#‘that was different! she bent my fingers back and it really hurt so i bit her so she’d let go of my hand!’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thenextdawn-temporarilyclosed · 2 years

Text

One of Your Kind (Ch. 5)

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10

Word count: 5.2K

Summary: Jenna is getting very flirty with you and you notice that on several occasions, only you try to ignore everything until your friends decided to set something up…

Warnings: maybe a little bit of angst? Otherwise nothing really

Pairing: Jenna Ortega X Fem!Reader

———

November 2021

A couple weeks passed since your fight with Tim, but you didn’t want to see it like that. You wanted to see it as two weeks passed since you opened up with Jenna, since she slept in your bed as you both cuddled, that’s how you wanted to see it. Jenna had made it her personal goal to make you feel better, to make you trust people again and to just… be happy. She wanted to see you happy, she wanted to spend time with you. It started off small: at the start she would come in your trailer or you would go in hers, you’d play games or talk about anything or even watch movies together, actively avoiding horror movies as she knew you didn’t like them, you were more into fantasy and sci-fi and she took a liking to those genres too, and it often happened that you’d fall asleep in her bed, snuggled up to her. Even if she was the one in your trailer, you both snuggled up to each other and you’d always fall asleep first.

You never knew that Jenna purposely stayed awake longer to just watch you sleep and play with your hair, sometimes even tracing your skin with her fingers - she was glad you always slept soundly. You looked so relaxed whenever she was around and she noticed that, your face muscles were always tense at work, unlike how they are when you’re around her. You looked peaceful around her and she loved that. She loved how you felt safe whenever you were in her proximity. But you were too innocent, too innocent to realize that she was looking at you differently, too innocent to realized that maybe - just maybe - Jenna had feelings for you. However, you were still, just best friends.

You were indeed happier thanks to her but you had no doubts about that. You had been trying to reach out to her for a year and now that you spent the majority of your time with her, you were happy. You were slowly feeling better and starting to open up to people again, though only Jenna knew your actual experiences, only she knew how you truly felt and she was glad she did, because she was there whenever you had those small break downs, she was there when you were scared to lose your job. Slowly but surely you started hanging out with everyone else again. They had questions but you dodged them thanks to Jenna’s help, she always wanted to protect you and you couldn’t be more grateful to have met her and even though you were quiet at first, soon enough you were really good friends with them: you were back at laughing, back at joking. You were the girl you used to be when you first met Jenna and you barely knew any english.

Once again, it was thanks to Jenna’s help that you went back at work. You talked with Tim and you both apologized to each other and as a director under his teachings you were becoming as precise and as meticulous as he was, which is why most of the times he gave you the job of combing Jenna’s bangs. He was so obsessed with it, he needed each strand of hair to be in a particular place and he trusted you to just know what was gonna work for the episode and this morning that’s exactly what you were doing. As Jenna was sitting in a chair after getting her hair braided you were trying to find the right position to comb her bangs. If you knelt down she was too up high, if you stood up she was too low, if you bent down your back hurt… however you were trying to do your best.

“Wouldn’t it be best if you sat on my legs? I can see you’re having a hard time” Jenna said, and you gulped nervously as you tried to hide it with a giggle. “Nah don’t worry I can still work with this” you said and she scoffed. “Oh come on! We’ve known each other long enough. Plus you’ll get a better view and a more comfortable angle to work from” you eventually gave in and sat on her legs straddling her, you were nervous and she sensed that, but why were you nervous? You were doing your job, and she was your friend. Right?. Jenna’s hands found their place on your thigh which only incremented your nervousness, a pink shade appeared on your cheeks but she ignored it. Ha! She made you nervous. she could basically hear your fast heartbeat and As much as she enjoyed that, she also needed to calm you down and she did so by moving her head repeatedly and messing up your work, causing you to laugh at the faces she made as you definitely did calm down “stop it! Come in I need to get this done” you laughed and she did too, but she continued on moving her head from side to side, making it impossible for you to get the job done but you didn’t care, you were having fun.

That was until you noticed it was getting late and Jenna soon needed to be on set. Without thinking of it you very gently grabbed her chin, making her stop her movements as she looked at you and you did the same, her eyes moving from your eyes to your lip and for a brief second you did the same. Silence filled the room for a while, your hand stil having a hold of her chin as you looked at each other, slowly leaning closer to her until the door was opened and Emma stormed in. You quickly stood up and off of her as Jenna removed her hands from your thighs only to place them in her own lap. “Hey Jen you need to-“ Emma stopped talking when she saw you get off of Jenna, having briefly seen that you were sitting in her lap. “Did I interrupt something?” Your reply came quicker than expected “no not at all” you said laughing nervously. “Hmmm. Okay. Jen you’re needed on set” Emma said before leaving the room and you sighed of relief before turning back to Jenna, none of you saying anything for a while as you went back to work on her bangs, this time standing up. Only after a couple minutes you noticed Jenna smiling slightly at you.

“Why are you smiling?” You asked her and she slightly shook her head as to not ruin your work. “Nothing, you just look cute, all focused on me” you blushed brighter than earlier, this time trying to hide the smile. Oh god, was she flirting? Yes, she was flirting and you were falling straight into her trap. “Come on let’s get you on set” you said, avoiding her attempt at flirting but Jenna smiled anyway, she was the reason you were nervous, - a happy kind of nervous indeed - and she was going to take advantage of it. Of course Tim was more than happy with the way you combed her bangs, if only he knew how long it took you to make it this right.

You and Jenna never talked about what would have happened if Emma hadn’t come in the room and you were still acting the same way with each other, she was as flirty as ever, but you’d often take it as a joke. You didn’t think she liked you, maybe she didn’t and you were there deluding yourself of what could be if she did like you, would you a be a happy couple? Would she want to make it public? And would she hurt you? This is what you were mostly scared of. You were scared of betrayal, you were scared of being abandoned again. Maybe this is also why you never replied to her attempts at flirting. However, Thanksgiving was soon, very soon. In Italy there’s no such thing and you had never celebrated it in America either so this would be very, very new for you. Everyone was making such a big deal out of it and you didn’t know why, it was just a lunch with a turkey in the middle of the table… right?

They were going to celebrate it on set too, and of course you were invited too. In some ways it reminded you of the huge Christmas dinner with the whole family everyone has in Italy. You missed your home country in some ways, but not because of your family. No, you hated them. However, when the day came you were all having lunch on set, you had a restaurant prepare you all the food and take it on set so you didn’t have to move to go to a restaurant and of course, you were late. The night before you had gone to bed late because you were watching a movie and you forgot to set your alarm so you had to prepare in less than five minutes and head to the lunch. When you arrived, everyone had already arrived “I’m sorry for being late” you said and caught your breath, you had ran there. “Over here!” You turned to where Jenna was calling you from. “I saved you a seat next to me”

It was a pretty normal lunch, you were sitting next to Jenna and you were both amongst the rest of the cast. You were the youngest amongst the recording crew so most of the free time you had you spent it with the cast. As much time as it took you, you enjoyed their presence and they enjoyed yours. Once again, or maybe we should say like always, Jenna was flirting with you. “Girls you would make a really cute couple, you know that right?” Emma said. You were really good friends with her too, so she could afford the confidence she had with you, but her comment made you blush. “W-What? No we’re just really good friends.” You said as you drank a sip of your water, trying not to choke at Emma’s next comment. “Yeah mhm. You’re always in each other’s trailers and you know what I always say about couples? “And they were roommates” which you are basically and I’m never wrong” you sunk in your chair after having almost chocked, and you failed to notice the blush that had settled on Jenna’s cheeks too.

It was a really nice lunch and you ate A LOT. But after the lunch, like all the time Jenna invited you to her trailer. Recently you’d help her revise her lines, so you thought that this is what you two were going to do today as well. “God my back hurts a lot” Jenna said, grunting slightly as she bent to put her purse down. “Is it because of the stunts?” You asked her, and she nodded, sitting on her bed “we told you to get a stunt double… you’re not used to all this, you should have expected to get back pains” you said, still standing awkwardly in her trailer as you heard her chuckle “you sound like my mom” that made you laugh and shake your head. “Do you need a back massage? I’m pretty good at that” Jenna looked at you with pleading eyes and you smiled, taking your jacket off having understood what she wanted “take off your shirt and lay down on hour stomach” you turned around as she did so, and when she said she was ready you walked over to her, climbing on the bed and straddling her lower back.

As soon as you started massaging her you felt how tense her muscles were, and you heard her grunt of pain first, which turned to relief. You started from her lower back where her ditches of venus were. “This feels amazing…” she nearly whispered, she had her eyes closed and a small smile on her face, her head resting on her arms. The more you went up the more she relaxed and you had to move her long hair out of the way. At some point though she reached her hand back to unhook her bra, and you could say you panicked. “W-what are you doing?” Jenna could feel you had gotten tense. “Relax… I just unhooked my bra. I’m just giving you some more space” she said, “I’m not stripping off, we’re not there… yet.” As she giggled after her own comment, you gulped nervously and resumed with your massages. To say you wanted to bend down and kiss her bare skin was an understatement, and you really refrained from doing so.

The rest of the massage you were both quiet, and only when you were finished did you notice that Jenna had fallen asleep. You smiled and gently climbed off of her, hooking her bra again very gently, as you looked at her. She had been filming a lot recently and she looked exhausted. The freckles on her nose and cheeks even more visible when she wasn’t wearing make up, and you moved a strand of hair behind her eat to give her a better look, god was she stunning. You hesitantly leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, only to see her smile slightly, making you smile as well. “Sleep well Jen” you whispered and pulled the covers on top of her before going back to your own trailer.

December 2021

Christmas was near and you couldn’t wait to spend it with your friends. These past years you didn’t like Christmas but this year you were really excited, you knew it was hugely celebrated in America and even if now you were in Romania and they didn’t celebrate it like you guys do, you had ordered a Christmas tree from Amazon as well as some Christmas decorations to put up in your trailer and around set. In Italy it’s a tradition to put up Christmas decorations on the 8th of December and you were going to do the same thing here and you couldn’t be happier. You woke up earlier than everyone else, so that when they woke up they would see what you did. Useless to say that the cast was very happy with what they saw, you could see all their jaws drop. However, the “grownups” weren’t as happy.

“You need to get this stuff off of everything” director of the cameras said, and you pouted “oh come on! It’s Christmas” you said and he only scoffed “make everything disappear within ten minutes” he insisted “but-“ “now, (Y/N). We need to start filming” you sighed “gee, the grinch has a better Christmas spirit than you” you said, and without looking at the cast you climbed on the ladder to start with the higher up things, only… the ladder wasn’t as stable as you thought and you lost your balance, taking a really bad fall as your head hit the ground, though luckily you didn’t pass out “(Y/N)!” You heard someone yell, and by the time you sat up you saw everyone around you look worried. Well at least you thought so. Your vision was blurred, you saw double and even your hearing was confused: everyone was speaking and asking you questions but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. “Guys I don’t- I don’t understand what you’re asking me” you said and rubbed your head where you hit it, you were loosing some blood but it wasn’t much.

“What happened?” You asked as you tried to stand up. “No no no don’t stand up” Jenna said but you couldn’t understand any of it. However she was late, because you had already stood up but you lost your balance again. Luckily people were around you and made you sit back down. “Guys I’m fine” you kept saying, their voices sounded all mixed together and you couldn’t make out their faces, but you were sure Jenna was there. “How many fingers do you see?” Jenna said, holding out two fingers. hers was the only voice you understood. “Uh five? I don’t know” you said as you held your head and grunted. The next thing you knew you were in an ambulance, being taken to the hospital with Jenna coming with you. The whole situation was all a distant memory and you barely remembered it had happened when you got back from your trance state. “Ouch that hurts-“ you said as you felt the pain in the back of your head, it was bandaged and you had a couple stitches.

Only a few seconds later you realized you were at the hospital, and Jenna was there. Wait, wasn’t Jenna supposed to be filming? “What happened?” You asked as you sat up, looking at Jenna. She looked extremely worried, leg moving up and down at a speed as she fiddled with her own fingers. She was still in her Wednesday clothes for set. “You fell and hit your head,” Jenna started. “You scared us, (Y/N). You couldn’t stand up straight, you didn’t understand what we were saying, your vision was confused, I was scared” well, you had no recognition of all of this, you blinked twice and Jenna looked at you with glossy eyes as if you were seriously injured “it’s alright Jen, I’m okay now” you tried to reassure her and she nodded “I know… you just scared me big time” you looked at her again “want a hug?” You said with a smile, opening your arms for her. She seemed hesitant at first, but before any tears could leave her eyes she moved in your arms and a shaky breath escaped her lips as you held her tight. “I’m okay”

You left the hospital that same afternoon as you were better, and as you got back to the trailers you remembered why you had took that fall. You were asked to take the Christmas decorations off, and because of that all your happiness for Christmas vanished. “Are you gonna come to Percy’s trailer to play some Uno?” Jenna asked you with a smile, which you gave in return, only a smaller one. “I think I’ll go back to my trailer. In italy we put up the Christmas tree today and I want to do it. Those idiots already ruined the Christmas atmosphere, I at least want to have a Christmas tree in my trailer, you know?” Jenna looked at you with a small smile and a look of admiration, maybe even love- no definitely not love but it was different than any other time. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You giggled “I know it’s childish but it’s important to me” you said and waited for an answer “no it’s not childish at all, I admire that,” there it was, admiration. “Tell you what, I’ll come help you later tonight, okay?” She said. The thought of that made you happy, and you smiled brightly “see you later then!”

You definitely had your hopes up because she did not show up. You had left a few Christmas decoration for her to put on the tree including the star that goes on top, but she didn’t come and she didn’t even send you a text warning you, and to say you were a little bit sad was enough, though you didn’t blame her, she was probably really tired… but at least you expected a text. You had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for her only for her to not show up. That day you didn’t talk to her the whole day even if she had tried multiple times to apologize. “(Y/N) I’m sorry okay?” She said for the thousand time, following you back to your trailer “will you listen to me!?” She said and you finally turned to look at her, leaving her speechless for a short moment. “I’m sorry. It was late, I was tired. I didn’t even know what time it was and when I noticed, I had to go to sleep because my alarm would have rang two hours later. You get that right?” You sighed and nodded, looking down “I do get that, I don’t blame you for that. It’s just that I was waiting for you, I had left you a few decorations to put up and you didn’t show up, you didn’t even send a text… I’m just sad, that’s it” you said and shrugged

She apologized again and you replied with “it’s okay, I put them up this morning so the it’s fully decorated now” You saw her nod after that, and then move her eyes to the ground. Now she felt guilty. It was only a week later when you found yourself in a very, very awkward situation with Jenna. Emma and the others had been confabulating something and you knew it, they were looking at you and you would give them confused glares, and you didn’t know that but they were looking at Jenna, too. Were they maybe trying to set you up on a date with her? “Hey (Y/N), can you come here real quick?” Emma called for you, and you were anxious of what was waiting for you. “STOP!” You stopped dead in your tracks. “Stay there, don’t move” she said and then proceeded to call Jenna too. “What’s the meaning of this?” You said, only for your voice to be cut off by Emma’s voice calling for Jenna, and she walked over to where you were and stopped next to you. “Perfect!” Emma said, almost jumping of excitement. “Now look up” you gave her a glare before looking up.

Mistletoe.

Oh no you thought, this is bad. This is way worst than what you had anticipated, this was worst than a set up date, you had expected anything but some mistletoe, now you had to straight up kiss her. “You can’t be serious right now” you brought a hand up to your face, perhaps to hide the blush that had made its way in your cheeks and neck, you didn’t dare to look at Jenna, but she was looking down shyly too, bangs covering her eyes as she tried to suppress her smile, until you had what you thought was a brilliant idea. You stepped away from under the mistletoe, just one step. “Well I’m not under the mistletoe now so we can’t…-“ you were quickly interrupted when Jenna grabbed your arm, to prevent you from moving any further away from her as she pulled you in close, arms linked around your waist as yours automatically found place on her shoulders “… kiss…” you whispered, now that both your faces were inches away from each other.

You could feel her hesitant hot breath against your own lips that were parted ever so slightly, her eyes moving very quickly from your right eye, your left one and then your lips, creating some sort of triangle shape. Now that you were this close you felt your breath falter, heart hammering against your chest and you were so scared that it was going to come out of it if you didn’t calm down, however how could you? How could you calm down when Jenna was looking at you with nothing but love in her eyes? Her arms tightened their grip around your waist to bring you closer to her and only then you thought, oh how ethereal she looks. She looks like an angel, a goddess and any kind of positive affirmation you could come up with. “J-Jen…” you whispered nervously, you were really tense in her arms but she wasted no time in taking care of that when she leaned in to place her soft lips on yours. The beating of your heart only increases as you finally relaxed and gave in to the almost foreign feeling, everything else became background noises, eyes closing and your hand hesitantly moved from Jenna’s shoulder to her neck and then cheek reciprocating the kiss that felt so intense, yet so soft, and both foreign and familiar at the same time. You have no idea how long she has been wanting to do this for, and she hummed against your lips at the realization that this was finally happening. You could feel her smile against your lips and at some point you even moved forward for more.

Though when you pulled back from each other, as you saw her smile you felt… you felt scared. Scared that whatever happened with your ex could happen again. Scared she was going to hurt you, abandon you, talk bullshit about you and you didn’t want that, you couldn’t have that. If it happened again you would fall back into that depression Jenna found you in when you met again here in Romania, and in that case she would be the one that got you both out and back in it. You wanted her, you really wanted her. That’s what your heart kept telling you but your head wanted otherwise. This time you decided to follow your head, even if you knew that this would probably be the worst decision of your life. “I’m sorry I- I have to go” you said and pulled away from her embrace as you used the back of your sleeve to wipe the single tear that had rolled down your cheek “(Y/N) wait-“ Jenna called but you completely ignored her and ran to your trailer.

You considered yourself lucky, because the next day everyone would be flying back home to spend Christmas with their families and you really, really didn’t want to talk with Jenna, you were too scared. However that day she sent you lots of texts and called you multiple times, but you never replied to any of them. You even closed your trailer windows so she couldn’t come look inside and you had locked your door, but that didn’t prevent Jenna to come try and talk to you, and that’s exactly what she did. “(Y/N) why are you ignoring my calls?” She called softly, she sounded worried, but you were too scared to face her right now. “Look I don’t know what happened after that kiss that made you want to run away but really, I’m sorry and I want to help, please let me help” she begged and for a short moment you felt a soft noise, Jenna had laid her head against the door “I don’t want it to ruin anything. If you want we can forget it ever happened, what do you think?” No, you didn’t want to forget it, you wanted to do it again but you couldn’t. Oh how you wanted to just hold her and kiss her… however you said nothing. “Please…” it sounded more like a cry coming from her and once again you didn’t reply, and soon enough you heard her sigh and then walk away.

