I hope you like it!! Have a Wonderful Day, Lovely!!

—

It was always hard for Sam to return to Heaven after heavy assignments and even more so when he couldn’t tell if he’d done something right or not.

Underestimating Luc had unfortunately resulted in the fight getting bloodier than Sam hoped for. He tried his hardest to resolve things peacefully. He’d begged his assignment to come in quietly, that he wouldn’t win this one.

Maybe it was that comment that salted the wound. Maybe if he knew more about what he was meant to stop, maybe then his missions’ outcome would not end in bloodshed.

Heaven rarely gave him a reason though, wary of Sam’s ability to experience and understand human emotion. He was ‘defective’ they’d whispered the first time it had happened on an assignment.

He ran solos now, mostly hitman like jobs: no details of what this human or that creature had done to receive judgement.

He’d think the Angels would value knowledge as power, but maybe in his hands was too terrible? As a result of nothing else to go on, it took a lot more strategy to win—if he didn’t know any better, he might think they wanted him to perish on mission. Those were the orders though and the notion of disobedience, nonexistent.

Being weak from time-travel was standard, but bundled with the exhaustion of preventing a future happening, Sam’s Grace needed time to recover. It wasn’t even an excuse, he was simply too weak to make his trip Up.

Drained of energy—Sam knew he’d get into trouble for taking a self imposed vacation, but he needed that break and the only way to get one was if he took it himself.

Dropping into a random timeline, perhaps a couple years into the future, Sam read the sign stating he was in ‘Cottage Grove’. What was with these humans and randomly selecting names for their homebase?

Angels were everywhere these days, only the smallest of towns were clear of them—the streets, shops too close together to be comfortable space for wings. Of course that applied to him too, even more so as his wingspan was wider. Not archangel wide by any means but enough for him to be aware of his bulk in more cramped places. The idea was to avoid detection from all Angels however, so it served his purpose for now.

Judging from the gaudy decor and overbearing smell of pine, Sam guessed it was December where they celebrated a “Saviour”. It wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed the ‘season to be jolly’ having been more than a little irked about the lack of angel statues with brown hair and brown wings in shops. Dean, of course, found it hilarious.

Slipping his wings into the ethereal plain, he landed in an alleyway and blended with the main crowd walking down the busy street, following the sound of loud music. These places usually had town parties and it seemed like a good place to hide and unwind before having to return to Heaven.

Gabriel was in charge now, and to everyone’s shock, was doing a fantastic job. He sent the right Angels to get orders done. Of course there were few mishaps but they were few and far between. As much as he was proud of Gabriel for being so efficient, Sam was also exhausted.

Sam let himself into the townhall where the town residents were celebrating. The only human that looked his way, was a black-haired man at the snack bar, and only briefly. — A slight breeze and the door opening pulled Castiel’s attention away from his task. The banquet hall was in full capacity, each plate and seating accounted for, and unless someone had left the party, he didn’t see any reason why a stranger would walk in.

Between refilling the water jugs and looking back, the giant had gone out of sight. Half an hour later and Cas spotted him again, looking awkward in the corner, not talking just watching the crowd with tired eyes. Snapping the attention of a waiter, Cas instructed him to serve that niche where the brunette was sitting, before seating himself a little away from the crowd.

Cas stared at him then, a truly beautiful specimen. Go figure his type would walk into a party while he was working. Glancing down at the suit he had on, Cas loosened his tie, starting to feel the humidity that came from large crowds crammed in a room together. Offering the tray of appetizers at passing guests with a put on smile, Cas curiously turned back to his eye candy.

Shit.

—

Sam had a hard time not tracking the man with his eyes. There was just something, a weird pull he didn’t entirely understand, which caused time and time again for him to seek that face in the crowd.

And then it happened.

Striking blue eyes found his hazel ones with such accuracy, Sam had a suspicion the human had been observing him too. Neither looked away, in fact his gaze seemed to intensify. What was that colour? He’d seen creation come alive, knew every shade, hue, tint in existence…and yet he’d never seen this shade before, speckles of dark and light dancing around his pupils.

He looked to be some point between his late 30’s to early 40’s. Ruggedly handsome, there were bags under his eyes, a sharp scruffy jaw like he’d forgotten to shave that morning and pink lips with pleasantly tanned skin.

