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that-guy-sleepy-miles · 9 months ago

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Hello folks, it's Miles here! You may know me as the guy who deduced what Rayman is snorting in episode 5 of Captain Laserhawk! And today, I'll be going over how...

There Are 6 Types of Magic in LEGO Monkie Kid

You can honestly stop here if you don't want to get into the most convoluted stuff ever. If you're vaguely interested but don't have much time, click read more and scroll down to Red Son, because he's where shit gets interesting.

A disclaimer! I've literally never broken down or written a magic system before, I'm just like. writing down and making sense of what I've noticed while watching the show. If you disagree with my assessment of a character's magic, think there's a better term for something I've described, or think I'm just plain wrong, please let me know so I can update the post! I don't know what I'm doing, and I've never looked into magic systems before!

An important thing to note is that LEGO Monkie Kid adheres somewhat to the power systems in Chinese mythology, so I will be bringing up concepts from Chinese mythology that are not talked about in the show. Honestly, if you went 100% on the show and not on Chinese mythology at all, there wouldn't be a magic system in the first place.

Now, let's begin!

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First, vocabulary.

Magic Class: The root of a user's magic. Classes are not exclusive, but actually compounding. For example, Wukong has Intrinsic-based Actively Cultivated Magic. Magic Subtype: A modifier to a class; additional information to explain how a user's magic came to be or how it works. For example, Tang has Revitalized Bestow-Inherited Actively Cultivated³ Magic — the subtype goes before the class because it's a modifier. (Yes, I will explain why his Actively Cultivated Magic is cubed.)

(In the naming scheme of magic, everyone has a full classification and then a shorthand classification. The classifications above were all shorthand.)

Magical Energy: The basic form of magic; unfiltered energy that can be channeled, manipulated, and cultivated. This energy can be used to attack directly or utilized in a spell. MAGICAL ENERGY IS QI, "MAGIC" IS JUST BEING USED BECAUSE THIS IS WRITTEN FOR A WESTERN AUDIENCE. Power: A defined ability, such as a spell or a technique. Not all Powers are explicitly named, but powers have defined forms and details whereas Magical Energy is usually a geometric shape. Examples of Powers: 72 Transformations, Golden Sight, teleportation. Magical Expression: How Magical Energy and Powers form upon release. Examples of Magical Expression are glowing eyes, full body glowing, magical seals, anime-esque energy blasts, Red Son's* fire, Ne Zha's fire (two VERY different forms of Magical Expression), and Macaque's purple shadow outline. Ne Zha's Wind Fire Wheels are examples of Magical Expression with a conduit. Zero Magical Expression ≠ zero release, but can. Conduits: Anything that can hold, channel, or manipulate Magical Energy. All living beings and magical artifacts are examples of conduits.

Channeling: Collecting magical energy internally Releasing: The basis of Magical Expression; using collected magical energy for an attack

(Mei showcasing channeling and releasing in Rip and Tear) You can always tell when a character is channeling and releasing.

Knowing which class of magic a character is using can be hard — they all tend to utilize anime-esque energy blast graphics and glowing bodies for Magical Expression — so you have to pay close attention. I'll be going over how to identify the specific magic types as we go through them.

Each type of magic has a "poster child" — a character that fully embodies that type — and I'll be using them to explain how the magic works. Once we finish the easily categorized magics, we'll get into the Special Cases.

(MK showcasing Intrinsic Magic in Rip and Tear)

(Wukong showcasing Cultivated Magic in A Lifetime of Mistakes)

Now, onto the classes of magic!

Intrinsic Magic is a class of magic...

That's not inherently pedigree-related. Ne Zha's father Li Jing was a mortal man.

Most gods and local deities have, and some yaoguai have. (Older demons like DBK and Wukong have Intrinsic Magic, while younger demons like Pigsy and Sandy might technically have Inherited Magic. It all depends on how you want to look at it.)

That usually comes with unique powers, commonly the ability to walk and talk upon birth. (Wukong got laser eyes, and Red Son* got the Samadhi Fire).

And holders have unnatural births? Pangu's cosmic egg, Ne Zha being born a ball of flesh after being gestated for three years, Wukong's rock that's existed since the dawn of time, etc.

Ne Zha is the epitome of Intrinsic Magic! If you think Intrinsic Magic, you think Ne Zha. The unmistakable way to identify Intrinsic Magic is to look for themes. If a character has a theme to their magic, again and again, they likely have Intrinsic Magic! For example:

Ne Zha's Intrinsic Theme is (obviously) lotus flowers/petals.

Red Son's* Intrinsic Theme is flames.

Macaque would be a contender for intrinsic magic (we will be getting back to him, though).

Cultivated Magic is a class of magic that has two subclasses: ACTIVE and PASSIVE, and...

That's ENTIRELY self-created. A magical pedigree can help, but no pedigree is required in Cultivated Magic — Li Jing cultivated magic as a completely human man, for example.

That NEEDS a Conduit. The conduit for Cultivated Magic can be the magic user themselves, but often it's a magical artifact or a technique. Note: a conduit doesn't require Cultivated Magic to be used, but Cultivated Magic requires a conduit. (Known Conduits include: Wukong's Cloud Somersault, Nezha's Wind Fire Wheels, and Princess Iron Fan's Banana Leaf Fan.)

That's very backstory-heavy. There's always a way that a character learned or got their power, or a description of how old they are.

A magic that you see most with yaoguai and immortals. The older the yaoguai, the more cultivated they are.

Passive Cultivation: Every living being is a conduit for passive cultivation — by existing, you are passively cultivating. The best method of passive cultivation is age; the older something is, the more passively cultivated. A Huli jing is the best example of passively cultivated magic. According to literature, the older a fox is, the more power it accrues.

Active Cultivation: Active Cultivation is when a being seeks out magical power. The most common form of active cultivation is being taught Tao techniques (Wukong's Cloud Somersault, Li Jing's Burning Pagoda Art). In this situation, the technique is the conduit. Other forms of actively cultivating magic are yaoguai eating humans and magic-accruing technology (specifically DBK's Furnace armor, which converts rarity into magical energy.)

Cultivated Magic comes with the implication of being wise, at least in some form, and those with cultivated magic are able to teach others. Being a disciple immediately means you have Actively Cultivated Magic.

Cultivated Magic often doesn't have Magical Expression, because it's all about existing and learning. When it does have Magical Expression, it's usually depictions of strength and power or the conduit itself glowing.

(Wukong's hairs glow as they are used as conduits for his cloning technique in Macaque)

(Wukong and Macaque's strength is showcased through Magical Expression during a fight in Macaque)

Cultivated Magic can be seen through any technique that was stated to have learned, such as Wukong's astral projection and his speed/quick reflexes.

(Wukong focusing in order to astral project to MK in Dumpling Destruction)

(MK having to actively learn and practice astral projecting in Minor Scale)

MK: Monkey King! It worked! Monkey King: Hey, bud. So, you figured out astral projection, huh? MK: Yeah, and I only had five nose bleeds.

Cultivated Magic is best showcased in action, and characters cultivate over the course of the show.

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(Wukong showcasing his Cultivated Magic by pulling some fast ones on MK in Impossible Delivery)

(4 seasons later in Strings That Bind, Wukong and MK spar, showcasing MK's Cultivated Magic. Tumblr will NOT let me embed both videos, and the first one is more important, so this will just be a link.)

Inherited Magic is a class of magic that has two subclasses: ANCESTERAL and BESTOWED, and...

Comes from someone else and was given to or passed down to the magic user.

Is sourced from Intrinsic or Cultivated Magic, but the magic user is not intrinsically magical/did not cultivate that magic themselves. The Intrinsic/Cultivated Magic is specific to another (perhaps deceased) being.

Can have ZERO Magical Expression or release.

If a character has Ancestor-Inherited Magic, they'll have a family animal, a family artifact, and/or a known ancestor.

If a character has Bestow-Inherited Magic, they were given their power by another magic user (known as the Bestower) so that they would serve that magic user, defeat a foe, or as a reward. Bestow-Inherit Magic users are often previously mortal.

Bestow-Inherited Magic is most blatantly a character giving another character magical powers, but being granted godhood, being brought back to life under a deal, and everyone receiving heavenly ranks/Wukong and Tripitaka receiving Buddhahood and Buddha titles at the end of Journey To The West is also Bestow-Inherited Magic.

A quick note: Older yaoguai (DBK, Azure Lion, Wukong) are considered to have Intrinsic Magic, but Modern yaoguai (Pigsy, Sandy) are deemed to have Inherited Magic. This is because these younger demons are not yaoguai specifically unto themselves — their status as a yaoguai comes from their ancestors. They have no unique, intrinsic powers, nor were they specifically predestined to be yaoguai despite their heritage (such as in the case of Nezha, who was predestined to be a celestial being).

For example, Pigsy. His status as a Magic User exists because of his family history. While, yes, his family is important to his character and story, it's not something he did himself — he did not cultivate his grandma — and there is nothing unique about him biology-wise besides just being a pig demon. He is a reincarnation, but being a reincarnation didn't make him a yaoguai. (That was a whole fate, symbolism deal, though.) If Pigsy hadn't been born, his family would still have a pig demon kid.

Now, onto the subtypes. (As a reminder, a subtype modifies a class!)

Revitalized Magic is a subtype of magic. It means that the magic is from a pre-incarnation that a character unlocks and requires reincarnation.

Uuuuunless it doesn't, and it required Un-Death. Auto-Revitalization of Magic is definitely a thing, but it's not a real category. It's just a specification to explain things that have happened to a character.

For example: The reason Macaque's shadows turned into chaos magic at the end of season 5 is because he's dead. He's outside of the reincarnation cycle, he's Undead, his magic is Auto-Revitalized —so when the reincarnation cycle is broken, his magic is also changed. At least, that's my personal theory. I might be DEAD WRONG.

Okay, back to Revitalized Magic proper: Remember back when I said Tang's magic was cubed? Yeah, this is why. (Before we start, Táng Sānzàng will be referred to as Tripitaka from here on out.)

The full classification of Tang's magic is: Potential Revitalized Bestow-Inherited (Tripitaka), Revitalized Actively Cultivated (Golden Cicada), Revitalized Actively Cultivated (Tripitaka), Actively Cultivated Magic. (Maybe, we'll get into this.)

The entire reason demons tried to eat Tripitaka was because he was the reincarnation of the Golden Cicada, who was a disciple of Buddha, which made Tripitaka's flesh holy. Being a disciple immediately means Actively Cultivated Magic; Tripitaka had Revitalized Actively Cultivated Magic. Tripitaka was a Buddhist disciple as well, which means he also Actively Cultivated. If Tang is a reincarnation of Tripitaka, who is a reincarnation of the Golden Cicada, then Tang has Revitalized Actively Cultivated Magic twice (or, even, 10 times, if you look at the Sandalwood Buddha thing, but Tripitaka and Golden Cicada are the important disciples so we're only counting them).

If Tang has Revitalized Actively Cultivated Magic and Revitalized Actively Cultivated Magic, that means he has Revitalized Actively Cultivated Magic². However,

Tang is a SCHOLAR. BEING A SCHOLAR MEANS THAT TANG IS ALSO AN ACTIVE CULTIVATOR.

HENCE, TANG HAS ACTIVELY CULTIVATED MAGIC³.

Celestial Magic is a subclass of magic that includes any magic with a seal. It's not exclusive to Celestial beings, but it's most often used by beings with Heavenly connections.

Celestial Magic is also known as "Spells", I'm pretty sure. Wukong just dropped this terminology on us in Season 5, and spells usually require words, but like. Okay, buddy. Whatever. You're the magic guy.

Celestial Seals have a unique symbol for every "Artist", or a Hànzì that explains the spell's purpose. For example, Li Jing's seals have a little pagoda on them, and the containment spell's seal (the only thing that can truly be called a spell here) has the character "牢", which means "prison" (or "enclosure", which is hilarious because it's containing 3 monkeys).

Consequential Magic is any magical energy or power gained as a result of an action taken by someone who is NOT the magic user.

Consequential is not a subclass of Cultivated because the magic user had no say in acquiring/did not know they were acquiring Consequential Magic; Consequential is not a subclass of Inherited because the magic user was not intentionally given these powers and they did not come from ancestry.

(Red Son* is literally the reason this subtype exists.) Every example of Consequential Magic is different, so I'm just going to some of the ones I know of in canon:

Wukong's Golden Sight (Consequence of the Eight Trigrams Furnace; Torture-consequence)

Ao Lie having the Samadhi Fire inside him after they fucked up the seal (Samadhi Fire/Red Son*; Samadhi-consequence)

Mei Dragon's ability to harness the Samadhi Fire/the remnants left over inside her after (Samadhi Fire/Red Son*; Samadhi-consequence)

MK's human form (form as in the shape of something btw) (Xiangliu fucked his shit up; Birth Interference-Consequence)

Macaque's new Chaos Magic (Xiangliu fucked his shit up; Chaos-Consequence)

I have spent this entire post explaining the way magic seems to work in LEGO Monkie Kid, getting slightly more and more unhinged as we go on. But there might be two things on your mind: Why? and Why does Red Son's* name have an asterisk on it every time I've mentioned him in this post?

I can answer both of those questions with one statement: Red Son does not adhere to the magic rules other characters follow. I've tried to find examples to see if I was thinking of the magic wrong — and that's fully possible — but I didn't find anything. In fact, the more I look, the more sure of this I become. It's like he actively decides against following the rules of the magic system.

He can be used as EXAMPLES of the magic system, but when you dig into his magic specifically, it's completely wack-a-doo.

First and foremost:

Red Son has a completely unique form of Magic Expression. His emotions are directly linked to his Magical Expression and release.

Emotionally linked magic release is something no other character does, but here he is doing it over and over and over again. The only example close to it is MK's Mystic Monkey form flickering in and out when he's distraught, and that's LITERALLY CREATION-GIVEN NÜWA MAGIC, THAT'S FROM A CREATURE WHOSE CANONICALLY "OUTSIDE OF THE 10 SPECIES" AND CANNOT BE CATEGORIZED?? AND ALSO NOT QUITE THE SAME EITHER.

(This could also be attributed to the concentration part of the Samadhi Fire, but he doesn't... seem to have access to that anymore? At least, not like Mei does. We'll consider it a factor in his magic expression, though.)

About his fire,

Red Son and his mom are the only two characters with Wuxing/Elemental Magic — every other example comes from a magical artifact. It's actually a 50/50 chance on whether or not PIF has wind powers or if the Banana Leaf Fan gives her wind powers (I'm pretty sure it gives her wind powers, but just to be safe we'll count her as having wind powers.) Wuxing Magic is not uncommon in actual Chinese mythology, but it is in the show for some reason. And it ALWAYS has an artifact as a conduit. Wuxing Magic always seems to be just a visual effect or an added addition to attacks in the show.

Another weird ass thing about Red Son's magic is its contrast with Nezha's. I'm pretty sure Red Son's fire is actual fire that he conjures magically, in contrast to Nezha's Wind Fire Wheels (conduits that Nezha fuels, and release Wuxing Magic as a visual effect) which make specifically magical fire.

Okay, so, I've been going through this assuming you're aware of the show's visuals concerning magic, but this is important for me to cover in detail. Everyone has two magic colors (white doesn't count for this). They can change in lighting, but you'll always recognize them as being the same general colors. Other colors may be used for emphasis, but they'll only be darker versions of the colors and they'll be used as a background for the main colors. (Quick note, MK and Wukong might have only one magic color? Fun stuff.)

The reason I think Red Son's magic is not... magic persay, is because it doesn't follow the color rule. Like, it's not actually the color of Red Son's magical energy half the time, it doesn't follow the magic color rule. Red Son's fire shifts like an actual fire, which is very cool visually, but is not how magic works.

(Quick note, magic seems to be lighter in the celestial realm. This is because the Celestial Realm is really well-lit. The environment is literally pure sunlight or some shit, so all the characters and their magic are in perfect lighting. So Red Son's magic getting inexplicably darker would make no sense unless Red Son's magic is doing that on its own and the lighting has nothing to do with it.)

His magic also isn't the color of the Samadhi Fire, nor is his fire. That time in season 5 when Mei helped him with the seal, the two of them together made a Samadhi Fire-colored seal. He didn't seem capable of doing that by himself, which leads me to my conclusion:

I think the suppression of the Samadhi Fire suppressed Red Son's Intrinsic Magic as a whole, and his magical core (as one user put it) is compensating by drawing directly from his element.

Characters having an element isn't a new thing. Wukong's element is metal, he's a metal guy, it's why he can't swim, and it's why MK can't swim. MK needs floaties because he'll sink like a rock because he shares the metal element with Wukong.

But this is a possible explanation for why Red Son's magic is so weird.

On the note of Mei having more access to the Samadhi Fire than him, Skellebonez (my rock through this journey of a post) brought up a good point: "[I] think it makes sense because whatever they did to remove it from him could have also added a barrier preventing its return to an extent[.] Like a filter[.]"