That same night, Jenna came again at your door, and you recognized that it was her just from the knocks, three like usual. “I bought you some food, it’ll be out here in a bag if you want it… there are also some plane tickets inside… if you ever want to come spend it with me and my family, I don’t want you to be alone here for Christmas so if you’re coming just text me okay? I lo-“ she stopped mid sentence. Please don’t say it, please don’t say it… “I’ll miss you for these two weeks” you sighed of relief. You did want to hear those words coming from her but on the other hand you knew that if you heard them, you would fall at her knees.

You didn’t have to hear those words.

On December 30 at midnight you took your first flight that would take you to Los Angeles. You had calculated how much it would take you to get there and if the flights were on time you would arrive at her house at 7.30 pm of December 31. You didn’t text her, deciding to make this a surprise… you had given up, you ended up following your heart as always. This time it felt different, Jenna was different. You knew she was the one and you couldn’t lose her.

Your second flight was late and you were freaking out. You needed to get to LA, get a bouquet of roses and get to her house in less than two hours or you wouldn’t make it to her house before midnight stroke, so for the first time in your life you decided to use your “famous person” privilege and get a private Jet, which was faster and comfier and at 11.50 pm you were in front of her door, the beautiful bouquet in your arms. There was music in the house, you knew she wouldn’t hear the bell ring, so you called her on the phone. “(Y/N)? How are you?” She asked, and you avoided her question “I’m here, open the door” Jenna went quiet, confusion all over your her face and her relatives questioned what it was about. “What do you mean?” “The door, dumbass” you giggled “I’m in front of your house and it’s freezing, just let me in” within seconds Jenna hung up the call and rushed to the door to open it.

As soon as she saw you, she gave you a bright smile and a confused look, then she saw the flowers, which you handed to her. “What’s the meaning of… this?” She said, gesturing to the flowers. “I didn’t like how our last talk ended… but it was my fault” you were definitely nervous but for now Jenna decided not to question that. “I wanted to end the year on a good note… and start the new year in an even better one” you said and took a step closer to her, she didn’t know what to say, she was just glad you were here.. and she definitely wasn’t expecting what was going to come next, because you pulled her in from her waist, (roles reversed from the first time you kissed) and a couple seconds before midnight stroke, you pulled her in for another kiss. This time it felt even better than the first one you had shared. In some ways it felt desperate, it even felt relaxed and soft. As one hand of yours stayed on her waist, the other one went to cup her cheek, caressing it with your thumb as fireworks started exploding around you, both literally and figuratively. The new year had just started and people were celebrating it with their loved ones and for the first time, you were doing the same.

You smiled in the kiss and when you both pulled back - still being only inches away from each other - you continued cupping her cheek, looking at her with love and lust in your eyes as you saw the colors of the fireworks reflect on her skin, and she looked at you the same way you looked at her.

“Happy new year, (Y/N)”

“Happy new year Jen”

A/N: WOAH this was definitely a rollercoaster of emotions, this was definitely my longest chapter posted and It’s probably the best chapter I’ve written so far 😭😭

Tags: @idkjustliving2 @tundra1029 @engenelxver @rainbow-love4ever @gimaximoff @smromanoff @wol-fica @lum13 @eviekensington @i984

#Jenna #Ortega #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x r #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesday #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday adams #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader

450 notes · View notes

headkiss · 2 years

Note

Hello I hope you're doing well! I was wondering if you could maybe do an eddie x reader where reader doesn't want kids n thinks eddie does but eddie comforts and reassures her n stuff? Thank you so so much!! 🖤🖤🖤

hiii tysm for requesting! | 0.6k fluff and sort of hurt/comfort

You’re at the grocery store with Eddie. A mundane activity made ten times better because you get to be with your boyfriend. Something about grocery shopping with a partner is almost romantic. Personal.

Eddie’s debating between pasta shapes while you guard the cart, elbows bent and resting on the handle. His hair is frizzy from the wind, his shirt a bit wrinkly. He looks perfect.

You’re brought out of your boyfriend-admiring haze by a tug on your pant leg. A little girl stares up at you when you look down.

“Are you lost?”

She nods, her eyes watery. You loosely take her hand, reassuring her that you’ll find her family easily. It’s a small grocery store, so it’s hard to miss a nervous mother yelling for her child.

It’s a quick and easy reunion, a thank you from her mother and you’re turning away.

Eddie was at the end of the pasta aisle, not too far from your cart but positioned so he could see you. Your kindness is something he admires, and that’s no different here. He loves everything you do, but seeing you be such a good person never fails to make his heart squeeze.

When you return to him, he says, “you’re good with kids.”

“Really?” You don’t hide your surprise very well.

“Yeah, really. Got that parental instinct, maybe.”

Though he says it lightly, an offhand comment, it’s enough to get you thinking. You’ve talked about almost everything with Eddie. One thing you haven’t discussed is kids. You’re still young, you have time for that, but he’s your forever and you’re starting to worry you can’t give him the life he wants.

You don’t want kids, not now, and most likely not ever. What happens if he does?

You’re quiet for the rest of the shopping trip, short replies and a dimmed smile. Eddie notices and he wonders what could've brought you down so quickly. Usually, you love grocery shopping.

He doesn’t bring it up at first. No, he wants to give it time, to see if you might just have gotten tired or in a bad mood. Nothing’s wrong with that, so he pushes it off and hopes you’ll talk to him if you need to.

He doesn’t bring it up until that night, in his bed, backs against his headboard, your head on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“What? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been quiet since the grocery store. Just wanted to know if something happened.”

You know you need to talk about it sooner or later, and he’s giving you an opening, one you know is safe. You trust him, you’re just terrified you’ll lose him after this.

“Well, I guess there’s something I should tell you.”

“You can say anything to me,” he reaches for your hand, intertwines your fingers.

“I don’t want to have kids.”

You say it as quickly as possible. Ripping of the bandaid.

“What was that, honey?”

“I- uh. I don’t want to have kids.”

This time, he understands.

“That’s why you’ve been down?”

“I just don’t want you to be stuck with me if you want them.”

Eddie’s heart pinches. Stuck with you? If anything, you’re the one stuck with him. He hates that you’d ever think a life with you wouldn't be enough for him. It’s more than that, it’s everything.

“Honey. Any future with you is the one I want, okay?” He squeezes your hand, shifts so that you can see each other while he talks. “That’s your choice, and I’m the luckiest guy alive to have you in the first place.”

Eddie Munson. The perfect juxtaposition. All dark, ripped denim and chains on the outside, the brightest, sweetest boy on the inside.

You wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him close, blankets tangled between you. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life than I am about you, got it?”

You squeeze him tighter, trying not to cry over how good he is.

404 notes · View notes

writethrough · 2 years

Note

Hello!! Could I request a Morpheus/powered reader? Powered like witch, elemental magick, whatever floats your boat! Action with fluff and camaraderie? Romantic or platonic is up to you! I love your fics!!

To Dream of Magic

(Morpheus x Female Reader)

Warnings: Minor injuries, mention of death, Matthew gets a little love interest

Word Count: 2377

A/N: Okay, so I love anything that has to do with witches, so the fact that you requested this was like the best cup of tea! I actually had this idea for a bit, and then you submitted this so it gave me the motivation to finish it!

I consider this a part one. But in the sense that if someone wants more Witch!Reader, this will be the character they get. I'm really excited to dive into this world/relationship. And once my requests are open again, I'd be happy to hear any ideas anyone has.

The residents of Thelma’s Grove were an eclectic bunch. A small community tucked just outside the city—modest homes perched along the street that led back to the highway. It was the type of place you didn’t know was there until you were in it.

That suited the residents fine. The hustle of the city and its traffic and crowds was what led everyone to Thelma’s Grove. It provided serenity, privacy, and above all, secrecy.

They were an eclectic lot indeed—beekeepers, a preschool teacher, a few single parents, and their children. But the woman who lived in the little white house with the sage-colored door was the most secretive.

You were kind—incredibly so—a wonderful neighbor. Everyone in Thelma’s Grove knew one another from where they were before to what they did, so when you arrived with your trunks, plants, and a lovebird, the street was abuzz.

They suspected something was different about you when you told one of your neighbors to take his dog to the vet. He had given you a funny look at first, but you made up an excuse, saying your friend's dog had similar symptoms. A day later, he was at your front door thanking you.

It grew from there. Your neighbors trusted your “instincts” more—that’s what they called them anyway. If someone had trouble with headaches, sleeping, anxiety—you name it—you’d give them a concoction of your making.

It wasn’t until the woman across the road broke her leg that the word “witch” attached itself to you.

You had thought you heard a scream. When the man who lived beside her looked up from his weeding, you knew it was real.

You rushed to her door, unlocking it with a flick of your wrist, and found her at the bottom of her stairs.

Her leg was bent at an odd angle as she lay on the floor, sobbing.

“It’s alright. I’m going to help you,” you said.

Searching around, you grabbed the hand towel hanging from the oven, folded it, and held it to her mouth.

“You need to bite down on this.”

She did as you said, too in pain to register what you were saying or doing.

You moved to her feet, kneeling above her.

“This will hurt, but you’ll be fine once I’m done.”

You didn’t hesitate as you grasped her behind her knee and ankle, straightening it. The scream she let out was muffled by the towel, but you didn’t let it phase you as you aligned her leg.

You muttered to yourself, a language lost in time. Beneath your fingers, the muscles and tissue reconnected. And your neighbor's cries slowly ebbed.

You shifted to sit and pulled the towel from her mouth.

“How does it feel now?” you asked, wiping the tears from her face.

She sniffled and looked at you with a mixture of wonder and confusion.

“Better,” she whispered, hoarse.

You gave her a small smile. “Good.”

You later found out the man had witnessed the whole thing. And between him and her, they had told the entire community what you did.

It all made sense after that. Your “instincts” were really magic. You knew the dog was sick because you spoke to her. Your concoctions were healing potions. And that little bird of yours was your familiar.

Yes, Thelma’s Grove was full of an eclectic bunch, indeed.

—

You were tending to your greenhouse in the backyard. It wasn’t much, no bigger than a shed, but it held life in every square inch. Planters lined the three walls with large terracotta pots on the floor below and other plants hanging from above.

You had finished watering the elderberry tree when Hope flew in.

“Come quickly! Someone needs you,” she said, zipping away when you started to follow.

The cries hit you before you saw who made them.

Hope landed beside a raven whose wing was unfurled and lay limp in the grass.

“It’s alright now. She will heal you,” Hope reassured.

You kneeled slowly, hands raised, so you didn’t startle the poor creature.

“Let me see,” you said, cupping the wing from underneath.

The bird yelped.

“I know,” you hushed. “I know.”

You rested your other hand over the wing, the lost language passing through your lips until the limb was healed.

The bird hiccupped but tentatively moved to test if the pain was gone.

When no zap occurred, the bird hopped closer and bowed its head.

“Thank you! Thank you!” he cried.

“There’s no need for that. I’m just happy you’re okay,” you said.

“I’m more than okay! You fixed my wing!”

You giggled. “What’s your name?”

“Matthew, my lady.” He bowed again.

You shook your head and told him your name and Hope’s. “No need for that. Why don’t you come in and rest?” You held out your finger, and he hopped on.

Hope flew in before you and perched on the back of a barstool as you set Matthew down on the counter.

“So, what exactly happened?” you asked.

He looked down as if embarrassed. “I was running an errand. And…may have gotten distracted.”

Your brow furrowed. “Distracted?”

Only when you caught his tiny eyes glancing at Hope did you understand.

You hummed. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. As long as you’re alright now.”

“I am!” He jumped at the subject change. “Never better.”

“Good.” You nodded. Then after considering what he said, you asked, “Who were you running an errand for?”

You knew most, if not all, of the witches in the area. You couldn’t remember any of them having a raven as a familiar. And even if one did, it wouldn’t explain the odd sensation this bird carried. Like…well, it reminded you of the lost language—ancient and powerful.

“The King of Dreams,” he said.

Your eyes narrowed in confusion. The King of Dreams? As in, not a witch?

Matthew shifted from foot to foot, getting the sense this was news to you.

“Are you…Are you not a goddess or something?” he asked.

You pulled back in surprise. “No. No, I’m definitely not.”

“Oh.” He dragged out, coming to a realization. “So, what are you?”

“A witch,” you said blankly, glancing at Hope, whose head was tilted. At least she was just as lost as you.

“Wait. Witches are real?” he asked.

“And apparently, so are gods,” you breathed, laughing in disbelief.

Yes, you were a witch. And yes, you thought of your gifts from the goddesses Hecate and Circe, but to have confirmation that the God of Dreams was real? It was almost too much.

You shook your head slightly to clear it.

“Morpheus is a little more than a god, per se,” Matthew said. “It’s…It’s kinda complicated. And thinking about it gives me a headache.”

You waved a hand. “We’ll save it for a rainy day then.”

��

Matthew had stayed a few more hours, asking questions about your powers and nearly preening when Hope wanted to know more about him.

You were exhausted by the time you crawled into bed. And sleep took you quickly.

The man before you wasn’t familiar. His porcelain complexion and onyx hair contrasted sharply but in an entirely transfixing way. He seemed larger than he was, possessing this energy that encompassed everything around him.

This feeling wasn’t new. You experienced it before…

The raven. Matthew.

This was Morpheus.

“You know me,” Morpheus spoke first, deep and honey-rich.

It was less a statement and more a question, making sure you knew who stood before you.

“Yes,” you said.

A breeze rustled the grass, and the distinct smell of citrus floated upward, but you couldn’t place where it came from. There were no orange trees here.

“It’s in the field,” he said. “I thought it would make you comfortable.”

You smiled at the images it conjured.

Hours upon hours of running through your grandmother’s orange grove. She was the one who first taught you about your heritage. Her skills had laid in plants. She knew everything there was to know. No one could brew a potion like her or heal an ailment quicker. You were happy she saw some talent in you.

“How is Matthew?” You looked back to him, coming out of your memories.

“As if nothing happened.” Morpheus had gotten closer. Or the stretch of green between you had shortened. You supposed it didn’t matter.

“Good,” you breathed, reaching to play with your pendant.

“I wanted to thank you for your aid,” he said.

You shook your head. “That’s not necessary. I’m just happy he’s alright.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up, but it was gone so fast you thought you imagined it.

“He’s spoken quite fondly of you.” He turned to the side, hands in his pockets, and you knew he wanted to walk with you. “And your familiar.”

“Hope,” you said, biting your lip at how Matthew had acted around the lovebird. “I think he has a little crush.”

“I think he’s fallen in love.”

You looked up, surprised at the slight tease in his tone. You never expected someone of his position to joke so readily. Then again, you hadn’t met anyone of his caliber before.

He led you to a pond with water so clear you could see the fish below. A dolphin-sized koi fish swam with half-fish half-cat creatures and so many others you weren’t sure how they all fit.

Morpheus sat on a bench, waiting for you to do the same.

“You are different from the witches I’ve encountered,” he said, regarding you with curiosity.

“How so?”

“You are kind.”

He said it as if it were foreign. Like he hadn’t seen kindness in eons. And, maybe, he’d seen so much that all of the bad had clouded the good.

You opened your mouth, unsure how to respond, then began slowly. “My grandmother used to tell me, ‘Do not put into the world what you do not wish back.’ She said it was the only lesson she wanted me to master.”

“Your grandmother was wise.”

“Yeah, she was.” You smiled softly, watching as willow trees dipped their leaves into the pond. “Is it always this peaceful?”

He stared ahead as if seeing something other than what was in front of him.

“It hadn’t been for some time,” he said. “All is well now.”

You hummed in thought. “‘The only thing that is eternal is hope.’ Another thing she used to say.”

“Is that the origin of your familiar’s name?” His eyes were soft, an endless galaxy on a warm summer’s night.

“She came to me the day my grandmother passed. I thought it was fitting.” You shrugged.

Everyone who had known your grandmother attended her celebration of life—family members, friends, patients—it made you cry harder knowing she was so loved.

You had walked away from the group for a moment to yourself—for a moment of grief and remembrance—when this beautiful little bird landed in your path.

She gazed at you with an intelligence unlike the animals you often healed, and you felt the connection bridge between you and her. And the name came to you when the last piece fell into place. Your utterance of “Hope” solidified your bond.

“My brother was with you that day.”

Your brow furrowed. “Your brother?”

“Destiny,” he said.

You let out a small laugh. “Yes, I suppose he was.”

Conversation flowed easily between you two. Though Morpheus didn’t say much, he was insightful and intelligent, and he listened with keen attention that made you almost shy. He controlled every speck of dirt and beam of light around you yet held an interest in you.

When you felt the tug of consciousness, you couldn’t believe how quickly time had passed. You could have sworn you only arrived in the Dreaming a few minutes ago. But you woke to the sunrays filtering through your curtains.

In the following days, you scoured every source you could think of for information on Morpheus. There were Greek myths, but your search grew more fruitful when you stumbled across an ancient tomb in one of your grandmother’s chests.

She taught you about destiny—how it influenced you and how you influenced it—so to see it written in her delicate scrawl wasn’t unusual. But when it changed to capital-D "Destiny," you shifted your tactics. It led you to the beginning.

Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Desire, Despair, and Delirium.

Personifications of otherwise intangible consciousnesses—all more powerful than any god or goddess you could think of.

And you had unknowingly saved one of their emissaries.

You had spoken to one of them.

You felt the vastness of his power by simply looking at him—it both terrified and thrilled you.

Dream. The perfect name for a creature so enthralling.

Mere days passed before Matthew appeared in your garden once again. You only noticed when you heard Hope speaking to someone, and his voice carried into the greenhouse. You thought it best to give them their privacy.

You could feel Morpheus’ presence through the raven even from here. It was stronger than last time, but you assumed that was because of Matthew’s injury.

And when it moved closer, you paid it no mind, thinking Matthew and Hope were joining you. It only occurred to you that their voices had stayed the same volume when the energy was standing in the doorway.

You glanced over your shoulder, eyes jumping in surprise.

“Good morning.”

“Morpheus,” you said. “I…What are you doing here?”

“Matthew wished to visit Hope,” he said, stepping forward, hands behind his back. He scanned over the pots of flowers and herbs, trailing from the one at your fingertips, up your arms, to meet your eyes. “I wished to visit you.”

You bit your lip lightly, glancing down then back. “Well then, how about a cup of tea?”

