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yanderenightmare · 5 years ago

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How would our yandere boys of BNHA react to their girlfriends telling them that they're pregnant?👀

yandere ! fluffy BNHA headcannons

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNING: heavy yandere-vibes, abduction, guilt, anxiety, profanity, drug mentions, Stockholm syndrome, pregnancy, implied DUBCON/NONCON

KATSUKI BAKUGO - KACHAN

Time to prepare for fucking Ragnarok. He’s writing lists, buying everything on the lists twice over, reading books on parenting and raising children and quirk development and everything and anything to satiate his gaining anxiety. He’s pushing his darling to do several different cardio exercises, either walking about inside the house with him or even letting her go outside for fresh air and sun, always assisted by him of course, putting aside his normal fear of her escaping as his newfound paranoia of the baby not being healthy threatens the foundations of his fragile composure. He hires a personal trainer to teach them what they’re supposed to be learning in baby class, if they could go outside. He’ll even be contemplating letting the media know as so to avoid hiccups later down the road. Testing his darling from time to time to see if she truly has come to terms with their arrangement, finding that he’ll probably never be satisfied, never feel comfortable enough to allow her back into the real world.

Other than that, he’ll be at his darling’s beck and call, so much so she doesn’t even have to ask for anything before he’s there with the exact thing she needs, even at times she doesn’t even know what she needs. And he’ll definitely be fidgeting when he’s not able to make her comfortable. Foot-rubs and messages are never ending, he’s cooking all the food from scratch with purely organic vegies and fruits and wheats and grains and strictly no candy or anything considered slightly unsafe for either her or the baby to consume, that also means no TV or screens of any kind. She’s never been allowed cigarettes or anything of the sorts, so that window has already been checked, but all alcohol is also stripped from the house now as well and of course those sleeping pills he would sometimes take advantage of when he had no other choice.

Katsuki is slightly freaking out on the inside, wanting to pull his hair out, pick at his scabs, bite his nails…. but, he’s keeping himself in check to support his darling. He’s adamant on the fact that nothing will go wrong with this pregnancy and he’ll soon have a little, squishy, bubbly, bundle of firecrackers running around the house. He can sense happiness just around the corner, but it’s a sharp turn, he’s afraid they might just skew off into some unknown territory where he has no chance of getting back on the road again.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

Dabi is in full on freak-out, suddenly looking at his hands as though they are knives. How can he ever raise a child? Will the child be like him? Oh, how he hopes, prays, screams at whomever out there’s listening, that the child’s more like his darling than like him. That the child is feather-soft and pretty-eyed and has a heart of daisies and not made up of scars and callouses and bitterness like him. But… it’s really up to him what their child becomes. That’s his responsibility. His job to not allow the flames of childlike wonder to snuff out, his job to keep them alive.

What if they get hurt? What if his mishaps get them hurt? What if he hurts them? Besides… they cannot possibly live here, in this dump of a villain base. That’s no place to raise a child. A child needs friends, other children to play with. A child needs a garden, where they and their friends can play. A child needs to feel safe. A child needs to be able to look out a window at night and see the moon and stars and to see the sun wake up in the morning. A child needs to go to school. A child needs to run and bike and scrape their knees on the sidewalk only to come home and have their wounds cleaned and band-aided, only to go out and do it all over again. This is what a child needs to not end up like him.

He buys a house. A nice house, with a white picked-fence and a lawn and a cherry-tree where he hangs up a swing. His darling loves it, she spends most of her time out in the garden, in the sunlight, smiling, glowing. It feels nice. It feels harmonic. They have a kitchen now, but Dabi doesn’t know how to make any type of food sept for cup-noodles, but his darling is eager to teach him. She’s so sweet. She’s always been sweet and soft and too bright for the dusty room-complex he’d kept her locked up in for so long. But in this lighting, in this setting, in this life he’s finally decided upon, she looks like she belongs. He can’t say the same for himself. When he pictures the future, he sees his darling and their child out on that swing he put up, but he doesn’t see himself. He doesn’t deserve this, not when he’s so sure he’s going to have it all destroyed. His darling is a good but bittersweet reassurance, how she hugs him close, kisses him so softly he nearly forgets how many people the same hands wrapping around her small breakable body has killed.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

Confusion. It’s strange but the whole affair leaves him feeling younger. Too young. The things he doesn’t know, the unprepared oblivious state leaving him at an utter loss. He’s just not ready for this, he’s unsure if he’ll ever be ready for this. He’s never pictured himself in the scenario. Never once humoring the idea, but now that it’s being shoved at him whether he wants it or not, he has to simply accept it. He barely knows up from down as time passes. Leaving him stating the obvious to thoroughly grasp the situation without letting it slip. His darling is pregnant. He’s going to be a father. A father. Dad. The word barely making sense to him as he rolls it around on his tongue.

He’s having a kid… half the time he still feels like a kid himself. Throwing fits, playing games, eating trash. But… maybe that can be a good thing. Maybe his fits will subside in the fresh light of an infant’s earth-shattering cries and wails and screams, his infant, his child. Maybe it’ll be good for him to finally learn a few things, maybe he’ll grow up just a little bit. But only a little, playing games is something he can do with a kid. Besides, kids eat trash too. He doesn’t have to give up everything, or… at least not forever. How long does it take before kids become mobile enough to hold a controller?

It’s going to be somewhat of an adventure. It’ll be somewhat pioneering in a sense. Not in the way of planning a new attack or kidnapping or planning someone’s death, but planning someone’s life instead. He’s created life as opposed to what he always does with those hands of his. He’s created life, he’ll have to take care of a life, care for a life, send that life into the world so that it’s not just alive but living. It’s humbling in the same way it’s glorified. So much responsibility. Life suddenly feels longer, eventful, important, dutiful and not just his playground, not just his blood-field, not just something to watch burn, but something to better.

SHINSO HITOSHI

Oh no. A baby? He’s not prepared for this. He’s so used to things being avoidable, or delayable at the least, this isn’t avoidable, this is happening whether he wants it or not, sooner than he can control. That stresses him out more than anything, the state of not having any control over the situation, leaving him frustrated, sporadic, afraid. He suddenly knows nothing about anything, his mouth is constantly dry, and he finds himself thinking of how strange and heavy the weight of his tongue feels to distract himself from the mess he’s created. And the only reason to it being a mess is because he has no idea how to protect everything from breaking into shambles. That’s more or less what breaks him the most, knowing how he’s most likely the one to ruin everything, that failure will probably be his fault.

He manages to calm down somewhat. His darling, in all her natural maternal feline instincts knows more or less what to do and how to do it, not really needing Hitoshi to provide her with anything on his own but what she tells him to do. And, despite needing to constantly hold the reigns, Hitoshi’s surprisingly glad or relieved more than anything, that his darling took the wheel so effortlessly. God knows he had no clue what to do. But, he has questions; bundles and mountains of inhuman questions. How many kids do Neko’s usually produce, when normal kitty litters sum up to nine kittens? Can he take care of nine kittens?! His darling doesn’t have nine nipples so he guesses that doesn’t make much biological sense. What else: how will a mini version of him look like? What more: what will a mini version of him with a cat’s features look like? Lastly: how does he feel about that?

He’ll help in the ways he still knows how. Cleaning makes up for most of it, since food has never been his specialty and now that food is significantly more important, he lets his darling control that too. Messaging and petting and cuddles making up for the rest of his helpfulness, which often gets frustrating for the both of them, given that they’re used to a certain spontaneous erotic lifestyle that now is out of reach.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

Satisfaction. Finally, his little songbird needs him. Soon she’ll barely be able to walk on her own, she’ll need him for everything, be completely dependent on him, no longer in position to afford scowling at him or barking or biting or scratching or screaming. Knowing how something very soon will take her place in those extremities, and how they both will be exhausted and on the same side for once. He’s got it all figured out, he’s going to take a couple years off, to stay on with birdie number one and birdie number two. The days will be short but buzzing, between breakfast and collapsing into bed with his darling once the hours run to a close, waking up to screams that seem so welcoming and not at all like the onset of death as other parents make it out to be.

He can see it all so clearly. Soft-tinted days of baby-food and building-blocks and flying lessons, their baby with either his inherited crimson wings or his darling’s coat of pearl-white angel-feathers, perhaps a mix of both, how their little angel will fly from his arms to his darling’s arms, falling at times, but learning and prospering, becoming the embodiment of greatness. He can’t help but wonder how beautiful their child will become, being the product of himself and his darling, they’ll probably look godsend or like an actual god on earth. Wondering if they’ll have golden hair and golden eyes like him or satin hair and doe-eyes like his darling, how a mix of the two of them could be called perfection itself.

But, first things first. He doesn’t have time to humor his daydreams too much, never mind how tempting when they’re so close he can almost taste them. His darling needs him more than whatever imagines he conjures up. His instincts kick in, yet his humanity has last say in most of the decisions he has to make. The nest not being made up of sticks and mud like he was gravitating towards, but of pillows and blankets and plushies. Food not being made up of worms and insects but human cooking instead. Other than that he’ll stay in bed with his darling, stroking her feathers and feel her relax and stretch each time he hits a particular soft spot, listening to that special type of moan he’ll argue is the softest sound in the world.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

It’s cute of her to think its big news. It’s cute to watch her walk around pondering, wondering what’s wrong with her. Why her breasts are larger, sensitive, tender. Mistaking her morning sickness, rushing to the bathroom gulping, for being under the weather. Silly little thing, even more so with her pregnancy brain, walking around all cute and clueless. He enjoys the show, strokes her hair in a petting fashion, smirk irked in the corner of his lips and though it was small it spoke volumes, but what surprised her even more wasn’t the condescension she was met with but how relieved she felt upon understanding he had everything under control, something she used to hate, now feeling like a blessing, knowing how she was in… not exactly good hands… but something like it, something more capable than hers.

He is so prepared it borders on ridicules. It’s strange, for as long as she’s known him he’s always been so sure of himself, but now, glimpses from his youth shine through his composure of self-confidence. He’s nervous. The old rebellious her would poke fun at him, but she evolved, she’s survived, and she knows better. Besides, if he falls apart, what’s then left for her to do but follow suite? The new her comforts him with what she knows is true, having learnt that he doesn’t appreciate lies either. She tells him that he’s far away from his own father, because she knows that he will never leave her, soon to be them, as she stroked his unruly hair, kissed his forehead, squeezed his hand, smiled, told him that she loved him. And again, he knew before her that she meant it, she’d understand some time later that her dependence and his guidance created perfect symbiosis, equaled love, just like he had predicted.

The baby is the last of the puzzle-pieces, everything finally falling into place. She’s able to see him as more than something to fear like god, but as something human, as he rocks their baby in those massive scarred arms of his, his smile not nearly as unsettling as she once found it, but warm. And Izuku will finally see his darling as more than something to protect and to keep, something more than to love, as she bounces their child on her knee, that glow she used to have returning, he’ll not just see something to take, but something he already owns, as though some fog has lifted, he’ll feel proud, he’ll feel respect, he’ll feel happy, and he can say that it was all worth it and she can say that she forgives him.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

Kai seems unfazed. It’s a lot to wrap one’s head around. He treats it awfully alike one would handle a business deal. Weighing the pros and cons and benefits and payments. Bringing a life into the world, a life that’s partly your own and partly the one you love. Does it mean he will love their spawn just as much as he loves his darling, that seems hard to believe. Does it mean he has to, that he’s expected to? Will his darling love the baby more than him? He heard that the love found between mothers and their children is insurmountable. Will he have to separate them to get the attention he needs? Will that make her hate him again? Will she perhaps love him more, now that the product of their love has come to fruition?

There are so many variables, so much to consider, and so painfully little time to get it all sorted out. He’s exhausted and on the border of grossed out. Between morning sickness and unpredictable mood-swings. He heard pregnant ladies are supposed to glow, he doesn’t see it. Don’t get him wrong, he thinks his darling is beautiful, but… she’s huge. He thought she was clumsy before, but damage was at a minimum when she was practically half his size, now she’s like a walking wreaking-ball. He can’t imagine how she will ever be able to… deliver something that seems to be taking half of the space inside her. He’s actually feeling anxious about the whole ordeal, trying to suffice his growing fears in a search for pregnant-aiding quirks.

And don’t get him started on the pregnancy brain. It’s not just her limbs that are everywhere at once, her brain is scattered like the aftermath of a shotgun, she barely pays him any mind anymore. All those hours spent teaching her proper manners, seems wasted and forgotten now, seeing how she eats like some animal then falls asleep, snoring with no thanks to spare him. He feels neglected to say the least and he can’t help but dread the time the baby actually comes around, knowing how the event will grant him no more attention than what he’s given now, probably robbing him of even more time with his precious darling.

TODOROKI SHOTO

He’s not leaving his darling’s side for a second. She’s holding his baby, possible babies, carrying them inside her belly, keeping them safe, so of course he needs to keep her safe too. Safe and comfortable and loved. He holds off on the unorthodox play until after the birth and probably sometime past it as well, no punishments than can cause stress, no fun and games and edge-play, nothing but soft touches, nothing but pillows and blankets and rosehip baths and soppy romantic films, cuddling, messages, words that are too sweet it almost becomes lifedraining. He’ll be so doting, so feather-light, she’ll nearly beg for him to give her just one measly frostbite burn, just one scorch-mark, but he won’t answer her prayers. They will be doing nothing that can cause duress, nothing at all.

He's in such mission-mode. More so than when he’s actually on a mission. This happening, this great chapter in their lives, this beginning of new life, seems so severely more important than anything else the world has to offer, nothing can distract him, no grade A villains, no threats to the world, no matter how much a friend or family member might need him, this pregnancy is paramount. He’s not going to put anything before his darling or their little bundle of joy happily coming to life inside her, blooming with potential. He’s not going to mess everything up like his father did, he’s adamant on not letting that happen. He’s going to be good. Everything’s going to be good. Happy. Perfect.

The only other thing he does, next to doting on his darling, is thinking and humoring what type of father he’s going to be, what type of father he should be, what type of father he has to be. Should he be strict, pushing his child to achieve greatness, milking their potential until they drain? Should he be liberal, letting his child run their own show, chase their own dreams no matter how wrong a path it seems? What did he want as a child?... Love. He wanted love. He wanted to be listened to, to be heard, to be helped. He wanted a friend, not just a teacher. He wanted to feel safe. He knows what type of father he wants to be, but… he knows it won’t be easy, it’s not meant to be easy, but he’s not one to back away from a challenge.

TIP-JAR

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kazuwhora · 4 years ago

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hello hello, i see your requests are open now and can i request izana, wakasa, chifuyu and kazutora with an akutagawa!s/o? hope you have a great day/noon/night! ✨🤗

hi anon! sure! I will try my best with izana and wakasa since there's not tons to work with personality wise so forgive me if theirs are a little shorter heh. im gonna include a little blurb from the bsd fandom wiki for anyone not familiar with his character! I like these kinds of headcanon requests so if anyone wants to see more please feel free to request!

"Akutagawa has a black and white "survival of the fittest" view of the world, claiming that weak people should die and give way to the stronger ones. He is not afraid of pain and defeat His ruthless, vicious nature makes him one of the Port Mafia's most dangerous members, feared by both ally and foe. As violent as he is, Akutagawa maintains a generally composed and detached approach. Towards subordinates and superiors alike, he acts aloof, distancing himself from social interactions however possible. Nonetheless, his composure is fragile. Akutagawa is quick to lash out, ridiculing him for risking the bounty by acting recklessly. This quick temper often gets in his way, fuelling his actions to the core of his very being."

SUMMARY: izana, wakasa, chifuyu, && kazutora with an akutagawa!so

CW: hints of toxicity and violence, mentions of sex but not really all that nsfw-ish so otherwise not much else!

IZANA

- this is an interesting one because from what we know about izana, he is very similar in personality to akutagawa in terms of ruthlessness that stems from childhood trauma and isolation.

- in the case of a s/o with this personality, I think it would be a troubling relationship. lots of bitter fights fuelled by nothing but an inability to express vulnerability, while leaving both of you torn up inside and begging for someone to nurture the trauma and allow space for emotions.

- that being said, with toxicity and trauma also comes intense passion and desire. this relationship brings a lot of fire both in the bedroom and outside of the bedroom, with simple arguments often spawning into intense desperate (and lengthy might I add) sex. like, intense. it's almost like sex is the only safe outlet of these pent up emotions, providing a sort of comfort and also distraction for both parties.

- however as I said in general, this is definitely a toxic relationship. one where neither can help the other when it comes to growth and improvement on a personal level. it's unhealthy and enabling, but for a short lived fling it is hot as fuck im not even gonna lie. lots of hate sex too.

WAKASA

- so wakasa is another interesting one alongside izana given the lack of information and content we have about his character so please excuse the slight kc fanon version I have in my head of wakasa lol

- wakasa has a "don't fuck with me because I do not fucking care" type of vibe to him. I definitely think he's the type to completely disengage from the type of behaviours an akutagawa-type s/o might display. this leads to sort of a sense of competitiveness in trying to get some kind of reaction from him, and it has the potential (much like izana) to become toxic in nature

- any attempts to get under his skin are failed attempts, and the way he looks at you with that half bored expression is something that only triggers more of a somewhat emotional response from you.