This Intrinsic Magic cap/Samadhi Filter might also explain why he keeps getting his shit rocked despite having such potential to be powerful (that's probably just because it's silly tho) and it could explain why his parents are so damn disappointed in him in season 1. It's because they took his magic from him (however unintentionally) and he's not as magical anymore. The only type of categorizable magic he uses is Celestial magic, which HUMANS can use and can be bestowed on ANYONE. You can just like... LEARN THAT, and I think he just did.

In canon, nobody ever seems to be hurt by Red Son's fire? It seems to just be... a thing that he does. Everyone is less and less scared of it as the show goes on, and the only thing it does major damage to is MK's apartment. He uses his fists to attack more than he uses his fire, it's generally left as a visual effect. Red Son uses his fire as an intimidation tactic, not as an actual weapon, and I think this could also be explained by an Intrinsic Magic cap. His intrinsic magic is suppressed, so he has to rely on things like physical strength/cultivation.

I also think nobody knows this in canon, they didn't know about it, or they don't understand it. I think Red Son has a magic limiter on him, which is why his parents were such raging fuckasses in season one. They thought their son was "useless", or in Wukong's words, "half-baked", after showing such promise in his childhood before an incident. They only got a healthier relationship after they stopped obsessing over power and spent some family time together, when they realized that their son being a powerful magical demon isn't the most important thing in the world. (AND WE WEREN'T SHOWN IT.)

Red Son is magic-disabled, in this essay I did.

ALL MAGIC COMES FROM THE PRIMORDIAL CHAOS, SO, IN ACTUALITY, ALL OF IT IS THE SAME! FUCK YOU!

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alexsoenomel · 8 months ago

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Through The Amplifier

Summary: Seeing Metallica with Dean for his birthday 🎶

Based on: THIS

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI , implied smut, actual smut (but cute fluffy smut), mentions of death, Dean and Reader being nerds

Word count: 8k (I like writing backstories sue me)

Song mentioned (The actual setlist btw): Ride the Lightning, For Whom The Bell Tolls, Lux Æterna, Until It Sleeps, Whiplash, Too Far Gone? Welcome Home (Sanitarium), No Leaf Clover, The Call of Ktulu, Moth into Flame, Wherever I May Roam, Inamorata, Blackened, One and Enter Sandman ( Also Wrong Side of Heaven and Jekyll and Hyde by Five Finger Death Punch)

Note: This year I saw one of my favorite bands and finally fulfilled my lifelong dream. I went by myself and had an absolute blast so this idea just came to me.

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

“Are you sure you don't want to come with us, Sam?” I said as I pressed the buy tickets button. The website loaded for a couple of seconds before my phone went off.

“Yeah, I'm sure. I don't listen to Metallica,” Sam told me as I checked my email to see two tickets for Metallica in Inglewood, California in six months.

“How can you NOT listen to Metallica?”

“Not my cup of tea, I guess.”

“You, Charlie?”

“I don’t like old men in leather,” she simply said, making me chuckle.

To say that I was excited would be an understatement. I was overjoyed, ecstatic, and adrenaline-filled, already mentally preparing for the concert. It was indeed destiny. Metallica was performing two days after Dean's birthday in Inglewood, and since we both shared one dream: seeing them live, I saw it as a sign. Videos from their M72 world tour have bombarded my social media ever since it started, and I decided it was now or never.

“How much are the tickets?” Sam asked.

I bit my lip and mumbled: “14k.”

“For two tickets?!” Charlie’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Each,” I simply said.

" (Y/N)?! " Sam's gaze was on me, and I could feel it burning. I looked at him and smiled awkwardly, and he gave me a silent look of judgment.

“I can explain!”

“I'm listening!” He said, voice as sharp as a knife.

“You know that rich vampire guy I was sleeping with before we met?”

“The son of the rich vampire?”

“Yeah, that one. After we killed them I found his laptop where he kept all of his secrets plus his bank account and asked Charlie to transfer everything to me.”

“How much?”

“Everything,” Charle said proudly.

“Untraceable and undetectable thanks to her, so technically it’s not our money,” I added.

“But wasn't that two years ago?”

“Yeah, he had a lot of money,” Charlie told Sam as he stared at me connecting the dots.

“That explains why the fridge is always full now.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Charlie said.

I chuckled.

Sleeping with a vampire was probably the stupidest thing I have ever done. I didn’t know he was a vampire until I woke up one morning in his bed drowsy with two small holes on my neck. By then, I had been a hunter for ten years and The Winchesters were not in the picture yet. I’ve only heard stories about them; some hunters told me that they were monsters in human form, savage, causing chaos wherever they went; and others had kinder words in mind, like heroes, good, impossible to not like. After I realized what he was I was shocked, but not surprised. I had been collecting red flags like baseball cards all of my life, but I’ve never slept with an actual monster. I’ve been with narcissists, egomaniacs, momma’s boys, but never with a vampire. That day I made a mental note: “Never trust guys on dating apps. Sleazy pubs are better for finding sex.”

The day I planned to kill him and his old man was the day that I met the brothers and Charlie. I caught them trying to sneak into the property from the back, since the cameras there weren’t working. I saw them because I was trying to do the same so the servants wouldn’t see me. I could smell hunter’s blood from a mile away and they could too. Sam told me bodies were piling up in LA and I had no idea because they would cover their tracks well and I was too busy having sex with one of the perpetrators. Dean on the other hand was rolling his eyes because he couldn’t believe how reckless and stupid I was. We didn’t start on a good foot whatsoever. He thought I was annoying and I thought he was an obnoxious jerk. That was before we killed the vampire family.

After we finished the job with minor injuries we went to celebrate –drink. It was Charlie’s idea and I still thank her for that. A few beers later I realized the reason why Dean and I didn’t see eye to eye. It was because we were two sides of the same coin. He was a stubborn nerd with alcoholic tendencies and daddy issues and so was I. And the best part was we both liked the same type of music. Sam and Charlie saw right through us and left after two hours and we stayed and talked for hours. A few more beers and a whole lot of bickering and flirting later, we were fucking in his car like it was our last day on this Earth. I collected one more red flag that night and had too many orgasms. Drunk on sex we both went to his motel room where we had even more sex and barely got any sleep.

The next morning Sam and Charlie were grinning at us while we were trying to wake ourselves up with caffeine.

“I see you guys had a lot of fun,” Sam said, noticing our dark cycles. Charlie giggled.

“Yeah, too much fun,” Dean said, trying to keep his eyes open.

When it was time to say goodbye and exchange numbers, Charlie had yet another brilliant idea.

“You should come with us,” she said, leaving the brothers speechless, Dean especially.

“A hunter alone in a world is a terrible thing,” she told them.

“Did you just quote Maester Aemon?” I asked her. It was nice meeting a fellow Game of Thrones fan.

“You just became even more awesome!” She said and high-fived me. “She is coming with us, guys!”

I was indeed alone. I started hunting when my parents got killed by a werewolf when I was 19. I had no extended family just one friend and she had no idea what I was doing in my free time.

Sam and Dean just stared at each other but naturally agreed since Charlie was running the house and therefore I was moving to Lebanon, Kansas.

For the first time, I had my room and a place I could call home. The bunker was gray and dark and grew on me rather quickly, but things between Dean and I were strange at first. We both thought we were going to fuck each other’s brains out and never see each other again, but the universe (in this case Charlie) had other plans. He was actively avoiding me until I told him to suck it up and talk to me. We didn’t speak, instead, we were memorizing each other’s scars and moles in different positions…over and over again. We even woke up Sam a couple of times while Charlie was clueless since she slept with headphones.

Slowly, we were falling for each other and each kiss became more fatal than the last and since we now lived together, we were spending every waking moment in each other's presence. It wasn’t until one evening we were drinking and a young handsome guy decided to shoot his shot with me and Dean in a drunken jealous rage told him to piss off when he saw his hand on my hip. When the guy refused to leave me alone Dean punched him in the face and we got kicked out of the bar.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! I was about to tell him to fuck off!” I screamed at him and he just stared at me in complete silence.

“DEAN?”

He came closer and cupped my cheeks with his hands kissing me gently. This time the kiss was different; it wasn’t filled with lust; it was more gentle and vulnerable. His lips were as soft as ever and for the first time I was so painfully aware of them, I wanted him to devour me whole.

“Why are you such a dick sometimes?” I asked, his face inches away from mine.

“I don’t like when people touch what’s mine,” he said, putting a strand of hair behind my ear. I suddenly became aware of my heartbeat.

“Since when do I belong to you?” I asked him, trying to keep a cool head even though my body was on fire. We never made it official, but we both knew it was inevitable.

“Since I belong to you, dickhead,” he said, and from that day on I was his and he was mine.

***

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t in love with Dean. We never said the words, maybe because we were too afraid to verbalize our feelings like grownups, but I knew he loved me just as much as I loved him. His eyes would always sparkle whenever we shared eye contact – even when we fought. He fought a lot, but mostly on hunts, because I would never listen to him and he knew better. In the end, we would get the job done and have angry sex to blow some steam. I’d never thought I’d end up dating a male equivalent of me. I could finally say I was happy with my life, even though objectively speaking it was awful 99% of the time. I was thankful for my chosen family and the fact that I got to experience love for the first time.

***

I had a hard time keeping the secret, but six months later it was time to celebrate his day. Sam, Charlie, and I decided to make everything Metallica-themed. His cake was a classic chocolate cake but the candles were two small guitars one white and one black (one had the number 3 on it and the other one had 6), The frosting was black and had a picture of the band from the 80s when Cliff was still alive. Dean loved Cliff’s bass, so we knew he was going to love the cake.

“Happy birthday, Dean!” We all said in unison as I was putting the cake on the table in front of him. Dean’s eyes widened, sparkling with delight, as he stared at the cake. His mouth dropped open in a gasp, revealing a grin that spread from ear to ear. His cheeks flushed with a rosy shade, and he could hardly contain the bubbling excitement as his eyebrows lifted in disbelief. It was a moment of pure wonder etched across his face. He blew his candles after we sang Happy Birthday to him and now it was time to open the presents.

“This is from me,” Sam said and gave him a bag.

Dean pulled a black shirt from it.

It was a beautiful Metallica shirt, a brand new one from their 72 Seasons merch collection with their yellow album cover and Metallica written on the top.

“Holy crap a Metallica shirt!” Dean said looking at the beautiful design. Sam smiled at him.

“Thank you, Sam! It’s perfect!” He then added.

“You’re welcome, Dean,” Sam said and hugged his brother.

“Now it’s my turn!” Charlie exclaimed and gave him her present.

Dean pulled out a CD and a cassette tape from a small box– their 72 Seasons CD and a limited cassette tape of the same album.

“Oh my God! Charlie!” Dean was bursting with excitement and my heart was melting. I don’t think I remember the last time I saw him this happy. His inner child was healing mine – he deserved the world.

“One is for your car and the other is for your laptop!”

Dean immediately jumped from the chair and hugged Charlie as tight as possible.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome, birthday boy.”

Now it was my turn. While he was licking the frosting with his fingers I sent him his ticket.

Dean was staring at me as I was smiling back at him.

“Check your phone, handsome,” I told him, trying to contain my excitement.

Dean's brow furrowed just a touch, creating a faint line across his forehead as he checked his phone to see that he got an email from me.

“What is this?” He mumbled under his breath and opened it.

Dean’s face lit up with pure joy as realization washed over him. His eyes widened. His mouth dropped open in a wide grin, showcasing his astonishment, while a breathless laugh escaped him. He looked at me for a second before staring back at his phone.

“ARE YOU FREAKIN’ SERIOUS?” He then asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, and guess what? We will be right in front of the stage,” I said and showed him my ticket on my phone.

His cheeks flushed with color, and his eyebrows shot up, giving him a look of sheer exhilaration. He could hardly contain himself, there was an almost childlike glee as he wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted me, completely swept away by the moment. I squealed as he spinned me around like I was a ballerina. It was a mix of shock and joy, a perfect reflection of his excitement to see his favorite band live. When he kissed me my feet hit the ground.

I knew he would remember his 36th birthday for the rest of his life.

***

We packed our bags the next day and went to the airport. Our flight was at 6 pm, so we arrived around 3 pm after lunch. Sam and Charlie came with us because Dean didn’t want to leave Baby at the airport parking lot. We said our goodbyes and went to check in.

“Don’t let him do anything stupid,” Sam told me.

“Don’t worry I won’t! We will be stupid together,” I grinned and Sam looked concerned.

***

The flight was quick and smooth; we didn't even feel it. Since it wasn't my money (well not really) I decided to splurge and booked us two nights in the four-star hotel next to the YouTube Theater where the concert was scheduled. They had a pool, spa, and breakfast buffet, so naturally, I figured Dean was going to appreciate it.

“I don't have swim trunks, (Y/N),” Dean told me as we were entering our room.

“Yeah I know, that's why I bought you a pair a couple of weeks ago,” I said.

The room was an epitome of elegance, bathed in warm light from sheer curtains. A plush king-sized bed, adorned with crisp white linens and a couple of soft pillows was calling our names. A sleek nightstand held a vintage lamp in the corner, while a polished desk offered a coffee maker and a big flat-screen TV handing across the bed was screaming Dean’s name. The en-suite bathroom was heaven, featuring a spacious glass shower, complete with fragrant candles and premium toiletries.

Every detail was screaming luxury and I knew I made the right choice.

We put our bags on the floor and I turned to Dean to see him staring back at me.

“Happy birthday, handsome!” I said and kissed him gently. He immediately pulled me closer to him, closing the gap between us, deepening the kiss, and making me moan a little. I could feel his stubble on my face, his hands on my hips, slowing moving downwards to cup my ass.

“Shower?” He asked before moving his lips to my neck.

“Please,” I managed to say.

After having a quick shower we went to bed and he made love to me until we eventually fell asleep only knowing the sound of each other's names. I loved that man with all my heart and soul.

***

The next morning we woke up at around 8 am, which was our usual time, and went to have breakfast.

The breakfast buffet was a sight to see. There were freshly baked pastries like croissants, danishes, and muffins, all warm and inviting. A big bowl of colorful fruits sat nearby, with strawberries, melons, and pineapple ready to be picked.

In another section, you could find hot dishes: scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and plump sausages. There was also a selection of artisanal breads, with butter and a variety of jams to choose from. The drink station had fresh coffee and juices. Dean and I were salivating.

“Oh, this bacon looks crisp!” Dean said joyfully as he put a handful of bacon on his plate.

“If monsters don't kill us, high cholesterol sure will,” I chuckled and put a couple of pieces next to my eggs.

Breakfast of champions: bacon, eggs, fluffy croissants, coffee and for dessert fluffy American pancakes with maple syrup. No matter where we went we would always eat the same thing for breakfast.

“The pancakes are so good, my God!” I said as I stuffed my face.

“I need more bacon!” Dean said and went to get more.

After breakfast, we ended up taking an hour-long post-breakfast nap.

***

The concert was at 9 pm. After we woke up Dean wanted to go swimming before lunch so I gave him his new and only pair of swim trunks: blue shorts with yellow ducks all over.

“Seriously?” Dean said, looking at himself in the mirror next to our bed.

“I look ridiculous.”

I tried so hard not to laugh.

“It was either ducks or small purple dildos.”

Dean's face went blank as he looked at himself once more.

“Ducks are good.”

I, on the other hand, bought a black bikini that was perfect for my body. The sleek design highlighted my figure, and the black color added a touch of elegance. I was oozing confidence and sexiness and Dean couldn't get enough of it. His gaze never left my body and it was filled with admiration and affection. His expression was a mix of pride and appreciation. He was on another planet.

“Dean?”

“Um?” He asked, his eyes still fixed on my figure, his mouth partially opened.

“Your gun is showing.”

He looked down and saw what I meant.

“Crap!”

“Let me take care of that before we go!” I chuckled and pointed to the bed.

***

The pool was nice and big. After an hour of fucking like rabbits we went for a swim only to realize we were too exhausted to do anything with our bodies, so we went to the sauna.

In the sauna, my skin felt like it was being enveloped in a warm embrace. The heat made me aware of every pore, and I could feel the sweat starting to bead up and trickle down. It was both soothing and invigorating; my skin felt alive, flushed with warmth.

“I can't believe you planned all of this,” Dean said and closed his eyes, enjoying the sweat dripping from his skin.

I wanted to say it. I wanted to say those goddamn words, but I bit my tongue once more.

“I know, I'm the best,” I said proudly, while in the back of my mind the sentence "Love makes you do crazy things" echoed over and over again.

***

Lunch time, another post food nap and it was time to get ready. Dean wore his usual: jeans, a new Metallica shirt he got from Sam, a leather jacket, and combat boots. I decided it was time to turn myself into a rock’n’roll bombshell. I was going to wear leather black pants, Dean's old Ride the Lightning shirt I “borrowed” and never gave it back, and my staple: black Dr. Martens. I did my hair all nice and curly, and my makeup was a bit over the top and not something I usually do.

I was standing in front of the mirror as I started with a flawless matte base, then created a smokey eye with deep blacks and a dramatic wing. Thick eyeliner and voluminous false lashes (that I bought just for this occasion) made my eyes pop. I swiped on dark, matte plum lipstick and defined my brows to frame my face.