He nodded once, letting you lead the way.

You moved to Thelma’s Grove because something pulled you toward it after your grandmother died. You found a home in the community. People who would protect you and who you’d protect in return. It didn’t matter if you had lived here for twenty years or visited for a few hours. Once you found this little corner of the world, you were part of it forever.

And you hoped the same could be said of the Endless behind you.

Taglist: @sayumiht

If you want to be added to my taglist, please comment or message me with the character you want updates on!

343 notes · View notes

coastxlwaters · 1 month

Note

What happened to ur thumb?!

So, this happened yesterday

0. I had a low level of light headedness and a stomach ache but I needed to get out to the barn to exercise autumn

1. Autumn wasn’t ridden for 2 days and was energetic

2. My crop and saddle felt off, I later learn they were used and modified slightly without my permission (I’m not mad at whoever did, just confused on why they did it as well have that stuff at the barn)

3. My crop and set being off, shifted my normal no anxiety routine to a “oh god, do I need to check Autumn’s back and legs for injuries?” Routine.

4. My legs were awkward trying to reposition correctly, and since autumn is used to me being a quiet and relaxed rider and caretaker that probably ticked her off, her ears were pinned back but flopping, no fucking idea what that means but I have seem some horses do it when anxious or stressed, but idk

5. The crop kept hitting the wrong place on the shoulder, I hound be able to tap once and she goes, and since I’m a rated-shows rider I can’t look down as it’s frowned upon, and have to keep my head up until the lesson or atleast course is over. So I wasn’t able to see what the difference was other than the slightly off feeling.

6. Ticked her off more that I continued to try to use the crop. MY fault, I have no fucking idea what I was doing there other than me failing to follow proper barn rules.

7. We start the course and I she goes speed demon and I could tell she was abt to do SMTH, whether it was a buck or rear I honestly don’t know nor want to find out. I just cut off and out of the course halfway through

8. I got called a coward, (JOKINGLY) so I laugh and say “fuck you than, let’s see what shit I can do now that her energy is out” and get back on.

9. Same thing as 7 but this time I don’t cut off the course and the literal next jump she bucks

10. I land HARD on her neck, I really need to check it out but my friend said she looks fine for now.

11. My hand obviously hits her neck first, my thumb taking the most damage

12. I stayed on, THANKFULLY, cause if I fell off I have no fucking idea what would have happened

13. The rest is kinda like, foggy ig, I remeber making my usual “it can’t be to bad, I lived!” And then my thumb started hurting. At first thought it was SMTH I could ride off. I was wrong and for the next 15 mins I was a mess from it, both being my birthday and smth bad happening on my birthday for th 3rd time in a row. I get home, see my finger and go “damn I’m overdramatic as hell, it’s only a minor jam”

14. Just ice it and kept it elevated the entire night

(Today)

14. No sleep last night

15. It looks weird so I prob need to get it checked for possible infection

16. I get to the doctors and expect to be laughed at for coming in with a minor jam

17. I get X-rayed cause they wanted to see if it’s fractured, told I did amazing for being actively hurt and staying still and calm during it

18. I get to the actual office, Hear I shattered the tip of my thumb and it will forever be slightly bent, get banned from horse riding for a month, (sucks for them as I won’t listen to that)

19. I pull the cancer joke on @stormbreaker-290 again while walking to the room I’m supposed to go to, since I’m MEAN-

20. I get measured for a 1 finger cast as the injury is not severe in the sense I would need a full handed cast, but apparently shattering your tip of your thumb is relatively severe, since it doesn’t happen often and will leave me with my thumb being bent slightly forever unless I decide to do an overpriced surgery. Spoiler alert, I’m broke. Doenst hurt like what I expected tho, it’s only in that category I think for a longer healing process (I wasn’t listening but it was MENTIONED) and a permanent difference in my thumb even if it’s barely noticeable.

So, yeah it’s not severe in the sense of pain, it might take a bit to heal, I’m gonna take care of autumn still obvi and completely ignore the no-riding rule. I MEAN, ILL ONLY DO WORKOUTS AND NOTHING TO BIG OR SHOW PRACTICES OK?!

It’s also on my left hand, and I’m a boring right handed person so I’m fine lol. Gonna use it to hopefully get out of school obvi, but like yeah

Preppy cast✨

#coastal’s mumbles #tw injury #tw broken bones

9 notes · View notes

handspunyarns · 1 year

Text

Day Fourteen point Five (Marathel).

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 6K

chapter summary: Marathel throws another mug, takes her first shower, and gets a little tipsy

warnings:  violence to pottery, mention of stomach illness, allusion to sexual/physical abuse and rape, alcohol use, English cursing

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***   

You Were Marked: Masterlist

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter

Marathel started to wake up, but she was quite confused. She felt very warm and very comfortable, curled upon her side as she was on a soft tick, under a soft blanket, but something was not right … or was something missing? Her ear was covered, her feet were covered with the blanket securely tucked underneath (so they can’t see me, if they can’t see me then they can’t hurt me) but something was different. She was wearing soft pants and a shirt, not her usual nightwear, but that wasn’t quite it. Marathel shifted a bit but still couldn’t put her finger on what she was confused about, or why, so she flipped back the blanket so she could get up.

“Oh, finally waking up then …?”

Marathel shrieked and grabbed the closest thing to her, which happened to be a heavy mug that was easy for her splinted hands to hold as it was square-shaped — and identical to the one she had thrown at the droid yesterday — but she was unaware that her hands were now in new minimalist metal splints, had forgotten that her hands were in splints to begin with — and she launched the mug in the direction where the strange voice had come from. Cobb ducked with a yelp, quickly sliding off the padded chair to the floor to escape the missile hurled at his head, and the mug exploded against the wall behind him.

“Okay, no more mugs for you, lady!” bellowed Cobb as he jumped up, pointing a finger in Marathel’s direction. “Dank ferrik!” he shouted at no one in particular as he stomped out of her room.

Marathel was frozen, her arm still extended, and then she drew a quick breath in surprise, her hand going to her mouth. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to cry or laugh, and the only noise she could make was a squeaky snort through her nose. After getting some control of herself, Marathel noticed for the first time that her hand was not in the wooden splint, but in a cunning and strange metal arrangement that allowed her to flex her fingers while still getting support for her full hand. Marathel was also surprised to find that her hands did not hurt quite as much. There was pain, yes, but the sort of pain that came with long healing, bones knitting together, tendons reattaching. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, noticing that her knee seemed to be better as well. She gingerly stood up, testing her weight, and decided that while it seemed better, she really needed to stay off it, so she sat back down.

Fennec came in then, asking, “What the kriff is going on?”

“I threw a mug at Cobb’s head.”

“Yes, I heard. Have you considered not throwing mugs at things that startle you? It’s a good thing you don’t use a blaster. I couldn’t begin to guess what you’ve thrown at Mando.” Fennec bent down and picked up some of the larger shards.

“Just some rocks. And a couple of eggs.” Oh, and yourself, you stupid woman.

“Eggs?”

Marathel shrugged. “He deserved it.”

Fennec smiled. “That, I do not doubt.”

Marathel looked down at her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry I keep breaking mugs. And I’ll apologize to Cobb when I see him.”

“Please, what’s a couple of mugs? You should have seen some of the things that have happened in this damn palace. Two mugs are small change in comparison.” Fennec looked at Marathel, sitting primly with her hands in her lap. She appeared to be making herself as small as possible. “You know, not everything new is terrifying.”

Easy for you to say, thought Marathel. I can’t even manage to sleep on a raised bed. She lifted her hands to eye level. “I’m not scared of my new splints. I like them. They are very clever.”

“They are. They should allow you to do more things now. Are you in pain?”

Marathel shook her head. “Not so much. Not like before.”

“Your bleeding has slowed significantly, too,” said Fennec. Marathel turned back to look at the rumpled bed: the absorbent pad she slept on had a few light lines of blood, whereas before she would soak through the pad completely.

“Does that mean it’s working?”

“It looks that way. How does that make you feel?”

Marathel wasn’t sure, exactly, but she knew what Fennec wanted to hear. “Hopeful.” Perhaps I’ll eventually believe it.

“I’m glad to hear it. I brought you some new clothes. I was thinking you might want to take a shower and wash your hair.”

Marathel looked at Fennec, puzzled. “Take a shower? Like a rain shower? There’s no rain.”

Fennec blinked. “No … I meant in the fresher,” she said, waving her hand towards the room where the vac tube was. Marathel still looked confused. “I’ll show you.” Fennec led Marathel to the fresher, opened the door, and then turned on the water. “See? A shower. And in here …” Fennec popped open the storage bin within. “Shampoo, soap, body moisturizer, facial moisturizer …”

“Shampoo?”

“Soap for your hair.”

Marathel frowned. “Why do I need a different soap for my hair?”

Fennec laughed. “Because your hair is different than your skin. Just go with it, Marathel, enjoy it.” Fennec set out fluffy towels and pointed out a small contraption called a hair dryer and opened a drawer that held combs and other toiletries.“By the way, you should probably close and lock the door while you’re in here.” She left, and Marathel followed her advice and locked the door to her room so that she could have privacy.

Undressing — amazed she could do so herself, with her new finger splints — she stepped under the spray and was immediately delighted. It was like being under a warm waterfall, but without the occasional fish and branch landing on her head. Marathel opened the tube that Fennec told her was soap for her hair, and the scent of sweet fruit filled her nose. She rubbed a small amount through her hair, and she watched as dirt and dried blood left her hair and swirled away down the grate in the floor. She used the shampoo again — a more generous amount this time — and then applied the soap with a cloth as gently as possible around her wounds. The soap had a scent that she couldn’t place but reminded her of fresh grass. Marathel laughed, wondering why people wanted to smell like fruit and plants, when eating fruit and walking on grass was more enjoyable.

Marathel could have stayed under the water spray for hours, but she remembered that this was a dry place where the water was scarce, so she reluctantly turned off the water and stepped out. She began to scrub her hair with one of the towels when her eye caught the large mirror that took up a big section of the wall. Marathel had never seen a mirror so large before, and she’d been largely avoiding it since coming here. She lowered the towel and assessed her reflection.

The first thing she saw was the huge gash down the center of her face. Marathel’s breath caught with the memory of the Bishop carving her face, the horrible words he said to her as he did so, and she closed her eyes tight to quiet her mind.

Opening her eyes, Marathel looked at the line of little bottles and tubes Fennec had left her. Moisturizers, that’s what she said. The face one was allegedly different than the one for the body, for some reason, but the bottles had pictures of fruit or plants on them, or a flower, or just colored squiggles, and not a picture of a face or body, so Marathel just picked out the one she liked best, which reminded her of the clean water from the rocky stream and the yellow cup-shaped flowers she liked so much. She slathered this on her skin — which felt wonderful — everywhere she could reach, and then worried about how she was going to get the stuff out from under all the metal bits now wrapped around her fingers. Carefully using the corner of the towel seemed to work.

Marathel then turned her attention to her hair, which seemed to behave differently here than back on Unmanarall. There, her hair hung straight and heavy, and only had to be tucked behind her ears or into a loose knot and it would stay there; here, her hair took on a mind of its own and was fluffy, wavy, crackling around her head even before using the hair dryer. The hair dryer thing was loud and blew air hot as fire directly at her in an uncomfortable way. The top was mostly dry anyway, so she combed the top part into sections and twisted it into a loose braid. She found a little stretchy round band that secured the end. Looking in the mirror again — ignoring the red wound down her forehead and nose — she liked what she saw: a pale face surrounded by tendrils of wavy silver hair that floated away from her face.

Her eyes then skimmed down her bare body and she saw little to recommend it: doughy flesh of a color like fish skin, sagging breasts, a roll on her belly, and hips and thighs that jiggled when she walked. Then there were the slashes, bite-marks, and bruises. A small flare of rage ignited inside her. Her flesh, plump and unfirm though it was, should be hers and hers alone. Wasn’t that what Din said? She hadn’t consented when the Dahls overpowered her with their mating impulses, he had told her. He had made such a point of that when he begged her permission to touch her once the Dahls had finished their mating cycle. No man had ever asked permission from her, ever, not once in her life. Take, that’s all they’ve ever done to me.

Marathel shivered; she could not think about that right now. Too much had happened today, and her mind was tired. Marathel left the fresher room and went to the little pile of clothing Fennec had brought her. There was a pair of dark pants, a light woven shirt in a deep purple, and a long vest as green as the summer grass. She also found a soft brace for her knee and what appeared to be undergarments; they were like her shifts but in two parts. They also seemed to be like compression garments, supportive. The bottoms were easy enough, but the top garment was awkward to put on with its hooks and strange shoulder straps. She assumed it was on correctly; she couldn’t think of a different way to wear it and was surprised to find that her breasts were lifted somehow by the garment, a new sensation for her. She pulled on the compressive brace for her knee, and then the pants, which were very soft and very form-fitting. The shirt fit well but felt low-cut to Marathel. She looked down at herself at the unaccustomed amount of exposed skin above the neckline, considering the undergarment that lifted her bosom, and pulled on the vest, which gave her some modesty. All she had for footwear were her soft slippers, so she put those on as well. The stone floors here were not kind to bare feet.

There was a knock on her door. Pulling on a veil over her hair and forehead, Marathel opened it slightly to see Cobb Vanth on the other side, holding another mug identical to the one she’d hurled at him. Smiling hopefully, Cobb offered the mug and asked, “Truce?”

Marathel chuckled and fully opened the door, taking the mug. “I’m sorry I threw a mug at you.”

“And I’m sorry I blew up at you, but, damn, woman, you’re dangerous.” His eyes flicked downward and back up, making Marathel flush again. “I do wish you wouldn’t cover your face and hair like that … a face like yours shouldn’t be spoiled by a veil.” He took a moment longer to gaze at her, and then belatedly said, “I’m also here to find out if you’re hungry.” Marathel blinked, because it turned out she was hungry. She nodded. “Well, then, I get to accompany you.” He turned and held out his elbow.

Marathel frowned. “What are you doing?”

Cobb pulled a face at her, then sighed and took her hand, placing it in the crook of his arm. Marathel closed her door and let Cobb slowly escort her down the corridor. Marathel shyly looked up at him and said, “You don’t have to do this.”

“Too bad, Mar’, my ma raised a gentleman who treats a lady like a lady … whether she is one or not.”

Marathel smiled blandly. “I wouldn’t know how a lady should be treated.”

She had meant it as a joke, some light-hearted statement to be thrown away and forgotten, but Cobb frowned down at her with a thoughtful look on his face, putting his other hand over hers on his arm. “Well, Marathel, I think that’s a damn shame.” Marathel couldn’t tell anymore if her face was flushing again or now just permanently flushed: this Cobb Vanth had a way of unnerving her.

After a few moments of silence, she asked, “Would you please tell me … what is a marshall and a freetown?”

“Well, as Marshall I’m the person in charge of law and order in Freetown, a little mining town out in the desert. One of those places where you blink, and you miss it.”

“Law and order?”

He shrugged. “I’m in charge of telling people doing wrong to cut it out.”

“What happens when you’re not there? Do people just … run roughshod everywhere?”

Cobb grimaced. “I kriffing hope not.” He laughed. “No, I have a deputy keeping tabs on things. The town is fine; it’s mostly other people coming in from the outside that cause most of the problems.”

“Why are you here, then?”

“You’re holding on to it.” She looked down at his metal arm. “It’s a big modification that needs fine tuning. It’s not quite right yet.”

Marathel ran the fingertips of her other hand down Cobb’s cybermodded limb, making him wish he could feel it. “I was so afraid that I would end up with something like this.” She frowned. “But then, I never knew such a thing could be done. I now wonder why … some will do things like build a new arm, when others do things … like where I came from.”

Cobb’s heart ached for her, a victim of a hellish place. “I don’t know. I wish people didn’t have to come from a planet like yours.”

“I never knew there was a planet to come from. Not until Din told me where to see Nevarro. I’m sure he thought …” Marathel looked around her. “Where are we going?”

“Din thought what now?”

“No, I mean — we passed the kitchen long ago.”

“Oh, no, we are heading to the far courtyard. This way.” They passed through an archway and into a open outdoor area with many plants and succulents. At the far end, under a pergola covered in flowered vines, were Boba and Fennec, seated at a table. They were laughing while Boba poured something from a large flagon for Fennec. “Finally here,” Cobb called to them.

“Oh, good,” said Fennec. “The kitchen went mad again; they keep forgetting that Jabba is still dead, and they don’t have to make as much food.”

“Frith in heaven,” muttered Marathel upon seeing the table. There was enough food on it to feed all the Hold’s children. Cobb pulled out a chair for her, but Marathel looked at him blankly until he whispered to her to sit. Boba filled a delicate glass from the flagon and called it spotchka, warning Marathel to sip it very slowly and in only tiny amounts. “Oh!” said Marathel. “Does this make you feel warm and fuzzy if you drink it too fast?”

Fennec giggled; she was already a glass or two in. “I take it you have something similar on your planet?”

“Yes, dreamberries. The fruit can be made into a drink, but I like it better as a cooked sauce. We had some … that is, Din and I, on roasted gorujellys.” Marathel looked down at her hands. She remembered that was also the night Din had touched her most intimately, and she had slept in his arms; for the briefest of moments, they were each other’s and that was all that mattered.

Cobb watched the high color creep back in on Marathel’s cheekbones. Her face is so luminous; you can almost tell what she’s thinking. Din had told him how he had come so close to kissing her that day, almost willing to expose his face to her, even before eating dreamberry sauce; if she’d asked him then if he’d take off his helmet, he would have gladly done so and never put it back on. He’d been so overwhelmed when she allowed him to touch her that he declared his love for her — but in Mando’a (how chickenshit of you, Din) — and she’d said something in return in her own language, but neither of them had provided a translation for what they’d said. Din was half-afraid that she’d rejected him (unlikely), or she had said something completely opposite to him (even more unlikely). These two, Cobb thought. They are going to dance around each other like dewbacks in rutting season. He would have found it amusing if he wasn’t half-smitten with her himself.

Marathel, meanwhile, had been struggling with utensils as she tried to eat. Her fingers were still clumsy, and the metal fork was too heavy for her to hold. After dropping it half-a-dozen times, she finally gave up and used the flat bread to scoop up the tender meat and grains off her plate. She had been successful so far at getting food into her mouth and not on her lap, when Cobb said, “Marathel, tell me … how did you and Din meet again?”