- with that being said, my fanon version of wakasa is someone who while cold and aloof, is also quite a rational person. he's been typed by the fandom as INTJ which is quite a quick thinker, and I think he probably (despite not showing it very well) has a soft spot for you. but your passion and intensity (as well as your easily triggered dynamic) keeps him from completely being able to express this care in any way other than not engaging with your antics

- as much as there are some similarities with the type of toxicity in this relationship with both wakasa and izana, the intense passion isn't quite the same as it is with izana. instead, feelings of passion are more to the point and driven by pure instinct and desire rather than toxic passion. wakasa seeming like a very literal person, is actually quite mysterious deep down and has a lot (I mean a lot) of hidden desires and kinks that begin to emerge with time. it's rarely a conversation, and more often just something that happens that surprises you. you just have to go with the flow here, and let him take the reigns for once. it might actually be a good opportunity to allow for vulnerability to take the spotlight for once, which is something wakasa is surprisingly in tune with and quite to the point about.

CHIFUYU

- this is something much healthier than the last two. chifuyu, being an enfp is someone that's able to handle this level of intensity in a person while still being able to understand what's really going on.

- call him the trauma counsellor king. he values each and every response to a trigger that you might have. he notices patterns, he makes mental notes of things, and he does this all without making it seem like he's analyzing.

- to be honest he actually loves the spunk you bring on a day to day level. even though most of the time it's driven by bitterness or hate (not always towards him just in general) he is still able to see beyond that and appreciate you for what you are.

- with that being said, chifuyu will not stand for any toxic behaviour towards him. no sir he will not. threats and pushes for fights wont be tolerated, and he will either disengage or try to expose your vulnerabilities in an attempt at forced submission. this can be hard to get used to, especially with having a personality characterized by the inability to accept being vulnerable. but with time chifuyu is one to create a safe space for you to allow yourself to feel emotions beyond anger and resentment, and he encourages this.

- because of this very feelings based approach, intimacy with chifuyu is just that: intimate. he's extremely loving and doting, hoping that his sweetness can rub off on you a little bit. however he's also very accepting of your need for power over him (especially during sex) and will absolutely submit to your needs in order to please you.

- he really likes to put you in a place of pleasure though, so however that may come to you chifuyu is the one to deliver it.

KAZUTORA

- oh boy. this one is a doozy. listen. if we're talking about timeskip kazutora (as is the case with all characters i write about but I feel it especially important to remind ppl of here given his history), we're talking about someone who is quite literally walking on eggshells in terms of his trauma and emotional vulnerability.

- he's pretty good at being emotionally aware of his needs and struggles as well as the needs and struggles of those around him, but that doesn't mean that he's entirely healed or capable of managing toxicity or his triggers. he still slips up from time to time especially when things get hard, and sometimes finds himself falling into his old patterns. after all, he's only human. but this is where things could get messy in a relationship.

- for the most part, like I said, he's pretty good. so let's focus on that part first since I want to give him credit where it's due. he is very desperate for love and dedicated to providing something to his partner. in this case, he will seek to tap into his emotional vulnerability to provide some sort of comfort for you. he wants to see you happy, and calm, because he sees so much of his old self in you that it gets to him sometimes. but at the same time, he struggles with your relentlessness and can become emotionally drained when things get tough. he'll beat himself up for not being good enough to help you, and this is when he'll isolate and fall into old patterns.

- however, akutagawa's personality type isn't all bad. with a s/o like akutagawa, comes an immense amount of protection and loyalty for their loved ones no matter how tough things might be. in this case it might be hard to communicate this, but there will be times when it's needed in order for kazutora to restrain from old habits and ways of dealing with hardships. but he wants to share his healing with you, he wants you to be happy, and more than anything he understands the struggle of wanting to be happy and healthy but being afraid of losing the one thing that makes you you: your attitude and relentlessness. nobody understands this better than kazutora, which is why things between you can get frustrating and very personal for him.

- much like chifuyu, sex is driven towards pleasing you and only you. chifuyu leans more into switch territory however, while kazutora is 100% submissive. in this case it works out well, however he has a lot of boundaries and limitations when it comes to the way in which you function. he doesn't like degradation. instead, he thrives from praise and any sign of love and care. this might be tough for you to execute 100% of the time, but when it comes down to it the way his eyes twinkle for you is enough to make the ice around your heart melt just a little more each time.

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sanghyukstattoos · 4 years ago

Text

Mafia!SF9's reaction: dying (?) when saving

A/N: Amazing huh, as always, thank you for this request

Read more here~~

Youngbin:

You and him trained at the same time as one another, displaying hardiness, endurance, team work, sacrifice and other traits judged to be essential for leadership

You spared on many occasions but never spoke apart from giving each other feedback and honest criticism

Such a good pairing that your superiors considered letting you two work together but the plan never made it through, they had already had other plans for you

Far into the future, the two of you have already settled into leading your groups when you stumble onto Youngbin in a civilian area

You have been living there for quite some time, having shifted only recently but Youngbin's apparently been here to for some weeks and to trail someone.

You meet him in an open store, lined with books, magazines for travel and snacks, in the dead heat of the summer and the owner moving around.

The next time you meet him, he accidentally bumps into your shoulder sending your stuff to the ground which when you pick up, he uses one to disarm the person who is following him

Moments later, you trace back your steps to find your missing item and out of pure curiosity do you find yourself witnessing the mysterious figure about to commit a violent action.

Youngbin has this look on his face, alerting you that he is not the same, scared and ready-to-plead person that he used to be at the academy

When you save him, the both of you fend off the attacker and send him packing to your superiors, in turn you receive benefits for his hard work and your last minute effort to save him

He takes you to this place he found out about earlier, it's completely nature, untouched by humans because of how it is sealed from the outside world, people are only allowed to marvel at it. He shows it to you as a sign of his gratitude.

Inseong:

Initially the person that none of your superiors thought would not make the cut but his display of determination, endurance to grow and willingness to change to be the best changed their mind which is why he eventually joins your team.

His readiness to ease tough situations and have fun with others makes him the perfect candidate to be a friend with, he's not the type to easily give comfort though.

This is because he's a kind soul but doesn't necessarily know how to properly express it which is why the members go with him to have fun because he knows how to lift a mood.

His advice is all hay-wire with random mumbles but his actions dictate what he's been trying to say all this time.

Secretly vibes to girl group songs during your breaks, what a guy~

When he's in danger, he reacts quickly because he's trained too but the individuals agility and strength throws him off, along with other people that have ganged up on him.

He keeps his cool, fighting with the agenda to get out of this place as quickly as possible and he almost succeeds, if he isn't brutally dragged back inside.

You and the rest of you team members help him and take what you need

He's injured, not life-threatening and you are impressed, he thanks you as he sits on the hospital bed but you reject his thanks by saying that it was all him, he managed to save himself all the way.

Jaeyoon:

Unsure of what he's supposed to do at first, you have to delegate tasks, responsibilities and he messes up but he is good at adapting to situations so he's quick on his feet and is able to think of solutions.

This makes him reliable and dependable since he is also great at comforting the others, his sweet nature allows people to easily warm up to him and share their troubles. A great listener and excellent contributor to the team, you appreciate him a lot because of it

A team player so his lack of ambition thwarts his concern for the members, he is completely fine with unsuccessfully completing a mission as long as the members are safe. Unlike the other SF9 members, he sees it as two options and will choose either one whereas the others will try and achieve both.

Supposed to meet the escape team on the other side, an external factor causes you to stay behind with him although he insists that he will be fine, you know that he fears the idea of being solitary.

He makes jokes to lighten the atmosphere and when it is time to move, he follows your orders as he has always trusted your instincts as team leader

He is immediately the best the person to be stuck with because of his variety of specialised skills that will contribute to any situation.

When you save him, he does the same for you too, not out of favour but as a responsibility that the two of you have to look out for one another as team members and also because of the situation you are in.

He'll show you physical affections as a way of saying sorry that he was not careful enough and that you could have almost died as you saved him, an example would be a short hug and when you are running, he'll hold your hand and tug your along

Dawon I Lee Sanghyuk:

He was the last person to join the group and although shy at first, he's grateful for the others since they managed to bring him out of his shell

Is playful and teasing when off duty and makes it a point to tease you, is the main reason why the trauma is less significant as a group, responsibility may be equally divided but his light-hearted spirit ensures that you can complete the mission with the same characteristic.

Is very serious during missions and his ability to lead the team through tough situations- with his instillation of hope and strategical tactics, is the reason why you would choose him to be the leader in your place.

One thing that unnerves you about him is how he falters when he's shocked, he stills when on a mission but the dangerous environment leaves him at great risk.

You realise it's full play when you're tipped off and send Sanghyuk alone to the hotel room but he freezes upon seeing the long-past wounded individual, despite your team's best efforts to bring him out of his trance-like state, nothing changes.

That's when you run up flights of stairs to save him, you get there moments before he's about to pass away from strangulation as the stranger behind him makes extreme effort to achieve his goal of secrecy.

After that, you make sure to train his response by sending to training lessons again but this time, his heart rate is going to be normal no matter who or what he encounters.

Rowoon:

Your personal assistant, can and will fight if and when required.

Very talented in the field but switched to assisting after a traumatic event with his previous group, they all survived but he could not compartmentalise what had happened so he left

Praised for his immense talent and often had the responsibilities of scouring targets and/or engaging with them in order to gather information

Is actually much more awkward than his first impression, mainly because everyone's first impression of him is based off his looks

His persuasiveness helped him encounter and secure targets making him ideal

Is the cook of the group when they were stuck somewhere, did it automatically and was not afraid to put anyone in their place if a fight broke out but never mixed the two

Spoke to his members and confided in their worries so that by soothing theirs, he would also soothe his.

Was ambitious to complete missions, looks out for himself a little more than he does for others which his superiors like and encourage but you have mixed feelings about it.

When you save him, he reconsiders his priorities during missions but you know that he had every right to look out for himself in a situation as dangerous as this so he has no obligation to change.

Is visibly shaken even after, you can see the fear in his eyes hidden with the idea that he is still alive and won't be encountering these situations as easily because of his current job as your assistant.

Is reprimanded and almost suspended by your superiors because had he almost failed his job, neither of you would be alive, strives to change after that

Zuho:

Reliable as a team member but insists that he should work alone and after convincing your superiors, they allow him to work in a remote, rural part of a country.

Your team is also stationed there but is working on a different mission, you knew that there would someone working alone towards one goal that your superiors need to achieve

You bought up the obvious considerable risks associated with a mission assigned in such a way, including whether the individual would pull through with their results

You choose not to doubt though, meeting him just before the dense forests that have been reconstructed to accommodate the growing population

He's immediately more interested in the suffering of the animals, telling you that they don't have sufficient water, food and space to live and you nod, preoccupied.

You ask him to take a look and he has to put this little animal that he's petting for the last twenty-five minutes down to start concentrating when he sees the absolute chaos

Fights with vengeance, he's angry that they have taken away the animal's nature and you sigh when you have to save him

He's overwhelmed with pain, the struggle of fighting multiple figures and not running into some big cat to become it's next meal

You help, are also wounded in the process so he helps you patch it up and carries your limping self to the medics. Comes back to check up on you and give his thanks.

You get just a little bit closer and from then on, it's just luck whether he's assigned to your team or not

Yoo Taeyang:

He's capable, tolerant of other people and does not easily lose his temper as compared to the initial reviews you received from his pervious superiors. However, he does easily misunderstand.

That is why he sometimes look as if he is forever annoyed with his furrowed eyebrows or pursed lips

Fun-loving guy, somewhat introverted so it takes time for him to get to properly know the team. Is also objective to your leadership even if everyone else seems to follow along exactly what you say and this is something you appreciate because you like the engagement.

When he trusts you enough, he won't question your orders but will ask for elaboration if any is needed, also the person you ask to sum up everything you have said, his memory is amazing like that

He's got exceptional fighting skills and the talent to predict the opponent's moves, was the same reason he earned a promotion despite his slight inability to work with others.

Very rarely comes to you with problems, often comes when he has the solution as well, similar to a report

Never lies so you can expect to hear the only and complete truth from him, says things as they are not as they should be so is reliable and dependant.

Usually the two of you spar, so if the opportunity arises in the field, you are able to fight together and once, you prevent his torso from being slashed.

He is surprised but quickly recovers and expresses his gratitude after it.

It's just work after all

Hwiyoung I Kim Youngkyun:

Puts in that little extra effort to make sure that the team's spirit is uplifted, like the the mood maker

Is easy to speak too and seek comfort from, when you were just a new group and you told him the truth about how you felt being the leader, he gave you some advice but feeling that it may have been too much, he ended it with, ''Just go for it.''.

A real sweet guy, for example, opens the door and lets people by, basically operates by the principle that you should people how you want to be treated, also goes for showing care or displaying kindness.

He's wounded in the leg, he's clutching it to try and stop the bleeding but he's down, the pain is so overwhelming that he's thinking how anyone could get up and run away and for a second, he even contemplates that this could be the end.

It's when you save him from the situation, let him lean on you till you find the medics, stay with him in the hospital and check up on him that he's going to put in all the effort he can to watch your back.

You tell to ease up and that's it is no big deal, because in line with his personality, you know that he would do the same

The two of you grow much, much closer after that

He no longer feels awkward to confide in his team leader and that's how you spend the end of your mission together after he almost dies, drinking beer and watching the stars in the night

Chani:

Chani panics, freezes as a result of the fear that had almost instigated his worst nightmares.

He's close to breaking down but rather than something simple like a single emotion or characteristics, he is conflicted. He knows that you are safe but his mind can not comprehend what you just did for him.

He's thinking that the your actions are multiple, behaviour complex, feeling safe amongst the unsafe environment because he knows that he can go home.

He's in shock, he's laying on the ground, kicked there, propping himself on his elbows after experiencing such massive fear that he would die.

You walk towards him, he wants to cry, for you to comfort him and tell him that you've got him but he doesn't say anything, he keeps this guard that when he stops along the way, he holds your hand and tells you thank you.

''There's nothing- I mean, I don't... What just happened was, thank you'' he says, fumbling for the correct words, wanting to attribute the success of his living to you.

But that was when he was a novice and you were teaching him the tricks of the trade.

Now he is much more confident, he knows how to compartmentalise and is frequently remarked as one of the best soldiers on and off duty.

He even saves you once, save is a stretch because he played a part and when you thanked him, he said that it was nothing compared to what you once did.

He was so cool about it that you teased him all the way till you dropped him to his house.

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princess-of-the-corner · 4 years ago

Note

Ok, so I remember Dragon coming up with a Chloe DP au, and for some reason that combined in my head with your post about Vlad and the rich kids and the S4 spoilers so... imagine Chloe at Vlad’s party during a ghost attack, feeling depressed and useless and generally just thinking about being replaced. somehow she ends up in Vlad’s lair, self reflecting in front of the portal when it gets hit by a power surge. Most of the class just sees her being carried out to the ambulance, but 2 know better

Me: “I need to work on all my other fics.”

Also me: “Time to work on several pages of Chloé half dying!!! And another bootleg version of one of Dragon’s AUs!”

Vlad and Danny are on kinda friendly terms in this mostly because I wanted to write them snarking at each other.

Chloé was glad to get out of Paris for a while. A decision her father had made after, well. Certain incidents. Making her feel unsafe in Paris. So she was sent away to a place without Hawkmoth or Akumas.

Smoothing out the skirt of her pale yellow, nearly white, dress, she contemplated the place she ended up.

She would have been prepared for New York. But of course Audrey said she was too "Unexceptional" yet. But as Audrey had to go on a business trip to meet other rich business people at some fancy party, Chloé's dad convinced her to take her to this place.

Not that business parties full of other rich people were something she really wanted to deal with. They were usually too condescending at best. A few of them could be creepy. Giving her looks that made her want to take a shower for a year.��

It was almost enough to make her want to stay in Paris. But the one thing that made her decide it wouldn't be too bad was who was hosting the party.

Don't get her wrong. Vlad Masters definitely gave off some strange and downright intimidating vibes. But the few times Chloé had met him at events like this, he was one of the few adults who seemed to respect her, despite her age. And he only used his threatening vibes on any of the other men looking at her.

That said, Chloé wasn't expecting much conversation with Vlad. They didn't usually talk much anyway, just polite conversation common at these things. And as Audrey was currently attempting to engage with him, almost as if she were blocking Chloé from getting near, it was unlikely she would.

"If you're going to commit a murder could you wait another twenty minutes? I have a bet going."

Chloé jumped, realizing someone was speaking to her. When she found who, her initial instinct was to glare. Blue eyes and black hair making her think of someone else.

However, as she took in the rest of the context, she found someone new. And male. A boy about her age.

"Who are you?" Chloé asked.

"Head of security," the boy said.

It was obviously a joke, from his tone and lopsided grin. And Chloé almost laughed at the idea of a teenager being any kind of security.

But she noticed the way he stood, the way he analyzed her. It reminded her of Adrien, in a way. Seemingly all smiles and laid back, but far more capable than he looks.

There was something else about him too. It actually reminded her of Vlad. The general vibes he gave off. But Vlad felt more… firey. Heat under his skin, waiting for the temper to snap. This boy felt more cold. Not emotionally, but like a snowfall that could quickly engulf you in a blizzard.

"I think a name would be better," Chloé said.

"Call me Danny then," the boy said, offering a hand.

"Chloé Bourgeois," she replied, politely taking it. "So, judging by the fact that you didn't give me your last name, you don't want me guessing who you're connected to."

"You probably wouldn't know them," he said. "My family's known for their studies on the paranormal. They're scientists. And not really the kind for this kind of party."