Sam tried not to stare. He also tried not to knock things over because despite his wings tucked in the ethereal plain, they needed to mind and he was using all his energy to simply keep him upright.

The next time he glanced at the table, Blue Eyes was gone. Baffled by his disappointment, Sam gingerly walked to a lesser crowded corner and rearranged himself comfortably. Even if he was simply human, it would be a challenging feet regardless.

Trays of food were being passed along with plates, so despite not needing to eat, Sam helped himself to some. Time passed slowly as he watched the crowd mingling with familiarity and began missing Dean. His brother was the only one who understood him, who even stood up for him despite moving up in ranks like Gabriel, though not as top-tier. Dean never made him feel like he was…less.

A heavy feeling in his heart, Sam took a walk, smiled at people politely and interjected a lie whenever appropriate. Yes, he was passing through, no he came alone, staying the night? maybe.

Weirdly, women seemed to wait for a specific moment to speak with him. Sam wasn’t fooled. He knew the tradition of mistletoe, knew a kiss was mandatory. He didn’t like the way they looked at him though, and the one he wanted to he could see now, was deliberately avoiding doing so.

Unsure how to act like he belonged there, Sam stopped at a doorway easily looking over heads, for more reclusive spots where humans would leave him alone…

“Hi,” a gravelly voice said from behind and Sam turned towards them, being snared almost immediately by two mesmerizing pools of blue. It was him. There was a soft smile on his lips and shyness in his eyes as he went to speak further.

“You are…kinda blocking the pathway,” he offered, holding a tray with both hands in front of him. Sam stared in surprise, accidentally twitching his wings in the ethereal plain, toppling some items off a nearby table. For whatever reason, they seemed to still have a physical presence in the material world but invisible to plain sight. This never happened. Maybe his control was slipping?

“I should go,” he said aloud.

“No! I mean you don’t have to leave…”

This man didn’t want him to leave but only move? Move where? Like he could read the Angel’s mind, Blue eyes put his tray down on the conveniently bare space—curtesy of Sam’s malfunctioning limbs—and walked towards him, pushing Sam a little to the side.

Sam let him.

Getting the Angel to budge was equivalent to trying to move a boulder. Despite achieving their goal, the hands stayed on his chest, like its owner had forgotten about them.

Sam looked down at the man at least four inches shorter than him, and raised his eyebrows in question. “All good?”

Blue eyes’ had yet to move so fast, like Sam was hot to the touch. “Right. Well now that you’re out of the way, I can—“ he gestured behind him where Sam was sitting only a few minutes ago, but still didn’t budge until the sound of someone clearing their throat made them both turn.

There was a blonde woman standing in front of them, giggling delightfully at the human as she pointed up upwards. — Castiel groaned internally. Even before he looked up, Cas already knew what he’s going to find. Donna had been trying to hook him up with some of the town folk, and here this stranger was caught neatly in her web.

He had a job to do. Catering was tiresome work but the Christmas party was his biggest event, so he had to do it in order to stay afloat.

Instead, Jack refused to stay with anyone but him, and he had to bring the kid to a booze approved party. On top of it, of course the *one* person he’d actually been interested in would show up in an environment where service staff and guests weren’t allowed to mingle.

“Donna,” he sighed softly. “I’m working,”

“Shut the front door, I had no idea!” his best friend jested, “You’re the boss, you don’ count..” Donna whispered, smiling widely still and pushing him gently towards the guy.

Knowing better than to argue with the Sheriff, Cas reasoned this was probably the only time he was ever going to see this man. And Donna was right, he was the owner of the company…

This reason in mind, instead of introducing himself, Castiel grabbed the lapels of the suede coloured jacket, and tugged it enough to get the man to bend to meet him in the middle. He was going to savour this moment however long it lasted, and he had every aim to drag it out.

Just when he’d determined it an appropriate time for a mistletoe kiss, mystery man leaned in closer, arm wrapped around his waist, practically smooshing him against a wall of lean muscle.

Long strands of hair fell onto his face, and Castiel briefly wondered if they would feel as soft as they looked, wrapped around his fingers.