Boba and Fennec snickered, but Cobb knew that Marathel had a complete lack of guile and would simply answer truthfully. Marathel looked at him, her hand still holding the meat and flat bread halfway to her mouth. “I …” She put the food back on her plate and dropped her hands and eyes to her lap. “I saw him coming towards my hut, and I didn’t know who he was. I had never seen anyone like him before.” All gleaming metal, as if he’d been created from the wall on the first floor of the Hold. No face, just a head covered in metal. The brown clothing underneath the metal, the heavy boots, the ragged grey cape. There was no clothing of those colors in the Hold: only Captain red, Duke green, Bishop blue, and Hunter green. Brown was for bedding. Grey was for cleaning. No such heavy boots, with straps and belts everywhere, covered with bits of metal.

“What did you throw at him?” asked Fennec. “Was it a rock or an egg? Or a frying pan?”

Cobb scowled at Fennec, but a smile curled Marathel’s lip. “A rock. Actually, two rocks. I missed on the first throw.” Marathel carefully clasped her glass of spotchka with both hands and took a sip. “Oh my, that’s lovely. Got him right on the helmet with the second one, though.”

“So, when did you throw the eggs?”

“Oh, that was a couple days later.”

Cobb sighed. “You’re jumping ahead, Fennec …”

Marathel took another sip. “When he said that he was a bounty hunter, I had no idea what he meant. He said he would put down his blaster if I put down my rocks. I didn’t know what a blaster was, so I got a sharp stick instead.” Fennec chortled. Marathel went on with her story, describing her fear of the Bishop’s voice in the tracking fob, her fear that Mando would hurt the Dahls, and her initial fear of Grogu.

“You cannot tell me you were frightened of that little child,” said Boba.

“That little child is green and has giant ears!” retorted Fennec.

Fennec and Boba began a colorful argument about what could or could not be terrifying to someone like Marathel, and Cobb finally just turned his chair to face her. He crossed his ankle over his knee and draped his arm on her chair back. Leaning in close to Marathel, he said, “You just don’t fit the, uh, usual profile of the type of bounty Mando tends to go after.”

Marathel shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

“I think he was just as surprised by you as you were by him. What bounty invites the hunter into her home?”

Marathel sipped at her glass again; Cobb noticed that she had nearly drained the glass. “I suppose one that doesn’t know the rules of a bounty hunter. One … that is sad. And lonely. And curious about a little green child with large ears that is fiercely protected by a large man of metal when he encounters creatures like the Dahls, or a woman throwing rocks.”

“So, it was the child that you fell in love with first.”

“Oh yes, Grogu was so charming immediately. Children are easy to love. I’ve cared for many, hoped I would have many of my own to raise and love.” Cobb smiled behind his hand; a thimbleful of spotchka could set her tongue wagging. He poured her another half-glass. “But then, watching the Bounty Hunter feed Grogu, even just the act of moving a mug away from him because it wasn’t good for him to drink … that spoke to me in a way that’s … so hard to explain.”

Marathel was leaning back in her chair, looking at the night sky above her, her face thoughtful, and for once, not afraid. Boba and Fennec had stopped their mild bickering and were now listening, Fennec with her head against Boba’s shoulder. Cobb slowly leaned forward, putting his hand on her knee. “Give it a try,” he said quietly.

“Men don’t … I’ve never known a man who cared about a child. Men as I know them, a child is just … just a thing. A product of fucking a Whyn.” Cobb, Boba, and Fennec exchanged glances; they had not heard her say the word fucking before now. Marathel seemed to not notice. “Men care nothing for a child or woman except for what use they can get from them.” Marathel sighed. She looked down at her glass and looked confused as to why it was full again. She took a long sip and went back to looking at the sky. “The Bounty Hunter … the gentleness he showed in his care of Grogu … I thought his name was Bounty Hunter and I thought his helmet was his face. But, for the first time in my life, I saw a father. And I wanted so much to know a man like that, because I didn’t know a father, not a sire, but a father, could exist.”

They were all quiet for a while. Marathel took another sip from her glass. Cobb was gently stroking her knee, gazing at her with a knitted brow, but she didn’t seem to notice. Frowning at the sky, Marathel asked, “Which one is Nevarro?”

Boba looked up. “You can’t see it from here. Nevarro is too close to the horizon to be seen.”

“Oh,” said Marathel quietly. “I hope … I wonder if they … if Grogu is all right.”

Boba said, “You could message them. I think it’s late night there, but Mando doesn’t live by clocks.” He held out a holopad in her direction. “Here.”

Marathel put her glass on the table and carefully took the proffered holopad, asking, “Message?”

“Just tap it in, Cobb can show you how to send,” said Fennec.

Marathel turned the holopad over and over in her hands. “I don’t understand.”

Cobb scooted his chair closer. “Here …” he said, turning the pad over the correct way, and bringing up the keyboard. “There you go.” He continued to hold it up for her.

Marathel stared at the screen. It was half-filled in tiny, illuminated squares, each one with an unintelligible squiggle inside. “I don’t know how …”

Boba frowned. “Did I leave it on Huttese instead of Aurebesh?”

Marathel continued to stare at the screen. “No, I …”

A few moments passed, and then it finally clicked for Fennec. “You can’t read or write, can you, Marathel?”

Marathel’s head dropped, and her hands went immediately up her sleeves. “I don’t know what you mean. I don’t know read or write. I don’t know those words,” Marathel stammered, and her throat felt thick and tight with tears and shame at yet another thing she had no knowledge of.

“Those are letters on the screen,” said Fennec. “They form the words we say, so we can communicate without talking. Does that make sense?” Marathel nodded, frowning. “I know of other places where girls aren’t allowed to learn to read.” Marathel looked up at Fennec. While she was glad to learn that she was not alone in this fault of hers, it saddened her more that there were others on these planets she had just now learned about where people suffered as she did. Perhaps more. Fennec asked, “Did any of the girls at the Hold learn to read?”

“I don’t think so.” She dashed the few tears that had fallen with the side of her hand. “Maybe the boys did in the Round Building. We weren’t supposed to know what else they did in there. There were some walls that had squiggles like those,” she said, pointing at the screen, “painted on them. Girls didn’t learn in the Round Building. We only went in there to clean, and to … be of service.” Marathel fell silent.

Cobb cleared his throat. “Well, we can still send a message, anyway … here,” he said.

BF: Marathel wants to know if Grogu is okay 

“What did you say?” asked Marathel.

“That you wanted to know if Grogu is okay. Here, look …” Cobb put his finger on the screen under the sentence he had entered. “These letters here, that spells Grogu, and those here, that spells Marathel.”

“That’s my name?”

Cobb reached into a pocket, pulling out a tiny notepad and a stub of pencil he always carried with him. “I’ll do you one better.” As large as he could fit it, he wrote her name in Aurebesh, drawing a line under it so she knew which way was up. He gave it to her, watching as she traced the letters with her finger, a small smile of wonder on her face.

That’s my name. That’s me. Just this simple act of knowing her name existed in a somehow permanent fashion cheered her heart. It made her feel … as if she were real, recognizable by others. Marathel looked at Cobb. “Now what happens?”

“We wait for Din to answer. It may take a while. He might not be near his holopad.” Within a few moments, however, the holopad pinged with an incoming message. “Or he will answer right away.”

Marathel gasped with surprise. From so far away, he can answer this quickly? “What … what did he say?”

Cobb smiled. “He says that Grogu has an upset stomach.”

“Grogu? An upset stomach?” Marathel giggled into her hand. “What happened to his stomach of beskar?”

Cobb grinned. “Let’s find out.” He tapped in Marathel’s question. Almost immediately the holopad pinged again. Cobb chuckled. “He says ‘compromised by fruit’.”

Marathel leaned back in her chair, laughing now in earnest, pushing her veil off her face and head. Cobb suddenly felt jealous of Din, who obviously had her heart in the palm of his leather-clad hand. “Oh, too much fruit goes right through a child! He should know better.” She chuckled again. “Cachu o lwyc, ni asth’mabh.”

Cobb smirked. “I have no clue how to spell that, so I need a translation.”

Marathel took her glass back off the table and drank the remaining spotchka, earning her a raised eyebrow from Fennec. Marathel whispered loudly, “I said, ‘you’re shit out of luck, you son of a bitch’.” She giggled.

“Yeah, I’m not sending that.” Cobb tapped out a message, and after a moment, there was a return message. “I told him you wished him luck, and he says, ‘thank you’.” Cobb handed the holopad back to Boba. “And no more spotchka for you.” Marathel burped daintily in response. “You better eat some more, or you’ll be cursing my name tomorrow, and I don’t know the Mandalorian punishment for letting his lady get toasted.”

Marathel’s smile faded. No, I’m not his lady. Not like that. “I can’t hold the fork. My hands don’t work right.”

Cobb laughed and grabbed a plate of meat-wrapped castan nuts. “Here,” he said, popping one into her mouth.

Marathel hummed with delight. “Mmm, tasty.”

Cobb put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned her head back on his arm as he continued to feed her the nuts. After some time, Fennec poked Boba in his thigh. He looked down as she used the sign language of the Sand People to ask him:

Should we be worried about this?

Boba watched Cobb and Marathel for a while across the table. Finally, he signed back:

Let’s just write this off on the spotchka. For now.

Fennec nodded. “Marathel …” Marathel looked over at her. “If you’d like to learn to read, we can get you a holopad with some teaching primers. A lot of people can’t read, but that doesn’t mean you can’t learn.”

Marathel thought about that for a moment, and then said, “I’d like that.” Fennec smiled back at her.

The Modifier approached, asking if Marathel was ready to repeat the series of injections. Marathel looked at her glass, her brow furrowed with worry. “No, a bit of spotchka isn’t going to affect the treatment. It might even help, since you’re now … tranquilized a bit,” said the Modifier.

Cobb gently took her hand, and whispered, “I’ll stay with you, if you want.” Marathel nodded. He stood up, assisted her to stand, and escorted her back to the palace, his hand gently placed on the small of her back.

Boba noticed that the message prompt was still open on his holopad. He tapped out:

BF: The Modifier’s contact came through; treatment seems to be working 

Boba watched the return message dots blink for a while, as if Din was tapping out a long message. A short time later, a message pinged through:

DD: good to hear

Boba smirked. That took a long time to come up with, Djarin. Warmed by the spotchka, and now by themselves, Boba put his arm around Fennec’s shoulders. She smiled and snuggled against him, and they watched the stars.

The Modifier suggested that they do the injections in Marathel’s room, so that she could go to sleep comfortably after. She left the men in the corridor while she changed back into the soft clothing she’d woken up in earlier and got into her bed. As she let the men in, she carefully moved the mug Cobb had brought her as far out of reach as possible, which he found amusing. The Modifier suggested she lay on her other side for the injections; he was concerned about damage to her skin. Marathel complied, but now she had her back to Cobb.

Cobb cleared his throat and said, “If you don’t object … I could sit on the bed next to you.”

Marathel thought she might object; the idea made her stomach flutter, and it wasn’t just the spotchka making it do so. She thought about it and decided that Cobb certainly meant no harm to her; he might be a bit too handsy with her, but he wasn’t about to harm her. She agreed, and Cobb kicked off his boots and settled on the bed next to her — on top of the blankets — sitting up against the headboard as she lay on her side. The Modifier administered the first injection, and Marathel felt the instant cold sensation, and then the nervous-twitchy feeling through her limbs as the injection coursed through her system. She whimpered; Cobb sought out her hand and held it gently, his large thumb stroking the back of her hand.

“Doing okay?” he asked.

“It stings more this time.” She drew in her breath with a hiss; it did sting much more, as if the spiky pebbles from before had transformed into long-spined sea urchins. Marathel thought if she stared at her arm long enough, she would be able to see the spines distend and pierce through her flesh.

Cobb was watching her face and grew concerned, as her breathing grew shallow and fast. “Marathel? Honey? You still there?” Marathel did not answer, and he could see she had broken out in a cold sweat. The Modifier did not seem too concerned, but Cobb moved down on the bed, so he was lying on his side next to her, much like Din on her bed tick in her open-sided hut.

He held both of her hands in his, and her eyes looked unfocused and confused. “Bounty Hunter?”

Cobb reached out and pushed a lock of hair off her face. “No, honey, sorry, it’s just me.”

Marathel took a deep breath. “Sorry, I lost myself for a moment.” She looked into his eyes. “It’s better now.”

Cobb smiled at her. “Good. Just keep breathing, hang in there.”

Marathel smiled wanly. The next two injections were given with little to no reaction at all from Marathel. The Modifier, pleased by her lack of reaction, said, “You’ll probably feel like sleeping for the next couple of days, Marathel. If you could leave your door unlocked, I’d like to check on you a few times while you rest.”

Marathel nodded. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go,” she said, and Cobb laughed.

The Modifier left, but Cobb remained where he was, gently stroking her knuckles with his thumbs. “I’ll just stay until you’re fully asleep, Marathel, then I’ll leave you alone.” Marathel, her eyes closed, nodded again. “But you can always shout if you need something, right? Just no mug-throwing, that’s all I ask.” Marathel smiled slightly; she was already almost fully asleep. He leaned over and lightly kissed her cheek. “That’s from Grogu,” he said. Marathel did not respond, but carried on her soft breathing. Before he could lose his nerve, Cobb leaned in and kissed her gently on the mouth; he thought he detected the slightest of response from her lips kissing him back. “That’s from the Bounty Hunter,” he whispered, telling himself it wasn’t a lie. Cobb watched her sleep until his own eyelids grew heavy, and then he carefully climbed out of her bed. He grabbed his boots, and gently pulled the blanket over her ear, as he’d seen her in her sleep earlier, and left her room.

Next chapter ->

#the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian angst #star wars fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #din djarin angst #din x fem oc #mando x fem oc #Mandalorian x fem oc #din djarin fluff #din djarin x plus size!female reader #din djarin x plus size!fem oc

21 notes · View notes

autumnwoodsdreamer · 5 months

Text

Write a Different Chapter for Us

Chapter Seven: The Distract and Conquer Strategy

.....

Summary: Tony’s not-so-successful meeting with the board

Words: 3391

Rating: Teen

Characters: Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts

Relationships: Tony Stark/Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark & Pepper Potts

Tags: established relationship, family, pregnancy, conversations, PTSD, hurt/comfort

Note: Excuse my terrible math. Seven chapters, not six. Sorry. Carry on.

“The stock is going to be a major talking point.”

“Uh-huh.”

New York didn’t feel the same, but Tony couldn’t figure out what had changed.

“And that very public tussle with Whiplash is going to come up. It has a lot of investors nervous. Hence the stock drops.”

“Right. Got it.”

Everything was more or less right the way he had left it. There were some newly bent streetlights and a few obviously filled-in craters littering the sidewalks (apparently the X-Men and the Brotherhood had had another... tiff). But, other than that, it was the same city, teeming with the same hustle and bustle.

“But if we pull their focus to the latest advancements in our medical tech departments, we may be able to keep them happy... or distracted, at the very least.”

“Yeah? Good. That’s good.”

Actually, scratch that. The hustle and bustle was different. The people were... it was summer—summer vacation. There were more families out and about.

“We just have to be careful not to get through the business side of business too soon or we’ll back ourselves into a corner.”

“Of course.”

A young boy sat on his father’s shoulders, clearly thrilled by his new perspective of the world. His mother walked alongside; she looked like she was enjoying the sunny morning and whatever they had planned, but she still kept a careful eye on her son.

“Oh, and Galactus called. He’d like to replace our CFO.”

“Okay.”

Tony didn’t know the family, but he found himself hoping they had a good day, hoping nothing bad happened to them. Bad things happened way too often, especially these days—

He jerked backwards. Blinking rapidly, he pulled his gaze away from the window and rushed to orient himself. Car, backseat, Pepper, board meeting, stocks... Galactus? “Wait, what?”

Her glare, shot sideways, was about as subtle as his spacing out. “Are you with me now?”

He pried his fingers off the door handle, his knuckles aching from the death-grip. “Yeah. Sorry. Just... making sure New York’s still in one piece.”

“It’s all there and I can assure you it will still be there after this meeting.”

“I know.”

“Tony, I really need you to focus on—”

“So. Classic distract and conquer strategy?”

The sharp turn back to the matter at hand did little to convince Pepper he was fully on board, but she didn’t work with him for more than a decade and not learn the meaning of “futile” so she let it go with a terse sigh. “Basically, we just need to show them you aren’t dead and remind them that, even if you were, the company is standing on its own two feet and moving ahead.”

Tony grimaced. “Did the stock really drop that bad?”

She passed him her tablet, dropping it in his lap before he could track the movement. He stamped down the instinct to jolt backwards and forced himself to hold it, forced his focus to hone in on the colourful graphs and charts on the screen, forced himself to ignore the sudden flare of heat in his chest.

“You got attacked by a guy who sliced a garbage truck in half like it was a block of butter and then you made no verifiable appearance for almost a month. Yes, the stock suffered. Haven’t you seen the news?”

“Uh... no. Not really. Been a bit busy... recovering, you know?”

Something adjusted in her expression at that; he never did learn the right word to describe it—he knew it wasn’t quite sympathy, but it wasn’t totally devoid of care, either. With or without a name, he had come to understand it as her way of saying-without-saying: “Your life is ridiculous and I’m surprised you aren’t dead or dismembered yet... but I am glad you’re well.”

“Look,” she said, her critical tone easing, “I’ll run point on this. Just back my play and do what you do best.”

“Put on a show?”

That got a smile. “Yes, but no fireworks.”

“How about sparklers?”

“Nothing flammable.”

“Buzz-kill.”

“Fine. You can have glow-sticks.”

“Thanks, boss.”

. . . . .

Business mode took over, enabling Tony to project his most presentable version of himself: not dead, not in pain, totally on the ball and not thinking about anything that didn’t pertain to the company and its interests.

He sold the image well—Obadiah used to say he could sell water to a drowning man—but that was all it was: an image, i.e. no substance.

The pretty picture started fading as the meeting ran overtime. It was just a few small things: he couldn’t quite sit up straight, his replies came short and clipped, and he was just too aware of the knot of his tie touching his throat.

No one noticed; no one that wasn’t Pepper, anyway.

From all the way on the other side of the room, she caught him sliding two fingers between his tie and collar, not-so-subtly trying to tug it loose. She gave him a look; not exactly the glare he earned earlier in the car, but it was nearly there.

He corrected the action, turning it into a subconscious attire assessment. It couldn’t fool her but it didn’t have to.

They only just reached the finance affairs as the clock struck noon. Tony excused himself to the bathroom; he didn’t have to, but he mentioned the curry—it bought a few knowing chuckles and an eye-roll from Pepper which was always worth it.