"But you are?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Absolutely not," he said. "But hey. Vlad's trying to buy his way to an apology by giving me money if I hang out and make sure nothing spooks the guests. Other than him, of course. Might as well put it in my college fund. So, you actually planning a murder or not?"

That almost made her laugh. A small smile on her face, Chloé's gaze drifted across the room to her mother.

"No murder yet," Chloé said. "If I do kill someone, it'll be the local supervillain back in Paris."

"Heard something about that," Danny said. "My parents keep debating on checking it out. It's obviously paranormal and magical, but they specialize in Ghosts."

"Are they the Ghostbusters?" She did actually laugh at that one.

"Something like that," he chuckled.

All of a sudden, Danny stiffened up. It had to be a trick of the light, but she could've sworn a mist came out of his mouth. He frowned, looking around carefully.

"Sorry, I have to go," Danny said. "A disturbance in the garden. See you around."

"Yeah, see you," Chloé sighed.

As he ran off through the crowd, Chloé wondered how he knew about the "disturbance". Maybe he was actually part of the security team and had an earpiece in?

Brushing the thought off, Chloé grabbed a drink from a passing waiter. Then she headed the opposite direction.

She wanted some time alone. It had been nice, talking to Danny. But the party was still overwhelming. She might be out of Paris, which meant less stares and whispers. But still too much interaction for her liking lately.

Chloé headed out of the main ballroom. Few paid attention to her. Those that did were quickly dragged back to their conversations.

As she wandered the halls, Chloé wondered if she could get lost in here. If her mother would notice. Maybe she could just. Not go home and just secretly live in Vlad's mansion.

A tempting idea, if she could figure out how to do it. But for now, she settled for exploring.

There was a library. Very nice. Bookshelves along every wall, except for a spot for a fireplace. Comfortable chairs and a couch to read on.

She looked through the bookshelves. It seemed well stocked, despite the impossibility of ever reading them all. Most were nonfiction, texts on various subjects. A few seemed to be typical fiction, though Chloé didn't inspect those too close lest she judge Vlad's collection of trashy romance novels.

What intrigued her was one large shelf, right across from the fireplace. These books actually looked well-used. Texts on the paranormal. Hadn't Danny said something about that? Between this and the familiarity with Vlad, perhaps it was a family-friend situation.

Dragging a finger along the spines of the books, she picked one at random. Pure curiosity more than actual interest.

The book was soon dropped and forgotten when the shelf slid open to reveal a doorway.

Now that had her curious and interested.

A look over her shoulder at the door, and Chloé was in the new room. No, a new hall of stairs. Descending down stone steps.

She was suddenly worried she would find some sort of kinky dungeon type place. Perhaps she should quit while she was ahead.

It was the buzzing in her fingertips that made the decision for her. Something… familiar.

It wasn't like the buzzing she felt near an Akuma, or near someone using a Miraculous. No, this felt more like Vlad. Like Danny. Whatever she was feeling from them, there was more of it down here.

Eventually the stairway opened to a room. It looked like a laboratory of some kind. Weapons and tools of shiny metal and magenta accents lined the walls. There were a few that traded magenta for green, but not as if two people consistently shared a space. More like one occasionally left objects behind.

The one thing in the room that was overwhelmingly green and not magenta was against one wall.

It almost looked like a doorway of sorts. Or a Magic Portal, really. Swirls of green that she couldn't see into. And if she hadn't spent the last year and a half being attacked by Magical Supervillains and becoming a Hero herself, she would've assumed it was just a large tv screen embedded in the wall for aesthetics.

The reminder of her time as a Hero brought back some bitter memories.

She might not have been the best person, but she was a good Hero. Chloé would have gladly continued being Queen Bee, despite the risks, because she had felt like she finally found a purpose. But Ladybug told her no, she couldn't have the Miraculous anymore. For her safety of course.

What a joke. Not only had Chloé been in more danger without it, as there was no way she could defend herself against Hawkmoth. But the other Heroes were still active, even with their identities known.

With a sigh, Chloé attempted to distract herself. Walking around the room and investigating the weapons around the lab. They were strange. She wasn't a gun expert, but these didn't look normal. Not regular guns that shoot bullets.

Were they alien weaponry? That didn't seem right. Chloé wasn't an expert, having never met an alien(as far as she was aware). But the weapons seemed very based on Earth designs, their sizes intended for average Human use. Maybe weapons for Humans to use on nonhumam creatures.

Whatever it was, Chloé was now a bit curious. What did Vlad get up to when he wasn't hosting business parties like this? Did he perhaps moonlight as a superhero? With that Danny kid as the Robin to his Batman? Perhaps she should stay. Be the Jason Todd of the family. Though with less dying.

She almost laughed at the idea. But as a crack of thunder rang through the mansion, loud enough to be heard from this basement laboratory, she jumped, instinctively spinning around to look for an attack.

A second crack of thunder, and all the lights went dark.

Chloé was not afraid of the dark. She never had been, even as a child.

But she was afraid now. Because this wasn't a normal blackout. In a mansion like this, there would be emergency generators. They didn't kick in, which meant this was likely something else.

Amity Park was different from Paris. No Hawkmoth. No Akumas. But that didn't mean there was no danger.

And the thing Chloé had become afraid of, after so many Akuma attacks and even Hawkmoth himself coming to her home, her room, and confronting her. The thing she was afraid of was being unable to fight back.

Her breath began to quicken, the only noise she could hear in the dark room. Heart hammering in her chest, Chloé tried to calm herself down. This wasn't Paris. Whoever or whatever it was wasn't after her.

But what if it was? What if this person had decided she would make a good target? What if Hawkmoth had followed her, hoping to get revenge for failing him as Miracle Queen? What if it was someone else, furious about what she had involuntarily done, knowing that if something happened here, Ladybug's Miraculous Cure would be too late?

Hands trembling, Chloé remembered the weapons on the wall. It wasn't her Miraculous, but it was something. She refused to go down without a fight.

The only problem was that, in her panic, she had gotten turned around she couldn't remember which was she was facing.

Blindly choosing a direction, Chloé kept a hand out in front of her, slowly moving it back and forth hoping she'd hit a wall. Her ragged breathing and the click of her heels on the floor being the only sounds. A good sign, she hoped.

Her hand hit something. A wall, she thought. Somewhere to her left. Keeping her hand flat against it, she hoped to follow it until she found the weapon rack again.

She kept walking, barely noting how the sound of her footsteps changed from heels-on-tile to heels-on-metal. Had the floor been metal? She couldn't remember. The stairs up had been stone so obviously she was still in the lab.

The lights suddenly came back on, the blackout over. Yet Chloé wasn't nearly as blinded as she should have been by the sudden brightness. It was coming from behind her. Had she somehow found a different hallway out of the lab?

As she turned to head back to something familiar, a different brightness flickered on. But she was completely unaware, as all she could focus on was pain.

Burning, crackling under her skin. Through every inch of her. Worse than anything she had ever felt, as Civilian, Hero, or Akuma.

The pain began to subside. Not going away, but no longer the intense agony. Just an ache, but as if she had run a marathon around Paris without being transformed. Her throat still burned the worst though. Had she been screaming? She couldn't remember doing so, but it seemed likely given the pain.

Stumbling forward, she managed to find herself back in the lab. Yet her vision was blurry. So blurry, in fact, that when she looked down her white dress appeared black.

The pain and exhaustion was too much for her. Pitching forward, everything went dark again.

--------

The next thing Chloé knew, she was somewhere soft. Everything still hurt, which made her not want to move. But she could hear two male voices arguing.

"You should let me explain it to her."

"You will confuse and scare her with your morbid humor."

"And you'll just freak her out!"

"I have more experience in this."

"Not in explaining it!"

"I explained it to Danielle."

"And I explained it to everyone else because you had to be a fruitloop!"

"Are you still using that insult?"

"It still fits."

Registering that she should probably see what's goin on, Chloé went to get up.

Her right arm must've slipped off whatever she was laying on, as she almost immediately slammed back down. The feeling that had her jolting upright instead of trying again to be slow, was that it felt like something hit the inside of her arm?!

Inspecting the limb, she didn't find anything wrong with it. It was there. No burns or bruises. The worst thing was a chipped manicure.

As her gaze went further up her arm to her shoulder, she noticed something. A discoloration in her skin. It was hard to see, having to look nearly straight down and only being able to see what skin was showing. But there were thin lines across her shoulders and chest. She couldn't tell how far they went up her neck, or how much further they extended under her dress.

The lines looked almost like lightning. It was then that she remembered the lab. The pain. But she swallowed down her fear.

"Well say goodbye to swimsuit season," Chloé muttered, her voice still a little shaky and her throat still raw.

"Perhaps your humor will be helpful after all," one of the voices from earlier mused.

Chloé jumped, having completely forgot that there were people in the room. One was Vlad, the other was the "head of security" kid. Danny, wasn't it?

"What happened?" Chloé asked.

"You received quite a shock," Vlad replied.

"Oh, and my humor is too much for her," Danny glared.

"Kind of used to puns in horrifying situations," Chloé said. "One of my best friends loves making puns to deflect dealing with things."

And okay yes she also did that. But she was not going to tell them that. Even if the looks they gave each other probably meant they guessed as much.

"Where am I?" Chloé asked, looking around.

"One of the guest rooms," Vlad explained.

"Not a hospital?" She asked.

"A hospital isn't quite equipped to handle… this," he said.

"One of the guests was a doctor who did a general checkup," Danny said. "She was sure you probably just fainted from low blood sugar or something."

"And… and my mother?" Chloé asked.

"She is back at her hotel," Vlad said, visibly bristling. "I may not be father of the year, but her lack of concern is appalling."

The exasperated look Danny gave him said there was a long story there. Chloé wasn't sure she wanted to hear it right now.

"So why would a hospital be bad?" Chloé asked instead.

"That is quite a story," Vlad said. "Do you know what you were messing with in the laboratory?"

"I know it had weapons," she said. "Then the lights went out and I tried to find my way around."

"I think that makes her smarter than both of us," Danny said.

"I didn't enter an unstable device on a dare," Vlad glared. “I knew what I was doing.”

"You stuck your face right up to a prototype device not knowing if it was stable or not," he retorted. "You're lucky you only half died.".

Vlad glared at him again. Chloé could have sworn he man's eyes flashed red. It was more than just a trick of the light.

He said a hospital wasn't a good situation for her now. He implied that he'd had something similar happen to him. And those books on the paranormal, leading to a lab…

Vlad wasn't Human. At least not anymore. Danny wasn't either, most likely. And Chloé realized, with mounting horror, that she probably wasn't either.

Once more she focused on her hands. What… was she now? Chloé flipped through her knowledge of the paranormal. It couldn't be a Vampire or Werewolf. She didn't get bit or infected with anything. Most other creatures she could remember Humans becoming had very specific circumstances or longer processes.

Then, she recalled something Danny had said. His family deals with Ghosts.

As if to confirm her suspicions, her hands flickered out of existence. An involuntary whimper escaping her throat.

"I… I'm dead, aren't I?" Chloé asked.

"Only half way," Danny said.

"That is nowhere as reassuring as you think it is," Vlad said.

This time it was Danny's turn to glare. But his eyes flashed a green color instead of red.

Meanwhile, Chloé was having a crisis. She died. She fucking died. But she was still here.

She was vaguely aware of their voices. Both males had come closer, sitting beside her on the bed. She knew one, or maybe both of them, was telling her to breathe. To focus.

She tried to focus on how strange it was, sitting between them. One burning, one freezing. Was that related to… This?

It helped ground her. Remind her that she wasn't alone.

"That's right," Danny said. "You're not alone in this. Which is already better than what we got."

"You could have had a mentor," Vlad said.

"But you were still evil back then," he smirked.

Oh boy oh boy. This was going to get oh so complicated.

#danny phantom #miraculous ladybug #never let Danny and Adrien in a room together they will murder everyone with puns #phantom chloé au

64 notes · View notes

panda-noosh · 6 years ago

Text

reanimated stars {Sokka x Reader}

Words: 6.8k

Summary: Sokka struggles to impress you.

Genre: fluff, sprinkle of angst

Notes: masterlist - support my writing or ask me about commissions :) - sokka ma boi

----

“Hey! Do you wanna fight?”

Those were the first words Sokka ever said to you.

Your head snapped up, glasses slipping down your nose with the sudden movement. Around you, the storage room came back into motion. You could hear the grunts and hisses of the other people fighting in the background, the slam of bodies against mats, could smell the sweat and the warm air.

You immediately hated him for dragging you back to this hell hole.

You'd seen Sokka around, of course. The arrival of him and his group had been all anyone spoke about these past few weeks, but you never indulged. Quite frankly, you didn't really care. Having the Avatar under the same roof as you was cool when you thought about it, but you weren't about to destroy your entire routine just to impress them.

So you stayed out of their way.

Aang, Toph and Katara seemed fine with these arrangements; you were fairly certain they didn't even know your name. However, Sokka was a different story. The social butterfly of the group, clearly he didn't like the idea of leaving anyone out of his social graces.

He stood over you now, a grin on his face.

“No thank you.”

The grin faded.

You looked back at your book, tucking your head into the crook of your elbow so you could read the words more comfortably, perhaps block out the violent sounds emitting from the room around you. You were waiting for a training mat to become available so you could get your daily sparring in, had decided to read a little bit whilst you waited.

Sokka continued to stand there, now awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. He played with his fingers; your rejection was not what he'd expected.

You flicked a glance up at him, raising a brow. “You alright?”

“Me?” he started. “Yeah, I'm fine. Really good. Fine. I was just – I was told this was the sparring room.”

You paused. “That it is.”

“So I came in here to spar,” he continued, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “But I don't have a partner.”

“You should probably find one.”

He pursed his lips. “Right.”

You waited a moment longer, continuing to stare at him. This was the moment you expected him to move, the moment any normal person would have taken the hint and left you to your own devices.

But Sokka wasn't like that.

He scratched the back of his neck once more before finally settling down on the chair in front of you. Perhaps it was instinct – a complete stranger getting comfortable with you, it was something you weren't entirely used to. You jerked back, pulling your book into your chest as you regarded the new-comer with narrowed eyes.

He looked down at the rough, wooden table, scraping his nail along the edge to rid it of splinters. “I'm Sokka.”

“I know.”

“You are?”

“Y/N.” Why were you telling him your name?

He smiled softly. “That's a nice name. I expected something like. . . like Velociraptor or something.”

You raised a brow. “Why?”

He shrugged. “The people around here just look like they should have tough names. 'Cause they fight all the time, don't they?”

You paused, trying to deduce whether he was kidding or not. He was a new-comer at the end of the day – you couldn't exactly blame him for thinking you and your people were all hostile. Your base, settled in the underground, didn't exactly give off a very welcoming vibe. The smoke that billowed the area from the amount of smokers in the group was almost suffocating. You couldn't speak to anyone who didn't have bruised knuckles, because there was no one like that. The place you called home was a place meant to protect, a place meant to train and gear people up for battle against the Fire Nation.

But you weren't all bad.

You, for instance, would much rather curl up with a book and read than fight the people you'd grown to call family; sparring was just a part of keeping yourself safe, but it hadn't morphed your personality. It was just a thing you felt like you had to do to stay alive.

Sokka flicked his eyes up when you didn't respond to his assumptions. He didn't look apologetic, simply confused that you hadn't answered. “Do you prefer hand-to-hand combat or weaponry?”

He was changing subjects so fast. He really was making an effort to keep the conversation flowing – you didn't even know him.

“Hand-to-hand,” you replied cautiously.

Sokka's eyes flicked down to your knuckles, where bruises from yesterday were still healing. “Are you good at it?”

“I've been doing it for a few years, so I know a thing or two.”

“Could you show me a thing or two?”

You laughed. Sokka did not join you.

You froze, staring at him with slightly widened eyes – again, it was another moment where you weren't entirely sure if he was being serious or not. He was part of the Avatar's crew. He was friends with the boy who was destined to save the world, and he was asking you for help?

“I'm serious,” said Sokka, as if reading your confused thoughts. “Toph is still healing. I have nothing better to do.”

“I'm probably not the best person to be teaching you anything,” you replied, already getting ready to stand up and leave, just as you should have done the very moment Sokka sat down.

“What's that supposed to mean?” He followed after you, trying to reach for your wrist but the moment he decided against it was written clear on his face; he caught the snarl beginning to take shape and wisely flinched his hand back. “Okay, well, just explain to me-”

“I'm not qualified.” You nodded towards Adrianna, dressed in just a sports bra and sweatpants, a tiny dab of blood dribbling from her lip as she sparred with a boy from the next bunk over – you weren't sure of his name. Weren't sure of a lot of people. “You're better off asking Adrianna. She knows what she's doing.”

Sokka followed your gaze, frowning once he caught sight of her. Before he could turn back, however, you've already ducked out of his vision and started towards the exit door.

Privileged little land-dweller. Though you didn't know as much about Sokka as you did everyone else on his crew, you knew enough to understand where he came from; the southern water tribe. He probably had a family, friends, a life back home that he left for the thrill of adventure. He'd taken one look at the attention Aang was getting and thought he could hop on for the ride, not even once thinking about what it was he was leaving behind.

The thing so many of your people would have killed to have, he was leaving behind like it was nothing.

You weren't sure why these thoughts clogged your brain. Maybe you'd spent too much with these people. Maybe the smoke-filled air had gotten to you, made you grumpy, made you pessimistic.

Maybe you've just seen too much.