Caving into the urge, he gently carded his fingers through this tall man’s beautiful hair. So silky and smooth, he thought as he tugged at the strands, urging the brunette to bend down some more, going on the tips of his toes to close the height difference. — Sam was more than a little shocked at the forwardness of this seemingly awkward man but melted into the kiss anyhow. The gentle caress of his hair was turning him into goo and just as he was getting into it, he felt a double tug on his feathers.

His feather still in the ethereal plain.

Surprised he hadn’t sensed them, Sam broke the kiss abruptly and spun around expecting an Angel from the garrison, not a child looking at him. No, that wasn’t right…he was looking behind Sam.

“Soft!”

Sam froze in shock but the child was caressing his dark wings in wonder. It had blonde hair and blue eyes and were it a cartoon, it would probably have stars in them.

It could see his wings? How was that even possible? If it could see his wings, then there was no guarantee this thing was actually human, and from experience he knew looking like a human and being human were two entirely different things.

The thing kept touching him, though with utter care, like a loose feather would pain him. If there was a creature of this sort here in this town, was it being watched? Guarded? Would they think Sam was there to protect it or kill it…there were so many gue—

“Jack,” the man sighed, and picked up the little boy, “I told you to sit in the corner. Are you hungry? What can I get you?”

Jack shook his head, signalling he didn’t need anything, to which the boy got set down and the human sighed gustily, turning back to Sam, “Well, this was nice…”

“Uh huh,” Sam’s eyes were still on Jack, mind racing.

“I’m Castiel. Not that you asked, but I figured it is the most I can do aft—“

“Castiel?” Sam eyebrows jumped in surprise. A quick survey and nope, still human.

“Yes, I know its the angel of Thursday,” Castiel rolled his eyes, “No, I’m not religious,”

“Uhhh…okay,” Sam gave a small laugh under his breath. “I’m Sam by the way,”

“Well Sam, this was nice. Really nice actually, but I have to get back to work, so…enjoy the party I guess,”

Sam couldn’t have him leave though. This..thing..seemed harmless enough but what was it? Did the man know the child was not a child? Was he safe? He had to find out!!

“Oh, but…do you know where I can book a room? It’s too late in the night to leave, and I’m kind of on vacation and this place looks like a nice place to stay.” Sam gave his best form of persuasion—puppy dog eyes. It worked.

It always worked.

Castiel hesitated for about a quarter of a second and then grabbed Sam’s arm gently. “Come with me,” leading him to another guest. Quick words were exchanged and Sam heard the gist of it. The County inn was all booked up, as well as the motel at the edge of town.

“Looks like—“

“What about that big ol’ bed of yours, Cas? Think it will fit him?” — Cas sometimes wished his life was simpler.

That he did not have a cute eight year old shaped walking and talking weather and news app for a son, a gorgeous man didn’t walk into his party room hoping to find a place to sleep, and his best friend not inviting said man to sleep in his own bed.

“Donna I don’t think Sam would appreciate that,” Cas protested lightly, trying to remember if he’d even made his bed that morning. When was the last time he’d washed his sheets? When was the last time he’d cleaned the house..?

“Actually that sounds perfect!” Sam pitched in, and Cas didn’t have anything left as far as excuses went.

“And the party’s almost over anywhooo, the staff will clean up!” Donna chirped right in.

With four pairs of eyes watching him, Cas caved, “O-okay, I guess,”

Then to both Cas and Sam’s shock, little fingers reached up clasping two of Sam’s because that’s all he could reach and began pulling him toward the door. — “You can sit in the front room, I have to change the sheets. I suppose you’ll need clothes to change into something as well..let’s see what we can do..you’re not exactly small..” Castiel kept muttering, but Sam was sure it was more for himself than to inform his guest.

Sure enough, the man went up stairs the without a word, still saying things under his breath.

This human confused him. More that, he intrigued Sam. And then there was the boy who could see his true form. Which..right. Was the more pressing matter. Or at least should have been.

Sam sat in the front room as Castiel suggested with Jack, who nuzzled against his feathery side—reminding him yet again that this small human may not be human at all. He pet the kid’s soft hair absently, wondering if maybe he should do his own tests before he reported this unusual occurrence—when Jack crawled into the space his crossed legs made, and promptly fell asleep like a pup in the middle of a nest.