After washing up, he didn’t hurry to return. He pulled out his phone and commandeered a spot on the floor near the sinks—Stark Tower’s restrooms were cleaner than operating theatres and his germophobia came and went as it pleased, so as long as he didn’t think about it, he was okay.

He wasn’t surprised to see no messages waiting for him; Pepper used to insist he keep his personal phone off while handling SI business but Iron Man, SHIELD liaising, and then the Avengers corroded that rule—now she just asked he keep it on silent.

No messages didn’t necessarily mean no problems. A tight, invisible band remained fixed around his chest as he typed and sent off a simple “Everything alright?” message.

Natasha replied within seconds. “All fine.”

Tony told himself he had to believe that. “Might be home an hour late,” he told her.

She sent a low resolution picture of a kitten with big, sad eyes.

He huffed a laugh, the small sound echoing in the confined space. The fact he married the World’s Most Dangerous Women never for a moment escaped him, but it certainly made her brand of texting that much more amusing.

“Want me to get you anything?”

“No. Had lunch ;)”

“Ok. Stay safe. Love you.”

He signed off with a heart emoji because that was another thing he did now (Peter once told him it was inaccurate and he should use the blue circle instead).

He checked the news, then checked his message bank again. No calls to assemble, no giant robots attacking the city, no aliens threatening invasion. He checked the time, reminded himself he had to get back. He checked the weather... and then the news again, just to be sure.

Nothing was happening in the world—nothing he could fix, anyway. It should’ve been a relief, but it wasn’t.

Giving the phone a rest, he shut his eyes and tilted his head back against the cold, tiled wall. Silence asserted itself, but between the constant ringing in his ears and the white noise of his thoughts, he hardly noticed.

Hiding in the bathroom wasn’t exactly professional; he knew he should pick himself up off the floor, get back, and give this his best, as was expected... but motivation eluded him.

In a bid to compromise, he allotted five minutes of peace and sternly told himself he couldn’t have more than that. When his five minutes were up, he got to his feet and headed out before he could argue.

Somewhere along the way back to the conference room, he decided to ditch the tie altogether, rolling it up and stowing it in his pocket.

The mood had shifted in his absence; judging by the stiff set of Pepper’s shoulders, it wasn’t good...

. . . . .

It was close to two in the afternoon by the time Tony got back to the Compound.

Sam, testing his new wings by flying circuits overhead, saw him arrive and waved from the sky; Tony responded with a mock salute.

On his way to the residential block, he caught sight of Steve and Daisy jogging around the lake; they were far enough away that he couldn’t exactly hear what they were saying to each other, but he still heard Daisy’s laugh—full and bright and real.

Beyond them, he just managed to glimpse some coloured blurs zipping about amongst the trees bordering the far side of the lake. Red and blue, white and black and teal, and—only now and then—a black and red blur: Peter, Gwen, and Miles. They liked to call their races and convoluted games of tag “training” in the hopes of appearing serious; Tony really didn’t care what they called it, he was just glad they were all enjoying their summer vacation.

Tracing his way through the lobby, heading for the elevator, a thought occurred to him: if someone had told him just six years ago that this was where Iron Man would take him, that he’d make a home filled with such crazy, colourful, incredible people, he wouldn’t have imagined anything like this; here on the other side of it, he couldn’t believe his life had once been so bland.

He wasn’t holding himself so stiffly when he finally reached his apartment, but hours of playing businessman had strained his still healing muscles. A dull but deep ache radiated from his core and seemed to settle in his bones; with effort, he could continue ignoring it, but experience warned him it would be worse the next day.

It didn’t escape Natasha’s trained sight. The second he walked in, her head snapped up and her gaze flicked from the hefty folder in her lap to him. After just a mere glimpse, her lips quirked and “I told you so” lit up in brilliant neon in her eyes.

He pointed an exaggeratedly stern finger at her. “Don’t say it!”

She tilted her head and batted her eyelashes. “Okay. Then you say it.”

“No.”

“Then I’m gonna say it.”

“Don’t you d—”

“You should’ve worn the brace.”

He rolled his eyes but a smile ruined the effect. “For the record, you didn’t tell me to wear it today.”

She shrugged and returned her attention to... whatever she was doing. “I’ve said it like a million times already; just pull up a memory and stamp today’s date on it.”

“Nag.”

“You love me.”

“Yeah. I do.” He kicked off his shoes and draped his wrinkled suit jacket over the arm of the couch.

Without looking, Natasha gathered some of the papers splayed out on the couch cushions and patted the now free space.

Tony accepted the invitation, collapsing bonelessly beside her. He took advantage of the respite and tried to relax; he didn’t mean for his eyes to slip closed, but he really wasn’t up to fighting it.

As nice as it was to be back in his own space, with Natasha safe and sound beside him, he got the sense this day wasn’t over just yet. “I’m a little scared to ask: but what is all...” he gestured halfheartedly, his hand hardly rising off the couch, “this?”

“Our next mission. Fury dropped it off just after you left this morning.” She nudged him softly in the side with her elbow before sliding the folder from her lap to his.

With a frown, Tony opened his eyes. “Natasha, I don’t know if you should—“

“I told him.”

“Oh.” He blinked and smoothed out the frown; it came back half-strength. “And... what did he say?”

“That he’ll take care of the heavy lifting.” She tapped the folder. “This looks like it’s more about research and connect-the-dots than chasing bad guys anyway.”

“Yeah, they always start that way.” Reluctantly, he pulled himself out of his slouch and began flipping through the papers. Reports, he supposed; he wasn’t making himself read anything. The thick blocks of words upon words soon gave way to photographs and he slowed down—maybe he could piece it together with just pictures for now.

The first few didn’t immediately connect to any relevant information: shards of metal, charred and jagged; bits of broken glass scattered over asphalt; cars with gashes and slashes and crumpled hoods.

Everything rushed into focus when he came to a photograph of a long, coiled tail of razors—segmented for flexibility and serrated for brutality.

“This is about Whiplash,” he said, his voice somehow quieter than he meant it to be.

“Fury’s been looking into it. He doesn’t think the Maggia was involved.”

“Okay... so who is?”

“He doesn’t know. Our best lead right now is whoever supplied Scarlotti’s new tech.” Natasha picked out a leaf of papers from the spread by her hip. “Here,” she said as she placed it in his grasp, covering the photographs. “This is the report from SHIELD’s engineers. They’ve been examining it and this is what they have so far.”

“I didn’t know he left anything behind.”

“Well, I doubt he meant to; he was just in a hurry to get away.”

“Yeah, Hulk has that effect on people.”

Tony skimmed through the specs, curiosity buying his concentration. With just a glance, he could tell it wasn’t AIM’s handiwork, as he (and everyone else) had initially assumed. The design wasn’t simple, but it was straightforward, not encumbered with all the unnecessary frills AIM loved to add just because they could.

Also, it relied more on hardware than software. It was designed to shred and tear and slash, to make a mess: AIM liked weapons of devastion, such as blasters and bombs, but they thought too highly of their technological prowess to resort to tricking out medieval torture implements.

He scoured the information, the mechanic in him taking over, dismantling and reconstructing, fitting all the bits into place, seeing all the ways to improve it. Some parts struck him as just too familiar, stoking a weatherbeaten sense of indignation as he recognized components of his own invention mingled in with the otherwise unique design.

The report ended too quickly. Turning the last page, expecting to find more, the photograph of the whip lying inert on the road caught him off guard.

Huh.

He hadn’t noticed all that blood before... Was it all his? Had to be. Must’ve been from when it—

He closed the folder; he did it too fast and some papers folded funny and others just fell out altogether. “I’d like to have a look at the tech myself,” he said.

Natasha hummed. “I thought you might.”

“SHIELD engineers are good but... there’s, um... there’s things that they... they miss things.”

“Yeah, I know.” With the grace of her namesake, she moved the folder off his lap and placed it on the coffee table. With slow, purposeful movements, she tended to the papers, neatening and straightening, replacing and reordering, clearing the couch and the table. “How’s Pepper?” she asked, her tone light, even, steadying.

Tony rubbed at his eyes, tried to shift gears and follow along. “She’s... she’s good.”

“And Happy? Still enjoying the security business?”

He attempted a laugh; it sounded strangled. “Must be. HR is flooded with complaints. I didn’t see him today, though.”

“Too busy?”

“No. Pepper said he had a cold.”

“Again?”

“I think he’s just allergic to Socrates.”

He knew what she was doing. It was a trick, in the same way saving someone from drowning by luring them back to land after they’ve unwittingly drifted too far out to sea is a trick. It worked: he was back in the shallows. He wasn’t on the shore yet but at least he could stand.

He appreciated the distract and conquer strategy—really, he did—but...

Leaning forward, he got the weight off his chest so he could take a full breath. He held it, counted, then let it go in a sigh. “I’m sorry, Tasha, it’s just...”

“It’s alright. It’s always a little bumpy getting back into things.”

“But it shouldn’t be. I should be better than this.”

She moved. He braced, expecting a hand on his back or shoulder, but none came; instead, she uncrossed her legs and tucked them underneath her, moving so as to press up against his side. “It came up in the meeting today, didn’t it?” she ventured.

He nodded.

“Let me guess: the stocks dipped.”

“A bit, but the board was more concerned with...” He gestured, stiffly, aimlessly, but it didn’t help him find the words.

“With... how it looked?” Natasha supplied.

An empty laugh slipped out; he instantly wished he could take it back. “You know, it’s funny: when Iron Man takes on alien invasions or monsters that popped right out of fairytales, he looks like a hero; but when he gets into a wrestling match with a mobster who leaves him looking like a soda can someone stepped on, he’s just... reckless.”

In all fairness, it wasn’t an unanimous view; most of the directors and shareholders either liked Iron Man or were indifferent to Tony’s extracurricular activities, comfortable to let him do whatever he wanted so long as he kept it separate from the company. But there were others: ones who didn’t hate Iron Man, per se, but weren’t exactly thrilled with his existence.

Keith Laurel, one of the few board members who had worked with both Howard and Obadiah, had been the most vocal today. “We’re a multi-national tech conglomerate on the forefront of innovation, and we’re picking street fights with a local crime family now? Do you have any idea how that looks?”

Tony had had to physically bite his tongue at that remark. For one thing, calling the Maggia a local crime family was tantamount to calling McDonald’s a family-run diner. And while he couldn’t figure out what he’d done recently to tick them off, he definitely didn’t go and pick that fight.

Pepper had stepped in then and pointed out that Iron Man’s activities didn’t necessarily reflect on Stark Industries because, technically, he didn’t work for them. She addressed it, then, in the very next breath, directed attention to the medical labs in South America and their recent breakthroughs in prosthetic limbs, but Laurel wasn’t having it.

He had fixed his gaze on Tony. “You’re not CEO anymore. That’s a fact. But you still own this company—the company your father left you. The things you do affect his legacy. What would he think?”

It wasn’t a new sentiment. If he had a dollar for every time someone played the “What would your father say?” card on him, his fortune would double. He had heard it so many times throughout his life, parroted and reiterated to the point that, honestly, he’d grown numb to it.

None of it was new: stock drops, unhappy board members, legacies upheld or profaned, attacks on Iron Man, attacks on Tony Stark—he was used to it.

He was used to it, but this time... it didn’t feel the same.

“You aren’t reckless,” Natasha said, cutting through the storm brewing in his head. “I didn’t marry a reckless man, and I swear I would never have a child with one.”

Tony scoffed before he could censor himself. “I didn’t get attacked for no reason. I must’ve done something, I just... I can’t figure it out.”

She brought her hand into his field of vision before touching his chin and coaxing him to turn his head and look at her; the intensity in her eyes was strangely calming. “I don’t know why Whiplash attacked you, but I know you didn’t invite it.”

When her gaze became too much, he closed his eyes, but he didn’t pull away. He bowed his head so that his forehead met hers. It hurt, twisting and leaning to the side like that, but he didn’t care. “I’ll fix this, I promise.”

Her hand moved to cup the back of his head, anchoring him. “We’ll fix it together.”

. . . . .

<<< Previous Chapter

🍁 Thanks for reading! 🍁

#tony stark #iron man #natasha romanov #black widow #pepper potts #ironwidow #tonynat #ironwidow fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #avengers #my writing #write a different chapter for us

7 notes · View notes

attonitos-gloria · 2 years

Note

Top Five Tyrion Lannister Moments™️?

Baby, I took so long to answer that because I have too many Tyrion moments stored in my heart and I will not do them justice here, but after much pondering, here is my top 5, in no specific order:

1. The trial.

Tyrion pushed forward. "MY LORDS!" he shouted. He had to shout, to have any hope of being heard.

His father raised a hand. Bit by bit, the hall grew silent.

"Get this lying whore out of my sight," said Tyrion, "and I will give you your confession."

Zero notes. George was so real for this. This scene changed me in a very fundamental level? I am simply not the same person I once was.

2. I think it is mandatory for me to add a Sansa moment in this list, and I thought of many: the wedding night; the Throne Room scene; Sansa clutching his arm when she sees her father’s sword in Payne’s hand; that horrible, HORRIBLE overcooked peas scene (we stan fail marriages!); Tyrion miserably thinking he should have sent it to Robb earlier; their small observations about each other; his thoughts about her during his trial. But in the end, the core of it comes to a single scene. It’s the first time they interact:

Sansa was left with the dwarf and his monsters. She tried to think of what else she might say. "You hurt your arm," she managed at last.

"One of your northmen hit me with a morningstar during the battle on the Green Fork. I escaped him by falling off my horse." His grin turned into something softer as he studied her face. "Is it grief for your lord father that makes you so sad?"

"My father was a traitor," Sansa said at once. "And my brother and lady mother are traitors as well." That reflex she had learned quickly. "I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey."

"No doubt. As loyal as a deer surrounded by wolves."

"Lions," she whispered, without thinking. She glanced about nervously, but there was no one close enough to hear.

Lannister reached out and took her hand, and gave it a squeeze. "I am only a little lion, child, and I vow, I shall not savage you." Bowing, he said, "But now you must excuse me. I have urgent business with queen and council."

It’s all there, I think. I remember first reading this, and when he asks if she’s sad, it’s such a punch in the face because we are reading it from Sansa’s POV and no one looks at Sansa in King’s Landing, not really. There’s the Hound, and he’s there in this scene backing her up but his relationship with Sansa is of a different nature. At least to me, I remember feeling that until this moment, we don’t really have a very clear grasp on how people perceive her at court. And Sansa obviously lives in constant, permanent denial about her own predicament. I don’t think Tyrion is particularly sensible; I think it’s obvious that Sansa is sad. What gets me is that he dares to utter it. EVERYONE KNOWS WHY SHE LOOKS SAD. He just has the balls to give it a voice, because that’s his thing. And then the vow! HE DIDN’T SAVAGE HER. HE SAID IT THE FIRST TIME THEY MET. Excuse while I go outside to gaze at the stars and muse about how doomed they were from go and how they’ll never, ever, ever, be able to have a happy marriage and how they manage one kindness or two to each other, in spite of that. It’s is about that for me. It is the reason why I like their dynamics. It’s about useless, fruitless, barren kindness. Hopefully in the next books they will either have a friendly divorce and get drunk about how horrible it all was, or they can simply keep this pathetic marriage and be miserable alone/together. That would do for me too.

3. His entire “whose cock is bigger?” thing with Cersei in ACOK is horribly entertaining but I honestly love, love, love this moment:

The rope had been so tight as to cut off the blood to her hands. She cried out in pain as the circulation returned. Tyrion massaged her fingers gently until feeling returned. "Sweetling," he said, "you must be brave. I am sorry they hurt you."

"I know you'll free me, my lord."

"I will," he promised, and Alayaya bent over and kissed him on the brow. Her broken lips left a smear of blood on his forehead. A bloody kiss is more than I deserve, Tyrion thought. She would never have been hurt but for me. Her blood still marked him as he looked down at the queen.

"I have never liked you, Cersei, but you were my own sister, so I never did you harm. You've ended that. I will hurt you for this. I don't know how yet, but give me time. A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid."

He is just iconic. Sorry. I love to stan the best character ever created? We forget very often that he is promising revenge on a whore. This says a lot about Tyrion as a character, I think. I love that in the following book, Tywin literally points that out, too: "To save a whore's virtue, you threatened your own House, your own kin? Is that the way of it?" And, like, he threatened Tommen! Even though he had no intention to hurt him, he just wanted to scare Cersei; it’s all so HORRIBLE, the Cersei/Tyrion interactions leave a trail of blood and hurt in its wake and it’s so so so good to read <3 Whenever I think about Tyrion saying to Tywin in the next book “IT WAS JUST A THREAT, I DID NOT MEAN IT, YOU TAUGHT ME THAT! WHY WOULD I HURT TOMMEN ANYWAY?!” I manifest that Tommen IS dying when JonCon & fAegon come to Westeros, and the JonCon/Tyrion angst will be so so so delicious <3 George really thought of everything <3 <3 Anyway. Back to the moment in question: I love Alayaya low-key going “bitch if you don’t free me I swear-” lol I think there’s a lot of bloodshed involved in Tyrion’s stories because his family makes sure to hurt the people he cares about, and he is also very invested in hurting people in return. Anyway. I like this moment a lot. I think in the show they changed it for Ros and it just didn’t have the same impact. But then again, almost everything in the show lacked impact.

4. The road trip with Jon to the Wall, and the whole time he spends there with them and with Aemon, because I’m very weak for Tyrion & Targaryens. (And so is George, btw.)

The boy absorbed that all in silence. He had the Stark face if not the name: long, solemn, guarded, a face that gave nothing away. Whoever his mother had been, she had left little of herself in her son.

"What are you reading about?" he asked.

"Dragons," Tyrion told him.

This is very self-indulgent, Tyrion has many iconic moments but the truth is, every interaction he has with Jon since the first time is pure, pure gold. They will meet again. And when it happens, I will cry about it with @coffeeandorange.

5. Killing Tywin. Obviously.

Tyrion's finger clenched. The crossbow whanged just as Lord Tywin started to rise. The bolt slammed into him above the groin and he sat back down with a grunt. The quarrel had sunk deep, right to the fletching. Blood seeped out around the shaft, dripping down into his pubic hair and over his bare thighs.

"You shot me," he said incredulously, his eyes glassy with shock.

"You always were quick to grasp a situation, my lord," Tyrion said. "That must be why you're the Hand of the King."

"You... you are no... no son of mine."

"Now that's where you're wrong, Father. Why, I believe I'm you writ small. Do me a kindness now, and die quickly. I have a ship to catch."