Sokka didn't try coming after you, for which you're grateful. You could forget sparring for the day – just for one day. Tomorrow, you'll work extra hard to make up for it, but whilst the water bender is still there, still insistent on getting your assistance, you'll steer clear.

---

Sokka groaned into his palms.

Well, that was his chance destroyed.

Over and gone in less than ten minutes – you hadn't even given him ten minutes! Usually, Sokka was a professional at winning people over. Give him a single line, a hobby, a conversation topic and he could make anyone putty in his hands.

You'd barely given him the time of day.

Katara sat by his side, knitting away like she always does in the evenings. The tent the soldiers set up for them is relatively big, but not big enough for Sokka's frustration to be hidden from the three people sitting around him. Toph lays in her sleeping bag, awake but barely picking up on anything, whilst Aang was meditating in the corner.

The only one making noise was Sokka, and they were purely noises of frustration.

Katara sighed, always being the first one to break when it came to Sokka's moods. “What's wrong, bud?”

“Why can't people just appreciate my award winning personality?”

Katara froze. Though Sokka had his head buried in his hands, he could tell she was giving Aang the look – raised brows, a slight pout on her face, completely her mother's daughter.

“Uh. . .,” Aang drawled. “Maybe if you elaborated, we could give you an answer.”

“Do you know Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

Sokka perked up, that certainly not being the answer he'd expected. Katara flinched with the speed of which he moved, how he grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. “You know Y/N?”

“Well yeah.” Katara shoved him back. “I watched them train a few times. They seem nice.”

“A real book lover,” Aang chimed in. “I don't know how they can stay still for so long.”

“They use up their energy during sparring; you should see them go. I wouldn't want to fight with them for too long.”

Sokka blinked. This was absurd. Utterly and completely absurd; you would talk and bond with his friends but not him? What had he ever done to you? Had he crossed some invisible boundary when he sat down? Did you have something against his hair? Because if that was the case-

“What did Y/N do to you?” Toph asked, her words slurred by the medication still pumping through her.

“Nothing. That's what's bothering me.”

Katara groaned. “Oh my God, Sokka, are you kidding me? You're upset because someone wasn't giving you attention?”

“It wasn't just that!” Sokka defended. “I sat down, and they just completely turned the cold shoulder on me! They got up and walked away!”

“Maybe you just made them uncomfortable,” said Aang, as if this answer would somehow settle Sokka's racing thoughts.

Sokka glared at the meditating boy. Aang peeked an eye open and shrugged.

“I'm just saying. Sometimes you can come on a little bit strong.”

Katara sighed, waving a dismissive hand in Aang's direction as she regarded Sokka. “What exactly did you say?”

Sokka shrugged. “Nothing unusual. I asked them if they would teach me how to spar.”

Katara blinked. “You asked them to teach you?”

“Was that a bad idea?”

“You do realise everyone here only spars because they need to keep themselves alive, don't you?” said Toph. Even in her half-dazed state, she still managed to sound gut wrenchingly judgemental.

Sokka paused. “So. . . It was a bad idea?”

“You probably made it sound like you just wanted a quick fight for the fun of it,” Toph clarified, rolling onto her back. “They don't do that shit around here, Boomerang Boy. They're training for their lives. None of this is a joke to them.”

Sokka's stomach turned – oops. He hadn't really thought of that. At the time, what he'd said didn't seem insensitive, though maybe that was just because he was being ignorant. He thought you looked cute, and that was all the prompting he needed to try and win you over.

“Ah,” was all he could manage.

Aang snickered, having fully given up on his meditation in favour of listening in on Sokka's embarrassment. He lay sprawled across his own sleeping bag, his head resting on his curled knuckles, one leg in the air because Aang was just weird like that.

“You look genuinely upset, buddy,” he said. “Is this one special?”

Sokka flushed. “Isn't it past your bed time?”

Aang burst out laughing. Even Toph joined in, and glancing to the side, Sokka could see his own sister trying to hide her amusement behind the half-finished quilt she was trying to knit.

Sokka grumbled, flopping down onto his sleeping bag and burying his head in the pillows – this day could not have gone any worse, and it was entirely his fault. If he'd just stopped to think about what he was doing, he would have been able to figure out – or even learn – just who it was he was speaking to.

But now he'd ruined every chance he once thought he'd had.

---

The next day, Sokka was nowhere to be found, and for that, you were grateful.

You strode into the sparring room earlier than usual, shoulders drawn back. Hardly anyone was present, meaning you had the perfect chance to stretch your muscles out before Adrianna arrived.

You picked the mat at the far end of the room and started stretching. You remembered Sokka's words from the day previous, remembered his face, his shoulders, the confidence that bore off him even though he had absolutely no reason to be – yes, he had a pretty face and a dazzling smile, but how confident can a man really be when he doesn't even know the place he's strolling through?

You hated that you remembered him so much, that he played on your mind more than anything else. He was basically famous at this point – mostly for being a wanted criminal in many places, but that was beside the point. You blamed his almost-celebrity status for the reason behind your straying mind. It wasn't fair – he'd come up and spoken to you, and yet you were the one forced to deal with the questions his presence left in it's wake.

It wasn't an hour later that the door to the sparring room creaked open and Adrianna stepped in, again wearing her sports bra and sweatpants. Her short hair was pinned back, her lip plastered up from yesterday, her eyes shining with the familiar fury you always saw in her. She was in a constant state of ready, and you admired her for that.

“Where were you yesterday?” was the first thing she asked.

You stood up straight, cracking your neck. “Didn't feel like coming in.”

“I saw you at your table, though. You just decided to bail?”

You shrugged. “It's complicated. I'm here now, though – and I've got a lot of energy to burn.”

Adrianna grinned, and the fight started.

She always tried to make it start out slow, but there was never such thing as slow when it came to her – she was a monster, a whirlwind on feet. Her 'light punches' could knock someone out for a solid hour and a half – you'd seen her do it, heard her complain to the leader that she was going easy on him, that she didn't deserve her punishment because she hadn't even started.

But you'd been sparring with Adrianna long enough to track her movements. Though you would never be able to take her down with force alone, you could dodge her better than anyone else in this shit hole. Using brain power was sometimes just as helpful as using brute force.

You dodged her hits, ducked beneath her swings, shifted out the way of her lunges. You only got a few hits in every now and then, but the exertion was getting to her; she was still grinning from ear to ear, forever amused by just how lithe you were. She often called you Wriggler, because you never failed to wriggle out of whatever grip, swing or pull she tried to lock you in.

That was why you two worked so well together; anyone else wasn't a challenge to Adrianna, so her muscles were never exercised. It was the same hitting, the same moves, the same damn thing every single day.

Until you stepped onto the mat.

Then she had a challenge, and if there was one thing Adrianna liked, it was a challenge.

The sparring went on for a lot longer than you'd originally anticipated. Your legs were beginning to feel weak, head beginning to throb, sweat dripping down the column of your throat until it disappeared beneath the collar of your workout shirt. Adrianna's dark brown eyes twinkled, because she thought she had you. You were beginning to slow, and she could see it in the stumble of your steps, the way you panted at any point in which you weren't moving.

But then she stumbled, and you saw your opening.

You shot down to the mat and grabbed her ankle. Adrianna roared as she fell, her back clashing with the spongy blue material. You immediately dived on her, grabbing her arm and pulling it behind her back, holding her there, letting her know there was no way she could wriggle free.

You leaned down. “Tap out, Addie. Just do it. Nobody's here to see it.”

She grunted, continued to squirm beneath you. You tugged harder on her arm, waiting to hear the moment her shoulder popped. You tugged, tugged, tugged-

Her other hand slammed down on the mat three times, and you released her.

She groaned, rolling over onto her stomach. You joined her, flattening yourself against the mat with the worlds biggest grin taking over your face.

“That was a good one,” you said. “Is your shoulder-”

Clap. Clap. Clap.

“What the fuck?” Adrianna shot up, her eyes widening at whoever stood before her. You peaked your head up, shielding your eyes from the bright lights cast from the ceiling-

And there stood Sokka, his eyes wide and his jaw open.

You sat bolt upright. “What are you doing in here?”

“I came to apologise!” he said, sounding almost excited about the task of apologising. “But then I saw you two fighting and I didn't want to interrupt, and wow! You're incredible!”

Adrianna was struck dumb, staring at Sokka with a mix of awe and absolute confusion. She was just like the rest of the crew – she thought Aang and his friends were the best thing since sliced bread.

You resisted rolling your eyes. “Well you can go now,” you said. “I've acknowledged your apology.”

Adrianna whirled on you. “Y/N.”

You were already standing up, snatching your water from the floor. “I'll send Chuck in next – I think she wanted to spar with you after yesterday.”

You started towards the door, but your escape wouldn't be so easy this time. Sokka scrambled after you, placing his hand on the door before you could slam it in his face. You gritted your teeth and made your way down the empty halls, your feet echoing off the walls – but they were not alone, as Sokka trotted close behind you.

“You don't have to apologise, you know,” you said. “I would much rather you just let dead things lie.”

“That's not how the Sokka-man works,” he replied, before pausing. “Sorry.”

“Mm.”

“Look, I really am sorry,” he continued, picking up his pace so he was walking directly beside you. “I didn't mean to be insensitive. My friends and I were talking-”

“You and the godly-crew?” The words were out before you could stop them. You winced at just how harsh they were, how uncalled for they were. He was trying to apologise, and yet you couldn't stop this unnecessary streak of bitterness from rising to the surface.

Sokka swallowed, Adams apple bobbing. “We were talking,” he continued slowly, “and they told me about why you guys do this. Me asking for some quick tips wasn't exactly sympathetic to what you've been forced to do.”

For just a moment, you wanted to strike back with something cruel. You wanted to hurt his feelings, tell him you didn't need his pity, didn't need anyone's pity.

But then his words settled, and you calmed down.

You'd been built to think like this, to just lash out at anyone who wanted to help you. Your parents both murdered in a raid by the Fire Nation, you left to rot entirely on your own until Adrianna's parents found you and brought you into their tight-knit circle; even with a new group of friends and a roof over your head, you knew there was no time for slacking off. Not when you were an orphan coming from nowhere, with no one to help you, with no one to protect you but yourself.

It was a side you wanted to banish. You kind of wanted to be a little bit like Sokka – forgiving. Kind. Realising your mistakes and being able to apologise for them.

You hollowed our your cheeks, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “It's alright. You didn't mean any harm by it.”

“Exactly!” Sokka exclaimed. “Now, can I take you for a drink in the mess hall?”

You paused, glancing at him. “You weren't apologising just to win me over, were you? Because I don't appreciate-”

“It's a drink,” he groaned, already grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the mess hall. “You really need to loosen up a little bit.” ---

Sokka sat down in front of you, and continued to stare.

You messed with the straw plunged into the whipped cream. Beneath it, hot chocolate steamed. Sokka had chosen a coffee, a beverage that you thought quite well suited his personality.

He tilted his head to the side, examining you like a hawk. You wanted to shift under his gaze, but giving away the fact that you were uncomfortable wasn't a good idea – he was still a stranger, still a potential threat no matter how much kindness he was willing to show you.

Finally, he sighed. It was almost dream like, only exaggerated when he slumped forward and folded his arms along the table. “I meant it when I said you can fight really well.”

You looked up. “Thanks.”

“Adrianna's really good, too,” he continued, stirring another spoonful of sugar into his drink. “Did you two train together?”

“She's been my sparring partner since I was twelve.”

Sokka raised a brow. “Did she grow a little faster than you?”

“She's just built like that,” you replied. “I'm not.”

“You're small,” said Sokka, as if this was a brand new revelation. “That's how you get under her arms and stuff, isn't it?”

You shrugged. “I like to think that's more skill than advantage of height.” “I'm sure you're very skilled, too,” Sokka assured. “She has the muscle, and you have the flexibility – you're a perfect team.”

This was the first time you'd ever heard anyone compliment the duo that was you and Adrianna. Usually, people went straight for the “How has she not killed you yet?” and then continued to question just what strategy you had been using to stay alive against her bulk. Sokka, however, seemed genuinely interested in the dynamic the two of you shared.

“We balance each other out,” you explained. “We spar with each other, but when we actually have to fight someone, we work just as well as a team.”

“You trust each other.”

You paused. “I guess so. Trust is a bit of an iffy word with me.”

You hadn't meant to open flood gates, but the way Sokka perked up had you realising that was exactly what you'd done.

“Really? Why is that?”

You shrugged, sitting back in your chair. Around you, the people you'd grown up with chattered and flickered their gazes over to your tiny little table, quietly enquiring why Sokka was talking to you, of all people.

“It's difficult to trust people when you're constantly in competition with them,” you replied. “We'll all protect each other, but at the end of the day, there's an obvious hierarchy in this place. People want to get to the top, and they'll take you down to get there.”

Sokak frowned. “Did you not have any friends before you came here? People you could trust?”

“I've been here since I was a baby. I was raised here.”

Sokka paused, his lips parting just slightly. It was confusion and sadness and guilt all rolled into one, and you didn't want any of it – you wanted him to look away and stop questioning everything. You wanted him to stop being so perfectly curious about the things nobody else seemed to give a shit about. You wanted to go back to bundling yourself up and pretending the environment you were in was perfectly okay, not at all toxic.

It was all you'd ever known, so it had to be enough. It had to be okay. You had no other options.

“Do you have – Do you have parents?” His question was timid. He knew he was treading on thin ice.

“No,” you replied. “They were killed by the Fire Nation.”

His breath hitched. “My mum was killed by the Fire Nation, too.”

Your eyes snapped up, lips parting in the same way his had done only seconds before – that was the last thing you'd expected to hear. Sokka was the happy-go-lucky, annoying little shit you avoided when you needed to. He was the guy who had everything. He was the wanted criminal with a smile on his face.

He wasn't meant to have a tragic past. That didn't make sense. It didn't add up to the sum that was his personality.

“Oh, Sokka...,” you whispered, unable to think of anything else. “I'm sorry.” That's what everyone always said to you, and you hated it. You winced at the way it sounded coming out of you now, the way Sokka smiled that awkward little smile you always had to force on your face when the words were repeated to you for the millionth time, meaning nothing each time.

“It's okay,” he mumbled. “I still have, like, my dad, and my grandma and my sister. I'm not alone.” He flicked his eyes up. “You're not alone either, though. You have all these people who love you.”

He said it like it was a fact, as if he knew the ins-and-outs of this place after spending only a few days within it's confines. He had such confidence in other people. It crushed you.

You smiled softly. “You're right,” you replied. “We're not alone. Neither of us.”

“And you have me!” he added, perking up. He noticed your raised brow and quickly wilted. “Only if you want, of course...”

And despite every instinct telling you to stop this right now, to back away from him before things got even more tangled, you smiled.

---

“I think I might be in love.”

“Again?” Toph grumbled, head submerged in a pile of quilts that Aang was trying – and failing – to pry off of her.

“Toph, please! You need to see sunlight if you want to get better.”

“If getting up is what I have to do to get better, then you're better off letting me die.”

Katara sighed, turning her gaze on Sokka. “Where have you been and what do you mean you're in love?”

Sokka plonked down on the floor next to his little sister, still grinning like an idiot. He couldn't get the thought of your smiling face out of his mind, the way you'd thrown your head back and laughed when he'd burned his tongue, the way you'd shyly wiped his chin when the coffee dribbled down his front.

He'd made such a fool of himself, and it went perfectly.

“I might be in love,” he repeated, staring up at the ceiling as Aang and Toph fought for the covers. “I got a drink with Y/N, and they're so much better than I thought.”

Aang looked up, feet planted on Toph's back as she wriggled beneath him. “Y/N agreed to have a drink with you?”

Katara clapped her hands together. “Oh Sokka, that's great! Did they forgive you for yesterday?”

“I think so. It seemed like it.”

“Great!” Toph grunted. “Now you just have to break things off, because you know damn well we can't stick around here forever. We've got Mr Meditation to concentrate on.”

Aang dug his knee into her spine.

Sokka frowned. “Why have you always gotta ruin my vibe, Toph?”

“I'm telling the – agh! - truth.” She slammed her fist into the floor. The earth rose, knocking Aang in the back. He went tumbling forward, landing on his knees against the wall of the tent.

“Would you two give it a rest?” Katara exclaimed, before turning back to Sokka. “I think you should ask them out.”

Sokka's eyes widened. “Really?”

“Well, yeah.” She picked up her knitting again. “If you really like them, I don't see why not. There's no point in wasting time.”

“And what if they don't like me back?”

“Did they make it seem like they liked you back?” Aang asked.

Sokka pondered; you really were a strange little thing. You'd forgiven him, which put a mark in the GOOD box in Sokka's mind, but in the same breath, it was clear you were quite a restricted person. Though you'd laughed and joked, how far did that really get him?

“Maybe you should just ask them out and see where it goes,” said Katara. “If it's a no, then it's no big deal; you live and you learn-”

“And you wallow in the rejection,” Toph added helpfully.

“That, too,” said Katara. Her eyes popped open, as if just realising what she'd agreed upon. “Uh, but you know, that won't happen. I'm sure Y/N likes you just as much as you like them – you're a catch, big bro!” She chuckled awkwardly, blushed and looked back at her knitting.

Sokka sighed, casting his arm over his eyes. He wanted to clear his head. He wanted to sleep, even though it was only midday and he'd barely done anything – with Toph sick, the group were taking what seemed to be a little bit of a holiday. The Fire Nation were still after them, but Sokka felt safe in the depths of the underground. He felt safe surrounded by a bunch of soldiers, most of whom had been raised to fight the very threat he was running from.