Sam froze not daring to move a muscle least he hurt Jack. He didn’t know how long he sat there staring at Jack blankly, but was deep enough in his head, not to detect company when Castiel came back.

“It seems he has adopted you.” Sam looked up to see Cas leaning against the doorway, watching them with a soft expression.

“Adopted me?”

“He doesn’t usually warm up to people right away. It took him more than half a year to like Donna, and she’d a literal angel! Doesn’t even cuss, that woman. But as you see, he took a real liking to you. I’ve never seen him like that with anyone else but me.”

Sam was not sure what to say to that. He couldn’t possibly explain that Jack’s fascination with him was only because of his wings. It was the only explanation. “What does sleeping in my lap got to do with anything?”

“Plenty.” Cas smiled softly as he kneeled beside Sam, gently picking up the lightly snoring boy, carrying Jack into his room. When he returned, he took up the exact same place on the floor as before.

They talked about everything and nothing as they sat by the fire roasting marshmallows. The marshmallows might as well be sponge in his mouth, but watching as Castiel tried to make him a perfectly roasted one, crowing in delight when he succeeded, well Sam would eat the entire packet if Cas wished.

After they settled back comfortably leaning against throw pillows, Cas told him about how he’d ended up adopting Jack though it wasn’t in the plans, and in turn Sam shared stories of his job helping people and how challenging it could be but also rewarding when sucessful, omitting all the supernatural aspects of course.

Cas fell asleep with his head resting on Sam and the Angel waited until he was fast asleep, before he moved Cas to the couch. He didn’t want to go to Heaven. Didn’t want another assignment but he needed to know what in the universe was that child.

—

“About time!” were the first words Sam heard, when he returned to the garrison. “Off in Bali?”

“Hi Dean,” he sighed. “Why would I go to Bali?”

“Sun. Scenery. What isn’t good about Bali.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Gabriel. You do know all his ‘disgustingly sweet’—as you love to complain about—drinks come from there?” Dean grunted in reply and Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “Wow. You’re in a mood…What happened?”

“Gabe called me a dickless hoe-bag,” Dean grumped.

“Well..to be fair—“

“If you want to live another century I suggest you shut up,” Dean scowled, but then his expression switched to confusion. “Hey, what’s with the wings? Why are there streaks of blue in them?”

“Wha—“ Sam took a look for himself and oh no..Dean was right. He didn’t even know Angel wings could do that, could change in design…

It was a good thing for him, that Dean was more distracted than usual. “You actually came at the perfect time. we have a Nephilim on our hands. We have to find it, and fast, before the Demons do.”

“A Nephilim? There’s no such thing De—“ Sam stopped. Jack.

It had to be Jack!

“There is now,” Dean said, not noticing Sam’s frozen expression. “We almost had it earlier and then it disappeared from the radar. The Host wants to keep it hush hush for now. I’ve got my hands full, so does Gabriel. You’re the only one we trust with this. Look, it should be a quick job. Some human is hiding it and all you have to do is eliminate them and bring the Nephilim to Heaven.”

“I—what?” Sam’s mind was running a mile a minute. Panic raised within him, he couldn’t give—and Cas he couldn’t even imagine ‘eliminating’ him!! Instead he responded with a question, “How could you lose it??”

“It’s not like you can use an EMF tracker on Earth, Sammy,” Dean growled, frowning heavily.

“Dean—“

“Just find the human and take them out. The Nephilim’s young, easily trusting. It will probably follow you even you offered it something as simple as candy.”

Dean had no idea how right he was. It would be the easiest job yet, since Sam was at Castiel’s.

He spent the entire night debating what to do, before laying down on the floor beside the couch so that was where Cas spotted him the next morning. — Snow.

Heaps of snow fell the previous night, this wasn’t even in the forecast..but so much that the front door would not budge and it stood on top of four stone steps! Cas looked out one more time before quietly sneaking past Sam who like a gentleman, slept on the floor.

Opening Jack’s door softly, Cas sat on his son’s bed. “How did you sleep last night?”

“Mr. Sam stay?”