Good for you, king!! This moment was a cultural reset. I trembled while I read it (like, he JUST killed Shae so I was already shaking) but this last dialogue. Oh my God. OH MY GOD.

(And, I’ve been thinking, this is a line that still stands even if he is a Targaryen bastard; your father is not the one who conceives you. This is why we can safely say that Jon is, indeed, Ned’s son. Tyrion is Tywin’s son because Tywin made him. *insert elektra quote here* End of story.)

Honorable mention. It’s silly so it’s not in the top 5 but I NEED to comment on this moment of AGOT because we don’t talk enough about it:

There were no heralds, no banners, no horns nor drums, only the twang of bowstrings as Morrec and Lharys let fly, and suddenly the clansmen came thundering out of the dawn, lean dark men in boiled leather and mismatched armor, faces hidden behind barred half helms. In gloved hands were clutched all manner of weapons: longswords and lances and sharpened scythes, spiked clubs and daggers and heavy iron mauls. At their head rode a big man in a striped shadowskin cloak, armed with a two-handed greatsword.

Ser Rodrik shouted "Winterfell!" and rode to meet him, with Bronn and Chiggen beside him, screaming some wordless battle cry. Ser Willis Wode followed, swinging a spiked morningstar around his head. "Harrenhal! Harrenhal!" he sang. Tyrion felt a sudden urge to leap up, brandish his axe, and boom out, "Casterly Rock!" but the insanity passed quickly and he crouched down lower.

WHy do I laugh so much every time I read this? Tyrion in the middle of a battle going “get yourself TOGETHER and HIDE the glory of battle is not worth it” (but then later he actually takes a weapon and saves Catelyn’s life even though he has horrible murderous thoughts about her all the time. it’s about the CONTRADICTIONS your honor. about the STRUGGLE OF THE HUMAN HEART WITH ITSELF-)

This is a terrible ask. I could spend a good handful of years here commenting every line of Tyrion’s POV chapters. And then about other POV characters about him. Help. Do you have a top 5 Tyrion moments?

#ask me stuff #king of my heart.

11 notes · View notes

glorious-spoon · 2 years

Text

One line any fic! Rules: pick ten of your fics, scroll to somewhere midpoint, pick a line chunk and share it, and then tag ten people.

I was tagged by @hetrez - thank you! Trying to do a little bit of everything, because I’ve written in approximately a million different fandoms :D

1. Star of the Masquerade (Stranger Things) Eddie opens his mouth, then shuts it again. Finally he laughs.

“Well, that’s an incentive,” he says. “Better be a good kiss, though.”

“Oh, it will be.”

“I’m talking fireworks here, baby.”

“Sure,” Steve says, achingly fond.

2. Meaningful Relationships (9-1-1) Hen nods. She doesn’t have a lot left in her right now: hospital stays are never exactly restful, and she kept jerking awake what felt like every five minutes from nightmares of Jonah’s face looming like a skull out of the darkness, tears on her face, panic thrumming through her. But she can manage that much, at least. For Denny. For her mom, too, although she’ll never admit how afraid she must have been where Hen might overhear it. “What are they making?”

“Waffles, I think. Toni got some blueberries from the farmer’s market.” Karen opens the door but doesn’t slide in; instead, she cups Hen’s cheek with a careful palm, and the tears are suddenly very close. “How are you, really?”

3. Nothing Dies in Derry (IT) Patty glances over at him, braking at the red light that was a stop sign when Richie lived here, the crossroads that changes from Route 69 to Kansas Street. Ahead of them the oil-stained pavement curves over the hump of Up-Mile Hill. He can almost see a thirteen-year-old Bill Denbrough flying down it, standing up in Silver’s pedals with the playing cards in the spokes roaring as he dodged traffic.

4. At the Edge of the World (The Witcher) “I should have.” Geralt’s face twists like he’s been poisoned, and then he adds, reluctantly, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that looked like it hurt. Did it? Is your tongue smoking from the effort of uttering one single solitary apology to your dearest friend?”

“Do you ever stop?”

“If you think you’re getting out of it that easily, you clearly haven’t met me.”

5. All the Time in the World (The Old Guard) “We are old men,” he retorts, bumping his shoulder against Nicky’s while they watch an elderly couple make their slow, careful way up the steps. The man holds out a knotted hand for his hijabi companion to grasp. They’re bent and aged, and they could be Nicky’s grandchildren a few dozen generations removed. It isn’t usually the sort of thing he considers anymore, but this has been a week for consideration.

6. Unmasked (The Man From U.N.C.L.E.) Illya huffs, exasperated, but he can’t deny that the normalcy of bickering with Napoleon has settled him some. He doesn’t know how much of that is intentional: how much of Napoleon’s light good humor is one of his masks that he seems able to slip on and discard at will.

7. Risks and Consequences (Agent Carter) Daniel reached for his crutch and pulled himself upright, then leaned down to untangle his prosthesis from his trousers and sock. There was something so lovely about him in that moment, mussed and tired and anxious, unselfconsciously naked in the gentle morning light. “You know he’s gonna be on the next flight back to New York.”

“I do know that. I propose we intervene.”

8. With Loves Like These (Shadowhunters) Izzy rolls onto her back, then turns over, pushing herself up on one elbow. On the other side of the room, Clary is perched cross-legged on her desk, wearing boxer shorts, mismatched fuzzy socks, and nothing else. An enormous newsprint pad is spread across her lap, and there are smudges of charcoal on her fingers and more smeared on her cheeks and temples where she must have shoved her hair out of her face without thinking. She’s unbelievably beautiful.

9. Hell Bent and Bound (Leverage) “I’m sending you the cleaning bill for my suit, too,” Hardison adds. Eliot finally lifts his eyes from the bar and looks at him. He raises his chin, looking belligerent and very young. “You got a problem with that?”

“I’ll buy you a new suit,” Eliot says. “Since when do you drink champagne?”

“Since the guy who’s supposed to make sure I get out in one piece stood there and watched me drown in a pool,” Hardison says, and Eliot has to hand it to him: his voice doesn’t even shake. It feels like a slap in the face.

10. Full Immunity and Means (Hawaii Five-0) “So,” he says later, in the car. “Bisexual, huh?”

“Really?” Danny snaps, clinging to the grab-handle for dear life as they slalom into oncoming traffic. “Really, now, you want to have this conversation now? Eyes on the road," he adds, several decibels louder, when Steve glances at him.

No-pressure tagging @lynne-monstr, @pizzaqueen, @alessandriana, @yesiwasateenagewerewolf, @tinyangryeddie, @hmslusitania, and anyone else who wants to play!

#tag game #my fic

5 notes · View notes

casspurrjoybell-32 · 8 months

Text

All It Took Was One Look - Chapter 18

*Warning Adult Content*

Aiden

"So are you done with... you know what?" Liam whispered in ear as we were sitting on the gym bleachers.

It was PE the last period of the day and his class had to share our teacher because theirs was on maternity leave.

So Liam was going to be in my class for the rest of the semester.

I didn't know how I felt about it, he just made me nervous.

But I knew after yesterday he was going to be a cool ally, what with the whole Aiden against the school thing.

"I... I don't know," I answered truthfully.

He knew my problem and he made it clear he wasn't going to stop trying to help so why lie to him.

"You're doing well though, you've been clean since Saturday I can see it in your eyes. There much clearer and you're not yelling at people to 'suck your balls' and whatnot," he joked and I nodded, letting out an embarrassing laugh.

"I did that?" I asked him and he nodded.

"Yes and it would have been funny under different circumstance. I just want you healthy Aiden. And taking drugs is going to hurt you one day and I can't have that," he told me a sincere look in his eyes.

I looked over at him surprised that he cared so much.

"Promise me you won't do it anymore," he begged with his beautiful eyes.

I didn't answer him instead I turned to look around the gym watching everyone talking or playing basketball.

The teacher had given us a free day so I decided to relax.

Liam bent back on his elbow watching me, I could feel his eyes on my back.

"Liam," some guy called him from the court.

"Come join us man."

Liam hesitated for a second before getting up and headed over.

I watched them pass him the ball and he took off... dodging the others with inhuman reflexes and speed.

I watched in awe as he swept the floor with them all.

He high fived some tall black guy. I laughed when our PE teacher joined in cracking jokes with the guys.

The game progressed and things were getting heated and I mean in both ways.

A groan slipped from my lips as I saw Liam snatch his shirt off along with a couple others but they were nothing compared to him.

He was like a god out there... a muscular Adonis with sweaty delectable abs and biceps and I was drooling over his prominent V-line just before it disappeared into his shorts.

This is torture. UGH.

"Well you look like you're really in this game," I jumped from the voice.

Snapping my head to the side I looked up to find a very pretty girl with dyed red hair standing over me.

Her genuine looking smile lowered my guard a bit.

"Yeah," I muttered.

She laughed and sat next to me and held out her hand.

"I'm Robin and your Aiden right?" I nodded slowly and shook her hand.

"That's me."

She flashed me a pair of impressive pearly whites.

"I'm kind of new here," she confessed. "But I have heard all about you."

"That's... that's great," I stuttered and she laughed again... she sure was happy.

"Don't worry I love that you're gay," she stated.

My eyes widened at her.

"Really?" I asked and she nodded enthusiastically.

"Hell yeah, it so nice to have a fellow gay around here," she said shocking the hell out of me.

"Y-you're....?"

"Loud and proud," her big brown eyes gazing at me excitedly.

"Girls all day," she said slapping my shoulder.

I smiled at her feeling a weight being lifted off my shoulders.

'I'm not alone.'

"Actually my brothers gay as well, the parental have no idea how I ended up being a lesbian and my brother gay. But hey it's whatever," she ranted all bubbly and happy, you couldn't not smile and be a little happy when your around her.

"Who's your brother?" I asked.

"Caleb," she said pointing her finger over to a group of scene kids and skater boys talking.

"He's the one that looks like the emo in the group... yep that's my twin."

I nodded as I looked at the guy with dark brown hair that hung in his face, he wore semi black skinny jeans with a gray band t-shirt.

He was pretty cute.

"Alright everyone get changed," the coach yelled wiping the sweat from his face with his shirt.

"Well I'll see you tomorrow," Robin said skipping over towards her brother.

"Yeah," I said but I doubt she could hear me.

Making my way down the bleachers I headed towards the lockers when a damp arm draped over my shoulder.

"You should have joined us Aiden," Liam said smiling down at me and I shook my head.

"So you guy could have wiped the floor with me? No thank you."

I get enough of that at home.

"Oh... come on, we would have been easy on you," he teased of breath as he tightening his arm around my neck pulling me into his chest playfully.

Little did he know I was going to burst from every seam just being in this position with him?

Chuckling I pushed away from him reluctantly as we walked into the locker rooms.

Heading over to my locker I changed my shorts since I never took my shirt off.

I wouldn't want to, not with Liam there to witness all the fading bruises.

Brent hadn't touched me since I first got these and I was hoping it stayed that way.

I just kept my distance from him like he was the plague.

My lip was healing as well... I got hell from Jay about it along with my mom.

Liam left his shirt off and stuffed everything in his bag for football practice. He was just going to head straight there.

"So are you going to be there for my first game?" he asked out of the blue. I looked up at him in surprise.

"Y-you want me to be there?" I stuttered.

He nodded stuffing the last of his stuff in his bag before giving me all his attention.

His amazing hazel eyes trapped me hostage, I felt like a dear caught in head lights. His handsome face softened.

"I mean if you don't want to go it cool, I'm not forcing you or anything," he said sounding a little dejected.

I shook out of my daze and quickly answered him back.

"No... I mean, I-I'll... I'll be there," I said failing at hiding my excitement.

"Cool," he said throwing his bag over his shoulder.

"You coming," he gestured for the door.

I looked around a noticed everyone was gone now. Slowly I nodded and followed him out.

"So who was that girl you were talking to? I've seen her around before, I hear she's kind of weird," he said as we walked to my locker.

"Her named Robin, she is a little weird but I like weird," I told him looking up to see him turned towards me and a wide smile on his face. I frowned a little embarrassed.

"What?"

He shook his head.

"Nothing," he said quietly that smile still on his face.

"Okay..."

Once at my locker I noticed a new batch of offensive words. I just sigh and put in my combination.

"Who the fuck keeps doing this," Liam hissed as he glared at my locker and I just shrugged.

"It doesn't matter," I tell him like it was no big deal even though it hurt to see.

He growled, like an actually growl and I stare up at him in shock.

"Are you okay?" I asked watching him with a frown.

"This is bullshit..." he snarled his eyes piercing into mine intensely.

There was that feeling again, I could feel his anger like a heat wave and out of instinct I stepped closer to him placing my hand on his stomach.

The tingles came rushing into my fingers as they touched his bare abs.

I forgot he wasn't wearing a shirt but I never took them off, my gaze never moved from his.

"Liam," I said softly and he visibly started to calm.

He sighed deeply as he closed his eyes and we stayed like that for a while and because the halls were empty I felt comfortable doing it.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked him.

Opening his eyes I noticed they were yellow, I gasped as he quickly pulled me into his arms and hugged me.

I was a little stunned before I hugged him back.

A crazy current of electricity started throughout my entire body.

I loved it... it felt so good that I let out a little moan.

His arm tightened as I felt his breath on my neck sending me spiraling into frenzy.

My heart was beating at an erratic pace. I felt his lips meet the base of my neck and I shivered in pleasure.

What was he doing to me?

Without thinking I gave him access by tilting my head to the side and held him closer.

"Liam," I whimpered his name as my breathing became irregular.

All too soon he moved away from me he looked startled and breathing hard.

Backing up a little more, he picked his bag up.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly before rushed off down the hall.

I watched him practically run away from me and my body was demanding that I stop him but couldn't bring myself to do it.

I probably freaked him out with my stupid moans and whimpers.

Turning back to my locker I grabbed my stuff.

'Way to go, Aiden' I though slamming my locker shut.

1 note · View note

everlock101 · 2 years

Text

Shadow and Stardew

Chapter Three: Monster Hunter

I rose at my usual time and rolled up my sleeping bag, kicking it aside. I got ready for the day and grabbed my mini crossbow and bolt case.

I padded downstairs and stopped as I looked over the room, my brow rising.

Hadn’t the fireplace been dirty? I didn’t remember cleaning it. I flicked on the light and yeah, the fireplace was clean; free of grime and soot. Had I cleaned it? I’d done a lot last night. Perhaps it had slipped my mind.

It niggled at me though. I’d have to buy a security system.

I slipped outside into the cool, pre-dawn air. Everything lay quiet and still. Last night that had seemed comforting. Now though, my skin prickled with unease. It was too quiet. There were no cars, no people strolling in the early morning, no rats squeaking in the alleyway.

No monsters.

I rubbed a hand over my face and shook my head. I needed to concentrate.

I slipped through the trees and bushes and felt some of my unease fade. My muscles loosened into the familiar movements even though the environment was different from my usual hunting ground.

I left the property and slipped into the forest. I focused and kept my ears open.

For a moment, everything went still.

Rustling sounded up and to my right. I didn't raise my crossbow, just slipped closer.

A rabbit burst from the bush and scampered away. I smiled after it and kept moving. As dawn slowly broke, I kept my eyes on the ground looking for tracks.

I practiced tracking animals until the sun completely broke the horizon. I shot a few leaves with my crossbow, pinning them to the tree trunks.

Just as I was about to head back to the house, I heard something big rustle in the trees to my left. I dropped down low and stayed still. It moved closer and I felt my heart rate increase. Its footsteps seemed too heavy for a deer. I tensed and raised my crossbow.

The bushes parted revealing Mal. I cursed and twisted, my finger automatically squeezing the trigger. Mal froze, his eyes going wide and the bolt slammed into the trunk to the right of his head.

“Saints! I am so sorry!” I rushed over to him and wrenched the bolt from the tree. “You’re not hurt are you?”

“Uh, no. I don’t think so.” He raised a hand and felt his head then slowly shook his head. “No, I’m not hurt.”

“I’m really, really sorry. I had no idea someone else would be out here so early.”

“Uh, that’s ok. I’m just really glad you missed.”

He let out an awkward chuckle and then both of us were laughing weakly. The adrenaline made my hands shake as I bent over and wheezed. Mal fell back against a tree.

Eventually, our laughter petered out. We managed to straighten up and Mal wiped a hand over his face.

“So, uh, next time you want to hunt in the morning, mind telling me so we don’t accidentally kill each other?”

That sent me into another round of helpless giggles. I waved my hands at him trying to talk but couldn’t get the words out.

“I’m so sorry,” I wheezed out. He laughed and patted my shoulder as I straightened up again and my laughter faded.

“Come on. Why don’t you join us for breakfast?”

He led me through the trees and we broke out to see a small lake surrounded by trees with a lovely little cottage nearby. He walked right up to it and stepped through the door, calling for Alina.

“Back so soon? Was hunting that good today?” Alina asked as I hesitantly stepped inside. She stood in the kitchen with a bowl of batter in her arms. Her eyes widened slightly as she saw me and then she smiled. “Oh, hello, Ketarina. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Hello,” I greeted with an awkward wave. Mal walked over and gave Alina a kiss on the cheek.

“I didn’t get far. Ketarina here nearly shot me in the head.”

I cringed and buried my face in my hands.

“I apologized!”

Mal laughed as Alina sputtered a bit but assured he was fine. By the time I peeked through my fingers, Alina was giggling as well.

“Well, just imagine if we hadn’t met you yesterday,” she teased. I huffed but let myself relax.

“I really am sorry,” I said again. Mal waved a hand.

“Really, it’s fine. No one was hurt. And now we know. The reason I invited you is that I hunt most mornings and if you do the same we just need to make sure we know where the other person is.”

I nodded and he crossed to a door, vanishing inside. Alina gestured for me to sit down while she turned on the stove. I sat at one of the island stools and looked around.

Their cottage was cute, with pale green walls and large windows and a solid wood floor. Everything looked comfortable and lived in and used. I could imagine them sitting around the fireplace in their comfortable couches each night. There was a dark stain on one of the cushions and I wondered if Misha had spilled a drink. A little wooden sword leaned on the wall by the door. Coats lay draped over the backs of chairs. It was all so different.

“Here,” Mal announced as he returned, holding up a large framed picture. He hopped onto the stool next to me and set it between us. My eyebrows rose in appreciation as I gazed at a hand-drawn map of Stardew Valley.

“Wow, this is incredible work.” I noticed the signature in the bottom right corner and glanced up. “You drew this?”

Alina shrugged nonchalantly but her cheeks pinked and a small smile curved her lips.

“Yes. I studied cartography when I was younger.”

“You’re really talented. Oh, did you paint the landscape you gave me?”