A touch of contour enhanced my cheekbones, and I added a hint of shimmer to my inner corners. Feeling powerful and sexy I was ready to heal my inner child with the love of my life.

“How do I look?” I asked Dean as I put on my leather jacket.

He bit his lower lip and scanned every inch of me in a second.

“Freakin’ gorgeous,” he exclaimed, making me blush.

He was never shy to give me compliments and show me how attracted he was to me. Even in pajamas, dying from period cramps, and crying because my favorite ice cream was sold out, he would still tell me how amazing and pretty I was. Like I said, I loved that man with all my heart and soul, it was pathetic and beautiful.

I kissed him and we were on our way.

We came four hours earlier at around 5 pm, a few minutes before they opened the gates and let us in. In an hour Ice Nine Kills was going to perform and after them Five Fingers Death Punch. When we came in, the pit was already filled with people, but it wasn't full yet. We found a spot just a few inches from the stage. My heart was pounding, I couldn't believe I was there, while Dean was squeezing my hand tightly not wanting to let go.

“Do you want a beer?” Dean asked me.

“I don't think that's a good idea. If we drink we will have to go and if we have to go we will abandon this perfect spot. A lot of people are already coming in.”

Dean nodded.

“Water?”

“That will do,” I agreed, considering we would be standing probably until midnight, staying hydrated was important.

He left to buy us two cups and came back after five minutes. The space was already getting crowded and I was growing impatient.

“I still can't believe we are here,” he told me. He was buzzing with excitement, eyes shining and bouncing on his heels.

“Do you think they will play Enter Sandman?” I asked him.

“I hope so. Pops used to play that song all the time in the car when I was a kid. Sam hated it.”

“My dad used to sing me that song whenever I couldn't fall asleep. I was a lousy sleeper but for some reason, that song would always put me into a coma.”

I told Dean as I remembered how much I missed my old man.

“You're still a lousy sleeper,” he said, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

“Yeah, because now I cannot sleep without you,” I said and kissed his cheek. I always had trouble sleeping, going to bed after 3 am, waking up at 3 pm, tossing and turning, nightmares, and so on… until I started sleeping next to him. I was never a big cuddler, especially since I would always feel uncomfortable whenever someone would try to hold me while I slept, but with him it was different. I would sleep like a baby next to him, he was home to me. His heartbeat was my white noise and his warmth was my safe space.

He smiled back at me and at that moment the show began.

Ice Nine Kills was…something else. Dean and I were trying to decide if we liked the music or not, but one thing we agreed on was: that we LOVED the performance. Gore, blood, and chainsaws were all far too familiar, but we especially loved horror references. The music was not bad, but considering we were both classic rock fanatics it wasn't something we would actively listen to.

“I love the Nightmare on Elm Street reference,” I commented after they finished the first song.

“Not bad,” Dean agreed as he wrapped his arms around my waist from behind and pulled me closer.

We were jamming to songs we'd never heard before. People around us were either utterly confused or dancing and head-banging like it was their last day on Earth.

“Oh! That's the Texas Chainsaw Massacre!” Dean said in my ear.

“I know,” I laughed, but I don't think he heard me considering the music was pounding in my ears.

After a good hour, they were done. The crowd was growing impatient again and so were we.

“Five Finger Death Punch is next!” I said and took a sip of my almost empty cup of water.

“I'm kinda excited about that.”

And to be honest I was too. We heard a couple of their songs like Wrong Side of Heaven and Jekyll and Hyde and instantly fell in love with the singer's voice. Dean even said the vocalist sounded a lot like David Draiman of Disturbed and I definitely could hear that.

We were waiting for what felt like hours and my legs started to hurt. I forgot what it felt like standing for so long; the last time I went to a concert I was 16 and my family was still alive. Dad took me to see Deep Purple, it was an unforgettable day.

Five Finger Death Punch came at exactly 8 pm. The band made everyone jump and scream. Their energy was unmatched and the vocalist was giving his all. His voice was strong. The guitarist even threw a couple of picks and Dean almost caught one.

“Damn it!” He shouted.

“Don't worry, maybe you will catch one from Kirk later.”

We all completely lost it when they closed the show with the iconic song Dean and I both loved: Jekyll and Hyde. I was singing my heart out with my man and the rest of the crowd while the singer was jumping around the stage. This whole band had such a strong presence, and I decided to check their other stuff after the show.

"Thank you all for being an incredible audience! Your energy means the world to us. I hope you enjoyed the show as much as we loved performing for you. It was an honor to open for one of the greatest bands to ever exist! Enjoy the rest of the show and be safe!” The singer said and the whole stadium screamed and clapped.

“DAMN RIGHT!” Dean yelled and I smiled.

Seeing Dean so at peace with life and enjoying the present moment made my heart flutter. That man deserved the world and even though I couldn't give him one where he was truly happy (mainly because that would require him to leave hunting behind and he would never do that) I could still make his world a little bit brighter.

I turned around and kissed him, leaving a smudge of lipstick on his perfectly full lips.

“Are you ready?” I asked him whipping the stain from his lips with my thumb.

Dean grinned widely, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Abso-freakin’-lutely!”

People around us were shouting, screaming, and clapping from excitement, and some people went to get more beer, and pee before the show– it was a beautiful chaos around us.

“My legs are killing me already,” Dean complained, trying to stretch as much as he could in the sea of people.

“Yeah, mine turned to stone,” I said and checked my phone only to see they were 20 minutes late. Being late was my biggest pet peeve; even the legendary band that was Metallica didn’t have an excuse. I groaned silently and looked at the empty stage again. I was impatient and filled with adrenaline; ready to sing my heart out, but at the same time I was missing the hotel bed.

Ten minutes later, our favorite chaotic drummer appeared, sending the whole stadium into a state of pure excitement and borderline madness. He waved and then Robert and Kirk appeared with their guitars and big smiles on their faces. The crowd was cheering even louder.

“Kirk’s hair is fabulous!” I told Dean, while we were clapping.

“Yeah, Sam should take some notes!”

And finally, there he was, in the flesh, our favorite voice and my favorite silver fox: James. I've had a crush on James ever since I was a little girl and seeing him right in front of me in his black leather pants, black boots, black shirt, and his beautiful gray beard and hair made my heart beat faster. The man had the presence of a God and I was his loyal worshiper.

“Oh my God! IT'S HAPPENING!” Dean yelled and hugged me from behind.

As the lights dimmed and the crowd erupted, Dean and I felt a surge of adrenaline once again. The opening chords of Ride the Lightning sliced through the air, and we couldn’t contain ourselves. With a wild grin, Dean threw his fists in the air, the pulse of the music igniting a fire within him. I was too starstruck to sing, my voice too shy to come out as I was standing there with my phone in the air trying to record a video with my shaky hands. It was my dad's favorite song and I wanted to immortalize this very moment.

Meanwhile, Dean was transported into another dimension. He swayed to the heavy riffs, shouting the lyrics as they echoed around him. Each note was a release, a reminder of the thrill of being alive. At that moment, we were just fans—no monsters, no worries—lost in the pure magic of live music.

“GOOD EVENING INGLEWOOD! ARE YOU READY TO HAVE SOME FUN?” James' voice was powerful with a gravelly timbre that conveyed excitement. We all screamed and with that, they started playing the second song.

“HOLY SHIT!” I yelled when I realized it was indeed For Whom The Bell Tolls.

As the iconic opening riff surged through the venue, Dean’s heart raced. He felt the familiar rush of nostalgia wash over him, memories of late nights with Sam on the road in the Impala echoing in his mind. The deep, heavy chords resonated in his chest, and he instinctively raised his fists, the crowd's energy fueling his excitement.

With each thundering beat, he found himself singing along. His grin widened, and he couldn’t help but sway with the music, lost in the moment. For Dean, it wasn’t just a song; it was a reminder of everything he fought for—the bond with his brother, the battles they faced, and the moments of joy amidst the chaos. This was rock and roll at its finest, and he was right where he belonged.

I, on the other hand, was trying so hard not to cry. The haunting melody of For Whom the Bell Tolls wrapped around me, pulling at my heartstrings. I felt a mix of exhilaration and nostalgia, the weight of the moment overwhelming as memories flooded back—times spent with my family, laughter shared, my mom telling my dad to turn the volume down. Oh, how I missed my parents at that very moment! The intensity of the crowd, the energy of the band, and the raw emotion in the music made it hard to hold back tears. It was a cathartic release. Dean was standing behind me pulling me closer with one hand as I was holding onto his index finger. I wiped my tears and sang my heart out for my mom and dad and after they finished the song I was left with a slight pain in my right ear. I might have forgotten to bring earplugs, but the truth was I didn't want to nor cared about protecting my ears from potential damage. To quote Dean: “Metallica is too good for earplugs.”

After bringing back so many good memories it was time to mix it up and play something from their newest album.

The melody of Lux Æterna hit me like a bolt of electricity. It opened with a powerful, aggressive guitar riff that instantly raised the tension in the air. As the verses rolled in, the haunting yet energetic melody intertwined with a sense of urgency. When the chorus exploded, the vocals soared, filling me with a mix of exhilaration and defiance. I was completely engulfed in the sound, feeling every note resonate deep within me, embodying everything I loved about Metallica as Dean pulled me closer to him while we were jumping in sync.

“Lux Æternaaaaaaaaa!” We would sing completely out of tune with James.

As Lux Æterna blared through the speakers, the crowd became a living entity, energy surging with every note. Fans pumped their fists and sang along, their voices rising in a powerful roar. Some swayed with eyes closed, while others jumped, danced, and headbanged, united in exhilaration.

“You guys are amazing!” James said. He was covered in sweat and I was salivating. The man was a definition of aging like fine wine and my daddy issues were showing.

I turned to Dean who was hypnotized, his eyes never leaving the stage.

"Would you give me a hall pass if I cheated on you with James?"

Dean arched an eyebrow, a playful smirk crossing his face. “James, huh?”

Amusement in his eyes, he added. “If you think I’m letting you run off with a rock star, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Really?” I smirked.

“You’re mine—rock star or not.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at Dean’s reaction. “You think I’d leave you for James Hetfield? Really?” I teased, arching an eyebrow. His playful jealousy was endearing, and it warmed my heart.

Dean smirked, leaning in with that familiar teasing glint in his eyes. “Just making sure you know where my head’s at,” he said, his tone light but with an edge of seriousness.

“Rock star or not, I’m the one who gets to take you home.” He chuckled, and I could see the warmth in his gaze. “It’s you and me against the world, always.” At that moment, I felt a rush of affection, knowing our bond was stronger than any fleeting fantasy.

As the opening notes of Until It Sleeps fill the venue, the crowd erupts into a frenzy, a sea of raised fists. The energy was electric, and I felt the pulse of the music vibrating through me as everyone swayed together, singing along with wild abandon.

Beside me, Dean’s face lit up with pure joy, his excitement infectious. I glanced at him, my heart swelling with happiness, knowing this moment was deepening our connection. Surrounded by the thrumming bass and the roar of the crowd, I realized this night will be one we’ll always treasure. The crowd swayed around us, but at this moment, it was just us. He sang every word with fervor, and I couldn't help but join in.

The set list was out of this world: Whiplash, Too Far Gone? Welcome Home (Sanitarium), No Leaf Clover, The Call of Ktulu, and Moth into Flame are just a few they chose.

During Wherever I May Roam Dean and I were screaming every word so hard that I knew our vocal cords would hate us later. We would usually listen to that song after every successful hunt. It became a staple, a reminder of why we do what we do, and a beacon of hope.

“HOLY SHIT!” I shouted at him with a huge grin on my face.

“HOLY SHIT!” Dean shouted back and kissed me.

The band was looking so good.

I loved seeing Robert jamming with the fans with his signature long and beautiful braids while absolutely nailing every note on his base and Kirk just being Kirk and owning the stage in his green leather jacket. Lars was an absolute beast even at 60 years old.

When they started playing Inamorata, James took his time to walk around the stage while playing his guitar and smiled at us all. I could see his face as clear as day: his blue eyes had that sparkle of happiness; he had been doing this for decades and you could still see how much it made him overjoyed to see people enjoying his band's music, his smile was infectious and captivating and I couldn't believe he was standing right in front of me.

I turned to see Dean – he was completely mesmerized, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, staring at James as if he were witnessing a miracle. I chuckled softly, knowing he was the happiest man alive. It was beautiful to see this vulnerable side of him, and I couldn’t help but lean closer, sharing in his joy as the music enveloped us.

The next two songs were Blackened and One. To be completely honest I forgot about Blackened. I was so high on adrenaline, oxytocin, and serotonin that I couldn't remember the song and I was too embarrassed to ask Dean about it. I knew it was an old song, a classic, and I knew Dean would give me a death stare so I kept my mouth shut and listened to him sing (yell).

After the forgotten song James and his bandmates decided to rip our hearts out.

The ominous sounds of distant gunfire and explosions played through the speakers and the crowd fell into a hushed reverence. The chilling audio of war set an intense backdrop for the song that used to make me cry. The moment I recognized the opening notes of One, a thrill shot through me, and I felt my pulse quicken in anticipation. It was as if the world around me faded away, leaving only the haunting melody that resonated with the depths of my soul. I never thought I would hear this song live. My dad showed me the music video when I was eleven (my mother was furious, and thought it was inappropriate) and I cried my eyes out, but loved the song. I rarely listen to that song though, it was too raw and reflected sorrow and despair in a way I knew far too well.

Dean took my hand and placed a soft kiss as James started to sing. I pulled him by his shirt and kissed him, wanting this moment to last forever. He cupped my face pulling me closer, ignoring the sound of people around us screaming the lyrics. It was just me and him, always.

When I broke the kiss I was inches away from his face.

As the crowd roared and the lights pulsed, I turned to Dean, adrenaline still rushing through me. With One echoing around us, I blurted out, “I love you.”

Time froze as surprise washed over his face, vulnerability breaking through his bravado. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the music. At that moment, amidst the chaos, I saw that beneath his tough exterior, he was just as scared of love as he was of losing it.

His eyes locked onto mine, and a slow smile spread across his face. “You mean that?” he asked, his voice softening amidst the music.

Before I could respond, he pulled me close, his arm wrapping around my waist. “I love you too,” he whispered in my ear.

At that moment, surrounded by the concert’s chaos, everything felt right.

Throughout the concert, I took a couple of videos and even got a picture of James shredding his guitar for my new phone wallpaper, but nothing could prepare me for the next song.

“ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?” James said as the opening riff of Enter Sandman sliced through the air, the arena exploded into a frenzy of energy. Lights flashed in sync with the relentless beat, illuminating faces filled with exhilaration. The heavy guitar reverberated through my body, a primal force that united the crowd in a shared heartbeat.

“DEAN!” I shouted, jumping up and down in excitement.

“I CAN DIE HAPPY NOW!” He screamed.

Everyone was singing, fists pumping, the raw intensity of Metallica's sound creating a charged atmosphere that felt almost electric. It was a moment of pure chaos and exhilaration, where the music enveloped us, and nothing else mattered.

Suddenly giant yellow and black balls began to fall from above, bouncing energetically into the crowd. They bounced and rolled, creating an atmosphere of pure chaos and fun. Fans reached up, trying to catch them, laughter and cheers erupting as the balls added an unexpected burst of excitement to the already electrifying performance. The sight of those bright, playful orbs amidst the intensity of the music created a surreal, unforgettable experience. One fell on us too as we jumped with other people making it fly to our left. I was trying to take a video but my hand was shaking while I couldn't stop jumping next to Dean screaming and feeling my throat slowly tighten.

Kirk nailed his solo, while his hair stayed fabulous and James was getting himself ready for the big finale.

��Hush, baby, don't say a word,”

“And never mind that noise you heard,”

“It's just the beasts under your bed,”

“In your closet, in your head!”

Dean and I were screaming at each other's faces, filled with nothing but love for one another.

“Exit light!”

“Enter night!”

“Grain of sand!”

“Exit light!”

“Enter night!”

“Take my hand!”

“We're off to never-never land, yeah”

James voice was so raw, so strong, I was still trying to figure out how he was 61 years old.

“Boo!”

“Yeah-yeah!”

“Yo, whoa!”

The song ended. I was already getting sad because I knew it was the end. I checked my phone and it was almost midnight.

The song finished and we all cheered and clapped wanting more.

I heard people yell encore, but after 15 songs they were done. Lars threw his drumsticks at us and someone behind us caught it. He said thank you but the crowd was so loud I couldn't hear him. Until he got in front of the microphone and said: “You were amazing tonight! Thank you for coming!”

We all screamed even louder. Robert came and tossed a couple of picks and people in front of us were fighting to catch it. He threw five picks in total, covering every part of the pit.

“Come on! I want one!” Dean yelled. We were all still clapping.

“Wait for Kirk! We are close!” I told him.

He indeed came next and blessed fans with a couple of picks, but Dean was now too close to catch one and it flew right above his head…

“DAMN IT!”