“Well..he doesn’t have much of a choice now, does he?” Cas sighed but held Jack’s hand to let him know he wasn’t upset. “Thank you though. It was very sweet of you, Jack,”

This was their own little secret and as long as no one knew, Jack could stay with him. Jack understood that too thankfully, despite being such a young kid. Cas suspected that type of knowledge was something unusual too. “Why today?”

“You wanted him to stay…”

“…so you made it happen,” Cas finished. Kissing Jack on the forehead, Cas tucked the bedsheets against this small human who’d won his heart the moment he’d stepped into the adoption agency and said, “Come down later, okay?”

“Okay Dad,” Jack wiggled back into the pocket created and promptly fell asleep.

Walking down the stairs, Cas startled to find Sam at the bottom of them. “H-hi. How did you sleep?”

“I’m a little sore,” Sam dimpled, mischief in his eyes. Cas grinned.

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat..” Sam replied, putting his hands in his pant pockets. Last night they had discovered none of the pyjamas Cas owned would fit him, but there was a loose sleep shirt and on Sam’s broad shoulders, were so tight it might as well have been second skin.

He looked absolutely delectable. Cas stopped when he was eye level with Sam, which meant at least two steps off the ground.

“See something you like?”

“Oh don’t even pretend you don’t know!” Cas scoffed, cupping the nape of Sam’s neck, and pressing his chapped lips against soft ones. Sam caressed his thigh before easily picking him up and Cas wrapping his legs tightly around the taller man’s waist, was carried like that into a brightly lit room that could only be the kitchen.

Set down on the counter, Sam stood between his legs, hands roaming the expanse of Cas’ back, fingers just about dipping under his shirt, when he spoke, “I could do this forever,” Sam murmured against his lips.

“Hmm..” Cas buried his fingers in Sam’s soft hair, barely breathing since he didn’t want to part from Sam, when his stomach rumbled loudly.

“I guess my body disagrees.”

“Not all of you,” Sam quipped slyly.

Cas pushed him aside playfully and hopped onto the tiled floor. “Oh by the way, you need to know…it snowed a ton last night. Tons like can’t open the front door because its packed against it.”

“Oh. The forecast said sunny skies?” Sam sounded surprised, but there was a hint of something else that Cas couldn’t place. He wasn’t overly bothered by it. Snowed in, he had Sam all to himself.

Well him and Jack, but he didn’t mind sharing. — Sam knew he was sinking deeper and deeper.

Seeing Jack trusting him so easily last night, Sam now knew it was because Jack was part Angel. That’s why he felt safe with Sam, felt protected, they were kin in a way. There was no way he’d cause harm to the pup now. Jack really was innocent…he was oblivious of the dangers of the world and introducing him to violence would tip that scale, might even destroy him. As long as that didn’t happen, Sam was sure Jack would continue to be a happy boy.

And then there was Cass. Cas who’d besides the initial hesitation—Sam realized was more embarrassment than fearful—had been open and welcoming. He didn’t put up any pretense and he had no shame expressing his attraction to the Angel, but not in a pushy manner. Cas was changing his perception and there wasn’t even a little bit where he fought it.

Instead he enjoyed his time with just Cas, flinging pancake batter on him while the human was trying to be serious and not burn whatever was on the stove. Their shenanigans continued up until Jack arrived.

They made cookies the next morning, Sam and Jack making a mess of themselves and after a lot of rolling of the eyes, Cas joined them. Later that night, Sam lay down on Cas’ bed. Donna was right in the sense of the bed being wide. Having never needing to lay down, Sam found the whole thing weird, feet still managing to stick out.

“You can tuck your feet under, you know?” Cas laughed softly beside him, spotting Sam’s expression. Sam turned to face him instead. They stared at one another just like the time in the party hall.

“You have beautiful eyes, Cas”. Sam watched as a deep blush rose in Cas’ cheeks.

“And you have beautiful hair.”

“Is that why you like playing with them so much?”

Cas smiled at him lazily, a retort quick on his tongue. “as if you don’t enjoy it.”

Sam only hummed. Cas scooted closer and kissed his nose, linking Sam’s fingers with his, in the most intimate gesture Sam was yet to experience, “I wish you didn’t have to leave…” his voice trailed off, before he fell into a deep sleep.