“That was an older one but I hoped you might like it.”

“I do. Thank you again.”

Alina smiled and turned back to the stove. Mal brought my attention back to the map. Alright, the whole valley is surrounded by trees and hills, and then there's the mountain. Here’s the main town, and then Matthias’s shop up the hill. And we’re here.”

He pointed to the little cottage on the map. I pointed to a large property to the northeast of the cottage.

“Is this Colm’s ranch?”

Yeah and then this little place just across the river from it is Harshaw’s. He’s the local vet. He mainly works with Colm and Aleksander but he’ll check out anyone’s pet.”

“Aleksander?”

“Aleksander owns horses. Colm actually lets him use some of his land.”

“Is it hard living so far from town? How long does it take you to get there?”

“It’s only about a thirty-minute walk if you keep to the little road, and we like it out here. It’s quiet, plus it's easier for me to get out and hunt.”

“Do you provide meat for the town?”

“I’m the biggest supplier but there are a few others. Tolya and Tamar. Nikolai. Botkin used to but ever since the cave-in…”

Mal trailed off. I glanced at him and noticed the apprehension on his face as if he’d said too much.

“Well, I know how to hunt though I’ve actually never hunted game before.” Mal arched an eyebrow and I took a breath. “I was actually trained as a monster hunter.”

Alina inhaled sharply. I looked up but she spun away before I could see her face. I looked at Mal who had paused in the act of rubbing his neck.

“You…hunt monsters?”

My gut prickled with unease. I swallowed thickly but nodded.

“What? Do you have a monster problem here? I wouldn’t expect it in such a small town. They mostly stick to the cities.”

They exchanged another look. I forced myself to wait patiently until they seemed to come to an agreement. Alina spoke up.

“There’s a mine up in the mountain. Years ago, it became infested with monsters. Botkin and his students went down and kept them at bay for a while but then there was a cave-in. Botkin was cut off from his students and…”

Alina’s hand drifted to her arm and her eyes grew distant. Mal stood and went to her side.

“I can imagine what happened,” I said quietly. A tear tracked down her cheek and she quickly looked away. I looked back down at the map, giving them a moment.

“Momma?”

All three of us spun to find a sleepy Misha standing in an open doorway. He rubbed at his eyes and blinked blearily at his parents. Immediately, Alina came around the counter with a bright smile on her face.

“Oh, sorry Misha. Did we wake you?”

“I heard voices,” he mumbled.

“Yes, our new friend Ketarina came for a visit. You can go back to sleep though.”

“But I want to stay up.”

Alina laughed.

“Alright, then go get washed up and awake and by the time you come back, I’ll have pancakes waiting.”

Misha smiled a sleepy smile and then bustled away. Mal returned to his spot beside me and Alina went back to the stove, keeping her back to us.

“Botkin would know more about that,” Mal murmured. “But for now, what kind of area do you prefer to hunt in?”

I examined the map.

“Honestly, I haven’t hunted much in the countryside and as I said, I’ve never actually hunted animals.”

“Well, I teach a hunting course on Saturdays for anyone who’s interested. You’re free to join. And here,” he grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down his number. “Just call me to let me know if you’re going to be out in the mornings.”

I accepted the number but grimaced.

“I don’t suppose there’s a place to buy a phone around here?”

Mal and Alina both broke into surprised chuckles.

“Um, well, Matthias might be able to set you up with one.”

“Well, I guess that will be my next step.”

“Momma, is breakfast ready?”

Misha scrambled up into a stool beside Mal.

“Mal, grab some plates.”

Once the island had been set, Alina served each of us pancakes and glasses of milk. Misha was cautious at first until I pointed out the wooden sword.

“Have you slain any monsters recently?”

“No, Da won’t let me slay monsters,” he replied, shooting Mal a grumpy look.

“Nope,” Mal said easily.

“But he has been teaching me,” Misha continued face brightening into a smile. Mal ruffled his son’s hair and Misha laughed before shoving pancake into his mouth.

Alina and Mal sent me away with a Tupperware of pancakes. I walked along the path toward town, surprised to feel a smile on my face. It was still too quiet but it no longer made me uneasy. Birds chirped and fluttered through the trees. Squirrels darted across branches.

“There you go.”

I paused as a voice sounded ahead of me. Slowly, I emerged from the trees to get my first look at Colm’s ranch. The path followed along the fence line and I could see the town beyond. A large barn and stable stood on the property near the ranch house.

The dark-haired man I’d run into outside the Crow General Store rode a large, beautiful brown horse. They cantered through the field a few yards from the fence. I watched them for a moment, my eyes lingering on the man’s lean form.

I quickly looked away and started walking again.

Saints, girl, get a hold of yourself.

Just as the thought crossed my mind, the drumming of hooves came closer. I saw the fence vibrate as the sound grew quieter and a shadow fell over me.

I swallowed and looked up to see the man smiling down at me.

“Hello again,” he greeted.

“Hello.”

I kept walking but he kept pace beside me.

“I never caught your name.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard it by now.”

He chuckled.

“Ketarina.”

I liked the way my name sounded on his lips. My cheeks grew warmer and I clutched the Tupperware to my chest, staring pointedly at the ground.

“That’s it,” I muttered. “What’s your name?”

I heard his feet thump on the ground. I glanced over to see him off the horse and pulling the reins over its head. He caught up to me, leading the horse behind him.

“Aleksander.”

“Ah, the horse owner,” I replied, tipping my head toward the animal. Aleksander rubbed the white patch on the horse’s nose.

“Asking about me?”

His dark eyes twinkled.

“No!” Despite the sincerity, I responded too quickly and his smile grew wider. I gritted my teeth and wished for a monster to pop out. “People have been trying to help me get settled.”

“I’m guessing you’ve had a lot of visitors.”

“More than I ever had in the city.”

He chuckled and we reached the end of the fence. I hesitated then paused and looked back at him.

“Well, welcome to Pelican Town, Ketarina.”

He stuck his hand over the fence. My skin prickled but not in the unpleasant, oily way it had with Pekka Rollins.

It’s just the breeze, I snapped to myself as I shook his hand.

#shadow and bone #stardew valley #fanfiction #no beta we die like men

0 notes

the-letter-horror-lover · 2 years

Text

Boruto and the Pensive by reebajee

Harry Potter & Naruto Xover Rated: K, English, Humor & Friendship, Words: 1k+, Favs: 5, Follows: 2, Published: Jul 14, 2017

A/N:

This is based off a dream. It's really weird. That said, please enjoy.

Boruto smirked. Getting to the headmaster's office was too easy. Dad should've known better than to use such a predictable password as "Ichiraku Ramen". The door swung open and Boruto barged in ready to make an even greater mess of the already cluttered office. It served Dad right for not paying enough attention to him. Being headmaster of Hogwarts kept him busy but that was no excuse! Oh, he was totally gonna get him back for ignoring him. Looking around, Boruto marched over to the pot of glowing liquid in the corner. That looked like it would make a mess. Grinning, he grabbed the edge of the cauldron and tried to pull it over. But to his dismay, it wouldn't budge. He pouted, hearing his father's words in his ears. "You'd be strong enough to do it if you ever trained once in a while Boruto." Hmph. Boruto thought. I'll show you dad! And with that he grabbed the pot with both hands and pulled. Ung! He grunted. He pulled with all his weight. Then he pushed. Maybe if he tried to get some momentum he could push it over. Boruto took a few steps back, rolling up the sleeves of his robe and lunged at the cauldron. Then, as if sucked by some magic, Boruto fell in, pulled into the pensive and fell down into his father's memories.

The world swirled and Boruto found himself in an old shack of a country house, staring at a younger version of his father.

"Who are you?" Naruto asked.

"Dad? It's me," Boruto began, before a large man walked right through him.

"My name is Iruka Hagrid." The man answered. "And you are a ninja, Potter."

Naruto scratched his head. "You've got to be kidding. I've heard of ninja mailmen, but ninja potters? What do ninja need pots for?"

"Ninja potters don't exist, you moron!" Hagrid yelled. "You, Naruto Potter, son of Minato Potter and Lily Uzumaki, are a ninja!"

Nauto stepped back. "No, that can't be right." He stammered. "The villagers always told me that my parents were killed by ninja."

Colors churned again and Boruto found himself in yet another memory, this time on the Hogwarts express.

"Has anyone seen my turtle?" a funny looking boy with a bowl cut asked. He frantically searched and bumped into Naruto. "Oh, I am so sorry. My name is Lee Longbottom. Have you seen my turtle?"

Naruto shook his head and the boy moved on. "I wonder if anyone here can preform jutsu." Naruto wondered aloud.

At the sound of 'jutsu' Lee's head popped up. "Oh! Oh! I do!" he yelled. Lee put his hands together, bent his middle fingers and turned his hands so that there was a finger sticking out of each side. "This genjutsu makes it look like I have a finger going through my hands!"

"That's not a genjutsu." A nasaly voice came from behind them. They turned to see a frizzy pink haired girl. "That's only a dumb trick." She pointed out. "My name is Hermione Haruno, by the way." She said.

"Well, Hermione," Lee bristled, "I'd like to see you do better. We're not even genin yet."

"That's all the more reason to start studying up." The pink haired ninja replied. "My parents are muggles, so I was very surprised to find out that I was a kunoichi. I didn't want to be left behind the other kids who were brought up with ninja relatives so I studied some medical jutsu over the summer." Hermione reached over and removed Naruto's glasses. She put her hands together to collect chakra and said, "This might hurt a bit."

"Wha- Ow!" Naruto yelled as Hermione did something to his eyes. Blinking, he realized that something was different about his vision. He didn't need glasses!

Hermione smiled. "Now you're only four eyes instead of six. Why don't you take off those silly goggles?" She snatched the pair off of Naruto's forehead before he could react.

"Hey! Give 'em back!" Naruto yelled, but then fell silent as he saw the looks on their faces. "What?"

"That scar on your forhead. Are you, are you really Naruto Potter?" Lee asked.

'Oh no.' Thought Naruto. 'Now they're going to hate me like the rest of the orphans.'

He was saved however, by the timely reappearance of Sasuke Weasly. "Hey. Mudblood. Get out of my seat." He ordered. Lee and Hermione looked aghast. Naruto had no idea what was going on.

"How dare you insult her like that!" Lee yelled.

"Stop it, Lee," Hermione urged.

Lee would not stop. "She's going to sit wherever she wants!"

Sasuke glared at the bunch. "Fine," he said. "I wouldn't want to sit in any seat dirtied by a mudblood anyway. Let's get out of here Potter." Sasuke moved to go but noticed that Naruto wasn't moving. "Or not. I don't care." He added and then left.

"What was his problem?" Hermione asked.

"And what's a mudblood?" Naruto added.

Lee shook his head. "It's a derogatory term for someone of a background that is not fully ninja. My grandmother always forbade me from saying it. Sasuke is from the famed Weasly clan who were very proud of their pure bloodline. They were known for their supreme kekke genkai, the sharingan hair. When it is activated, the Weasly becomes a ginger and is able to steal their oponent's soul."

"What do you mean they 'were' known for it?" Hermione asked.

"Well," Lee whispered, "The Weaslys were all brutally murdered about five years ago, by Ron's older brother Itachi."

"Five years ago," Hermione exclaimed. "He would've been six years old then. No wonder he's so messed up."

"Yeah," Naruto said. "And no wonder his older brother killed them for getting such a stupid name. Weasel Weasly? At least I'm just Fishcake Potter."

Boruto's vision swam and he was next transported to the DADA classroom, where a sickly Inuzuka man was teaching a lesson. Reamus, he thought his father had called him. "I'm going to cast a bogart genjutsu on you so that you can practice the counter." The man explained. "The bogart will show you your greatest fear, so to counter it you must think of something funny and say Ridikulus."

Boruto boredly watched the class progress as everyone so far had pretty normal fears, until of course, Lee Longbottom. His bogart seemed to flicker between Anko Snape, and a horrific sight of a man with huge eyebrows wearing a green leopard print leotard and fluffy skirt. Wait, Lee's grandmother was Might Gai?!

Boruto was never so relieved when the memory switched to another one. This time it took place in the great hall, and he heard whispers and murmers around him of people talking about the new defense teacher. "Who is he, and what's up with his eye?" Naruto asked.

"H-his n-n-name is Aoba M-Moody." A timid voice replied.

Boruto turned and was shocked to see it was his mother!

"Huh? Hinata," Naruto asked. "How do you know this stuff?"

The shy girl blushed and looked down. "H-he's an ex hunter-nin, known f-for his s-stolen byakugan."

"What!" Naruto cried in outrage, as the world faded again.

The next memory Boruto saw seemed to take place next to a cliff where his father stood next to a dog-eared man. "Hey! That's no way to talk to your godfather. And besides, I'm no ordinary ninja, I'm the legendary sanin, Sirius of the Toads!" The dog-eared man replied.

"Yeah, whatever." Naruto said. "The only thing you are is 'seriously purvey'."

"Ah, shut it." The sanin ordered. "I have a duty to your parents to take care of you so I'm going to teach you the summoning jutsu. Hagrid tells me that you're learning to fly broomsticks in the academy. So, to summon your broomstick, you must make these hand signs, draw blood from your thumb, and say 'Accio broomstick!'"

Boruto screamed in fright as he saw his father get pushed off the cliff, only to summon his broom at the last moment and fly to safety.

The scene changed again and Boruto was in front of section 44 of the forbidden forest. "All right you maggots!" Shouted a lady with greasy purple hair. "My name is Anko Snape, and I'll be the proctor for this round of the tri-village exam!" The scene sped forward and Boruto gasped as he was faced with the tableau of frightened faces. He turned to see what they were staring at, only to see the dark lord Orochimort biting Sasuke Weasly!

"You will be my vessel!" Orochimort cackled evilly. "I've always wanted to be ginger!"

'So that's how uncle Sasuke got turned into a Horcrux.' Boruto thought, just before he was bodily yanked from the pensive. He blinked as he once again found himself in his father's messy office, staring into the face of a pissed off headmaster.

"Uh, Dad, I can explain!" Buruto started, only to be interrupted by a shout of, "Detention, Boruto!"

The headmaster's son sighed.

A/N:

Again, this is based of a really weird dream I had, so don't judge. I guess you could call it crack, but when you're dreaming you don't really intend for anything to be funny. It just happens.

Review

#boruto fanfiction

0 notes

godblooded · 2 years

Text

@crimeloyalty (x)

selina’ll never deny harls that request. she won’t because she knows for harls that one gesture is the world, and for selina it can be natural. for selina, it’s become something that no longer feels weird. it feels commonplace. everything else sends her alarms absolutely screaming, but she recognizes the earnest gesture harls makes. — harls doesn’t ask to hold hands when she’s being a prick. a cynical fh of a puff comes out of her nose. the cat hates laughter. it’s terrible. she hears it come out of her mouth in the way she does when she thinks something just— hurts and she can’t explain it any other way. laughter has only ever meant hurt.

“ you know what i think about, harls? ”

she’s controlling her voice. harls can tell that she’s absolutely restraining the urge to just fly to the idea of hissing predator, trash this, and get the fuck out. and even that’s something that’s about to add to the disgusting things she’s about to admit.

( bruce’s precious little doctor with those sinatra blue eyes says her shit isn’t her fault. so she tells her to go fuck herself and worry about her own problems. free advice, the therapist shrugged. selina had told her to go shrink someone else’s head because hers had already been used for an occult ritual and turned on a heel. your hair is too big for that!! alana shouted. and over her shoulder the cat lobbed and your eyeliner makes you look like a fucking raccoon! )

she sneaks her grip into harls’ the same way she has a thousand times before. few people are allowed to get close to the cat. harls is on a very short list— and what she’s saying means that she wants to stay on it. she’s honestly straight up fucking admitting to shit she’s done wrong. and so selina will respond in the same way.

“ how if i bent my fingers just right i could break your wrist. how this close i could snap your neck— with my legs or with my hands. if you’d tried to shut my ass up that while back in my flat, i would’ve bit your finger clean off. if my bagel is cream cheese instead of butter, i imagine how hard i’d have to hurl it at the guy to give him a fatal concussion. and it’s — i mean it’s more lucid than anything fucking should be, let me put it that way. but it’s always been this way. always. ever since i was a kid. ”

when she shrugs, the both of them do, being the loose handhold.

“ harls, hate to break, but you’re discovering your own fucking flaws. and that’s what’s going on. you’re finding all the bad parts of you now that you’re not crushed under some stupid prick’s size fifty shoe. but you’re just giving the fuck in to them instead of blowing a whistle. yeah. you wanna fuck me. it’s not a secret. but instead of the way you would’ve done it— like this— you did— that. but the difference is still you. i don’t know how to help you get that. but i don’t even have a ged so keep in mind everything i’m saying is just talking out of my own ass. or watching a lot of dr. phil. — which wouldn’t teach me anything, really. but i listen when you talk, too. ”

her knife-heeled boot is jiggling at the knee a couple miles a minute and she’s looking up at the big, glowing screen. hellcat had told her about movie guy and she’d been delighted when a dude with a projector started playing rear window on the side of a peeling toys r us billboard way up on 182nd. it’s a good night for a calm time with harls where they can both be themselves with each other. even if selina is never not herself. harls could use the break from her own stress, and they’re both climbers.

if she shattered her leg she’d be so fucked, oh my god. sorry, movie.

“ we’re fucked up. we’re gonna do fucked up things to each other. do we know how to be any other way? ”

she flicks her hair out of her face. wiggles a little closer as the black and white plays across her face, and selina’s lips are ruby red. her eyes are the least soothing brown there’s ever been. no teddy bear here, no doe eyes. a kind of brown like flint. she won’t look, either. she’s too afraid to witness harls’ disgust with her firsthand. too frightened to see her disappointment or honest to god fear. her grip is loose— allows easy escape on purpose.

“ i don’t give a flying rat’s dying shit if you hurt me. you almost hurt holls. I draw a line there. she’s my kid. if i don’t think about her first who the fuck is going to? ”

that’s my kid.

#ic. the catwoman.#v: the catwoman: hands down i'm too proud for love; but with eyes closed it's you i'm thinking of. (harls)#meme threads. the catwoman.#opposite. dr. harleen quinzel. crimeloyalty.#crimeloyalty #[literally this was just the inspiration brick dropping flat on my own head.]