James, covered in sweat and looking like a God came right in front of us. I was standing there, completely ignoring Dean and trying to remember every corner of that man's face. While I was in Neverland and watching James throw his picks I didn't even register Dean screaming my name.

“(Y/N)!”

“Huh?” I snapped back finally and saw him holding a small white pick that had White Fang written on it.

“OH MY GOD!” I yelled.

“I DID IT!” He yelled back.

I loved seeing my man truly happy. I loved that band and I loved everything about that day.

***

Getting out of the venue was a nightmare. The crowd surged around us, bodies jostling and voices blending into a chaotic mix of excitement and exhaustion. I clung to Dean’s arm, grateful for his steady presence as we stepped into the cool night air.

“That was insane,” I said, smiling up at him. He grinned back, eyes still shining with adrenaline. As we navigated through the sea of fans, I felt a rush of happiness, knowing we had shared something truly unforgettable.

“That was incredible!” Dean exclaimed, his voice full of energy. “ Best night ever! Best birthday ever!” His smile widened as he looked at me, clearly still buzzing from the concert.

My legs were in pain, I was thirsty and sleepy but it was all worth it.

We were back in our hotel room 10 minutes later, both covered in sweat ready to sleep.

I took off my clothes right away, feeling like my legs were on fire.

“I'm in so much pain!” I complained.

“I cannot feel my legs!” Dean said.

“I'm gonna shower. Wanna join?” I was in my underwear standing next to him waiting for him to stop staring at my boobs.

“Coming!” He simply said and started taking off his pants while his eyes never left my boobs. I loved the fact he loved my body. I, like any woman in this cruel “man's world” sometimes would look at myself in the mirror and just hate what was staring back at me. His little stares were a strong reassurance that I was bullshitting.

Usually, showers meant fooling around (shower sex was complicated), but we were too tired for anything but kisses. We lazily washed ourselves in silence, kissing each other here and there.

“So you love me, huh?” He smirked between kisses. I just smiled at him as the warm water was pouring down my back.

“Yeah, imagine that! You're loveable,” I said as I was shampooing his hair. His eyes were closed but his mouth formed a small o.

“Well…”

“Shut up!” I told him.

After we were all nice and clean it was time to finally get some sleep. I put on a clean pair of underwear and Dean's old Led Zeppelin shirt I also “borrowed” and he put on a clean pair of black boxers.

We snuggled underneath the blanket, my head resting on his chest, feeling my body slowly relaxing and falling asleep.

“You really think I'm loveable?” Dean asked, suddenly. I was half asleep, but this question tore my heart a little and now I was wide awake. I knew he thought he was unworthy of love, unlovable, unclean and it made me incredibly sad, especially because he was the definition of a hero with a heart of gold.

“It’s hard to not fall in love with you, Dean. If you could only see yourself through my eyes, you would understand,” I told him and lifted my head and kissed him, but this time deepening the kiss. I was tired, and my body was in pain, but the urge to be close to him, to love him, was consuming me. He moaned into the kiss and immediately got on top of me. My hands went in his damp hair.

We kissed for a while, our souls intertwined, our bodies keeping each other warm before his hand went into my now wet panties, his finger entered me making me arch my back, moaning even louder into the kiss. I was still in pain, but Dean's touch was slowly healing me until all I could feel was pleasure and love. His finger suddenly left my panties and I was left needy and desperate, but he wasted no time and took off his boxers, his dick fully hard. “Lift your hips, sweetheart!” He demanded and I did, letting him take off my underwear.

He kissed me again before he positioned himself between my legs and entered me. I was so wet and desperate that I took him all instantly.

“You feel so good!” He whispered, his voice deep and raspy, sending shivers down my whole body. I dug my nails into his back as he started to move, light moans escaping my lips.

We were one. One soul, two bodies, always.

“Dean!” I moaned pathetically over and over again as his pace became more erratic. I was so close, so so close.

“God, I love when you say my name!” He managed to say as his face was buried in my neck. “Say it again!” He said and slammed into me.

“FUCK, DEAN!” I screamed, digging my nails into his back, even harder. I could feel the orgasm coming like a tidal wave.

“Oh God!” He moaned into my ear and slammed into me over and over again.

My toes curled, my whole body stiff as my skin was covered in goosebumps. An intense wave of electricity rushed through me as I came so hard I could see stars. Dean didn't stop until he came into me, filling me up completely. I'll have to worry about potential pregnancy tomorrow since we completely forgot the concept of condoms.

We were both breathless, covered in sweat, and panting in each other's faces.

“Best birthday ever?” I asked him.

“Best birthday ever,” he smiled.

I was not ready to check out tomorrow. I was not ready to board that plane and say goodbye to this hotel room. I was not ready for this to end.

As I was laying on his chest, slowly drifting away with my thoughts and as my body relaxed and felt heavier with each passing minute, Dean was playing with my hair and before I started dreaming I heard him whisper:

“I love you so much, sweetheart.”

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347-emeraldbitch · 2 months ago

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Someone is writing a Percy gets kidnapped by Peter petty ass rat man (bless you) and I too have thought this idea. Except mine is sad because I love drama and angsts.

In my awful evil ideas he gets kidnapped at 15 is missing for years and is pronounced dead yall sorry.

Rat man runs with his kid. Probably meets up with Crouch mad man jr and are plotting evil shit. Barty can’t deal with Percy because he’s a little shit that reminds him of himself but his dad actually loves him. They’ve heard and see missing posters. They gotta lose the kid.

Peter rat man has a kind second and dumps him. Percy down, dead in a ditch with permanent memory loss. They cut his hair off and it grows back brown. When they look for him in the muggle world no one bothers to look at brunettes.

With rat man on the loose causing chaos, my man ✨Sirius✨ is free 💅🏻

Mentally ill, rich, hot, and petty he goes to get Harry, his lawyers, AND a year of mind healing. The best revenge is success. The portraits of his parents are proud of him because he’s terrifying wizarding Britain. He gets extra therapy for that but fuck it 🤷🏻‍♀️ his mom and dad have scary ass friends that he can use to fuck things up for those who have wronged him!!!!!!

Ron and Ginny go through their schooling with no older prefect brother. Endless questions with no answers, confused and scared because Percy has always been there where did he go?

Fred as the “oldest” takes over and it causes a rift with George. They both lose some innocence because sometimes family tragedies push kids into adult roles. No pranks or inventions when your youngest siblings dont understand why everyone is mad and crying.

Bill and Charlie lose their freedom. They have to come home because holy shit this cannot be happening. They lose the life they worked so hard for and have to parent their siblings and parents because mum is falling apart.

They go through the war and survive. All for Bill to go into London one day and be confused for someone’s muggle friend. Like I know not all red heads are related but both tall, same blue eyes, freckled, but his hair is a darker shade of brown/red? You know him? And it’s Percy at the bar celebrating graduation from some prestigious university 💅🏻

Cue whole traumatized family having to deal with their feelings (which we know they sucked at) because the son/brother they buried is here but not really the person they knew/ remember.

The only person who’s having a blast is Percy because after they found him unconscious in a ditch, he has no memory of his past life so he gets to just be. No last name or father to live up to. He goes to school and probably has like two majors, a minor, president of some clubs, studied abroad, and on his way to graduate school.

He meets Bill and the family and it’s so obvious.

Let the chaos continue.

#percy weasley #harry potter #hp #weasley siblings #older sibling problems #middle child rights #i have so many thoughts

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the-artist-grimm · 6 months ago

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Hello! So sorry to bother, I know your inbox must be full but I was reading your latest post and couldn’t help but notice you writing this

“And once Aym died and she saw how grief-struck he’d looked, heard how he rasped out Anthea’s name, watched as he reached out a trembling hand to the Lamb's collapsed, wailing form not to hurt but to comfort, she realized there was more going on.”

And it made me wonder even more how exactly the entire fight sequence went down between them all. I thought that Narinder would make the first strike after the twins deaths, but is it Anthea that does so out of grief or rage?

Anyways I love your content! Its great! Im normal about it!

Anthea strikes first yeah-Narinder had ordered them to sacrifice themself, then the twins to fight at their not so much refusal but more-so asking what the heck was going on (while he'd initially hoped the cages would be enough to encourage Anthea to lay down their life since he was betting on their self-sacrificial nature, when that didn't work he had hoped their love for the twins would get them to stand down instead). But after Baal got killed on accident via knocking Anthea off balance to ensure he'd get hit, then Aym doing almost the same via intentionally aiming for the cages with magic to force Anthea to counter (which unintentionally the curse they chose, an ice-based shield one produced a lot of shrapnel that pierced his stomach), he kinda broke a little? Like with Baal, he froze up in shock and didn't know how to react when Aym immediately went on a mana rage, then when Aym died as well that's what made his brain finally snap back and realize 'oh god what just happened my kids just died'.

Like he only asked Anthea to lay down their life because he was convinced they were going to betray him (see his overview here). And while at the moment he still thought as such, the shock of just losing his sons and now watching the love of his life break down covered in their blood had him just acting off instinct-Anthea's crying, comfort them now.

He reached out a hand, but the looming shadow just triggered a 'Fight' reflex, which was amplified by both their own grief and the Crown's desperation to defend its bearer in the wake of a threatening situation from its POV. Narinder nearly gets his hand blasted off with a curse launched on reflex, and it snaps him into realizing 'oh ok we're fighting now' which the battle goes from there. Narinder's chains had fallen off with each bishop's death so only his collar which was bound to the metaphysical one remained, so he was able to just jump into defense.

Which as a side-note (also see their overview here) Anthea doesn't actually remember much of the fight, like with losing the twins it was like losing their family all over again but worse since this time it was them who killed them, and the grief, confusion, and anger just took over. Combined with Red giving them essentially a massive adrenaline boost to make sure they could fight things just went downhill from there. Had Narinder not reached out his hand like that things might've gone a little differently-but because he spooked them battling it was.

All Anthea could see during that battle was red until Narinder was mortal size and their blade was pressed into his throat-and it was only at seeing how terrified he'd looked in that moment and the fact that they still loved him they snapped out of it. From there they sent him back to the cult, the two had an argument over who planned to betray who, and then they ignored him for the next few months.

So TLDR, the final battle is just a long chain of people making really bad split-second decisions (Baal tripping Anthea thinking he'd just get a simple cut to get Narinder to call it off, Aym following his brother's lead and miscalculating the possible results, Narinder reaching out a hand out of shock, Anthea getting spooked), and them snowballing into more.

(also thank you! :D)

#got a little comic sketched for this I wanna finish at some point~#crimson angel au #cotl #cult of the lamb #writing #writing ideas #narilamb #cult of the lamb au #cotl au #my writing #crimson angel au lore #anthea #narinder cotl

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glowinggator · 11 months ago

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Could I please request some romantic childhood friends to young adult lovers headcannons with Rocky, Freckle, and Ivy? I feel like this trope would suit these three very well, especially for our favorite chaotic musician.

Absolutely my love! This was an absolute blast to write -- I forgot how much I loved this trio! Below the cut! <3

Roark “Rocky” Rickaby

Rocky’s world has been on the verge of collapse for… well, almost as long as he can remember really. And you know what they say — at the end of everything, hold onto anything. Your presence in his life has been, arguably, the number one thing keeping him afloat in the dark waves that have been rolling through his life since death struck his home.

But even before that, you were like his other half — a partner in crime, if you will! Anyone looking in would see the two of you as part of some sort of circus act, with how easily you meshed together.

You were practically attached at the hip — hardly ever found without the other, the two of you did just about everything together.

Playing pranks on the neighbors before running down the street, hand in hand.

Dancing between each other, tails interlocking and then fanning back out to the side, you possessed a shared grace that only came with the deepest of friendships.

Finishing each others’ sentences, no matter how complex, with hardly even a glance toward the other, things just came naturally. His mother always said the two of you would get married someday, with how easily things seem to come to the two of you — he agreed, but on the condition that he’d get to play all the music. You agreed too, so long as you got to sing.

Of course, things changed when the Red Death came.

Just as you shared all things, you shared his grief, too. He still remembers how you ran after his train heading off towards St. Louis, trying to commit his face to memory. He kept every letter you sent, and waited dutifully by the door every Christmas morning for you to keep your own promise to visit.

(You always kept your promises. Always. He supposes your own parents must have seen how close the two of you were, knew it would have killed you to keep you away.)

But most of all, he remembers how magical it was to sweep you back into his arms, when you joined him on the run at the age of 16.

He’s not sure when things changed — he doesn’t think they ever really did, actually. There’s always been a deep love between you — you just didn’t have the words to describe it, yet. And so when your lips met under the starry sky one night on a warm Summer night, for the first time since childhood, neither of you pulled away. No stammering words, or flustered shakes. It was just as things were always meant to be.

Calvin “Freckle” Allen McMurray

Calvin was never the most social kid. Talking to people can be intimidating, and really, he does better when he can think out some responses first… which doesn’t really happen, in a conversation. And so, he’s always been pretty happy to just stay inside and read. Maybe meander out to the field to watch a game or two in peace.

But you? You’re an exception.

Nina praises God every day that you’re in his life. She’s always been so worried for the boy, concerned that he’s not getting enough sunshine. The last thing she wants is for her son to become a shut-in, and with how shy he is, she thought it was an impossibility. But you, shining you, seem to have brightened up his life a bit.

He still remembers the day that you moved into the neighborhood, how insistent your parents were on having the two of you meet. He stood behind his mother’s leg, peering out anxiously. You weren’t much better off in that department, clearly nervous. But once the two of you were shoved together? Things just… flowed. And sure, it took little Calvin a minute to open up, but once he did? He’d wait by the door every day for you to come over, legs swinging over the side of the chair with a new book clutched to his chest.

You’re a perfect duo together — you two love spending time inside together, but you always manage to drag him out for a little adventure on the streets at some point during the day.

And well, you can’t help but coax him into a bit of secret mischief every now and again. He says he’s a good kid who never breaks the rules, and he’ll say it until his very last breath… but the giddy laugh he gives out says otherwise, even if he does clamp his hands over his mouth right after.

You became a bit of a bodyguard for Freckle once Rocky moved in with them — you still participated in the group shenanigans of course, but it was nice to have someone to run to when he couldn’t run away from one of Rocky’s new experiments.

He still remembers how you begged his mom to take the three of you to the amusement park up the road for his 12th birthday, how you saved every penny you got from your chores to pay for it all. How you managed to get her to agree he still has no idea, but its one of his favorite memories. Rocky had to be carried home, crashed out from the sugar high, but Freckle? He was still teeming with adrenaline. You made sure to drag him to the brand-new Ferris Wheel, knowing his secret penchant for thrills, and once he got up to the very top, he never wanted to come down. Not just because of the adrenaline rush that comes with seeing the whole world at once for the first time, but because of how close the two of you were.

He hadn’t felt shy around you in years, but for some reason, your body heat seeping into him made his breath catch in his throat and his face hot. And it was addicting.

From then on, he was just the slightest bit different around you. Not in a bad way, mind you — but still, noticeable. He perks up a bit more when you speak, jumps a bit more when you reach out to him, leans into your touch when you connect.

He vehemently denies any feelings when Nina starts prodding him about it, of course.

His confession is more accidental than anything else.

He’s had plenty of admirers in highschool, all of whom have tried to confess their adoration in different ways. But by far the most popular was through letter. Flustered faces and twitching ears as they hand over pink envelopes, only to be left unopened in his bedside drawer.

You had asked once, kicked back on his bed as he put away yet another perfumed letter, why he never responded to any of them. They’re pretty, they’re nice… so why not give it a shot?

He didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t that he didn’t want to date, it’s that he didn’t want to date them.

And slowly, all the pieces in your shared mind clicked together. And when you interlocked your hands — an action you had done a million times before — it felt… different. Things had always felt natural, but this time, it felt right.

You don’t know who leaned in first — as with all things in your lives, it was probably yet another shared action. What you do know is that you had many, many years to make up for.

Ivy Pepper

Ivy has never quite meshed with her peers — she gets along with them great, but they’ve never been exactly what she’s looking for. Too prim, too proper, too afraid of getting mussed up. She wants adventure! She wants fun!

And you? You’re fun.

As she got older and older, her parents just seemed to have less and less time for her. And yes, it kind of crushed her. But you’re her home away from home — her best friend in the world, the person who is there for her when noone else is. Her dad hardly knows a thing about her, but nowadays it seems like you know everything there is to know about her.

When she was little she’d wait by the door for your parents to bring you by, bouncing eagerly on the balls of her feet. But once you got older? She’d be running off in the early hours of the morning to your meeting spot out on the corner… or scaling your house to shimmy through your bedroom window. There was never any need, of course — she just liked the rush that came with doing something she technically shouldn’t. And she really liked the stifled giggles that would fall from your lips when you gripped her hands to pull her through the opening.

You’re a couple of sweet little con artists, taking the phrase “partners in crime” to new heights. Ivy, the doll-faced sweetheart, and you, the instigator. You make a great team together, but honestly, it’s more about the fun than it is the nickles and dimes you earn.