With the knowledge that Cas definitely wouldn’t wake Sam allowed his wings to materialize, draping them onto Cas.

The meaning of Cas’ words finally made sense the next day, when Sam glanced out. The snow had completely melted, given creating slush and a lot of puddles but other than that, if he were human, it would be safe to travel.

What this revealed however, was that Cas knew something, otherwise how would he have been able to predict the extreme switch of weather? Honestly Sam wished Jack would stop, not only because it meant he no longer had an excuse to stay with Cas, but the Angels would definitely take notice.

That still meant he had to leave though. Breakfast was a somber meal, Cas not saying much. He did hold Sam’s hand throughout, even if it made it hard for him to eat. Sam didn’t resist because he realized he needed it too. Maybe if he was built the same as other Angels, it wouldn’t be so hard.

But he wasn’t. And it was.

One of the last moments they had was when Cas pulled out his fone and suggested they exchange numbers, “Just in case” he’d said. It read more as ‘I’ll miss you, please don’t disappear on me.’

Following suit, Sam pulled out his and typed his contact space as ‘Cass’. Castiel reached over his shoulder, again standing on a higher step and reverse linked their fingers so both palms were up, so he was now holding the device and pushed the delete button once, so it read ‘Cas’ instead.

“Does it matter?” Sam asked confused.

“Trust me, it matters,” with a fond smile, Cas quickly pecked Sam on his cheek.

Cas thankfully didn’t see when Sam gave Jack one of his downy feathers. “Our little secret okay?”

“Secret.” Jack nodded, smiling so brightly, Sam felt a pang in his heart. No matter what happened, he hope Jack would retain his innocence. It was Sam’s favourite thing about him. That and how he’d crawl into Sam’s lap, as Cas looked on.

“Take care, okay? Promise me.”

“I’ll try. Okay yes, yes I will take care,” Cas amended after Sam glared at him. “And..you too.”

“Sure.” — “Cas! Cas you here?!” Sam’s panicked voice carried easily up the stairs, where Cas was getting ready to use the shower. Strange. He didn’t recall hearing the door open with a ‘ping’, but something in Sam’s tone didn’t allow him dwell on.

“Sam? What is it?” Castiel rushed down the stairs, and Sam upon seeing him, looked like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders, but he wasn’t relaxing, not completely.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I tried. I tried every which way but—the storm maybe I’m not sure—they can’t find you, Cas! I can’t please—“ Sam’s frame shook. Cas had never seen him so undone and it scared him.

“Sam what are you talking about?”

“Mr. Sam?” Jack’s sweet voice called behind them and Sam turned, dropping to his feet fluidly, practically swallowed Jack in his arms.

“Jack..oh than-k you, you’re safe,”

“Sam?”

Sam’s shoulders tightened again and it hurt Cas to see him like this. Their parting had been bittersweet, and Cas had missed Sam’s warmth for the last couple weeks. Good Lord his dimples! Cas yearned to see them again.

Sam finally stood up and took a deep breadth. “I need you to close your eyes.” Seeing Cas about to ask why, he insisted, “Please. You trust me? Please, Cas.”

Feeling slightly foolish, Cas did as was requested, when he felt that familiar sensation of wind but not wind. Then he was being enveloped in a hug, comforting and warm and…safe. He’d thought he’d dreamt this up, but this feeling felt so good.

“Now open your eyes.”

Cas blinked once. Twice. Sam’s hands were by his side..then what was…Dark brown walls the same colour as Sam’s hair had materialized and wrapped around him like a cocoon.

“I’m an Angel, Cas. I know this must be hard to digest right now, and I understand if you…” Sam bit his lip in a nervous gesture. Not knowing what to say, Cas backed up only to feel a wall of feathers at his back. Despite looking like steel, it felt—

“Soft?” His eyes widened with shock and darted towards Jack. How he’d taken so easily to Sam, how he cuddled up like a puppy, how mesmerized he seemed early on.

“Soft!” Jack clapped happily that his dad finally got it.

“He’s been able to see them this entire time?!” Sam nodded solemnly.