1 note · View note

fingertipsmp3 · 2 years

Text

Knowing someone since they were a child and then watching them have a child is, above all, extremely funny because you start to see the parallels between the way they were when they were young and the way their kid behaves

#i’ve known my best friend for 16 years; so since we were both 10. she’s got a two year old child #and she was telling me yesterday that the kid has started biting other babies at childcare and how ‘it’s a bit much isn’t it? do you think #i should be concerned?’ and i was like ‘hmm i mean not really. i remember you doing the same thing when we were about 12’#‘that was different! she bent my fingers back and it really hurt so i bit her so she’d let go of my hand!’#‘yes; well; i’m sure [the kid] also felt justified’ ‘hmm. maybe you’re right’#the baby really is just a smaller version of my best friend; one who runs around in big pants and screams and doesn’t realise #it’s socially unacceptable to eat ice cream with your hands or put your hands in sauce and then slap people #if necessary i will protect her with my life #personal

0 notes

smellingofpoetry · 2 years

Text

Normal Again

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Benny Lafitte, Castiel

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: "The first time it happened had felt like a bad nightmare."

Square/s Filled: "Dean Winchester" (TMAS Bingo - @supernatural-jackles), Hospital AU (@anyfandomaubingo)

Warnings: mention of mental illness, mental hospital, pills, angst, nightmares, hurt, sadness, mention of smut, mention of nudity, mention of the series finale

Rating: +18

Words count: 3708

Beta: endlesswanted

A/N: Hello there! It has been a while since my last story, unfortunately, I'm quite busy at the moment so my writing had slowed down. I had this story in mind for quite some time and I've finally been able to finish it. I was inspired by an episode of Buffy, I don't know if some of you watched it or not, but I always loved that one in particular. This story talks about some delicate subject, so I totally understand if some of you would prefer to skip it. I did my best with the warnings, but feel free to let me know if I missed something. That being said, let me know what you think about the story and I hope you'll appreciate it. Enjoy! 🖤

Dean Winchester Masterlist - Masterlist

The first time it happened had felt like a bad nightmare. It wasn’t even the worst he had in all those years, and nothing really had happened. It was just him sitting on a bed in an almost empty room, but he could feel this heaviness on his chest.

He could feel his own fear.

The worst part was how real that nightmare had felt. He had become quite good at shaking his bad dreams off, but this one was different. He could still feel it deep down on his bones even hours later.

Once the feeling went away, he blamed it on the hunt he had just done and moved on until more dreams found their way to him. He kept quiet, deciding to deal with them on his own. It wasn’t his first bad dream, but then he started to have them even when he was wide awake. He had one of them even while working a case and if he hadn’t snapped out of it the moment he did he would have probably lost her.

That night, once they were back, he all but hid in his room until she made her way to him. She sat down next to him without saying a word. Her small hand grabbed his, lacing their fingers together. Dean closed his eyes while the guilt came back in full force.

“Talk to me, De.”

He sighed hearing her pleading tone, knowing full well he couldn’t keep to himself what was happening, not anymore.

“I’m having these dreams. I don’t even know if I can call them that anymore.”

Y/N looked up at him, confusion was written all over her face. He bit down on his lip, trying to figure out how to explain what was happening to him when he wasn’t really sure himself.

“They started like dreams, but now I’m having them even when I’m not sleeping.”

“And you were having one of those while we were hunting?”

Dean nodded his head, feeling his eyes sting a bit. She got a bit closer then, holding his hand a bit tighter.

“What are they like?”

“They feel so real, like pieces – missing pieces.”

“Of what?”

“Someone’s story.”

“Whose?”

“Mine.”

“No, please. I don’t want them anymore. Please –”

Dean whimpered, trying to push himself against the wall as much as he could to get away from them.

“No more, please.”

One of the nurses bent on his knees, sighing in defeat.

“Don’t make it even harder, man.”

Dean backed away a bit more when the door of his room opened, and the doctor came in. He signaled the two nurses to leave them alone, and Dean waited for them to get out before glancing toward the doctor.

“Did you take your pills, Dean?”

He looked down then, shaking his head while he hugged his legs closer to his chest.

“They’re for your own good.”

“But I don’t want them.”

“Alright, we’re going to worry about that later. For now, you have a visit.”

Dean's interests peeked up at that, so he glanced at the doctor again before shifting his eyes towards the door. A few seconds later two figures came into the room, making Dean’s eyes go wide with surprise.

“Hey, son.”

His dad tried to smile, but Dean’s attention was already focused on the other person who waved at him, unsure.

“Sammy?”

“Hey, Dean.”

“You’re back?”

“For a little while, yeah.”

The doctor waved to John, signaling to both go outside.

“Why don’t we give them some time, uhm?”

Y/N moved on the bed to face him this time. He was worried and, somehow, that wasn’t even the right definition to describe him, but she knew to have never seen him that upset.

“What happens in these dreams?”

Dean swallowed, trying to avoid her eyes as best as he could, which ended up worrying her even more. He closed his eyelids for a few seconds, not sure he had in him the courage to tell her.

“It’s bad, Y/N.”

“Nothing of what you’re going to tell me will make me look at you differently.”

He raised his eyes and the moment they landed on her he knew that she was telling the truth. So, he nodded, and taking a deep breath he let her know.

“I’m in this place – a hospital.”

Y/N tightened her grip on his hand. Fear was starting to creep on her, but she kept her mouth shut giving him all the time he needed to speak on his terms, even though all that wait was going to kill her.

“I’m there to be treated because I –” he paused to take a deep breath.

“I think I’m sick.”

Why was her heart beating so fast for a stupid dream? Maybe if he wasn’t so terrified then maybe she could have relaxed a bit.

“But they’re treating you, so that’s a good thing, right?”

Y/N desperately searched his eyes, trying to find reassurance but the moment Dean looked at her she knew it was worse than she was picturing it.

“The hospital –”

“Yeah?”

“– it’s a mental hospital, Y/N.”

They were sitting on the floor with their backs on the wall, and suddenly it seemed to be back to when they were just kids, and they spent their summer nights talking to each other about their future.

“Are you here to take me home?”

Sam’s heart cracked a bit under the weight of his big brother's question. To be honest, he couldn’t tell what hurt more between his words and the lost look on his face.

“I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have to get better first.”

Dean frowned, glancing down at his pale gown. He tried to process his little brother's words but sometimes it was so hard to concentrate on something.

“But I don’t like it here.”

“I know you don’t.”

“What if – what if I take my medicine and promise to be good, will you let me come back to the bunker, then?”

Dean looked at his brother, while Sam seemed to be confused by the question.

“The bunker?”

“Yeah, home.”

Sam frown deepened, not sure what he was talking about let alone know what to say to him.

“Dean, there’s no bunker.”

“Yes, there is. That’s where we live, me and you.”

Dean shook his head with force while slowly getting up. Sam sighed, getting up too but smart enough to not get too close to him to not upset him even more.

“No, we’re not, Dean. you’ve been here for a few years now, remember? While I live in California where I went to college.”

“No, no, you left college after Jessica died and we – we –”

Sam took a step forward; hands raised in surrender to let him know he didn’t want to hurt him in any way.

“Jessica is not dead; she lives with me in California. I already told you that last time we saw each other.”

Dean shook his head, pacing inside the small room trying to make sense of his foggy thoughts.

“No, no, you’re lying. I thought you were on my side.”

“And I’m, Dean.”

“Then why are you lying?”

He shouted, stopping in the middle of the room to look at Sam, who stood still watching him helplessly. Dean stared at him with teary eyes, waiting for him to say that it was just a stupid mistake.

“Say something, damn it!”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just like everybody else. You’re just trying to find a new reason to leave me again.”

He was about to take a step forward when two strong arms took hold of him. The nurse tried to calm him down, leading him towards the bed.

“Alright, calm down now.”

“No! Leave me alone!”

Sam got a bit closer, wanting to do something to help him but not knowing what he was supposed to do in a situation like that.

“Please, let him go. We were just talking. We just – I – please.”

But the nurse ignored him, taking a syringe from one of his pockets and pushing the needle inside Dean’s arm.

“No! No! Please, no! Sammy, please. Tell them it’s not a lie, please. She can’t be a lie – she can’t!”

“Who?”

Dean slowed down his movements while the nurse secured him to the bed. He stood still, staring at the ceiling. A small tear rolled down his cheek.

“Y/N –”

Y/N tried to push down the lump in her throat but the scared look on Dean’s face made her panic rise.

“We have had worst nightmares, why is this one having such an effect on you?”

Dean glanced in her direction, gnawing the inside of his cheek. He sighed, knowing she had the right to know.

“Because it feels real – too real.”

Y/N frowned at his words. All their nightmares felt real, she knew that well enough. So, she also knew there was more to it than he was telling her.

“What are you trying to tell me?”

He rubbed at his tired eyes with his fingertips, hanging low his head.

“It’s starting to become hard to say what’s real and what’s not.”

“When did all of this start?”

“It started after the last witch hunt.”

Y/N got up from the bed, pacing the room trying to think of the best way to deal with this new situation. She stopped in her tracks after a few seconds before heading to the door.

“Alright, I’m going to wake up Sam and we’re going to figure out what’s happening.”

“Y/N –”

She turned around at the sound of her name, trying to pretend she was keeping it cool but his next words made her waver.

“Yeah?”

“I feel like I’m already slipping.”

Dean stood still staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. His wrists and ankles were still secured to the bed, and yet he could feel Sam’s presence next to him, but he hadn’t had the strength to do much more than stare at the wall and think of her.

How could people think she was a lie?

Something is mind created?

Something not real?

She felt so real to him.

Even now, watching a damn wall, he could remember every single detail of her, from the sound of her voice to the colors of her eyes or the dimples on her cheeks. He could still remember how it felt to kiss her and be kissed by her, the softness of her skin under his hands, the weight of her body pressed against his, her warmth welcoming him.

And her smile – oh, that damn smile of hers.

He could still remember the way she made him feel every time he laid between her arms. She made him feel wanted.

So, how could all of that have been just a trick of his mind?

“She cannot be just a dream –”

Sam shifted in his seat at the sound of his brother's voice. For a minute he got really scared there, so he spent the last hour watching over him, just in case. He moved forward just a bit, being careful to not startle him.

“Tell me about her.”

At that question Dean’s lips curved upwards before his eyes went in search of his little brother, finding him right where he had left him.

“Y/N is – she is smart, like really smart. And loyal, one hell of a hunter, and a real pain in my ass sometimes.”

Sam chuckled at that, making Dean smile too.

“She’s also the kindest person I’ve ever known.”

“How did you two meet?”

“You know that story, Sam. You were there.”

Sam smiled sadly, nodding his head in approval. Of course, he was there, he should have known. It warmed Sam’s heart to know that he was in every one of Dean’s stories, even though they didn’t really spend that much time together anymore. So, it made sense for him to be there too. Sam patted Dean’s knees, trying to play along if that meant he could have his brother back for five more minutes.

“Yeah, I know, but I want to hear it anyway.”

“It was during a hunt. Bobby sent her as a backup, and I might have tried some of my moves on her once the job was done.”

“Did they work?”

“Hell no!”

They ended up laughing at that, with Sam studying Dean’s face who seemed to be lost miles away from where they were.

“So, how did you two end up together?”

Dean went back to stare at the ceiling, hoping he could see her again between all that white.

“It’s stupid.”

Sam smiled, thinking that surely couldn’t have been more stupid than talking with his brother about an imaginary girl. At that point, stupid was overestimated.

“I’ll decide that.”

“She held my hand when I was at my worst, and she never did let go ever since then.”

Y/N and Sam were looking for an explanation for what was happening to Dean, but they were going blind, which made everything even harder.

She rubbed her heavy eyes, feeling the tiredness catching up with her. Sighing she closed the tenth book of the last hours before getting up.

“I’m going to check on Dean.” She announced Sam, who simply nodded his head without stopping to read the page ha was focusing on. She couldn’t really blame him. They were running out of time, and of books for that matter.

She walked along the corridor until she reached Dean’s room. He was where she left him a few hours prior, on his lap a bunch of photos. Y/N closed the door behind her, leaning against it.

“None of the things that happened here had happened there, except for mom. That happened there too, and I think it was the first crack in my – in his mind. Then Sam went away, and I think he just – he just let go.”

Dean trailed off, gazing at one of the pictures he had in his hand while Y/N remained silent, not sure what to say to make him feel better, which hurt her more than she was ready to admit.

“Dad is still alive, and so does Jessica. Sam is close to becoming a lawyer. Cass apparently is my doctor and Benny’s one of the nurses at the hospital. The only one who’s nice enough.”

“So, no demons or angels, or any kind of monsters?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“And every person you’ve met here is there too?”

Dean sighed, putting aside the photos he was still holding.

“Everyone, but one –”

Y/N frowned, tilting her head to the side like that would have helped her to understand better. They stared at each other for a few seconds when finally she understood.

“Everyone but me.”

Dean nodded, watching her lowering her gaze to try to hide her teary eyes from him like she always did.

“Didn’t I tell you that you’ll be lost without me?”

She looked up at him then, trying to joke about it even though her smile didn’t reach her eyes, not really anyway.

“Yeah – yeah, you did tell me that.”

Dean whispered, a lopsided smile on his lips. He cleared his throat, turning to his nightstand to watch the picture of the two of them together.

“He’s scared. The other me, I mean.”

“Why is that?”

“He’s afraid to lose you.”

“But you said –”

“According to the doctors, he created this whole world in his head where he takes shelter from reality. The world looks a lot like my life, and he really believes that that’s real, which is why dad – John – I mean, his dad took him to the hospital in the first place.”

Y/N walked the few steps dividing them, going to sit on the edge of the bed.

“So, I’m for him what I’m for you, even if I’m not really in that world?”

“You’re real.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, but –”

Dean sighed, throwing his head back against the headboard. She looked at him in silence, watching him gnawn on his bottom lip until he finally spoke again.

“I share his same fear.”

“Dean, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” she said while grabbing his hand that she squeezed to reassure him.

“But I might go to a place where you’re not there, and then what? It’s bad enough to end up chained to a mental hospital bed, but being without you? Hell, no!”

Y/N widened her eyes at his words. Did he just say –? No, she must have heard him wrong.

“You are chained where, now?”

“Not the point.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but then she decided against it. So, instead, she crawled in his lap, lacing her arms around his neck.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“But what if –”

“I’ll find my way to you then.”

Dean smiled at that, wrapping his arms around her middle dragging her closer and hugging her a bit harder.

“What if the other Sam is right and all of this isn’t real? What if you’re no – you’re not –”

Dean’s voice died down while his eyes filled with warm, fat tears. Y/N’s heart shattered under the weight of his words, so she let her hands travel along his arms first, then his shoulders to finally reach his face. She cupped his cheeks with her hands, grazing his skin with his thumbs.

“Can you feel this?”

Dean nodded, which was enough for her to keep going. She let her lips wander to his forehead, his eyelids, his nose, and then his mouth.

“And this?”

“Yeah.”

He rasped out, letting their breaths mingle together until she deepened the kiss. Dean kissed her back, granting her access and letting their tongues graze together. Y/N let her hands travel under his shirt, pushing it back bit by bit. Dean took the hint and helped her remove the piece of clothing.

Y/N let go of him just long enough to get rid of her shirt. She grabbed his hands then, guiding them towards her naked skin. Dean put them on her hips and slowly let them travel up her body along her ribcage.

“I can feel your warmth under my fingers.”

His hand traveled up some more, reaching her covered breasts that he gently squeezed. Y/N unhooked her bra, letting it fall between their laps before feeling his hands on her again.

“Let me show you how real I’m.”

They were all gathered in his room with Doctor Novak trying to explain to them – to him – what was going to happen. He wanted Dean to get rid of his other world like it meant nothing. And maybe for the doctor it didn’t but for Dean...

According to Doctor Novak, they had to increase the dosage of Dean’s medicine, promising that once they started to work, he would be able to go back home.

Dean, though, stopped to listen to him after a few words, knowing that speech by heart. He glanced at his dad a few times before deciding to focus on Sam instead.

Was that hope in his eyes?

Dean felt a lump in his throat while he grabbed Sam’s hand in his. Sam squeezed it back, glancing up to his brother with a weak smile on his lips.

“Come here –”

Sam saw Dean pleading him with his eyes, so he scooted closer, sitting on the edge of the small bed.

“I’m so proud of you Sam. Do you know that? So damn smart – you’re stronger than me, you always have been.”

“Dean –”

“I – I can try to accept not being right in my head –”

“Dean, please.”

“No, no, listen. I can come to terms with the fact that all the things I thought I lived and felt, the monsters, the people I’ve met, were just a trick of my mind, but I can’t – I can’t survive at the mere thought of her not being real.”

“Don’t leave me – I can’t do it alone.”

Everything around them felt silent, while the eyes of the other people in the room focused on the two of them, John and doctor Novak sharing a worried look.

“Dean?”

“Sam, what’s going on, son?”

The brothers simply ignored the two other men too focused on their own conversation.

“Yes, you can.”

“Well, I don’t want to.”

“Hey, I’m not leaving you. I’ll be right here, and you can come to visit me every time you want. I’ll be here listening to you. No, I can’t promise to answer you back, but I’ll hear you no matter what, alright?”

Sam nodded his head while his eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t be sad. I’m just not cut out for this world, but you – oh you – you’ll do great. So, go live for me too, yeah?”

“Tell her to take care of you for me, would you?”

Dean’s teary eyes lit up at Sam’s words while a smile crept on his lips. Sam smiled back before he leaned forward to hug him. Dean hugged him back even tighter, while the tears fell down both their cheeks.

“I love you so much. My baby brother.”

And little bit by little bit, Dean’s mind faded away.

The last few days had weight on all of them, but thankfully Sam has managed to find a solution with a little help from Rowena. After that, they all went back to their lives with a sigh of relief for avoiding finding out what would have happened otherwise.

Dean’s nightmares had stopped altogether after Rowena’s spell, and yet sometimes he could still hear a faint whisper in the distance. Rowena had told him that he could still have some side effects for a few days, so he hadn’t worried much about it and simply moved on.

He was in the kitchen, a few months later grabbing some food, when he heard it again. He turned to Sam, bread in hand and with a raised eyebrow.

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You sure?”

“Uhm – yeah?”

Dean shrugged, going back to prepare his sandwich.

“Weird, for a minute I really thought you had said something to me.”

Forevers Tags:

@440mxs-wife @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @morganaah

Supernatural Tags:

@flamencodiva @keep-beating-my-dear-heart @leigh70 @littlewhiterose @pastelpeaxch @snowlovespie @stixnstripesworld @hobby27

Dean/Jensen Tags:

@akshi8278 @awkward-and-indecisive @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @siospins2 @stitchintimefan @universallyraylangivens @waynes-multiverse @woodworthti666 @sexyvixen7

172 notes · View notes