Whenever her favorite songs come on the record player, you always have your hand extended to her before she even has to ask.

Ivy has had plenty of boyfriends in the past, but none of them have ever felt like the romance books that she reads in her spare time. The closest she’s ever felt to that is… with you.

She remembers one night, when she shimmied through your window for the millionth time, just laying on your bed together. Giggling with each other on the duvet, shushing one another in hushed whispers, and illuminated only by candlelight. The light glimmered, highlighting your features, and she was struck with the urge to reach out, to touch, to hold and be held, and God, she just never wanted the night to end. She knew then that this was what all the books had been writing about, this exact feeling. And as your giggles died down, she couldn’t help but reach out to you, touching fingertips. Contact, in the name of “comparing hand sizes,” unity upheld in the candlelight.

After that night, things are a bit different. She’s flirted with so many people before, but you? You’re… different. She’s just as bold, mind you, but her smile when you fluster or respond back is more giddy than you’ve ever seen her before.

She plays coy, but you’re practically her other half — you know all of her tricks.

So when she leans into your space one night, hands placed just shy of your crossed legs, asking to kiss you, just to know what it’s like? You know exactly what she’s getting at — know that this is so much more than just an experiment between friends.

And when your lips meet, you wonder why you ever labored through the song and dance before, when you could have had this the whole time.

#lackadaisy x reader #rocky rickaby x reader #calvin mcmurray x reader #ivy pepper x reader #lackadaisy rocky x reader #lackadaisy freckle x reader #lackadaisy ivy x reader #lackadaisy imagine #lackadaisy imagines #roark rickaby x reader

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tenebrius-excellium · 3 months ago

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Reverse Httyd AU

Chapter 1

Setting: Hiccup slips out the back door after the latest of Berk's dragon raids to hunt for the one dragon he shot down.

Notes: This is my first written thing on Tumblr ever. I'm very shy about it haha. Please excuse language errors since English isn't my native language. This is also not beta read, and I don't know if I'll continue writing here. I see this single chapter more as one part of the big creative collage of art pieces, writings, headcanons, and other artistic concepts that have been happing for this AU (see pinned post). Have fun with it though! You are welcome to leave feedback!

Hiccup watched, mouth agape but eyes tired, as one last fireball trailed in a perfect canopy across the sky and hit the Larsson’s house, setting ablaze what a whole group of vikings had been trying to protect since about midnight. And…nothing ever changes, he thought to himself, watching the tiles catch sparks faster than anyone could scream for water. The Larsson’s house was a frequent burner during raids, since it sat along the main square of the village, directly in the flight path of the usual first wave of dragon attacks, because access from the sky was well granted there. Unfortunately, the house also sat directly adjacent to the smithy, and Berk’s Chief could and would not risk having the most important depot of their weaponry catch on fire every other raid as well because of Larsson’s. So each dragon raid, a battalion made of the teens of Berk stood at the ready to specifically defend the Larsson’s home from being torched. They usually succeeded in leaving the building a smoking, dripping wet wooden ribcage coated in ashy sludge and new black marks, but standing proud at morning’s light, ready to receive a brand new roof covering when the sun rose high. Yeah…not this time.

The dragon that had fired the blast left with a satisfied squawk and set out over the vast horizon, Angus Ingerman’s largest pickled fish between its claws, which the fisherman had hung from a hook in front of his shop, ready to sell it that same morning. The dragons retreated. Soon they vanished over the sea, towards the Northwest as always, and a thin plate of sunshine peeled itself out of the water’s mist in the East. Once again, daylight found Berk in destruction’s wake, and already the jingling of nails in someone’s toolbox could be heard, as the supplies for the rebuild were brought out. It was quick, as sure as it was routine, and…

“Hiccup!” A massive fist caught Hiccup at the collar of his tunic. It was dragging him more towards the center of the town square than his own two feet were carrying him, and Hiccup tried to roll his eyes scrambling for ground, while he really felt the punch of panic and humiliation well up from his gut all the way to his cheeks, which became a spotty red in anticipation of having to justify his whereabouts.

“Dad”, he sputtered, coughing for air more out of nervousness than from the giant viking’s burly grip. “I told you I hit a dragon! It’s not like the last few times, Dad, I mean, I really actually hit one… You guys were busy, and I had a very clear shot, it went down just off Raven Point…” His mind rushed to get the words out while the Chief was still listening. “Let’s get a search party out there, before...”

“Stop it!”, bellowed his father, letting go of him and turning towards him. The Chief flung his hands up in the air in frustration. “Just…stop! Every time you step outside, son, disaster follows! Can you not see that I have bigger problems!? Winter is almost here and I have an entire village to feed!”

Hiccup’s tongue offered a snarky remark before his own brain could remind him that this wasn’t a good place or a good time. “Well, between you and me, the village could do with a little less feeding, don’t you think?” Silence. It was neither the time nor the place for this, and Hiccup bit his lip. But he was so used to just basically saying whatever with nobody caring for his mutterings, that moments like these tended to happen when he forgot himself.

The villagers, some of whom had inadvertedly surrounded the conversation, frowned. Stoick the Chief puffed, red in the face: “This isn’t a joke, Hiccup! Oh, why can’t you follow the simplest orders?”

“I can’t stop myself”, Hiccup exclaimed in an almost desperate manner. “I see a dragon, and I have to just…kill it, you know? It’s… who I am, Dad.”

More silence. The lie he told himself burned in Hiccup’s head, but, again. He was used to saying anything without it having value. It didn’t matter. The Chief sighed. Then he said: “You are many things, Hiccup, but a dragon killer is not one of them. Get back to the house.”

Turning to Gobber the blacksmith, his right-hand man and Hiccup’s supervisor at work, he shouted: “Make sure he gets there! I have this mess to clean up.”

Hiccup started walking without waiting for the older man.

Overt snickering followed the boy as he made his way onto the familiar path leading home. The fire brigade teens were laughing and making faces. Hiccup angrily trudged along. Gobber came up behind him, trying to talk it out. Hiccup just snapped at him. Whatever consoling words his mentor attempted to offer, they were no help to the reality that once again he, Hiccup, had been made solely responsible for a failed defense against a dragon raid. Words didn’t change the fact that his father was still so disappointed in him that he could not even see the progress to Hiccup’s efforts to contribute. How proud he had been to extend the bola launcher’s firing range! Three failed live attempts it had cost him to get it right, but even now that he had triumphed and actually shot down a dragon, it hadn’t been enough to immediately make all the difficulty go away. The upset looks were still going into his direction, the sneering and jeering of his peers was still aimed at his ears. What had he expected? His father wasn’t listening. Nobody was listening.

They don’t know yet. They’re gonna know. Just have a little more patience, he tried to calm himself as Gobber kept jabbering about pointless things that Hiccup guessed were supposed to be awkward, placating encouragements. “Look, the point is: Stop trying so hard to be something you’re not…”

“Thank you for summing that up. Gobber, I’m sorry, it’s not helping. I just wanna be one of you guys, and it’s not…it didn’t happen today. Goodbye.” He slammed the door in the older man’s face. Shaking with anger, he stayed there for a moment in the dark, before he heard Gobber sigh and move to return to the square. Hiccup waited until the hollow sound of the blacksmith’s wooden leg was no longer audible. Then he darted across the single lower room of his home, hastily grabbing supplies left and right, fitting them into a small leather bag. A knife, his sketchbook, a coal pen, a pair of pliers. Fresh rope, and an empty water skin. He’d need to stop for water on the way if he was going to spend all afternoon in the woods, getting his hands dirty, hunting for that dragon. A quiet sense of satisfaction returned when Hiccup took a last look at his equipment. Only a few precious hours more, and he would have the power to change his entire fate. Hiccup smiled. Ducking beneath the low part of the ceiling where the stairs ascended, he spotted his helmet and grabbed that, too. Might as well do it properly. Soundlessly, he slipped out the back door.

#httyd #reverse httyd au #httyd fanfic #httyd fandom #hiccup #wherethekiteflies

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l-in-the-light · 5 days ago

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Dunno if you're still active, but holy shit. I just remembered your theories about Elbaph being a place to "reencounter loved ones" when a saw a theory that Gunko could be Yorki's daughter now that was revealed that Brook appears to recognize her from somewhere.

Hey :) I'm a bit on a break indeed from tumblr. I hope I will be coming back to it soon though. I really needed to refresh my mind and also do something not One Piece related for a change (I have been going for it for a full year already and I guess even hyperfocus has it's limits, haha).

Maybe it's because I just can't relate to the Scopper Gaban hype that the fandom is living on right now. He's alright, just like Rayleigh is alright as well, but they really don't get me excited. That being said he had a very touching moment in the last chapter and it really hit me right in the feels.

Also, I think I really need to watch and read other people's theories less. Not only it's becoming impossible to keep track of, it's also annoying me, I noticed. People will go and paint the most farfatched interpretations (like based on the cave painting in Elbaf, which, tbf, seems *designed* for that purpose lol), but I can't follow the logic behind it at all. I also run upon my first time impressions regarding Shanks lineage that I shared with my friend after watching One Piece Red and I had some pretty good insights there! Just look at it (it's mostly about Garling there):

And I realized, that was an actually valid question that was answered in the Loki and Shamrock's conversation. Garling did care about his son/heir, which is why he didn't kill Shanks when he returned to Mary Geoise. Sometimes first impressions can be really fresh and spot on.

Taking it all into consideration, those are my three reasons why I decided I need to withdraw a bit from the fandom and figure out where to draw the line. I still want to enjoy One Piece at my own pace (it became my treasure, so I'm not parting with it any time soon... or at all) and I want to keep a fresh mind too, and keeping up with fandom took most of my energy tbh. I might not be posting as often as I used to, but I do look forward to writing a retrospective post on all the Elbaf chapters I didn't do in chapter commentaries. Tbh I'm so used to interacting with One Piece story in bulks of chapters and volumes more than chapter per chapter, the latter is pretty fun too (and doing analysis on Loki's possible backstory was an absolute blast), but I find so many details when I actually read in bulks instead, haha.

But back to the ask itself! The theme I was refering to, was what Shanks said here, in chapter 1076, when leaving Elbaf himself:

It was apparently important enough that the whole chapter is called after what he says here, using the same term for "old friends" (kyūyū). Which is why I believed it's likely the whole Elbaf arc will be set up with this theme in mind: "seeing the old friends (that maybe we thought were dead)". So far it's true for Shanks, Robin and Saul, and perhaps indeed Gunko. Gunko is becoming such a mysterious character, isn't she? Last chapter left me really perplexed in the same way the Emet chapters left me once. I know how people quickly jumped to simplest conclusions here (that Gunko and Brook share a past) but the dialogue that is accompanying it doesn't exactly *fit* that: "what is this memory??" (meaning Gunko sees is for the first time) and "they really do look alike" (Brook commenting from afar) doesn't exactly suggest it's about Brook and Gunko in particular, but who knows, who knows. I like the mess it caused inside my brain, that's for sure.

Part of me wants to believe it was actually Imu's own memory, because I'm starving for any hint of backstory there, but also because it would make more sense to me that Gunko saw a glimpse of a memory that isn't hers and that's why she can't recognize it (I just don't like the memory loss trope in OP, but I know it's a much simpler and easier answer here ofc). Also, Oda likes to do this thing, when he sets up a mystery in the end of the previous arc that gets answered/elaborated on in the next one. He did it, for example, with Sanji in Zou (Whole Cake Island becoming his arc), he also did it with Momo's dragon fruit in Wano when it suddenly works and suddenly doesn't (and in Egghead we focus on devil fruits), and Egghead's arc ended up with Joyboy's flashback and Imu's dread when feeling Joyboy's haki, it would be quite an amazing follow up to that. Perhaps. But I do know it's a big expectation that is very unlikely to happen now xD

I do like the idea of Gunko being Yorki's daughter though, it would make this not only fit the theme perfectly, but also expand on Brook, and damn, I'm waiting for that Yorki red thread to get activated for the whole arc already. Sadly, I can't confirm that there have been any hints scattered around, besides Gunko being a fan of Brook's music... not that they have to be neccessarily!

I was actually thinking, since Oda loves the number 3 in storytelling themes a lot (which I started to call his rule of three, haha), that maybe every single One Piece arc follows three major themes. In case of Elbaf it would be "seeing old friends (we thought are dead)", as spelled by Shanks for us, and potentially two more. Since we're far into the arc, I would consider things like "self sacrifice" (as inspired by Ronja) which could potentially answer what happened in Elbaf's past as well, and perhaps "the assumed bad guys end up being heroes". We start the arc with Rodo who roleplays a villain but later on turns out to be our biggest ally in the arc. We have Loki and by now very few people believe he's the bad guy he's painted to be, even if every Giant in Elbaf believes in that. It's a bit hard to work on those when the arc isn't finished yet, but this is my shot for now ;) it would be fun to actually try to identify major three themes in all of previous OP arcs, could help reveal the story from different angles potentially (or, in the worst case scenario, just to sort out themes, to have a better grasp on the story, which by now is reeeeally long and it's easy to lose the red threads in it, haha).

That's my thoughts for now. Thank you for a very lovely ask, it made me really happy ❤

#one piece #elbaf arc #rule of three #gunko #brook #imu #loki #rodo #yorki #ask #shanks #robin #saul

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rapha-reads · 11 months ago

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IWTV rewatch

(now that I've read the books and know the entire canon, let's see how it changes things or don't)

Season 1 episode 1 [In Throes of Increasing Wonder...] - part 1/2

- oh man, Daniel looks so old and tired and resigned at the very beginning. Comparing him with the Danny boy of season 2 who's so fired up and sassy... He's an adrenaline junkie.

- [Daniel] "I told my editor I was meeting with the most dangerous man in the world. Gave him two choices: Bezos. Putin." - moment of silence for 2022. It was shit but we didn't realise that it could get even worse.

- [Louis] "You've grown old, Daniel" - oi, manners, Louis! Where are your manners.

- [Louis] "I wasn't sure you'd remember me" - funny. Because none of you remembers shit actually. Memory as the core theme of the whole ride. Memory and subjective narrative. From the very first line.

- Oh maaaaaan, Armand lurking in the background from the very first scene. Armand babe, I've grown to be fond of your psychopathic tendencies, but this is seriously creepy, dude.

Also. Also. The way he's keeping such a tight leash on Louis. The surveillance. The eyes recording.

- [Daniel] "'That's the sun out there. Where's your coffin?' [Louis] 'You're standing in it'" - first of all, departure from canon lore, the sun doesn't make vampires slip into the death sleep automatically. They can resist it no matter their age. Secondly, morbid, Louis dear. Very morbid.

- Oooh, Armand letting the sun come in and staying sitting right next to the beam. Taking roleplay to the extreme. And Louis showing off his self-destructive tendencies. Amazing how we're having all the elements (most of the elements) already.

- [Louis] "Truth and reconciliation" - 123 dead, 84 injuries, a whole city levelled up. Nobody's ready. Let's get into it.

- Oooh, Armand coming into play. "No third party" - why, afraid you'll slip even easier? And then full on roleplay, Louis giving orders, and the blast of patronising aimed at "the boy". Brilliant writing. So very subtle when you don't know where to look, so in your face and crucial when you're in the know. Delightful.

- Interview date: June 14th 2022. Start of Louis' story: 1910, fall. Canon change. De Pointe du Lac's lineage: Creole. Canon change. Although I feel like the collapsing of timeline takes away some of the weight of the unholy family's life (not even 40 years versus 70 years in the books), I greatly like the change of personal history. So much richer.

- Can we take a moment to appreciate, nay, worship, Jacob Anderson's vocal skills? The change from his unaccented Dubai English to the Creole New Orleans English drawling... I am in absolute awe.

- [Louis] "Go on home, else I bleed you like a cochon, bruv"

Oh hello Lestat. Welcome to the narrative.

Paul needs to retreat to some monastery. 'Get thee to a nunnery'.

- [Priest] "I haven't seen you in confession in a while, Louis" and then that little scoff - oh, hello there, religious trauma. How much are you going to poison the narrative? Entirely? Well, carry on then.

- [Louis] "My business and my raised religion were at odds, and the, uh... ha, latencies within me, well, I beat those back with a lie I told myself about myself - that I was a red-blooded son of the South, seeking ass before absolution." - first of all, the fuck does that mean, Lou. Secondly, can someone get him to therapy.

- Delightful social commentary on segregated Southern states at the beginning of the 20th century, but I'm being told in my earpiece that a certain blond demigod (or monster, depending on the perspective) is about to make his entrance, so let's drop the sociology for now.

- [Lestat] "Seul l'impossible peut faire l'impossible" (only the impossible can do the impossible) - okay Lestat, ominous and nonsensical, lovin' it. A+ for the French accent, Sam, by the way.

- Never mind, Lestat's continuing the social commentary for me, thanks boo. "I mean that as a compliment, a man of your race to have privileges here". Ouch. Great first introduction there.

- [Lestat] "You're the man who made me buy a townhouse in the Quarter" - wooow there, wow! Slow your rolls, Ariel, you haven't even met the guy properly! Maybe take him on a date before making commitments like that?