“I know he’s not like…everyone else. He..he knows when people are coming even before they’re on our street. He knows if something terrible is going to happen and prevents me from going out of the house. He brought rain when there was a drought—“

Something must have tipped Sam off to reply “—excessively. But the flood happened in California?”

“He was watching TV, Sam.” Cas felt a brush against his cheek. Unknowingly, he’d moved his head to rest on them, feather’s tickling his cheek. “So. He is..”

“He is not dangerous, he is in danger, Cas. So are you. I’m going to try to fight them off, but first this is going to sting,” Sam put each of his large hands on Cas and Jack’s chest and Cas felt a surge of energy pass through him. “I’ve carved sigils on your ribcage that prevent Angels from tracking you. “That should give us some time.”

This was all too much for Cas. Sam wasn’t human, he had wings—beautifully majestic wings he could appreciate later—but what they were being hunted? Why? In his confusion his tone took a sharper edge.

“Some time for what? Because I’m not leaving, Sam. This is my home.”

“It will be temporary, I promise.”

“Temporary for how long? My mom always told me it was temporary that we stayed in motels in a new town. She would promise a house, a mailbox, a permanent school. I never got that house Sam—I was relocated to another town, another motel, another “temporary”. So I ask you again. How long? And if the answer is ‘I don’t know’, then Jack and I are staying put.

“If my son is wanted by the supernatural, it means he’s powerful. If they feel threatened, he’s really powerful. We can stay. You can stay.” Cas prayed Sam knew what what he really meant.

“If I stay, I’d fall. I’d lose my wings, I’d be human..” Sam’s voice went quiet.

“Would being human really be so bad?” The words were out of his mouth before he could consider them. Cas dropped his eyes to his feet, feeling vulnerable. He hadn’t opened himself to another in a really long time. He was being selfish; he was being a hypocrite.

“I’m sorry. No, no you’re right,“ he swallowed the lump in his throat. “You should go. If th-that’s what is best for you, I und—“

“I love you too, Cas. And I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Cas felt weightless at the confession and tugged Sam to him, kissing him slowly, softly. Lovingly.

“No mistletoe?” said a small confused voice and it caused both Cas and his angel to smile into the kiss. — In the end things were pretty anticlimactic. The door was busted off its hinges as five Angels streamed through, Dean leading them.

Sam stood at the front, Cas on his left holding an Angel blade and Jack on his right, looking completely uninterested as he sat on the floor playing with plastic dinosaurs.

“I don’t want to fight you brother,” Sam said, looking solely at Dean, wings spread. “But I will, if I must.”

Dean glanced towards the human with an Angel’s name, looking unfazed at the appearance of Sam’s wings, or that Sam was shielding him from them. Narrowing his eyes, Dean realized Castiel’s eyes were the same colour as the new streaks on Sam’s wings. There was only one explanation for the change.

Dammit Sam! This was the worst ‘man walks in the bar’ joke. Except it wasn’t a joke. It was his brother in love.

He took his first good look at the Nephilim in question. It was looking right back, the delight plain in his eyes as it squealed, “Mo’ wings!” It was..it was a child. Part child anyways but Dean couldn’t sense any maliciousness coming from it.

There was no way Dean was going to take it away from its family now.

Just for the sake of reporting an interrogation, Dean said, “He caused a severe snowstorm that hit seven other states. That level of damage is hard to explain in places not known for snow!”

“Mr. Sam was leaving. Dad sad. Then Dad happy. Then Dad very happy!”

“Jack!” both Sam and Cas reprimanded him, blushing furiously. Dean smirked inwardly, okay this just got entertaining. He decided he liked the kid.

“The flood?”

“There was a drought,” Castiel added, despite Sam advising him to leave the talking to the Angels.

“And the hurricane in Africa?”

Sam frowned as did Cas, “I don’t know that one…”

“The lions wanted to eat the baby elephant. Elephants are nice. Lions were not nice.” Jack frowned disapprovingly.

“So he relocated the pack…that is kind of adorable,” said an Angel behind Dean.

To which another muttered, “I’m not arresting Sam’s son. Might relocate me too..” There were multiple muttered agreements. Cas looked over at Sam, who seemed as confused as he felt.

“Okay one last question,” Dean said, and all eyes snapped to him. “When’s the wedding?”

“DEAN!” —

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