But still, sleep would not come to him even if he tried, and he knew that. His day had been too good. His hopes had been exceeded to the point where his bones were buzzing with the need to do something – say something. He just wanted to get up and find you again, but you were busier than he was. You'd left the little coffee date due to a man called Barney looking for you – he seemed authoritative, and Sokka didn't want to get in the way of whatever business he needed you to take care of.

So, instead, Sokka did what he does best, and he stared up into the darkness, hoping an answer would rise out of nowhere eventually.

----

Darkness was never something you set out to be a part of.

You just kind of found yourself wound up within it a lot of the time. Like you were drawn to it. Like the fates had somehow pinpointed you as the sad little orphan who needed to wallow every night; they provided you with nothing but moonlight and stars, and you just found yourself in it.

You sat upon the rooftop, legs dangling. You knew if Barney were to see you now, he would scold you for being so reckless; anyone could see you from up there. You could easily give away their hiding spot, but you were past the point of caring by now. After nearly eighteen years of hiding in the underground, a little bit of adventure could go a long way.

You sighed, slowly leaning back on the tin roof. The wind whistled past your ears. The stars blinked down at you, and you wanted to reach up and touch them. Adrianna once told you that your parents had taken the form of stars and were watching over you every night – you knew it wasn't true. The pessimistic part of you said it was ridiculous, almost wanted to scoff at her attempts to comfort you. But the other part of you – the part that was present on this roof beneath the stars – wanted to reach out and see if it was true.

Maybe, if you reached far enough, you would be able to hear your dads laugh again. Maybe you'd be able to hear your mum call you “Pumpkin.”

The door to your left opened. You closed your eyes.

“Occupied,” you said.

“Hey.”

Sokka. Of course it was Sokka.

You peaked open an eye and glanced at him. He stood sheepishly by the trap door, dressed in his day clothes though his hair was dishevelled, giving the illusion that perhaps he'd taken a nap before crawling up to see you; part of you wanted to be angry. He got the chance to nap, to rest whenever he wanted.

However, you were more enamoured by how adorable he looked with his hair ruffled in the way it was.

You shifted over, not needing to use words to let him know he was welcome. He grinned, closed the door and came to lay beside you. His body stretched out so much more than your own, but neither of you minded, even as his feet hung over the edge of the gutters.

“What are you doing up here?” he asked quietly.

“Thinking.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Everything.”

Sokka hummed. “That's a lot to think about. You sure you want to do it on your own?”

He was being cute. Maybe it was purposeful. Maybe that was just what Sokka was like – you kind of hated how much you wanted to find out.

You smiled softly, turning back to the stars. “I was thinking about making my parents into stars.”

Sokka stiffened. “Okay.”

You pointed towards the sky, squinting as if that would somehow help Sokka get a better view of the particular, tiny little star you really wanted him to zone in on. He tilted his head, his temple nearly bumping against your own, and followed the direction of your pointed finger.

“That's my dad.”

“How can you tell?”

“I think I can see a little beer belly.”

Sokka hummed, sitting up a bit. “Yeah. Definitely a little beer belly.”

He slumped back down and inspected the sky. His own eyes were narrowed, searching for the perfect star, and you knew exactly who he was searching for. You watched him do it, watched his brain work at a million miles per hour.

Suddenly, his hand shot out. “That one.”

You had no idea what he meant by that one – the stars were just clusters to you – but you humoured him just as he had humoured you. You leaned your head against his own, squinted and said, “Is that her?”

He nodded, grinning. “That's her. My mum.”

“How can you tell?”

“'Cause she's twinkling. The brightest little star in the sky.”

Your heart thundered. Sokka chuckled, letting his hand drop back to his chest, and neither of you moved away. You continued to stare up at the sky, continued to stare up at your parents, and his mother, and you wondered if they would be proud to see you like this. You didn't know your parents well enough to know – what did they want of their only child? When they found out you were going to be a part of their lives, what had they wanted you to do?

You wondered what Sokka's mother would want from him – maybe he was doing it. Maybe he was working towards it. Maybe he didn't know, either.

That was okay.

“I think she'd be really proud of me.”

Your eyes flicked to his. He truly was a mind reader.

“I'm sure she would be.”

“She always wanted me to be strong,” he continued. “I think – I think I've done that. Or at least, I'm breaking the surface.”

“You're strong,” you blurted out. He looked at you, an eyebrow raised. “Look, I'm just trying to tell you she's proud of you. It would be impossible for her to not be proud of you.”

“Oh?”

You turned back to the stars. “All parents really want for their child is for them to grow up and be decent. Nice. Caring. Compassionate. All that bullshit. You fit those descriptions perfectly, Sokka.”

You could count your heartbeats. You were certain Sokka could, too, because never before had you spoken so openly to someone. It was weird, the words tasting like acid, your mind immediately digging into the fight or flight response as you conjured up the worst case scenarios for an honesty like this.

But Sokka chuckled. “Then your parents would be very proud of you, too.” You frowned. “I don't think so.”

Sokka's chuckle quickly subsided, replaced by a grunt of what you could only take as confusion. “You don't think so?”

“I really don't think so,” you responded. “Growing up in a place like this. . . It's impossible to be a good person.”

“It's never impossible to be a good person.”

He shifted, rolling onto his side. He rested his head against his knuckles, stared down at you. You met his gaze in the darkness, wanted to hold it forever.

“You don't have to be optimistic to be a good person, you know.”

“I'm more than just a pessimist, Sokka. I'm – I don't know. I'm sour.”

“No you're not.”

“You're just saying that.”

And then his hand was pressed against your cheek, the touch so soft and comforting that you very nearly gasped at the feel of it. It was so different to the punches and kicks you were so used to receiving from strangers – it was different, but a nice kind of different. The kind of different you felt when you got a new mattress, or new quilts.

You swallowed thickly. “Sokka...”

“I really don't like you thinking that way.” He frowned. “Why don't I like you thinking that way? Why do I care?”

“I don't – I don't really-”

“God, I swear I'm not usually so bad at this.” He screwed his eyes shut, thumb unconsciously stroking beneath your cheek. If it were anyone else, you would have pushed them away by now, but his touch was so welcoming and warm and perfect that you couldn't even bring yourself to move. “I'd really love to know where my thoughts go when I'm around you.”

“I don't. . . Uh. . . . I don't really know what to say.”

He opened his eyes. “Tell me to stop if you want me to stop.”

You froze. For the first time, you realised your own fingers had curled around his wrist. You were unconsciously keeping him in place, even tugging him that little bit closer without realising it. He looked down at where your fingers met his skin, and his eyes flared with something you'd never seen before. It was primal, filled with need, a hint of anxiety showing through the cracks.

“Tell me to stop if you want me to stop,” he repeated in a whisper.

You pulled him down and kissed him.

His arms gave out until the only thing keeping him from crushing you was his forearms, which pressed into the tin by your head. His legs tangled with your own, his chest coming to cover yours, and you were certain you could memorise each thump of his heartbeat if you tried hard enough, kept him here long enough. Maybe if the two of you stayed on this roof for a little bit longer, you would just become part of it and nobody else would ever bother you because who else was crazy enough to come up here when they knew the consequences?

You. You were, and apparently you were crazy enough to kiss Sokka back with just as much passion as he was kissing you.

This man who lived a life so separate from your own, and yet nothing felt more natural than coming together in this moment. His experiences didn't matter. Your experiences didn't matter. It was just the two of you – that was all that mattered.

He broke the kiss first. Your head fell back against the tin roof, eyes blown wide, hair fanning out around you. Sokka traced his fingers along the stray hairs falling against your forehead, his touch like butterflies crawling across your skin.

“You didn't tell me to stop,” he whispered.

You laughed a breathy laugh. “I didn't want you to stop.”

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merry-melody · 5 years ago

Text

umbrella academy s2 thoughts

Or you can read here if you prefer. Formatting’s probably easier there and this is like 4k, so be warned.

So, was not much of a fan. (Wasn't surprised to learn none of the S1 writers were retained into this season, either!)

I feel like it's a little early for this show to be separating the siblings into New Lives, considering how little they interacted throughout the first season.

I would have liked more childhood flashbacks, having an additional Reginald subplot in a show stuffed with seven (or six and a half) leads seems a choice when it didn't link into the siblings in any meaningful way.

It also made all the siblings curiously less sympathetic, as Diego and Luther in particular, but also Vanya and Klaus to an extent, are berated for showing any kind of effect of their upbringing; but without much 'showing' of said upbringing (or emotional impact at all from the last season - Vanya's obviously out for that own with the hackneyed amnesia plot; Diego is completely over Patch's death - and Grace's, for that matter, although she does at least get acknowledged; and Klaus for some reason seems to have stopped seeing ghosts 99% of the time.)

I'm very mistrustful, as I mentioned in my S1 notes, that the show will in any way support Reginald's abuse, whether it be the siblings furthering their patterns of copying him without learning to recognise and address this; or by some kind of time loop casuality bullshit.

This season didn't really allay that, just with the general tone - the line Vanya had about sarcastically saying he was loving, or Five calling him 'no boy scout' just seem tonally a very different vibe from S1, like there were already aspects of that where it felt like none of them except Klaus really acted like they'd been raised by a guy who outright harmed them so much as a tough Professor type; and here it seems to double down on that idea.

Five in particular was almost his father's yes man to an extent, he had several lines about how right their father was; although it was intriguing to see Diego reference how Reginald may have become even worse after Five's disappearance with that 'golden years' remark.

I was intrigued by the lizard reveal, though.

So, Luther wise...hmmm.

Also, on shallow notes, the hair and fashion was really lacking from last season, like apart from Allison/Emmy who looked lovely in the 60s clothes (and Five, Ben and Vanya, who remained pretty much the same), everyone looked worse (even Luther had a little Tintin grown out hairdo going on!)

Didn't love the toilet humour, either, but again, YMMV.

He was a little more likeable than S1, I appreciated how he acknowledged his own failings (which iirc, no one else but Vanya really did all season, and since she didn't recall hers at the time, there wasn't as much emotional impact) - although the cocked gun lessened it a little, lol. And the return of that lovely musical score during, too, nice touch.

It was good to see at least two scenes with him and Vanya interacting, and for them to return to the Five/Luther duo.

It was also interesting to see how Luther, like all his siblings, projects his own feelings onto others, (like his first instinct being that Vanya's pulling some 'bullshit game' when obviously, Vanya was pretty upfront when she lost it; whereas it was Luther who was the one scamming her into the hug-n-choke.)

I liked them bonding over Five being an asshole, too.

(Although I think once again, the lack of trust between the siblings was almost contrived, like Luther in particular seems genuinely pissed off that Five didn't, what, let them all die in a fiery death? I get that they grew up in an environment that promoted mistrust and that they don't really seem to understand their own powers or each others, and Five never explains when he makes a mistake, anyway, but I'm just not sure what Luther's ideal outcome here was.)

I'm clearly an asshole also, because the 'Rooming House for Solitary Men' sign made me laugh every time they showed it.

I feel like some of his characterisation was unsubtly telegraphed (although that's a complaint over all, not just him specific) - like they decided 'sensitive' was their key word there, and just jam in everyone referring to him as that rather than showing it. (...Is Luther sensitive? Like, not dragging him, I'd just not pick that at all for him as a description.)

I also didn't much enjoy the pairing of him and Diego, like to be honest, it was never a pairing even from S1 that I was particularly fascinated by, it's such a well-worn dynamic; and while at least they weren't bickering over numbers, the dude bro banter ('women, amirite?!') and matching lack of IQ (I never thought I'd say Diego seemed dumber than cracking a raw egg to posture, and yet...) was just kind of lowhanging fruit.

I also feel like the goon for Jack Ruby stuff seemed inserted purely for plot contrivance to link to JFK.

(This is also a universal complaint, but I really felt for the actors doing promo, like they come up with all these well thought out explanations about why their characters are making these choices, but the work doesn't really show up in the writing or what was shown onscreen. IIRC, Tom Hopper was talking about Jack Ruby as a replacement father figure and how it's Luther's first stab at independence in terms of supporting himself; and there's this whole thing of Ruby saying he treated Luther like a son, when really, he's in like, two scenes and Luther is very clearly a paid goon. Which isn't to say that's not supporting yourself, a job's a job! I just felt like it didn't really go anywhere.)

I liked the idea that he's the only one who looked for their dad; I liked him still eating his feelings, funnily enough, it's just a good character note.

I don't particularly have investment in him and Allison one way or another yet - I don't care about the moral indignation; I just feel like when they're together, it seems one part them being smug about the others, one part yearning based on the same plot as S1 (she's moved on but seems to want to keep Luther as her back up guy.) Like, I'd love to see those two actually interact over something based on their disparate characters (what would Allison have said if she'd heard Luther's little defense of the Feds to Five?)

There's also a return to that odd juxtaposition from S1 of Klaus' drinking with Luther taking drugs cheerfully and to no effect. (I'm not expecting a DARE commercial, it's just all over the place in tone. That, and I thought Luther 'waSN't ReADy for THaT!')

(This isn't Diego specific, either, but they also do that thing I hate in TV, where they purposefully reference someone specifically in the episode before they rereturn, and Diego got the short straw on that one with the Pogo mention apropros of nothing, so we know we'll see Baby!Pogo shortly.)

Diego: Again, lots of telegraphing. (Do you think the writers want to get across Diego has a hero complex? I wasn't clear after he cat leaps through dimensions, stops a mugging, obsessively stalks JFK, and almost everyone he meets literally holds up placards mentioning 'DIEGO HAS A HERO COMPLEX'.)

Diego got a lot more time onscreen, which is a plus, but the haircut combined with his role as plot monkey made it a neutral point.

I also think Castaneda got the short straw on some of dialogue this year, oof, that Luke Skywalker 'it's a great reference' dialogue felt a bit try hard.

(Sheehan also took a body blow later with the 'Sexy trash!' one, ouch, like that felt very Designed to Retweet/Gif.

No one's topped S1 for blatant exposition yet, though: 'You haven't been sober since you were a teen! Not since you started taking drugs to block the ghosts out.')

Randomly, I liked the decent English accent he pulled out of nowhere. And again, David Castaneda I believe, mentioned Patch's death, so it's neat that he thought about the impact of her death on his character, even though it wasn't evident in the plot.

As I mentioned up top, I think Diego kind of suffered from the same thing Klaus did last year, where upon he seems to be the only one who recalls they were actually brought up in an abusive environment; and yet here the focus seems more generic to Diego's a baby (right down to constantly talking about 'bad guys' like a three year old) who has masculinity issues about his mean pop (who tbh, seems to be presented as entirely correct in labelling him a fuckwit, since he behaves like one pretty much all season: 'We chop off his trigger finger!')

(Also there's that contrived Batman style ethics that came up with Luther last year, where they're like 'We can quip over bodies and we grew up literally murdering people', but for some reason, Diego won't 'kill a man before he's committed a crime' (he can stalk one, and cut off his hand, though?)

Likewise, there wasn't a ton of interaction between him and Allison, like in S1, I enjoyed how they kind of overcame their initial mutual dislike with small moments of bonding; whereas here he has to be prompted to talk to her (and that was an adlib, which again, means the actors were considering something the writers overlooked.)

Last year I talked about how much I enjoyed Diego's character and how they walked a very fine line between him combining his desire to be the stereotypical macho figure with his innate sensitivity, so naturally this season we get him butchified to a factor of ten ('I'm the man, here!' 'You're a big pussy!') and almost zero interactions with Klaus, the person besides Grace who brought that out the most last year.

(What happened to those two, last time we saw them they were pretty much the closest in the family besides the Allison/Vanya link; here, Diego's almost contemptous. Has he levelled up in his mind now he's bffs with Luther?) I wanted to find the scene with him and Ben endearing, since we get so few interactions with Ben and any one besides Klaus, but it wasn't even that personally linked to them beyond 'Remember our one specific memory? Anyways, lolz, u should keep Klaus' body, idgaf.')

Allison Allison I think suffers from a lot of the same problems as she was introduced with - like Vanya, her powers are kind of linked to a lack of control in a way that the guys aren't; and a lot of her development is offscreen.

I actually really enjoyed the episode focusing on her, though, I thought it was one of the strongest of the season.

Her husband got a bit OTT with his catchphrase - where Diego's was 'JFK', Ray's was very clearly ' the movement!' and I found it odd how easily all the siblings but especially Allison gave up on returning to their own time and committed to another relationship built on lies (albeit this time of omission - baby steps!) but I kind of like that, like that's Allison, kind of co-dependent and self-deceiving.

Really, I feel like Allison's more interesting when they plunge into her darker side, I was riveted in the 'more!' scene, as well as the 'I heard a rumour you killed your brother'.

I think it's especially important as she's a WOC, which this season focused on more, like, it's very important not to fall into the common writing trap where the guys are allowed to be vindictive or needy or selfish and the women are there to be the moral guidance (for the same reason, I also loved the Five/Vanya stand-off); and that goes double for the model minority bit.

I was worried that they'd fall into the trap of Allison needing to be twice as good not just with how the sit-ins were portrayed but also generally (she speaks seven languages! She makes extensive notes on the state of race relations with specific regard to Dallas in the 1960s!) and once more, it seemed like Emmy Raver Lampman was trying to put across a more interesting read on Allison in terms of how isolated she was from any awareness of oppression in the outer world, first in the Academy and then through being a powerful celebrity and the contrast that creates for her in Dallas which didn't quite get met by the writing/direction.