- [Louis] "I know sometimes, men of my race, we all look alike to you people, but I ain't been selling you no townhouse" - *wheeze* yeah that's my boy.

- [Lestat] "I disembarked for the music, but then, there was the food" - yeah, I think they're called people?

- [Louis] "I wanted to take the end of my cane and slit his throat with it." - CAN I GET A WARNING before y'all gonna foreshadow like that?? Damn. Can't escape fate, or something like that, I guess.

- Hello and welcome to 'oh no I am more turned on than I have ever been in my whole life' : [Louis] "I couldn't move. My body was seized with weakness. His gaze tied a string around my lungs, and I found myself immobilized." Or maybe it's survival instinct telling homeboy "danger! Dangeeeeeer!".

- Lestat playing Mind games on Louis while he can still.

- Excuse me, the exchange between Lestat, Miss Lily and Louis is fucking hilarious, I'm wheezing: [Lestat] "Only it turns out the saint is not a city but a handsome man with a most agreeable disposition." - agreeable what, the only phrases y'all have been exchanging are a commentary on racism, and then you went on to start fucking with his mind. Lestat, stop being impulsive or draw 25. [Miss Lily] "You're his destiny, Louis." - you know, talk about destiny outloud too often, the universe hears and plays a trick.

- [Louis] "Emasculation and admiration in equal measure. I wanted to murder the man, and I wanted to be the man." - and you wanted the man. Don't forget the third part of the rhyme.

- Lestat already using the Fire Gift. Canon change. Well, in book canon he's still under 30 human age when he meets Louis and Fire Gift only develops later in vampiric age. But here he's already a bit more than a century old. Logical change.

- [Lestat] "We both wanted the last bouquet of lillies" - *wheeze* You fucker.

- That poker scene is another social commentary with thinly veiled - or like actually not even that veiled - racism. Oh, and Lestat's here to continue the criticism. And play mind games. Though, hey, freezing time. Another vampiric power that usually appears late. Absolutely adore that Louis just rolls with the fuckery and switches his cards. 'Dude's stopping time in front of me and talking in my head? Whatever, cards await nothing'. Love a guy who's decided that everything goes and he ain't gonna press too much for the answers. Now if only he'd press a little bit more, but hey, no story if he does.

- [Louis] "Let the tale seduce you. Just as I was seduced." - you know what, as someone who just read 12 or 13 books in the span of three weeks because they couldn't stop, I'm right here with Louis. Let yourself be hypnotised. You'll lose sleep and attention span and the ability to care about anything else but these whiny blood suckers, but hey, totally worth it. If you survive till the end.

- [Louis] "Money would arrive, wired from France" - another departure from book canon, where Lestat lives off of Louis. Then again, book!Lestat is barely 30, mustn't have had time to set his network of attorneys, while show!Lestat already has a century of existence. Which brings me to a point that I haven't raised before, but what was Lestat doing between leaving Paris at the time of the Révolution (if memory serves) and arriving in New Orleans in 1910? Having tea with Marius? Sleeping beneath the sand? That's a full ass century Rolin Jones and Cie have to explain, here.

- Louis' conversation with his sister. [Louis] "'He ain't white, he French' [Grace] 'Oh, that a different kind of white? French white?'" - listen sis, as a half white French half brown Moroccan, yeah, trust me, white French's pernicious. [Louis] "Paul crawled into my bed last night" - who wanna bet Paul's talking to our book canon friends the spirits? And these ain't good spirits either. Ah, but Louis loves his family. Ready for the grief? No? Me either.

- [Lestat] "My mother, she gave me every advantage in life" - Gabriiiiiiellllllle. Cannot wait to see her in s3.

- Someone needs to shut Paul up. "the birds asked me to ask you" - okay Paul. Sure.

Wait, "Monsieur Freniere", ain't that the other plantation guy Louis wants to protect and becomes obsessed with his sister, Babette? Or am I already mixing up my canon.

- Oh hello, Lestat's backstory in the monastery, plus Sam Reid showing off for the first time his acting. Or should I say, his possession. An award for Sam. All the awards for Sam.

- [Louis] "Don't everybody need to know what I do" - preach, bro.

- [Louis] "Nothing but broken souls around me, and the ones that ain't broken, greedy" - ah, then, which one are you, Louis chéri ? Broken ? Greedy? Both? Only one for the moment, both as the years go on? And Lestat? Greedy, yes? But isn't he also so deeply broken?

- [Lestat] "The Earth's a Savage Garden" - begging Rolin Jones to give us Lestat soliloquising about the Savage Garden please and thank you.

- [Lestat] "'Shall we have a nightcap?' [Louis] 'Probably had enough for the night.'" - and yet you're helplessly following him, drawn in like a magnet, like an impossible to resist planetary orbit. Also look at that little gay panic. Awards for Jacob please.

- Ah, the gift. That's how Lestat will ensnare you. Gifts and gifts and precious things and then a child. Run, Louis, run.

- Oh, Nicki mention! [Lestat] "a boy of infinite beauty and sensitivity" - yeah he kinda was insane too, but that's your point of view I guess.

- [Lestat] "What kind of a man wastes this beautiful waist with words?" - first of all, damn, nice alliteration here. Secondly, a gay man, Les, you know that, we know that, Lily knows that.

- The erotic tension of this scene is off the charts, blimey. And Louis keeps repressing. He's about to blow off. In every meaning of the term. Yep, there it is. Excuse me while I go look. Respectfully. Also. Hands. They have something for each other's hands. And the first bite. And levitating. And that's just episode 1 and we're only halfway through episode 1. Nobody does it like this show, I swear.

Season 2 rewatch (coming soon)

#interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #iwtv #iwtv amc #iwtv s1 #in throes of increasing wonder #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #daniel molloy #episode reaction #iwtv rewatch #rapha talks #rapha watches shows

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cheesecakeislazy · 11 months ago

Text

JEFF THE KILLER HEADCANONS BECAUSE FUCK YOU! (Jk I love you and hope your life is great)

1. Him and BeN are besties for life, ride or die, would suck the poison out of each others dicks (not gay though)

2. Jeff has eye drops on him 24/7 so he doesn’t go fucking blind

3. Jeff has anger issues, one moment he’s chill as fuck and then EJ told him something that pisses him off- and now there’s a stab wound in Toby, a hole in the wall, and an angry Slenderman.

4. Jeff is totally straight. He totally thinks boobs are awesome. And totally only boobs. (He’s bisexual and swears on god he’s straight.)

5. He wakes up at 2 pm because he hates being awake in the mornings

6. He’s a metal head. He blasts music from his room so loud you can hear it across the mansion (slender mansion AU)

7. His deep gravely ass voice is perfect for metal songs

8. He likes to paint his nails black, and black only any other color is fucking gay

9. His vocabulary is 90% cuss words

10. He rarely showers. Ironically the gamer showers more often than him. Jeff prefers to be a stinky son of a bitch (take that fangirls)

11. He makes up for it with his dental hygiene (kinda) he brushes them twice a day and they look perfect (mostly)

12. He has extra sharp canines

13. He named his knife “Knifu” aka his knife waifu

14. The knife has been used so much that it constantly reeks of bleach and blood; it has permanent blood stains on it

15. Jeff bites his nails pretty often

16. Jeff isn’t good with throwing knives- he also isn’t that good at stabbing…

17. Jeff literally just stabs and stabs until he thinks his victim is dead, he doesn’t know any major artery’s (did I spell that right?)

18. Jeff is dyslexic

19. Jeff is horrible at math but refuses to admit it

20. Jeff wears eyeliner but refuses to admit it

21. He secretly loves the color pink but refuses to admit it (see a pattern here yet?)

22. Jeff is super sensitive to light due to the fact he doesn’t have any eyelids

23. He wears black gloves because he has burn marks on his hands and hates it when people look at them (fingerless gloves as his fingers aren’t burnt)

24. Jeff really wants tattoos and piercings but can’t get any due to his skin being extremely sensitive and fragile

25. Jeff hates the sun, it hurts his eyes and skin

26. Jeff likes going to playgrounds at night because 1. Fucking swings are awesome and 2. Creepy

27. Fucker is 5’11 and constantly calls BeN a midget

28. Jeff had a small crush on Toby for a while and lowkey has a small crush on BeN but…

29. Jeff is highkey downbad for EJ (it’s one-sided)

30. If Jeff ever tried to cook, he would burn everything

31. Jeff is fucking terrified of fire

32. Sometimes Ben likes to scare Jeff shitless by lighting a small fire inside Bens hands infront of Jeff

33. Sometimes Jeff throws Ben inside a kiddy pool and watches him panic about drowning (he is fully above the water)

34. Despite the fact Jeff and Ben both fuck with each other and their fears, they do it in tame ways to ensure the other doesn’t actually have a panic attack of any kind

35. Jeff lives in sweatpants, jeans are for losers and shorts are gay

36. T-shirts and hoodies, Jeff literally does not own a single sweater, long sleeve, or tank top.

37. His favorite T-shirt says “Fuck me in my ass (but not in a gay way)”

38. His second favorite says “Emo metal loving slut”

39. Both and almost all of his t-shirts are black with either white or red/pink writing

40. It is Jeff’s goal to have every photo taken of him (with permission) to have him flipping off the camera

41. Jeff watches South Park but thinks Family guy is stupid

42. He tries really hard to get on Liu/Sully’s good side but his anger issues usually get in the way

43. Jeff and Nina are actually really good friends that lowkey view each other as family

44. Jeff and Nina love to piss each other off constantly (Ben will prank whoever he is asked to)

45. Jeff has tried to kill Jane quite a few times, and Jane is constantly trying to kill him

46. Jeff personally isn’t into weed but he doesn’t judge BeN for being a stoner lowkey

47. Jeff is a virgin but he wouldn’t be nervous at all about having sex

48. Jeff is a kinky bastard

49. Jeff likes a good bowl of strawberry ice cream

50. Jeff likes banana smoothies

51. Jeff owns a few Nirvana T-shirts

#creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta #jeff the killer #creepypasta jeff the killer #creepypasta ben drowned #my headcanons #jeff the killer headcanons #slenderverse #slenderman #i’m autistic #lol #bisexual #in denial

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2nd-drop-me-safely-in-this-hell · 1 year ago

Note

ladytrish pre-dmc 1 meeting au?

"A Premature Meeting"

Characters

Lady (Devil May Cry)

Trish (Devil May Cry)

Relationships

Lady x Trish

Premise

A sinister plot unfolds to lure the son of Sparda to his doom... But you know that story. This time around, however, a key player visits an old ally of Dante's just before events go into motion.

Content Warnings:

Firearms (Magically Resisted)

Explosives

Dismemberment (Magically Healed)

Canon Divergence

Author's Note:

This is actually a really good idea, thank you anon. I may actually write a follow-up to this, no promises though.

Lady flopped onto her couch, clutching Kalina Ann in her arms. She hadn't even bothered to change out of her riding suit, but all discomfort and soreness was outweighed by sheer exhaustion.

Her respite was cut short by a loud crash from the far wall. At once, Lady jumped behind the couch and took cover, peeking over to see her own motorcycle lying in the middle of her apartment, leaving a trail of glass and other rubble in its wake.

"What the hell?!" Lady roared.

As if to answer her question, the culprit made herself known. Landing behind the motorcycle was a tall, blonde woman, dressed in black leather boots, with skin-tight pants and a corset to match. Her hair was done up in a pony tail, and her eyes were hidden by a pair of sunglasses.

The woman looked fit, but there was no human explanation for throwing a motor vehicle into a second story window, then leaping in after it. Lady slung Kalina Ann onto her back, and placed a hand on her pistol - the human-sized demons tended to be too fast for Kalina Ann.

The mysterious woman turned, and met Lady's eyes. "Hm... One red eye, one green... Scar across the bridge of her nose... You're the one, alright."

"Tell me why you're here. Now." Lady drew her pistol. "Or else."

The intruder smiled. "Well well... You are a ferocious one, aren't y-"

Lady fired her pistol, hitting her right between the eyes. Even as the bullet crumpled and bounced off, leaving only a bruise, Lady's target grunted. "...That was rude." She hissed through gritted teeth.

Lady scoffed. "I don't know what's considered polite in the Underworld, but up here? Throwing motorcycles into people's windows doesn't exactly say 'I come in peace'."

The stranger chuckled. "I'll remember that next time."

"I won't ask you again." Lady cocked her pistol.

The woman smiled "I just need to know where I can find your friend, Dante."

Dante? Lady thought to herself. This woman knows him... Could she be another family member? Her hair isn't white, but she has his tan, and maybe his nose too...

"Who's asking?" Lady barked.

The demon glared. "No one's 'asking'. You're going to tell me. What's up to you is how much I'm going to hurt you first."

"Wrong answer." Lady fired her pistol again.

This time, the stranger dodged, and in an instant, she tossed the couch aside. "Right back at you." She then seized Lady by the throat, and lifted her off of her feet. "Surely you know by now that your only choice is to cooperate?"

"Think again." Lady retorted. "Look down."

The demon looked down to find that her right foot was planted on top of some sort of metal disk. "What's this?" She inquired.

"That's a landmine. Calibrated to fuck up demons like you." Lady answered.

The demon grinned smugly. "You've never faced a demon like me. I like my chances."

"But do you like mine? If you step off now, we'll both be caught in the blast. And I can't tell you anything if I'm dead." It was Lady's turn to look smug.

The woman's eyebrows raised, and her head cocked to the side. "Well played." At once, she tossed Lady over her shoulder.

She landed right beside her motorcycle, her leathers thankfully shielding her from the broken glass. Lady quickly got to her feet, and pushed the motorcycle upright.

"Oh, no you d-" The demon was cut off by a loud gang, and covered by a puff of smoke.

If this were a regular job, Lady would have stopped to make sure the demon was finished. Instead she climbed onto her motorcycle, and rode out of what used to be her window, landing in the street below and tearing away.

Who the hell was that?! Lady thought to herself. I better get myself to Dante's office. To warn him, and to get some answers.

* * *

"Agh, fuck me..." Trish came to, and looked down at herself to assess the damage. Her right leg was reduced to crystalized ichor. Nothing that wouldn't regenerate, and not nearly as painful as anything Mundus would bestow if he had witnessed this failure, but it was still a surprise.

As the stump began to extend into a complete leg again, she laid back down, and laughed to herself. Looks like I underestimated you, hunter. I hope this isn't the last we see of each other.

#devil may cry #story #request #au #lady dmc #trish dmc #lady x trish #quen writes #quen speaking #fanfiction #fanfic #trish x lady #ladyxtrish #trishxlady #ladytrish #trishlady #lady/trish #trish/lady

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flatoutin-eaurouge · 1 year ago

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Those are my portrait rights

Pairing: Mika Häkkinen x Michael Schumacher

This fic is dedicated to the lovely @schumi-honey who provided the plot and the lovely @kimizilla who provided the picture 💕💕 I had such a blast writing this! Thanks! 😭

As rumours would have it, Mika Häkkinen was a bit of a chaotic guy. Over the time span of two weeks he had forgotten to bring his wallet to a lunch with his manager, he had locked his unicycle to someone else's bike and he had panicked about losing his tortoise while the animal was still in the wooden box he had put it in minutes before. If his head wasn't connected to his body he would probably lose it too.

It wasn't the case that Mika was afflicted with a youthful kind of Alzheimer... the boy just didn't busy his mind with anything beyond racing. It was both a weakness and a strength. A weakness because he actually forgot the most basic things in life. A strength because he could fully focus on his racing career. It resulted in Ron Dennis and Keke Rosberg constantly meandering around him to help him be a functioning adult. Booking hotel rooms, planning taxi rides. Everything to help the talented boy develop into a merciless racing machine.

This afternoon, in his haste to double check if his beloved "turtus" was still in its box, Mika had forgotten to lock the door of his motorhome. It left an oppertunity for burglars looking for money, crazed fan girls wanting to look through his undies or... mysterious pranksters trying to set him up.

The silhouet standing in front of Mika's opened closet was one of the latter. The person wasn't looking for money or expensive watches. No... the mysterious burglar needed one, just one, particular piece of clothing. A piece of clothing Mika was seen wearing on a certain picture... a picture that made a certain person's heart skip a beat or two everytime he looked at it.

Johnny Herbert grabbed the tight black shorts with the blue, white and red accents from Mika's closet and grinned smugly. It were the shorts Mika was wearing in the picture that Michael Schumacher had "accidently" stumbled upon. Johnny knew Michael had kept the picture. He had seen it inside one of the drawers of his night stand when he was searching Michael's motorhome while the latter had gone to the bathroom.

It hadn't been a surprise to see the picture there, lying between Michael's socks, slightly frayed at the sides as if it was touched, held and admired a lot.

Johnny grinned mischievously as he replaced Mika's garment with a Benneton issued t-shirt that read Michael Schumacher's name on it. Not subtle at all, but then again, Michael's crush on Mika wasn't subtle either.

Johnny sneaked out off Mika's motorhome and beelined to the motorhome of the Finn's rival a few hunderd meters further down the paddock. Johnny knew Michael always left a window ajar for fresh air... and wouldn't that be a great way to get those shorts inside his motorhome!

Johnny was baffled by his own ingenuity. The set up was perfect. Now he only needed his former team mate to take the bait.

While Johnny was stuffing Mika's shorts through the window - giving the garment a little flick in order to make it land on a very prominent spot on the floor - Michael was gently holding the picture again surrounded by the - what he thought - privacy of his own motorhome.

"Oh you handsome son of a bitch," he mumbled at the pictured blond, as his hands caressed the shiny surface of the image adoringly. "How did you end up in my mail box?"

Michael wondered if Mika had put it there himself. But if he did... why would he use this picture? If Michael were to shove a picture underneath the doorframe of Mika's motorhome, he would use a picture of himself with a pretty smile and a glimmer in his signature emerald eyes. Not a picture of himself in ridiculously small shorts, sticking his tongue out in concentration while his hair was flopping around like an airborne bird chick on its maiden voyage.

Michael grinned. Peculiar choice or not... it was the most wonderful picture he had ever seen! He could picture the blonde hair bouncing on Mika's head and covering his eyes like a golden curtain before it was swiped sideways in the - according to Mika - position it belonged. Michael wanted to play with that hair. He wanted to curl it around his fingers and give it a gentle tug.

How dare Mika let his hair bounce so freely! Why wasn't he containing that luscious golden mop with a head band like normal tennis players. Like Roger Federer or Rafael Nadal!

Michael let his eyes roam over the picture and stared at those tight tiny shorts. The garment was stretched taut over Mika's smooth, hairless legs and accentuated certain parts of his atonomy in all the right places.

Fuck. Did Mika really put that in his mail box?

He stared at the picture again, and again, and again... savouring ever square inch of it and bit down on his fist to distract himself from the tooth rottingly sweet soft spot he had developed for the Finn.

The thought to put the picture in a heart shaped frame nagged at the back of his mind, because he should protect his little treasure from fraying. What was stopping him? Maybe the fact that his crush was supposed to be a secret!

Oh how he hoped it was Mika who had put the picture in his mail box, because the thought of someone knowing about his little crush on his rival, frightened him beyond measure.

What if the paparazzo who took the picture wanted to distract him from racing? What if that paparazzo wanted to write a juicy story about secret paddock crushes? Should he put the picture in the trash can?

No! He cuddled the picture to his chest. "You don't belong in the trash can, mein Hübscher."

Then his thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door of his trailer. Michael quickly but very carefully hid the picture underneath his pillow and hurried to open the door for the unannounced visitor.

Michael expected someone irrelevant at his door, like Johnny Herbert or Ross Brawn... but when his handsome blonde rival suddenly showed up on his doorstep, he was bereft of oxygen. It was as if someone had set him on fire and the sparks from the glowing source traveled down his spine and reached his legs with unforgiving fury, causing his limbs to tremble. Why Mika? Why now? Why now, when I am hot and bothered?

Mika was staring at him with an adorable pink blush adorning his cheeks. His eyebrows were knit together in a puzzled look, as he shook a very recognisable Benneton-blue garment in front of Michael's face.

Before Michael could open his mouth to ask Mika how on earth he had ended up in possession of his garment, Mika interrupted him, more or less asking him the same thing.

"Michael, where are my black shorts and why is your clothing in my closet?"

The Finn didn't sound angry or offended, but he definitely sounded perplexed. If anything, his little blush betrayed as much.

Michael would have enjoyed that adorable look on him even more, if he wasn't so flustered and at loss for words himself.

"Wh...wh..what? I didn't... I don't have your shorts. What are you talking about?"

"Well, your t-shirt was in my closet in exactly the same spot as my stolen shorts!"

Michael swallowed audibly. What the hell was he talking about? "I don't have them, Mika. I swear."

Mika frowned at him. "Don't play games with me, Michael. I need to wear it tonight, because I refuse to go to the gym in my jeans!"

"You only own one pair of gym shorts?"

"No. The other one is in the washing machine! But that's not the point!"

Michael stared at the flustered Finn who seemed to be slowly losing his patience. He watched sheepishly as Mika set foot over his threshold.

"If you don't have my shorts then you don't mind me looking around a bit."

Michael froze on the spot. Scheiße! He remembered the picture of Mika wearing those exact same shorts hidden underneath his pillow and felt the sudden panic take over his body. He could handle Mika Häkkinen inside his trailer, but there was no way he could handle a Mika Häkkinen on investigation inside his trailer.

"Stop!"

Michael grabbed Mika by his arms and halted him. The sudden skin contact and the close proximity of the Finn caused the butterflies inside his stomach to fly up, to flap around inside his body and bump against his insestines.

"You're wasting your time here."

"Let me be the judge of that."

Michael stared into Mika's deep saphire blue eyes and swallowed. His hold on the Finn's wrist started to loosen. It was as if the Finn had enchanted him into cooperation.

Mika took the oppertunity to wriggle his wrist out off Michael's hand.

"Your clothing was inside my closet. You can make it easy for yourself and just tell me you have my shorts. There is no other suspect really."

Michael held his hands up in front of the Finn. "Mika, I don't know how my garment has ended up inside your closet!

"Oh no? What is that then?" Mika pushed Michael's hands down and pointed at a black object lying on Michael's floor. "There is no way you own exactly the same shorts as me. I bought it in Woking, England."

Michael felt the goose bumps form on his skin and the cold sweat trickle down the back of his neck. How the hell was that possible? How did Mika's shorts end up on his floor? Did he do weird shit like this while sleep wandering or something?!

"Mika, I didn't steal it. I feel like we are being played by someone!"

Mika quirked up an eyebrow and threw him a confused look. The Finn didn't seem to believe him.

Michael decided he could better put all his cards on the table, and prayed that it would not make the situation any more awkward than it already was.

"Mika, it's true! Let me explain! I found a picture of you in my mail box. Someone put it in there the same way someone sneaked your garment inside my motorhome! I have nothing to do with it!"

"Why would someone put a picture of me in your mail box? Where is it?"

Michael felt all the blood draw towards his face, colouring his cheeks a deep red. How the hell was he going to show Mika the hidden picture underneath his pillow and convince him he didn't find it himself?!

Then he would have to explain why it was so carefully stuffed underneath his pillow like some dirty secret. Thank God, he didn't actually put the picture in a heart shaped frame!

"I will give it to you if you close your eyes and promise me not to look."

"Why?"

"Just do it, alright!"

Michael made sure Mika had his eyes covered with both his hands, before he sneaked towards his bed to fetch the picture.

Mika secretly peeked through his fingers and gasped when he noticed where the German retrieved the picture from. His cheeks burned even brighter than before. Under his pillow? Really? Why under his pillow? What did that mean?

"Here it is."

Michael handed Mika his picture with the most stoic face he could muster, acting as if he hadn't admired the the image for days.

Mika looked at the picture of him playing tennis and pulled an amused face. "What a strange picture of me," he chuckled. "When did you find it in your mail box?"

"This morning," Michael lied. "I meant to give it back."

"But why would you hide it under your pillow?"

Michael's eyes widened, his hands started twitching next to his sides. Time seemed to slow down. He could only look into Mika's breathtaking eyes as the Finn was waiting for a reply.

"You promised not to look!"

Mika shrugged. "I thought it was kind of a weird proviso. A bit childish."

"That's so unfair!" Michael gave his Finnish rival a shove.

"Calm down, Michael. That's my face on there, those are my portrait rights. Don't you think I have the right to know why you're being supicious about my picture? I don't even know what you think of it?"

Michael stared at Mika's grinning face and blushed so deeply he was afraid his face would stay red for the rest of the day. As red as Mika's McLaren jacket.

"What I think of it?"

Mika nodded.

Michael swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat. "Well, if you want to know... I think it's a nice picture of you."

"Just a nice picture?" Mika teased.

Michael pressed his lips together in a thin line. His cheeks were burning like an oven. What was he trying to convey? The beautiful bastard!

Mika was just as flustered about the situation, but the difference between him and Michael was that he was the one in control. He had nothing to clarify. He wasn't the one with a picture of the other under his pillow.

Michael didn't dare to speak his mind, so Mika thought he needed a bit of convincing.

"Michael, could you close your eyes for a moment?"

"What? Why?"

"Just do it, alright."

Michael did as he was asked and waited for what was to come. He expected Mika to run off with his shorts and his picture to never return, he expected him to punch him in the face for violating portrait rights... but he did not expect to feel Mika's soft lips on his own, giving him a small peck and sending Michael to outer space with the touch of his lips. The heat of his blush was now even painting his ears a fury red.

He felt his knees buckle and quickly grabbed the Finn by his McLaren jacket, hanging on to him as his legs turned into spagetthi strings.

"Mika..." he breathed out.

"What did you think of the picture, Michael?"

"The picture is... gorgeous. You are... beautiful."

Michael's hands let go off of Mika's jacket and started to crawl upwards. One of his hands grabbed the Finn's sharp jawline while the other planted itself in his luscious blonde hair, slowy angling Mika towards his mouth.

Mika closed the distance between the two of them and kissed Michael again.

Michael hugged his rival closer and deepened the kiss, while swerving his hands over Mika's body.

His lips trailed down to plant kisses on his jaw, then further down to kiss the alluring skin of his neck.

"May I keep the picture?"

Mika chuckeled. "Yes, you may."

"Mika?"

"Yes?"

"You should wear a head band when you play tennis. Your luscious hair is very dangerous for the weak-hearted."

#sorry it look me so long I was struggling with English grammar #makkinen #mika häkkinen #michael schumacher #mika hakkinen #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #flatoutin-eaurouge #f1fanfic

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roseareeh · 2 years ago

Text

Neighbourly Love | Billy Hargrove x Army! Reader

Notes: This is based on an idea that @billyssillywilly gave me. I had a fun time writing and researching for this, it's one of my favourites so far!! Please note that reader is female, muscular and has long-enoigh hair ro put into a military bun in this. For my readers who know Call Of Duty: I might have added some people for y'all 😚 Enjoy!

Warnings: Mention of war, mention of sex

Word Count: 5.5k

You regretted not agreeing to a gated community now more than ever. While you were on deployment in Iraq for almost a year, a new neighbour moved in next door. You didn't think about it much at first, all you wanted to do was catch up on months of lost sleep. And you knew a lot of young couples or singles who liked to party lived on your street, but at least they kept it on the down low so you were actually able to get some good rest. After three days in hibernation you wanted to sit in your backyard with your K-9, Missy, and drink a Mojito but you didn't have any produce for obvious reasons. So it was time for a trip to Target. And while walking to your car that's when you saw him, your new neighbour, for the first time. He was fixing something on his tires, shirtless and in a pair of jeans. "Billy?", you yelled over.

You've lived in California all your life, originally in Los Angeles but then you moved to San Diego for your job. Your entire childhood was spend in Los Angeles, always in the same house with the same neighbours: The Hargroves. Their son, Billy, used to be your friend until he started bullying you after his mother left LA. Ever since then, he has been your sworn enemy, and Billy thought the same of you. Not only did you two insult each other at any chance you got, you also tried to one-up each other academically all the time. Then, he suddenly moved away in October 1984. That was seven years ago, and now he was back.

"(Y/N)?" He looked up at you while walking over to his fence. "Shit, what are you doing here?" He looked you up and down and so did you with him. "I live here. What are you doing here? Didn't you move?" Your eyes fell on a big scar on his chest, then you noticed multiple others on the sides of his torso. "Yeah, I was in Indiana.", he answered. To not be rude, you looked back into his eyes. "Some shithole town called Hawkins. Came back to LA three years ago, moved to San Diego six months ago." Was he all by himself? Well, his father has always been a piece of shit so you couldn't blame him if that was the case. Either that, or he miraculously found a wife in 'some shithole town called Hawkins'. "Still as charming as ever.", you scoffed at his lingo. "Yeah, well, what are you gonna do about it?" He laughed in a dismissing manner, checking you out once more. "You still on your military trip?" Coming from a family with war veterans, you've been wanting to join the airforce since you were a child. Even back when you and Billy were still friends you did. "My 'military trip'" you put those words in air quotes "is my career now. I'm an army EOD." Billy was quiet for a bit, clearly thinking about something, before saying "EOD where the explosive-guys, right?" He should remember all this, you talked about nothing else as a kid. "Explosive ordnance disposal, yes.", you said. "Well, I have to go. See you around." You turned around to walk to your car, which made Billy check out your butt before you hopped into your red Ford F250.

Three hours later and with a full trunk of Target bags, you pulled back into your driveway. As you went to unload your groceries (and the homeware you couldn't say no to), loud music came from the house next door. As you expected, it was Billy. Light was coming out of his garage with half his car parked into it. You didn't pay attention for now, but even after you unloaded and unpacked you heard his music blasting from his garage. He didn't change, after all. "Come on, Missy.", you cooed while getting your german shepherd on her leash. It was time for a walk anyways, so you might as well drop by and ask him to turn down the music. As you left your front door and started walking down the street with your dog on your right. "Hargrove!", you yelled while walking up his driveway. "Hey, Hargrove!", you yelled once again while somehow letting your drill sergeant voice come out. He peaked up from underneath his car, and grinned in a mischievous manner when he saw you approaching. "Already missing me, sergeant?", he asked while getting up and walking towards you. You noticed that he now wore a white tanktop that was smeared with motor oil. "Could you turn the music down?", you asked him as nicely as you could. "What was that?", he asked while looking at you like he didn't hear you - you knew he did. "Can you turn the music down?", you repeated. "What?", he repeated, leaning towards to you. "Can you please turn your music down?", you finally said in a frustrated tone. Billy grinned, said "Sure thing, sergeant." He walked over to his radio, turning down Puppet Master by Metallica. "Didn't know you were such a party pooper, sarge. Saw you at so many party's in our high school days." You rolled your eyes at him. "I'm not a sergeant, I'm an officer.", you said. Missy, who was next to you, kept looking at Billy. She could feel how tense you were and would snap at him if you gave her the command. "Sorry for stepping on your toes, officer.", Billy said with a malicious grin. "Is that all?" You nodded and gave Missy a non-verbal command to stand back up. "That's all. See you around." You turned on your heel and went your way for your walk. As you went down the street, you could hear him turning up the music again.

And he did it for weeks. It drove you insane. You couldn't sleep properly anymore, not even nap during the day, Missy was irritated, and not even you inviting your army friends over helped. "Alex, I swear to god, he's driving me fucking insane.", you said while mixing your third mojito of the night. "He keeps blasting his fucking music, and now he's started inviting the neighbours to his house for partying." Your colleague and friend Alex Keller listened to you rant about Billy while silently drinking his beer. "Every time I ask him, he just says Yes Sergeant and does the complete opposite." Alex handed you a new plastic straw, still not saying a single word, which you used to drink your cocktail. "And when I do finally sleep, I see nothing but the bombs and I can't even get a good night's rest." Now he was finally talking. "Should I go talk to him?", Alex asked. Just as he said that, Metallica could be heard from next door. You thought about his offer while sipping on your mojito, and did agree. Maybe actually talking would help. So Alex went over.

Billy always provoked you with intentions. After noticing how much you came over to ask him to turn it down, he blasted his music regularly. Sure, it wasn't why he wished you'd come over but after your decade-long rivalry he couldn't exactly find another way to get your attention. But what he knew is that raging jealousy came over him every time he saw Alex, who he nicknamed Your Buddy, pull up to your house. He suspected that something was going on between you two, so naturally he turned his music even louder when he saw his jeep in your driveway. And now, as he saw your buddy approach his property, he could barely contain his anger. Thanks to Neil, he swallowed it down and got up from the tires he was fixing.

"Hey, uhm, Billy, wasn't it?", Alex said to him. Billy nodded and reached his hand out for a handshake. "That's me.", he answered while the two shook each others hands. "Can I help you?". It took everything inside Billy to pull himself together. "Actually, there's something you can help (Y/N) with.", Alex said as he leaned against his garage. "Listen man, she's having a really hard time sleeping. And we got back from Iraq just a week ago, (Y/N) needs all the sleep she can get to deal with what we went through." Billy didn't know this, and some form of guilt hit him right in the gut. "Shit, well, I didn't know that." He truly didn't, but he wouldn't admit to turning his music up all the way just to mess with you. So he turned around to quiet down his radio. "I was actually in an accident a few years ago, it really messed with my hearing so I don't notice when something might be too loud." Alex gave him an understanding nod. He was very oblivious for an officer, because while the accident part was true he lied about his hearing. The mindflayer didn't affect his hearing in the slightest. "While I got you here, I have a question.", Billy then added. "Sure, what is it?", your colleague asked him. It was scary how easy it was for Billy to win people over. "Are you, like, (Y/N)'s boyfriend or something?" He needed to know. That was an information he needed for his peace of mind. Although he wouldn't know what to do it the answer was yes. "Oh no, man. I'm just her colleague. I just check on her so she gets help with working through with what she saw in Iraq. Felt like I was the best one to do that after I left my leg in Borjomi." Alex lifted part of his left pant leg up so reveal a good look at his titanium prosthetic leg. Billy, honestly, didn't care. Even though that guy was probably a war hero who saved thousands of lives, all he cared about was the fact that you weren't dating him. But he couldn't say that. "Well, thank you for your service.", he said to him. Alex gave him a smile and a nod before reaching out his hand again. They shook hands, this time as a goodbye, and your friend said: "Always a pleasure, have a good one." He walked back over to your house, where he told you about the encounter.