It was great to see how she got to become part of a community in a way the others didn't, also, and particularly being protected by the beauty shop ladies when she arrived; like, the imbalance of genders as well as races in the Academy genuinely made it refreshing to see.

(The relapse is also very up and down in tone, like they make attempts at pathos, but it's also accompanied by the Styx soundtrack/60s light effects...)

Klaus and Ben - Probably my least favourite aspect of this season.

There was a bunch of telling not showing (Klaus' three year sobriety being expressed in Ben's expository sentence and that .5 second shot of him turning down a joint) and once you remove the biggest impacts on Klaus' character (the addiction and his power) without explanation, you're basically left with 'Klaus causes problems for himself for comedic value.'

I don't really care about who fights well or which powers are developed (didn't read the comics, don't plan to) but it seems to be like the best portrayals of superheroes show the powers as metaphors for their lives - Vanya struggles to control her emotions, Ben feels powerless, etc. If you take away the powers, you take away the reasoning behind the character.

Why is Ben pretty much the only ghost (particularly when in S1, they seemed ever-present)? How or why did Klaus learn to summon them in the alt-apocalypse?

I liked the scene of Klaus interacting with Ray before they find out he's married to Allison, that was cute.

I also liked seeing him interact with Vanya and Allison (there was an interesting shot where Allison says she has a life she worked for, and Klaus smiles - is that because in contrast, he doesn't? I'd have liked them to acknowledge the link between cults and celebrity, tbh, those two have a lot in common. Or is it because she isn't using her power and neither is he?), and I thought it was cool to note how when the group are reunited, they fall into a power structure right away.

Like, right away, Klaus sells out Vanya and Allison to the guys ('It's usually Vanya!' or mentioning how Allison's being 'involved in community politics'.) Likewise, everyone kowtows to Five, then Luther, over the rest (like when Five says they won't go with Vanya to the farm) and no one speaks up for Diego in front of Reginald.

I want to give the others the benefit of the doubt and say they were kind of shitty to Klaus in particular in this season because they were in a group, because it's a huge downgrade in compassion (especially since Allison was like, covering him with a blanket when they're alone.)

Like, I get sibling culture, I have 'em, but I feel like when you're bringing possible 'seizures' up, you're sort of skirting what's then played as comedic (Luther dragging him, the 'check please' line), especially Diego's: 'He's probably having an overdose.' (Kinda seeing why no one rushed to join Team Zero.)

Like, he and Klaus do just kind of seem contrivedly not communicating - I would think after the isolation, you'd crack through boredom if nothing else.

Ben's kind of an odd duck - I feel like with Steve Blackman's comments, he's supposed to be this philosophical voice of reason; but tbh, he seems as self-involved as Klaus, and if anything, they mirrored each other (that line in S1 about Klaus being cowardly plays a little differently after the revelation 'He was afraid to go into the light'...) rather than separating him into his own person.

I mean, I don't want Saint Ben (or St. anyone!), but Ben does kind of irritate, like it's not like he even particularly gets much wit or personality in his lines (and I doubt Justin Min would be short of inspiration there, so it does seem to be a writing choice) or they give him much warmth or concern (I still like that shot of him walking off in the sixth episode of S1, though - where is he off to?!) In S1, we do at least get to see him panicking and how helpless he must feel that he can't alert the others to danger etc. He doesn't really offer opinions that offer a personal philosophy beyond 'Stop being a junkie' (he was willing to shut off Grace - was that to tick off Klaus for taking the opposite opinion, or is he super pragmatic generally?) or 'Admit it, Klaus, Luther's Okay!' (Again, is this nostalgia for the other siblings, or what? It would have been nice to have Ben interact with all his siblings, considering they included the whole possession plot for less than necessary stuff like 'Ben kisses a girl!' and 'Vomit shenanigans!')

I just feel like his personality was kind of an afterthought still, and it made his sacrifice for Vanya, touching as it was, feel a little unearned.

Why doesn't Klaus tell Ben he wants to go back for Dallas for Dave? Why doesn't Ben tell Klaus he wants to go back to San Francisco for Jill? Was Ben in Vietnam? How come he's gone from using Dave as A Reason to Get Clean to a 'fling' - dark reading of Ben, tbh, like does he want Klaus clean purely for his own gain, and now he is, Dave's of no further value? What does Ben think Klaus is looking Dave up for - he says it's 'selfish', does he literally think Klaus is just there to hook up with Dave pre-death? It's hard to parse whether Ben has a low opinion of Klaus in particular or whether he, like the rest of them, has kind of adopted to a point Reginald's views - it was neat to see a comparison of the two there.

The possession stuff was a cool parallel, as well, if underused on the whole - Ben's happy to take advantage of Klaus' body despite his clear ambivalence and then outright refusal; Klaus is happy to take advantage and have sex with his own cult followers.

The cult stuff was even less strong, imho - I said last year how I'd enjoy a darker reading of Klaus, as S1 I felt sometimes was unfair to the others in that we see them being impatient with him; but never how his addiction would have impacted upon them negatively; but here, there's no real exploration of Klaus' narcissism or manipulation (in fact the plot seems to play out exactly the same as Allison's in S1 - we start with all the action about why they pursued fame etc. dealt with offscreen, and begin when the lead has already tired of it all.)

I mean, Klaus is self-destructive, as we saw in S1, but here it's an odd combination, like he's at once both cowardly of physical harm (in a way he wasn't really in S1, even post-Dave, so it doesn't seem to be in reaction to his death) but also running a cult for the attention, but the attention is presented as negative almost exclusively throughout.

Like, I'd get it if it was an interest in money and the finer things in life, even, you could make an interesting point there (and iirc, Robert Sheehan and I think Emmy Raver Lampman have) about how while the Hargreeves were abused, they were also 'spoilt rich kids'; and reflect on that; but it's literally just there for gags.

There's no real explanation for the cult itself (they literally just regurgitate pop culture references) or an exploration of Klaus as a con artist (again - here's where you could show some kind of progression in character, whether it's forward or backwards, and use the powers; and have Klaus working as a shady medium, but nope, it's physical comedy only.)

You could delve into his refusing to even tell the others about Ben's presence, but that's handwaved as much as ever (Five didn't go 'Huh, well, Ben was there when the Soviets came...') not just from the other siblings, but also Ben and Klaus themselves.

‘Cause I could see how Klaus would feel guilty about saying that, regardless; but then Ben's all 'Well, I was chicken to go anyway'

It might have been a little more affecting if Ben's motivation for possessing Klaus wasn't Jill, a character we know exactly zero about, but talking to his family; not to mention a lot more sympathetic towards Ben himself. As it is, it plays more like he's petty and jealous Klaus gets to be alive, rather than frustrated that Klaus is essentially silencing him.

And again, that's fine, maybe that is Ben, he stopped aging at 17, after all, but I'm not sure what the point is of a plot where we don't really get to see much exploration of either character.

Like, what did we learn about Klaus from this specific sub-plot? We knew in S1 he felt guilty that Ben died young, and that he was happy to allow his siblings to believe Ben is gone.

Likewise, Ben? We knew in S1 he was envious of Klaus being alive, and bitter that his position was so powerless.

It was nice to see the teenage actors (did they dub Teen!Klaus??? Odd.) post Ben's death, but it kind of didn't resolve much, really - it seemed like Klaus was supposed to be bullshitting about the 'golden light' and whether or not you can just...'go' whenever you please, but then it seemed like it turned out to be true?

(Might want to have mentioned that, then, like I get he's a Hargreeves and therefore a fail at interpersonal relationships, but you'd think it wouldn't take a smart guy to figure that if your brothers already toying with self-destruction in his teen years, it might not be the most genius move to additionally allow him to believe you're trapped in the 'real torture' of berating him endlessly solely due to his advice; if for no other reason than your one link to humanity is then going to keep up the booze and drugs that blocks you from his presence.)

I was inclined to like the Dave subplot a little more than I did last season, just because something was happening at all (and we got some tiny semblance of Dave's personality, even if it was basic as hell - he likes hamburgers!), but I feel like the Dave recasting thing really stretched credulity.

I would guess it was written backwards, in terms of if Dave was the clearly fully grown adult we saw in S1 a mere five years later, why wouldn't he just go 'Oh, thanks for the tip, dude, I'll avoid all that military jazz'? And why wouldn't Klaus just be like 'Fuck it, can we not just...date now?' Aha, we could make him a little younger, chuck in a Mean Uncle, throw in some manufactured conflict, and zow-pow!

It definitely wasn't the most contrived plot ever or anything (or even on this show), but I did feel like it's weird that again, via the cult, we're kind of asked to see Klaus as this expert manipulator of people, when he seemed almost purposefully stupid here (like, even compared with Luther and Diego.)

Why act as if the only chance you'll ever have to see the guy in the same timezone as you is right that second in front of his crazed uncle? Why say you've tried everything when you met the kid three times (once instigated by him, and I have to say, it's sort of odd, like Klaus is just drinking throughout, like you'd think this would be the one opportunity he'd take to truly and honestly engage without that) and basically just asked him twice, and in the least convincing way possible.

Shoot him in the foot! Burn down the recruitment office! Use your international platform and pull with local government to influence your huge movement towards stopping the war in Vietnam!

Like, if what you're going for is that Klaus is defeatist and unimaginative, fine, but I'm not sure it's not just that they kind of didn't write beyond the circular 'telling him only made him sign up sooner' casuality because it's so Tragic.

(Also, I feel like they're overplaying the iconography of those damn dogtags, like at this point, Klaus looking sadly at the dog tags has still probably had more screen time than Dave himself.)

I liked the scene with him and Vanya facing off?

Five I think didn't really get much more development than S1, he drives the plot forward, but not much else. In fact, in S1, he probably was more interesting, in that he interacted with all of his siblings and showed moments of vulnerability and care (knowing Claire's name, telling Luther not to waste his life, asking Klaus if he was okay) and got to properly react to his siblings' deaths.

Um...it was cool to have two of him?

It was nice and kind of ambigious where he lied to her about the cause of the apocalypse, like you could go by what he said about how he wanted to avert her anger, or you could wonder if it's a rare moment of kindness in his old age, lol.

I also loved it when he said to Luther about whether he could talk to her 'without squeezing her to death'.

I found Sissy probably the most interesting of the new characters (probably her and Lila more so than Lil!Dave and Ray, tbh.)

Vanya I probably have the least to say about. I was satisfied with how they portrayed the culpability of the others, particularly Luther, without erasing Vanya's part in the apocalypse. (I really, really hope this'll end the endless discourse on her emails book now, that got tired fast.

I could also do without the endless 'lolz, Ellen Page was so bad at playing straight they had to write Vanya as gay'. Ellen Page is pretty convincing as an actor - I bought her raping Rainn Wilson in 'Super', for god's sake, I doubt 'heterosexual' is a challenge.)

The amnesia plot was pretty cliched, and it did mean we didn't get so much actual interaction between the 'real' Vanya (so to speak) and her siblings but I really enjoyed the dream sequence of her in the academy.

#the umbrella academy #ua meta #meta #s2 #i didn't love it #to warn you #luther hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #ben hargreeves #allison hargreeves #diego hargreeves

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boogiewrites · 7 years ago

Text

Before & After Ch. 9

Ch. 9 - Figuring It Out

Characters: Jim Hopper x OFC Brandi

Summary: Becoming increasingly aware of your growing feelings, you find yourself reacting in the strangest possible way to feeling so connected to Hopper. Can you beat this if you fight it together?

Words: 3700+

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Mental illness. Psychic Powers. Suggestive Dialog. Dealing with trauma.

All other chapters on my Masterlist.

You ask Hopper for some time to gather your thoughts, you just need to think this out. He gives you this without hesitation, but under one condition.

Yes, it's fast, but he already has a key. It's too soon but you've both played it safe before and it's ended in flames, so why wouldn't you try following your instincts for once? Your lives clearly weren't normal anymore, so why should you hold yourself to other peoples standards anymore? It was a real unifying moment of saying "Fuck it." together and letting the cards fall where they may. He can't stand to be away from you because he worries, feel's responsible for your problems. You can't stand to be away from him because he grounds you, his touch makes everything hurt less. It's a smidge co-dependent, sure, but for right now it's working. You move in together. There hasn't been a night yet where you'd crawled into bed that you'd regretted the decision.

Over the next few days, you read. You read so much your eyes cross and you fall asleep with a book open in your hands. You call old college friends for information, you go to the school's libraries that are close enough to drive to do research. The Hawkins librarian is weirdly rude to you but you get what you came for anyway. You even write letters to a few promising parapsychology researchers. You've been focused on yourself, your problems at hand. In the back of your mind, you felt bad for ignoring Jim, but he said he understood and continued taking care of you. You needed to remember how supportive he'd been through all this to thank him later.

You think you've come to some conclusions. The academic part of your brain was frustrated by your lack of solid conclusion. It all felt so flimsy and whimsical and just not...real. You decide to sit Hopper down and give him what little information you had. He liked to work in facts, just like you, but there wasn't any science you had access to, to explain what was happening between the two of you.

The only science-based evidence you could conjure up was how you physically started being able to do this. You checked out a book on brain anatomy and function, getting lost in huge volumes with a highlighter and your notebook for days on end. But it turns out for as much as we do know about the human brain, that there is that much and more we don't know. That didn't take into account the ideas of the human soul and consciousness. That was a whole other can of worms that you had held off on deep diving into because you didn't know if you could take on more questions and even fewer answers.

You have your notebook dedicated to your ailment. If that's what you wanted to call it. Some called it a power, a unique ability. You'd heard of psychics before sure. But you thought it was all bogus. It's all con artists who are good at reading body language and putting together environmental factors to fool people. But you weren't doing that. You didn't want to even do it, but you couldn't help it. You weren't draining people of their money to give them a chance to speak to their dead relatives, no, your particular set of skills was different.

Over the past week or so, while doing research your episodes stalled. You'd stayed calm and distracted. You'd not passed out again or thought you were going to die from pain and that was a nice change of pace. You had however started having the same dream. Every night. You knew what this meant. This time, it wasn't you climbing into a memory of Jims, you were in one of your memories again. One that you still couldn't remember fully. Each night you got farther and farther into your dream, closer to the goal you wanted to reach. You knew some night you'd finally get to the end of it. Your progress felt slow but you had other things to worry about besides your own repressed memories. How quickly your priorities had shifted. You had to figure this out for Jim, not just yourself. He'd carried that heavy weight of guilt around with him over the week he'd staying here with you. You didn't even know why. You'd catch him staring at you as you read, he kept bringing you sweets for no reason when he'd come home from work, but this wasn't the leftover baby love between the two of you. His eyes were sad behind his half-hearted smiles and it broke your heart everytime you noticed it. You knew you had to push through to understand what was going on, to help both of you.

One night you throw all your notes onto the coffee table. You stand over the books and papers, a pencil behind your ear, chewing your bottom lip. This was as far as you were getting on your own. Jim looks at you, his eyebrows raised from his sitting position o the couch.

"I'd like to present my evidence, Chief." you say with a nervous laugh.

"This what you've been working on?" he asks, leaning forward and picking up a paperclipped group of papers, scribbled and highlighted.

"Yeah." you say hesitantly, rubbing the back of your neck. "For what good it all did me." you sigh, your hand on your hip. "It's been so long since I've done research." you rub your forehead with the palm of your hand. "Forgot how crazy it'll make you feel." you let out a small laugh. "Not that I need help in that area." you roll your eyes at yourself and grab your legal pad and sit next to Jim.

"You've even got notes to talk to me?" his voice has a hint of teasing to it.

"Uh, yeah. Of course. Why?"

"Nothin'." he says a small smile on his face at your expense.

"No nothin'. What?" you shake your hand at him for an answer.

"It's just, it's cute." he lets out a low laugh.

"Cute?" you act offended. "I'll have you know I'm a professional, Hop." you say sarcastically, hugging the papers to your chest.

"Alright, Professor, what's the prognosis on that pretty head of yours?" he says, his expression purely affectionate and supportive.

You take a deep breath and widen your eyes in preparation, your lips in a tight line as your hands hold the sides of your notepad in your lap as a way to focus.

"I want to preface this all with, it's...well, it's all fucking crazy. I don't know how else to put it. It just sounds so improbable to my sense of reason and logic." you bite your lip and let out another deep breath. "We aren't working with facts and proven science here. This is all theoretical so I'm afraid none of it is any more than a hunch as to what is happening to me."

"I had assumed as much. But you're smart, I'm sure it's the best theory anyone could come up with in your situation." he smiles softly at you, leaning in closer, you sit side by side and he looks at your notes as you look up at his face and start to attempt to explain behavior.

"Thanks." you mumble at him, caught off guard by his charm. You watch his eyes move over your handwriting. "Apparently what I have is a sort of extrasensory perception. Which just means I can sense or know things that should be out of my realm of understanding. Things I shouldn't be able to know or do." you watch his face follow the corresponding words on the pad he's taken into his own hand to hold between the two of you. "I've shown some potential with psychometry from your experience with Sarah's hair tie. That's picking up on energies, vibes, memories from objects." you move your hand while you speak, sometimes pointing to the paper. "Some readings say I'm Clairvoyant, or I can gain information on a person or thing through unnatural means." you say entirely too casually like this was getting to be boring at this point because you'd read so much about it. "I seem to be particularly skilled in retrocognition or seeing things that have already happened." you look back up to him and he moves his eyes from the sheet and looks at you.

"I've heard a few stories of police having psychics solve disappearances before. So it's within that category?" he asks, showing he's trying to understand and help.

"Exactly." you smile up at him. "But most importantly, it seems I'm connected to you and your memories." you pause and give a subtle shrug. "Which isn't specifically addressed in any peer-reviewed pieces I could find." you snort at the understatement. "I dabbled in some New Age readings that mentioned it but it's all very whimsical in nature. So I'm no help there." you chew the inside of your cheek in thought.

"New Age stuff?" he asks, his brow furrowing in question.

"Yeah, you know, uh, crystals and energy and soul mates, that sorta thing." you dismiss it with your hand as you speak, looking at the paper again.

"Soul mates?" he says, both teasing and with a hint of curiosity. You're taken off guard by him again, as you stop and smile up at him, indulging him.

"You know," you shrug and smile sheepishly, "Two people that are connected by some supernatural means." you say plainly explain.

"I'm familiar with the idea, sweetheart, I meant what about that has to do with this specifically?" he corrects you without sounding condescending, motioning to your head.

"It was the stories about how some are so connected that they gain telepathy and feel the others pain." he raises an eyebrow at you suppressed and you blush at the suggestion. "Or that's what I read that might apply to this situation anyway." you smirk, looking away from him, still feeling the heat in your face.

"That's all I really found as far as explaining what's happening by relating it to other things that have been previously recorded." you frown slightly.

"This is a ton of information, why are you frowning?" he asks, raising your chin up to him.

"It was a lot of work for nothing it feels like. There are no real answers just a pseudoscience that technically doesn't even exist." you explain, he moves his hand from your chin to your hair.

"Well, if you didn't learn anything new, I certainly did." he shrugs in defense of your work. You sigh up at him. He's so sweet. You kiss his cheek before you flip the page on the legal pad, showing another bulleted page of notes. "Oh there's more." he says surprised, chuckling and moving his arm around the back of the couch, over your shoulders as you instinctually shift closer into his chest, your temple so close to his jaw you can feel the tickle of his beard when he gets too close. He holds the paper in one hand as you rest your hand on his stomach.

"There's always more with me." you joke. He kisses the top of your head. "This is the physical aspect." you motion with a pointed finger the words you've written. "From what my doctors have told me, and from what I've learned on TBI's, I have a hunch as to how this could happen. Even though it sounds like a sci-fi movie pitch." you let out a huff of a laugh. "Since my frontal lobe was what was compromised in the accident, that's where I started." You tap the sheet and return to look up at him as you freestyle the rest of the information. "It controls...well, a lot, put it that way. Most importantly in my case, it affects memory, and that's something I've struggled with since the accident. We've been told my brain is healing exceptionally well..." you pause and wait for him to notice, for him to look at you. "The next bit of information is where my hunch comes in." you frown slightly, this is where you started to feel like you were losing it when you explained it. "What if my brain healed too well?" his brow furrows subtly, thinking. "What if somehow, while it's been healing, it made a new connection somewhere it didn't have before?" his face is still intent on listening, no surprise reactions so far, you decide to continue. It all flows out of you in a passionate sale pitch for your ability as you try to make sense. "Or what if this ability is existent, but under normal circumstances that we understand, you can't access it without some sort of, anomaly. In my case, that would be the injury and re-connecting of my brain. If during the healing process, something that couldn't show up on any test, any MRI happened, causing this. If extrasensory perception is a science we don't have the tools to understand, then something like this wouldn't show up on any test that we currently have the technology to interpret." You stop as you realize he hasn't said anything. His face is still indifferent. As you look back up at him, reeling yourself back in after your short presentation on your brain.

"I thought you said this would make you sound crazy?" a relieved smile falls across his face. Your mouth opens with surprise, your eyelashes flutter with shock. "Although under any other circumstances you talking smart like that would really do it for me." he lets out a low huff of a laugh, kissing your cheek. Finding your wide eyes filled with relief and surprise at his reaction, a bit stunned. You blush at his words and he moves his hand down to your shoulder to rub it comfortingly.

You let out a small girlish noise, grateful he's so graceful with his actions in dealing with this.

"Although it's not based in science exactly, like you said, I understand your ideas." he shrugs and looks down at you so casually. "I mean, all that was honestly the most sense things have made since this has happened. You've got a theory and that's something."

"Ugh." you can't help to let out the noise. You're looking at him, empathetic and tactful. So loving and giving, your heart thumped. You were frustrated in a strange way at his responses. You felt your pulse between your legs awaken after being suppressed for the entirety of your research.

His face is confused as he lets out a laugh at your reaction.

"You're so..." you sigh, your hand moves up to his chest. You look him over, thinking about the personality traits you want to list off, you find your mood switching over to something less innocent. You settle for the word, "Good." because you feel it encompasses enough to cover sincerity and innuendo. It comes out breathier than intended but you're pleased with the results as a smirk appears on his face as he watches you absentmindedly bite your lip.

"Good?" he asks for clarification, his eyebrows raised and voice low. He could see your half-lidded eyes switch from bright to dark. He was also suddenly very aware of how hard it'd been to not touch you during this whole project of yours.

"Yeah." you say with a nod of your head, you let the mischievous grin spread across your face. He doesn't respond and you sit with that electricity you feel between the two of you in the suspense. You toss the notepad onto the table and straddle his lap, much to his surprise and delight.

"Did I miss something?" he asks in a low laugh, his arms instinctually move to your hips and you rest yours on his chest.

"Apparently," you tilt your head to the side at him. "When you're deeply supportive and understanding it turns me on." you say with a soft laugh. His brow lowers immediately at your words.

"Wouldn't have anything to do with how long it's been since I've got to touch you, would it?" he asks, his voice has a hint of playfulness but mostly of a deeper motive, his face leaning into yours.

You let out a content hum of agreement. "It might." you bite your lower lip as you smile at him. You run your hands up his chest and to his shoulders. "I didn't realize how much I missed you until right now." you whisper, eye trailing over his face to his lips.

"Well I'm right here, you don't gotta miss me." he says smoothly, moving his hand to the back of your head. Reassuring you that your change in mood was a welcome one. You kiss him softly. He never pushes, he never rushes. Your rock in the turbulent stream, you hold him and move against him slowly, showing restraint.

"I've got another proposition for ya tonight, Hop." you grin at him, nuzzling your nose against his neck.

"Mmm?" he grunts out, eyes shut and lazy smirk as you pecked along his jaw.

"You've been workin' all day, and so have I in my own way..." you drag the last part of your sentence out in a soft tone.

"Your brain's been workin' harder than I have." he says in a deep rumble of a tone, chuckling at himself.

"It's been a rough week on both of us babe..." you drag out leaving a peck on his cheek. "But you've been takin' care of me so good, ain't ya?" you kiss his lips as his eyes lazily follow yours as you kiss his face, playing up your accent that makes the corners of his mouth pull back into that doofy looking smile of his you love.

"Mmm Hmm" he nods, planting a kiss in the corner of your mouth.

"So how about we go bed..." you tilt your head at him. "and actually get some sleep." you say with a lilt, he pouts but you laugh and kiss it away. "But we will be sleeping naked together if that makes you feel any better about it." you grin at him, fingers scratching in his beard.

"It does." he says in a muffled tone as he stretches his neck to let you scratch him.

"And in the morning, when you don't have to go to work we'll sleep in and fuck..." you whisper to him, nose to nose.

"Making me feel much better about it." he says with a groan, as he thrusts his hips up under you to bounce you, hands patting your thighs.

"Then we fall back asleep and wake up and fool around before we eat and after that who knows." you say with a feminine chuckle, hands rubbing up and down his chest, as he sighs and holds a face of contemplation.

"I've waited longer for less." he says in a charming grin, hands splayed across your thighs, thumbs rubbing lazily back and forth.

"Yeah...Well you've earned what's coming to you in the mornin' you big, "You kiss his cheek. "...sweet," you smooch his other check. "...handsome," you return to the other side of his face again, "tall drink of water you." your hands rest on his cheeks mushing them slightly.

"You must be tired you're being awfully nice." he says with a laugh, grabbing you under your thighs and pulling you towards him, lifting you off the couch. You arch your back to hold onto him by the neck.

"Always nice." you murmur against his hair.

"Uh huh. Sure." he snickers. You grin into the fluff of his hair. "Let's get this sleepin' started baby, got a big mornin' planned." he says as you push the bedroom door shut behind him, his face going between your breasts and noisily kissing and nibbling away as lightly tosses you onto the bed with a pleasant bounce.

"Let's not skip over the gettin' naked part, now." you say with a mischievous grin, nose wrinkled as your hands made their way to the waistband of your pants.

"Very important step." you say as you both shed the last layers between the two of you.

"Obviously." he lets out that rumbling chuckle that sends shudders down your spine when it hits your ears.

You crawl to the head of the bed and yank the covers back, he slides in from the side of the bed as you shimmy straight down into the comforter. It doesn't take long for his hands to find your bare body, pulling your chest to his. His face finds it's way to the bend of your neck as it always has when his fingertips started to trace back and forth over the curve of your ribs to your hips.

"Mmmph." you grunt, giving him a wiggle to deter his efforts. "In the mornin' baby."

"'kay." he grumbles, holding his arm up and you turn to place your back against his chest, the arm slowly weighs down on your hip. "Mornin'." he says, a kiss to your shoulder in acknowledgment of your words.

You get to do your new favorite thing. The best thing to come out of living together and this whole ordeal. You get to lace your fingers into his, holding him against your chest, you can hear the snoring thinking of creeping out of his throat already as you feel his muscles relax. "Love ya." you get to mumble into his fingers, giving them a kiss before you rub your face into your pillow.

"Love you." you get to hear back in response, a grunt of sleepy enthusiasm follows his words, a sign to expect a kiss somewhere in your hair and as always you feel his breath exhales across your scalp as he does just that. Such a simple thing you'd been missing before. And now that you had it, this feeling that could almost fill up the void in your heart, you didn't know if you could live without again. And that the electrical storm of desperation to find answers and the impending doom of his possible rejection had passed and left in it's wake a calm serene sea horizon line. You pull his hand closer to you, recognizing the importance of a solid anchor when you experienced rough seas as often as you did.

My Masterlist.

@whatmakesmebeme-tblr @sleepylunarwolf @elevenofmages @alahmorah @norcula @undiscl0sed-desir3s @atari-writes@jobean12-blog@missharleenquinzel-blog @kiwiphroot@ashphoenix105 @ambeazyyy @riotguuuurl @warriorqueen1991 @misbehaving-f0r-days @divadinag @wefracturedmotivation@flamehairedwritings @earinafae @beltzboys2015-blog@gettinjoyful @lucifer-in-leather @nerdysuperchick @kathrinebutterlover @dragongirl420 @fangirlinginspace@xxdragonagequeenxx @the-bitch-gotham-deserves @hopperholland @lil-tea-cup @darthnerd25@davidkharbours @mrslydiaholden @tit-punch02@thedaydreamerrrrr @yedi16 @jess2464 @scrunchinn@thatisthemagic @maddieisaboredable @bloom005-blog @mcxmarti

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dean-we-talked-about-this · 7 years ago

Text

Wendigos and Slurpies

“Nothing like a good, old-fashioned, salt and burn case. Amiright? Ya’ find the thing and ya’ burn the thing.” Dean commented over the music. He drummed his fingers along the leather of the Impala’s steering wheel in time with an old AC/DC song. “No living in the friggin library or making deals with some fancy demon! Or dealing with archangels or gods or risking your life over something stupid!”

Castiel rolled his eyes from the passenger seat before reaching towards the radio. He turned the volume knob until he felt the heavy bass in his angelic bones and tuned out his dim-witted hunter. Because the thing is, this ‘simple salt and burn’ wasn’t a simple salt and burn. Cas tagged along to get some fresh air, not to watch Dean get beaten half to death by a wendigo. But, the hunter, as gorgeous as he may be, didn’t always use his brain at appropriate times. He saw the slightest chance at a case and bolted for the keys to the Impala.

They followed the sheriff to the crime scene that lay on the skirts of a camping ground. Then pulled out their badges and IDs as they poked and prodded for any kind of 'supernatural’ signs. Talking with the victim’s family was always a bit more of a delicate procedure. It left Dean to sweet talk some more information out of the grieving people. At the back of his mind, Cas knew it wasn’t a spirit trapped in the veil trying to make it’s way to heaven. Dean didn’t even fathom the idea that it could be anything else. That was until he was six feet deep in the ground and drenched in sweat from digging.

A whining angel with a cheap flashlight in his hand was the only thing illuminating the night. leaving them both unaware, the wendigo crept around them at inhuman speeds and mimicked screams of terror that had Dean rushing in on pure instinct to help. Castiel flew from the half-assed hole in the ground to where the hunter’s heavy footfalls ceased. He held the flashlight up with a soft “Dean?”, inspecting his being for wounds. In a flash, the creature ran by. It knocked the light from Cas’ hand in his precautions and left Dean a nasty, dripping gash across his jaw. Then another below his ribs. And another down the length of his thigh. Releasing a blood-curdling shriek, the wendigo knocked Dean flat on his ass before he had a chance to process the abrasions. Or reach for the gun tucked into his belt.

“Cas! Cas- a little fucking help here!” A sharp 'thwack’ followed by an unpleasant pop, left Dean with a, now, dislocated shoulder. struggling in the grasps of the Wendigo. Frantically, he dug his fingers at the weak roots of the grass, now slick with early morning dew and blood. Dean fell victim to the starved creature.

“Dean!” Castiel spread his wings and flew to the Wendigo. With a single blow to its being, the bony creature faltered; shrieking and shriveling up on itself with unfiltered celestial power. Falling to the ground, Dean emitted a heavy and pained groan. Blood stained his face, and the better part of his clothes, in such a way that one would think he committed first-degree murder. Castiel opened his mouth-

“C'mon Cas-” Dean didn’t bother with turning the music down, just raised his voice to cut through the angel’s agitated recollections. “Baby-” He drawled out and leaned over the center seat only to receive a well-deserved flick to the forehead.

“Eyes on the road, idiot.” Cas seldom grumbled but not before turning the music up just a tad louder.

Dean took the hint.

They drove in almost silence save for Castiel’s quiet humming and Dean’s not so singing. Eventually, Dean stopped for gas a little ways from the bunker. It was the nearest 'gas-n-sip’ to their home in the middle of fucking nowhere. Shutting off the engine, the freckle-faced hunter turned to Castiel with an expectant look in his forest green eyes.

Cas could easily get lost in them if the other wasn’t such a fucking dumbass.

“Are you just going stare at me or are you going to get gas? If not I could always just take us back to the bunker mys-”

“No. Nope. Not necessary.” Dean interrupted. “I am getting gas, snacks, and then we’re going to talk.” doing just that, the hunter sauntered into the quaint little store and exited within two minutes. Two cups full of something were in his hands and a receipt held between his teeth. Opening the door and placing the cups in the cup holder, still being ignored, he popped the cap on the tank and let it fill. “What’s up? Why are you so.? Quiet... And... I don't know, angry?”

Cas tilted his head with grace and shot his boyfriend one of many bitch faces he’d mastered over the years. “I wonder what could’ve given it away.” he huffed and crossed his arms. The sleeves of his coat riding up to give him that 'I could smite you with a snap of my fingers why aren’t you scared of me’ vibe. “Fucking dumbass... You’re always rushing into things! You said this was a simple 'salt and burn’, Dean! You almost died!”

“That happens a lot!” Noting the bright, blue-white flare in Castiel’s eyes, Dean took that as a smack to the face. He most definitely did not choose his words correctly.

“You make things so needlessly complicated sometimes, Dean. You and you’re selfless desire to help everyone! All you had was your gun and a damn flashlight! Against a wendigo!” he huffed out a humorless laugh. “That’s like, I don’t know, trying to kill Lucifer with a toothpick! You want to die so bad? Might as well give me the damn honor! At least I won't have to freak out every time you don’t answer your phone when you’re away, because I’ll know what happened to you!” There was still a threatening blue-white flare in his eyes, but it began to simmer away as the angel picked up his designated red Slurpee and angrily popped the straw in his mouth.

Dean arched a brow in response to Castiel’s outburst, this meaning he had to put actual thought into choosing his words. Rather than letting them fall from his tongue like a dog.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Dean repeated while turning in his seat and resting a hand on Castiel’s thigh. The car was still off, and parked at the same pump it was when they pulled in nearly ten minutes ago. “I am. I can see how upset you are and I’m sorry. I just wanted to, ya’ know, be out on the field again, being all cooped up in the bunker twenty-four-seven just… Reading… It’s giving me cabin fever.” Dean shrugged his little shrug and looked up at Castiel’s eyes, narrowed and accusing.

“It’s going to take more than a little apology and some shitty reference to a shitty horror movie to gain my forgiveness.” Cas took another sip from his beverage, letting the artificial cherry flavored molecules coat his tongue. It soon became a favorite after his brief period of living a human life. Dean took notice.

“The movie isn’t the greatest baby, but it’s not shitty.”

“You’re really not helping yourself right now.” Castiel flipped through the out of date cassette tape collection popping in Led Zeppelin’s 'Houses of the Holy’. “The best thing you’ve got going for you right now is this.” He pointed at the cup while speaking around its straw.

The hunter sighed and bit his tongue, coaxing whatever else threatened to reach his lips back down before starting the Impala. Its engine roared to life with a satisfying purr. Then they were off, back on route to the bunker.