Billy did actually stay quiet for the most part. Sure, he threw a party here and there, but in comparison to the hours of blasting music that was absolutely fine. However, now he kept complaining about your dog. While Missy wasn't a sweet dog, she was calm enough. You trained her twice a day, even off-duty, to keep her senses sharp and play-wrestled with her to get her energy out. Of course she'd bark from time-to-time, especially while training. But she was really calm besides that. "Does she ever shut up?", he said over the fence as you were playing on the ground with her. "More than you, at least.", you replied while still playing with her over who gets the rope. Secretly, Billy thought it was adorable. Especially now, where you were in shorts and a tank top he could clearly see all the muscles you've build up since he was gone - you've changed so much. The way the muscles in your arm flexed when you tugged on the rope made him feel things he didn't know he had in him, and seeing yout thighs flex as you dug your heels into the ground gave him a big mental boner. "Come on Missy, are you a K-9 or a mouse?", you said while laughing, to which she finally tugged the rope out of your hands. "Good girl, Missy!" You gave her a treat before dusting yourself off. "Why did you name her Missy anyways?" You didn't even notice that Billy was still watching you until he asked that question. "I wanted to name her Missile at first.", you said while looking at your K-9 chewing on a pig ear. "But then I thought that calling for Missile in the middle of potential war ground wasn't the best idea. So I named her Missy, as a short version of Missile." Billy made a humming sound as a response, to acknowledge that he listened to you. "Well, anyways, if I turned down my music for you I'd appreciate if you kept your Missile under controll." You rolled your eyes at him and went back to paying attention to Missy while Billy went back to whatever he was doing before. But that normal, calm question made your heart ache.

You had a crush on Billy in your childhood, until he started bullying you. It was that little child puppylove, but those feelings were real. And if he hadn't changed so much over the years you'd probably be in love with him right now. So that conversations, a normal conversation, stung like a wasp. Missy noticed and went to lick your hand. "You'll always be with me, won't you.", you cooed at her before petting her head.

After two weeks back in San Diego, you went to work at base again. Mostly paperwork about what you did in Iraq, while simulation looking at possible new deployment options. Being away from Billy was also good for you, you didn't have to see him all day or listen to his bullshit. Because ever since that conversation your feelings for him came back in some weird, twisted way. You tried your best to shove them away, even trying to get over them by hooking up with your fellow soldiers.

It was Simon Riley today who followed you home. "Third guy this week, new record.", Billy yelled over while you and Simon stepped out of the cars. "Fuck off, Hargrove!", you yelled back before getting inside with your colleague.

While you and Simon were going at it, the mood was ruined by Billy blasting Metallica once again. He couldn't contain his jealousy, being so angry at your fellow soldier that he somehow wanted to make him go away. There was no way he could physically get into your house, so he did what he does best; annoying you with his music. "Fuckin' hell.", Simon sighted, still inside you. "Told you I had an annoying neighbour.", you said while being out of breath. "Not lettin' this go to waste.", he simply said before continuing.

But he did it so well that Billy could hear you. And the rage inside of him just grew and grew more, it was almost unbearable to him. He let it out by working out, but even that didn't help the way it normally does. And christ, once he saw Simon walking out of your house he could barely contain himself. Knowing that Simon was also a soldier, and twice his size, he went back inside to not do anything irrational.

Weeks passed, but your feelings didn't. They were still very present, and only grew during any semi-normal conversation. So when he stood in front of your door, asking to stay for three days, you were floored. A pipe in his house bursted and flooded most of the ground floor. He got a few clothes out, but had to leave so it could be repaired. Stupidly enough, you agreed against better judgement. "What is that, your trophy wall?", Billy asked when he saw your living room wall; the formal picture of you in army uniform, the badges you earned, pictures of you and Missy in different countries. The one that struck him the most was the one in the middle: You on your graduation day, with your veteran grandfathers and veteran dad, all in uniform. "Your dad was in the military?", Billy asked. You stood next to him and looked at the picture with him. "Dad was in Vietnam from '69 'til '73. Was never quite the same afterwards." He had to be honest with himself, he did not remember that piece of information from your childhood even though the two of you were still friends back then. Actually, he didn't remember much good things from him childhood to begin with. "And your grandpa's?", he continued asking. "Geez Billy, do you not remember any rant I gave you as a child?", you jokingly asked while nudging his shoulder. "World war two, both of them. Gramps and Pawpaw were in Northern Ireland, the 'Red Bull' division." Billy gave an understanding hum before his eyes went to the most recent picture of you and Missy. "Well, uhm, I have a guest bedroom you can stay in. Come on." You guided him upstairs to the room right next to yours. The guest room was much smaller than yours, but had all the necessities; a bed, a closet, a small table with a chair, spare toothbrushes and toothpaste in a cupboard and a bookshelf with some of your old books. "I was gonna make dinner, hope you like deli style sandwiches." With those words, you left him alone in the guest room. He didn't see a point in unpacking his clothes much, so he just left them on the table inside his bag. Next, he checked out the door to the bathroom - just to realise it's connected to your bedroom and the two of you will have to share it. With impure thoughts, he went downstairs into the kitchen.

"Here's yours." You pushed a plate with two sandwiches on ot towards him while already eating a sandwich yourself. With your legs dangling in the air, you were sitting on the kitchen counter while Billy stood next to you. "You always eat like this?", he asked you while taking something from his plate. "In the kitchen or the food?", you asked him. "In the kitchen, on the counter.", he specified. "Oh." You laughed. "I do, yeah. Don't you remember how my mum always let us snack on the kitchen island?" He did remember that. "Kept that habit, yeah?", he asked with a slight smile. You nodded in response and took another bite of your sandwich while feeling your heart beating faster. Most of dinner was spend in silence, until Missy came in the kitchen. A check on your clock told you that it was time for her dinner, so you jumped off of the counter to fill her bowl.

"She won't start begging for food now, no?", Billy asked while finishing up his sandwich. You rolled your eyes at him "Jesus, Billy, stop trying to find shit to complain about." The clinking of the kibble hit the bowl while you continued scolding him. "She's a K-9, trained to sniff for explosives and you seriously think that she's one to actively beg for food?" He didn't say anything, just continued eating while watching you give the food to Missy. You, now a bit pissed, put your dishes in the dishwasher while talking to Billy. "I leave for work at 5, I'll put a spare key on the kitchen counter for you. Don't know when you start working, so if you wanna eat something just grab something from the fridge." You took his now-empty plate from him and also put it in the dishwasher. "I come back at 6, so you need to make lunch yourself. But please, for the love of god" You closed the dishwasher. "Clean up after yourself." Billy just gave a hum, showing he understood. "I'll get ready for bed, just be quiet please." You went upstairs to wash your face, brush out the hairgel from your military bun and whipe down the dirt from your work day. Billy didn't stay downstairs for long, he came into the bathroom as you were brushing your hair. He started washing down with a wet cloth as well. "Do you always work 12 hour shifts?", he asked after a while. You already moved on to applying your moisturiser. "For four days, then I get four days off.", you replied.

"Why the army and not the airforce?", you stopped in your track for a second. He did actually remember what you told him. "Well, I didn't pass for flying planes. Then I thought of being a marine, but they honestly have shit working hours. So I decided on a career in the army. Then I got into the whole EOD stuff.", you simply replied. He nodded while putting toothpaste on his toothbrush. "Isn't it dangerous to detonate bombs?", Billy asked before putting the toothbrush into his mouth. You smiled, gave him a small laugh and he could feel his heart skip a beat. "You ask a lot of questions today.", you said. "It is actually one of the most dangerous jobs you could have. But the mortality rate is only at 2%, so we're pretty damn good." You put your hair into braids for sleeping. "Well, I'll be off to bed. Good night, Billy." You gave him another smile before going into your bedroom. He couldn't get the image of you smiling out if his head, it burned into his eyelids. Even when he went to bed and closed his eyes, he still saw it. His imagination ran wild, from pinning you against a wall to laying next to you while slowly kissing you. He couldn't stop thinking about it. It stayed in his mind so much that he even dreamed about walking along the beach with you, hand in hand.

Next morning, he could hear some clinking from the bathroom and soft music playing. When he got up to brush his teeth, he saw you doing your hair in the bathroom. It was an extremely tight bun that you slathered hair gel on to keep every little hair in place. You were already partially in uniform, your camo pants and shirt with your last name on it. Billy then realised that he has never seen you in uniform ever since he found out you were his neighbour. Every time you came home, you were in civilian clothes. But, oh, did his heart start beating. He thought you were the most beautiful girl he ever saw.

"Morning.", you said to him with a small smile. "Mornin'.", he replied while getting his toothbrush. Billy didn't wear a shirt yet, he was only in sweatpants that hung a bit too low. You had to admit, you did give him a look through the mirror. Meanwhile, ABBA's Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! was playing from the radio in your bathroom. He brushed his teeth while sometimes sneaking a glance at you through the mirror. Billy saw the small smile that was on your lips while silently lip-syncing the song, he saw every freckle, every mole and thought you were the most perfect being ever. The feelingin his chest and stomach became overwhelming to him.

"(Y/N)?", Billy said while putting his toothbrush into the toothbrush cup you set out for him. You turned around to face him while putting your hairbrush on the counter, and before you could react Billy leaned towards to kiss you. It all happened so quickly that you didn't have time to react. "Have fun at work.", he said afterwards before walking back into his room.

"And it all happened so quick, I didn't even have time to react.", you finished up your story to your coworker Johnny. "Fuckin' hell, you're in the army and have the reaction time of a sloth." He laughed before eating again. Todays lunch was chicken with egg noodles and vegetables. "I don't exactly have combat reaction when I'm at home.", you said to him before eating another fork-full yourself. "Always have to be ready lass, especially when it's your bitch of a neighbour who you have a crush on." Johnny laughed at his own words, to which you punched him in the arm. "I do not have a crush on him, Johnny MacTavish!" He rolled his eyes at you. "Fuck off, (L/N), I know fucking for compensation when I see it." Guilty as charged.

You wasted time after work by stopping at Target to originally buy some food, but you couldn't help to get a new fluffy blanket. On the way back, you picked up two sandwiches at Subway for Billy and you. So you walked through your front door at 8, just to see Billy in the hallway looking at your military wall. You didn't say a word, wanting to avoid him, and walked straight into your kitchen to unpack. Missy followed you by the heel, not paying and attention to Billy who gave her a side eye. As quickly as humanely possible you unpacked your groceries, threw the blanket on the couch and grabbed your sandwich to go eat in your room. "There's food in the kitchen for you.", you said to him before disappearing upstairs. Missy stayed in the living room and got comfortable in her basket next to the couch. Billy took his food, sat down on the living room couch and started eating.

"Any idea how I can win her over?", he asked Missy after a while. She looked at him and tilted her head. "Oh don't give me that, you know she intimidates me." Once Billy finished his food, he sat down next to Missys basket. "I know I should be nicer, but I can't help it, you know?" She put her head on his leg, to which he started scratching her behind her ear. "I just get so angry when I'm jealous. Really need to work on that." He continued talking to your K-9 about you, how he could make it up to you, how he needs to get less angry, that he doesn't mean it when he acts like he doesn't like Missy. Meanwhile, you left your room to bring some dishes downstairs but stopped in your tracks when you heard him talk. At first, you thought he was on the phone, then you heard that he was talking about you. "Can't you tell her, Missy?" was what made everything click in your brain. He was talking to your dog about you. That confused you so much that you went back into your room and left the dishes on your nightstand for a few more hours.

You didn't see Billy until the next day, when you came back from your last day of work for the week. But the kiss didn't leave your mind. When you walked upstairs to shower, the door of the guest bedroom was half-opened. Your curiosity got the best of you and you took a peek inside the room. Billy was sitting on the bed with books scattered around him, you soon realized that those were the photo albums you kept in the bookshelf. The one in his hand right now was one of the oldest, that also included pictures of you and Billy as children. You could tell by the color of the album. "Are you watching me, creepy lady?", Billy said while still looking at the pictures. You chuckled, then went into the room. "Found our pictures, huh?", you said as you sat down next to him. He hummed in response while flipping onto the next page. There were four pictures, all of which were taken on the same day when the two of you were 8. On the first one, Billy and you were petting a goat. "That was our trip to the zoo.", he said to you. The second picture had the two of you eating ice cream on it. On the third picture were you, Billy and his mother looking at a monkey behind the glas. And on the fourth one, Billy kissed you on the cheek for the picture. The feeling in your chest came back when you saw that picture.

"We were best friends, Billy.", you said while he flipped to the next page. There were pictures from a photo booth of the two of you. "What happened?" He didn't have a good response for that - Billy knew it was because his mother left, but that's about it. Him being alone with Neil didn't help. He was already a bully in school, but was always your friend. "I don't wanna talk about it, (Y/N).", he finally responded. That made you angry, very angry in fact. "You started bullying me overnight for six years and now don't want to talk about it?!", you loudly said while getting up. "Oh fuck you, Hargrove. We see each other again after seven years, you act like a cunt, kiss me and now you don't wanna talk about it." The last five words were spoken in a mocking tone. Angrily, you left the guest room and slammed the door on your way out.

You got a towel and your bathrobe before hopping into the shower. The radio was playing in the background, a bit louder than you usually have it on, with Tina Turner playing from it. You were singing along while shampooing your hair throughoutly, having to get all the hairgel and hairspray out, so concentrated on it that you didn't hear the bathroom door opening. "(Y/N)?", you flinked at first and already raised your hand to the showerhead as a makeshift-weapon, until you realized it was Billy. Thank god you decided to have shower curtains that weren't see-through. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Billy?!", you yelled over the sound of the water. "Get out!"

"Said you wanted to talk, so let's talk.", he replied, just loud enough for you to understand. Billy leaned against the bathroom counter, arms crossed in front of his chest, looking at the shower curtain that separated the two of you. "Oh, really? Are you that much of a perv that you have to do that while I'm showering?", you yelled. Billy was stubborn, he wouldn't move - and you couldn't force him outside without being naked in front of him. "Appreciate it, I usually don't change my mind easily.", he replied. "Look, (Y/N), I'm sorry okay?" You continued showering, since you couldn't do anything anyways, and started applying conditioner to your hair. "I know I was a dick to you when we were teenagers, I didn't know what to do with myself." You scrubbed yourself off with a loofah and shower gel while talking "Then why do you still do it? If anyone should hold a grudge, it's me and not you." Billy didn't know what to say. He can't really be honest with you now, can he? Just tell you that he has feelings for you and either wanted to get your attention or was jealous. What would happen if he did? Billy didn't know if he could deal with more rejection in his life. "You still there?", you asked when he didn't reply. "I'm just...thinking of an answer." You washed off the foam on your skin and the conditioner in your hair while an idea hit you so hard that it almost swept you off your feet. With your feelings for Billy back, so came some fantasies about him. "I think it's easier to talk face-to-face. Wanna come in?" There was silence, then you heard the unbuckling of a belt. A minute later, Billy came into the shower with you. You were turned to him with your back and couldn't see what he was doing, but you felt his hands hold onto your hips. "I still do it because I get angry when I'm jealous.", he said while slowly pulling you towards him. You turned around towards him, soon enough for your chest to squeeze against him. "Why do you get jealous?", you asked him while looking into his eyes. The water fully drenched his hair now, some strands fell into his face. "Because I want you to be only mine.", he said. His eyes starred back into yours. They looked even more blue now, at least that's what it looked like to you. Your hands cupped his cheeks before leaning forwards and kissing him. You were in the shower for another hour.

Billy slept in your bed that night. While getting comfortable next to him, you noticed his scars once more. "Billy?", you asked while leaning down on your arm next to him instead of laying down. "What happened there?" You let your fingers run across the biggest scar on his chest, tracing the white colouring on it. "Long story, you won't believe me if I went into detail.", he said while wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders and suddenly pulled you into his chest. "C'mon, tell me.", you said with a pout. Billy kissed the top of your head before saying: "You know what, when you take some days off, I will take you to the shithole town named Hawkins and have my sister and her friends explain it to you." You nodded in agreement while getting comfortable on him.

"Now I have a question for you.", he said. His hand was resting on your head, making it not possible to look up to him. So you kept listening to his heartbeat. "What is it?", you asked. He thought about what to say for a bit. "So, we've somehow made up in one way or another." You hummed in response. "And we've established that we both have feelings for each other." You let out a slight laught, knowing what he was gonna ask. "Yes, Billy, I'll be your girlfriend.", you said. He kissed the top of your head once again before pulling the covers over you and drifting off to sleep together.

Maybe not living in a gated community wasn't too bad.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine

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