Upon arrival, Castiel had downed his sugary drink alongside Dean in a silence that in no way sat correctly between them. Dean parked Baby in the garage and slid his arm across the back of Cas’ seat. The scene set before them was classy and cliche and everything Dean loved; sliding an arm around someone’s shoulders and staring into each other's eyes for a couple long seconds then leaning in for a kiss at an unbearably slow pace. It was almost torturous.

Castiel’s eyes flickered between his arm and his lips. “Dean-”

“Just shut up.” The entire set up was ditched as he crashed his mouth against Cas’ in a sloppy, uncoordinated mess. The angel wasn’t sure if it was the sugary drink in his belly on Dean’s lips that had him craving for more. Dean’s rough and calloused hand held the side of Castiel’s face and pulled him closer while moving himself across the front bench of the Impala. Cas let out a deep groan and the noise met with a smug little smirk from the blond.

Castiel angled his head to capture the kiss fully and muffled a non-threatening 'Don’t tell me what to do’ into Dean’s mouth. He reached up, grasping at Dean’s wrist to keep it at his jaw and outstretched his other for the collar of the tight, black shirt hugging his boyfriend’s torso. Both actions were met with compliance. Dean brushed his thumb over the angel’s cheek and letting it glide back till he gripped at the short dark hair at the base of Castiel’s skull. The kiss was sudden and harsh and cramped until it wasn’t. If anything, Cas was disappointed at the swift stop and it must’ve shown on his face because the next thing to happen was Dean’s silent chuckle while situating himself in Cas’ lap with his knees on either side of his waist.

Dean’s position looked mildly uncomfortable ducked down and hunched so he didn’t hit his head on the roof of the Impala, but the new round of kisses said otherwise. Dean kissed him again. And again. And again, soft kisses making Cas feel high. Dean’s tongue traced along the bottom of his lip, a new world of warmth flooded his system that had him leaning in for more and slipping his hand down from Dean’s wrist to press the pads of his fingers into the hunter’s hip.

Both of Dean’s hands gripped at Cas’ unruly hair, tugging a fist full of it at the base of his skull in a way that radiated control, to guide the angel’s lips back up to his own. Castiel’s hands hovered gingerly over Dean’s body, grasping at his shoulders and easing the flannel off; it barely fell off his shoulders, thanks to Dean’s refusal to move his hands from Castiel’s hair. He continued to blindly work at the flannel, persistent and needy. “Dean,” Cas rasped, guiding his mouth to Dean’s jaw and nosing at his cheek, “flannel. Off. Now.”

With Dean’s death vice gone from his hair, Cas mouthed his way down the collum of Dean’s throat, hardly assisting in helping Dean with the flannel anymore, instead preoccupied with getting his hands under the tight black shirt hugging him. Wanting to dig his palms into warm, familiar marred skin. When Cas kissed under the hunter’s jaw a, rare but welcomed, giggle bubbled up past Dean’s tingling lips.

“Cas, Cas, CasCasCas- baby stop.,” Dean whined, trying half-heartedly redirect the angel’s mouth back to his own before another embarrassing giggle tumbled out.

“Why? Is something wrong?” He raked his fingers through Castiel’s hair then tugged at the smugness in his voice.

“N- yes. I mean no, but stop.. It... It tickles and you know that.” Cas hummed, around an 'I know’ and continued to leave soft kisses around Dean’s jaw. He lifted his lips back to Dean’s, dragging his tongue across the seam with a suggestive hum from the back of his throat. Dean parted his lips and their tongues meet with fluidity and Dean can taste the sweet syrupy flavor that still lingered in Castiel’s mouth. When they part, there's a thin string of saliva collecting at their lips, snapping back down the curve of Dean’s chin from his slightest movement. Dean blurts a pleased “That's hot.” and Castiel responds with a wolfish grin that could mean so many things. With experienced hands and clear motives, the hunter tucked his fingers under the collar of Cas’ ridiculous coat, pushing it past his shoulders and down his arms in an attempt to rid him of it entirely.

“Your mouth is purple.”

Dean stopped his work with the jacket and fists the angel’s tie, yanking it so their noses bump. “So ’s yours.” There's a grin on Dean’s mouth, lips hued a light violet color while his tongue is undoubtedly much more vivid in shade. Thumbing the knot in the tie, Dean loosening the thing while Cas tried his best to do the same. In time, both Dean’s flannel and the trenchcoat lay on the floor of the Impala in a heap. The black undershirt was next on the list. Dean’s hands rested against the roof of his car while Cas tugged the shirt up with dreadfully slow hands.

“I stay out too late, got nothin’ in my brain-”

Dean and Castiel both jumped back at the abrupt, but ever welcomed (in Dean’s opinion), song by Taylor.

“That’s what people say, mmm hmm,”

Staggering in the cramped space, the eldest Winchester pulled his shirt the rest of the way off. Leaving it to rest haphazardly on the side of the bench unoccupied, taking to look around for his phone. “Gahh… Shut up!"

"That’s what people say, mmm hmm. I go on too many dates, but I can’t make 'em stay”

Castiel shamelessly laughed at his boyfriend’s struggles before reaching around and pulling the device from one of the back pockets of Dean’s unbuckled pants. Then went back for seconds and gripped firmly at his ass through the fabric.

“Shut up, asshat.” Dean glared and took the phone.

“At least that’s what people s-”

“Sammy. Man. Bad timing, whats up?” Castiel nuzzled his face into the crook of Dean’s neck. The blond instinctively wrapped his free hand around Cas’ shoulders, stroking his hair. He could hear Sam on the other end of the call sounding uneasy.

“What do you mean bad time? You haven’t answered any of my texts.” Dean pulled the phone from his ear, checking to see that there was indeed an inbox full of messages from his brother. All of which were unanswered and unread. Cas gave another squeeze through the jeans.

“Whoops."

He could practicality hear Sam’s bitch face #4 accompanied by eyeroll #16.

"I mean, I know Cas is with you but I texted you like six times and I tried calling Cas, because your 'salt and burn’ case wasn’t a ghost. You just rushed out and I haven’t heard from you in two days man.”

The angel shifted his attention from the phone call to the open opportunity to hear Dean Winchester’s once in a lifetime giggle. Again. He started at the crook of his neck, lax and, brushing his lips faintly against Dean’s sensitive, love-bitten skin. “Everything’s fine. Went looking for a -Cas, I’m on the phone- haunting ended up with a dead wendigo..”

“Sorry, didn’t notice.” Castiel’s fingers caressed a few small scars etched into his skin and continued his pursuit, mouthing up and under his jaw.

“Whatever Dean. You said you were going to be back at like noon. And for you, that means ten. Dean, it’s four in the afternoon, did you and Cas stop on the side of the road to bang in the Impala and forget that we’re trying to find leads on the demon tablet?”

Dean swatted at Castiel’s shoulder while he gnawed at his lip. He is a warrior. He has spent years hunting monsters, killing them, dealing with demons and risking his life. There’s no way some handsy angel is going to make him giggle.

Again.

“I'm hanging up Sam. You’re a big boy. You’ll be fine.” Dean hit the end call button before Sam had even the slightest chance to argue then dropped his phone onto the pile of discarded layers on the floor. “You are unbelievable,” he grumbled with a tug to Castiel’s hair. “Handsy and annoying and unbelievable. C'mon.” Stepping from the Impala, the two men were stiff from being confined and utterly disheveled. Dean hadn’t even gotten his shirt back on yet and Cas looked like he just stepped out of a bad porno. Neither bothered with completely redressing. The flannel and trenchcoat were left in the car for future purposes while Dean pulled the undershirt back on.

“I forgive you.”

Dean’s brows furrowed until it clicked that he was originally intending to gain Castiel’s forgiveness. “All it took was a kiss?”

“No, actually. Why hold a grudge over something like that? You are a Winchester. It’s what you do. And, well, if I can’t live with that, then why should I hold it against you when I’m the one incapable of accept- yea. Pretty much. You’re good at it. It’s hard to be angry even though you’re still a dumbass.”

“Romantic.” was all Dean said as they entered the main part of the bunker, finding the better part of their family in the war room. Kevin sat at one end of the table, working his prophet magic on the Angel Tablet, Sam flipping through one of four large open books opposite to him, and Charlie at her laptop next to Kevin, murmuring something that couldn’t be heard by Dean. Cas grabbed his hand and laced their fingers.

“About damn time.” Sam bitched, flipping to the next page of his book, likely skimming through the pages and looking for some keywords to catch his eye. He never looked up.

“Ah quit your-”

Kevin interrupted with an obvious, “Your mouths are purple.”

“Yes, they are. I had a red Slurpee.” Cas shrugged and let go of Dean’s hand to go sit at the table, swiping away a closed book from one of Sam’s piles. Dean sauntered through the room with confidence towards the kitchen.

“I had a blue one.”

Sam wasn’t amused.

#my writing #destiel #this was fun

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melindacoulson4 · 8 years ago

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Fic tag to 4x12..AU now

I wrote a little something for 4x12 based on the promo pics. I meant to upload it before the episode aired, but i suck. It’s AU now. It gives some insight into what is going on in the mind of LMD May. Also, this is the first philinda fic i’ve actually finished. I have like 50 wips on my phone. Let me know what you guys think! It’s also on FF...planning on putting it on AO3 too.

There’s a brief flashback in the middle of this (in brackets) that references the scene between Coulson and May in episode 11

May's POV

"Here, I think this is it." Phil motions for her to meet him at the end of the hall.

Phil leads her to a room with all sorts of books. They walk into the library and begin their sweep, making sure it isn't occupied.

Sam Koenig had led them here. He told them that this was where the darkhold was. It took some time to extract the information from him, but he had finally relented and told what he knew.

Currently, Mace, Mack, and Daisy were trying to save Billy, while she and Phil stood by. If unsuccessful in the rescue op, Sam would call Phil and reveal the location of the darkhold. He had already said that it was somewhere in this library, but there were way too many books for them to go searching. They wouldn't have enough time.

All this time to spare and nothing to do. She knew it wouldn't take long for Phil to break the silence.

"So...want to tell me what's been bothering you?" He actively avoids eye contact with her, choosing instead to scan the rows of books lined up on the shelf in front of him.

She sighs. "I don't know what you're talking about." She knew this was coming. He had been paying a lot of attention to her. He was bound to sense that something was on her mind.

She watches him turn towards her with a playful smile on his face. "Come on. I thought we had gotten past all of this."

She looks away from him. Do not meet his eyes. That's his greatest skill; the way he just stares at her. It radiates warmth and security. It makes her want to forget how messed up everything was and just be with him.

"Seriously," he says. He takes a step closer to her. The space between them now less than what could be considered as friendly. "Melinda...You can tell me anything," he tells her softly.

Not this. "I know. I've been trying to figure out how to do...something." How to tell you that I'm not her. I'm not the one you think I am. Every time I get the courage to tell you, the words won't come out or I'm frozen in place. My mind, or more specifically my creator Radcliffe, won't let me tell you.

"Something...?" He repeats back to her, hoping for her to elaborate.

She steps up in his personal space and grabs his arm. "I-"

His phone rings, interrupting her. She spots momentary disappointment in Phil's eyes as he accepts the call. He shoots her a look that clearly says that they'll be continuing this conversation later.

She watches, curiosity piqued as he looks around the room.

"Yes, I see that," he reports to the person on the phone who she assumes is Sam. "Good...I'll check in once we're out."

He meets her eyes. "They don't have enough time to get him out safely. We have to bring it to the exchange," he explains.

"Here," he says, walking over to a shelf next to the lone desk in the room, his attention focused on the coat rack. Strangely enough, there were a bunch of coats and bags hanging on it. This was odd. It seemed like no one had been this room for decades. It had a major abandoned vibe to her.

"If you came looking for a book, would you look on the coat rack?" He asks, flashing her a grin. He hunched over and began sifting through the layers of jackets that were hung on the rack.

"It's just been sitting here?" She asks.

"I guess he figured that would be the last place anyone would look." She watches as he reaches his hand in between the jackets and pulls something out. It was a worn brown leather bag.

"Clever," she comments.

"Yea." He smiles, clearly impressed by this hiding spot.

"Are you sure you didn't come up with that?" She teases him.

"I wish," he chuckles, eyes sparkling.

The way he's staring at her now makes her heart soar. He makes her feel like a teenager. Her heart won't stop beating frantically whenever he looks at her with all of that admiration.

"Did you mean it when you said you're ready for whatever comes next?" The words are out before she thinks it through. This isn't the time for this, but she can't wait any longer. She glances at him worriedly, anxiously awaiting his response. If he regrets what happened between them 5 hours ago she'll be crushed and humiliated.

Everything has been so uncertain lately and she just wants that conformation, to know that this is true. That he wants this after all of these years.

He leans in.

Her heart feels like it's in her throat. If she didn't know how to school her features and get a hold of her blood pressure she would be feeling really embarrassed right about now.

He kisses her chastely with a promise of something more. His lips are soft and warm, yet she could also feel the passion in them. Kissing him seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

He pulls away from her slowly. "With you...Yes," he says, confidentiality.

Butterflies flutter in her stomach in response to his words.

She realizes that they've been standing here smiling at each other for far too long. As much as she wanted to keep doing just that, they had a job to do. "We should..."

He coughs, "right, we need to go."

[[[[[[5 hours ago.

"We are who we are flaws and all."

"And you're fine with that?" He asks her.

"Yea...I am." She grasped his bicep comfortingly.

Before she could say anything else Daisy walks into the room.

May pulls back immediately on instinct.

"Oh sorry, I didn't know that you guys were in here. I'll come back," Daisy says, not meeting their eyes.

She opens her mouth to object, but Daisy's gone before she could get any words out.

She stands up and is about to walk away, feeling like the moment between her and Phil had passed.

To her surprise, Coulson steps in front of her before she can pass him. "May...I.."

Maybe he feels like this is the moment. He could be tired of waiting, just as she was.

"I've been thinking about...us. And...I don't want to waste anymore time. I'm ready for whatever comes next. I want...," he trails off, but his eyes flicker to her lips. He slowly reaches up and cups her cheek. Then, leans in and kisses her.

After that, they hadn't really had time to talk about it. They had been swept up by the chaos of hearing that the Billy Koenig had been taken hostage plus Fitz saying that the Radcliffe that they had in custody was actually an LMD. And now they're here. ]]]]]

"Wait, let me see it," she requests, putting a hand out for the darkhold.

He passes it over to her.

She lifted the flap of the worn leather and saw the black book. Her hand grasped the spine of the book and pulled it out, making sure that it was indeed the darkhold. "It's definitely the darkhold," she commented.

Suddenly, Radcliffe's face appears in her mind. "Bring the darkhold to me," she hears Radcliffe say. She feels compelled to listen to him.

When she clears her eyes of the haze Phil is there in front of her, brows furrowed, eyes intently focused on her face.

"May," he calls, both hands lightly squeezing her shoulders.

Everything feels cloudy. All thoughts have been flooded with focusing on the darkhold. Get the darkhold and run. Ditch him. It's like someone sinister is whispering in her ear.

"Melinda, are you okay?" He shakes her shoulders this time. His grip much tighter than before.

Her hand drifts over towards her right hip where her gun is holstered. Before she even knows what she's doing, she has her weapon pointed at his stomach.

His hands automatically drop from her body. "Whoa, May," he says gently. She pushes the gun further into his stomach, making him move backwards. He raises his hands purely on instinct, she knows. It's just human nature, if someone points a gun at you you put your hands up. "May...look at me," he tells her seriously.

She stares at her hand, unbelieving that it's actually her own hand holding a gun to Phil. This is Phil. What are you doing?

Her grip is anything but steady. He could probably knock the gun right out of her hand if he tried.

She feels her other hand tightly wrapped around the darkhold, securing it to the side of her body.

She's trying to fight it. In response, her hand clenches around the handle of the gun. She holds it so tightly that the metal slices into the palm of her hand.

Her arm lifts on its own accord, pointing right at his chest where his heart would be. "Back up, Coulson," she orders him harshly.

"Talk to me. What's happening?" His mouth hangs open in alarm.

The gun feels heavy with intent in her hand. All she knows is that she has to get out of here. She has to get away from Phil. It's like something deep inside her was unlocked and now she was afraid of what that might be. This would ruin everything.

"I'm...so sorry. I don't want to." She can feel his resistance to the gun. His body pressing back towards her again. "Stop. Just stop," she begs him, borderline on hysterical. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Then don't," he tells her simply. He takes a hesitant step towards her.

Her finger hovers over the trigger in response.

"Phil! Stop. Stop! Please. Get away from me," she warns. It's as if she had become a video game character and was being controlled by someone else.

Oh god! She has no control over herself anymore. The last thing she would ever want to do is hurt him, but she can't make herself put down the gun.

This is just a reminder of the reality. She had been so swept up in this that she had forgotten that this was all an illusion. She wanted to become Melinda May. She believed that she was Melinda May. She had wanted to forget about the metal under her skin, to forget it all because she's in love. She loves him so much that he made her forget everything. She wanted to be with him always, but she can't. They can't do this. She can't do this to him. It's like a bucket of ice cold water has been dumped on her head.

In some sick twisted way she silently wishes that he would pull his gun out and just take her out. It would be better for everyone in the end. She wouldn't be able to bring the darkhold to Radcliffe and Phil would get the real Melinda back, wherever she was. But this is Phil and she knows that he would never do that. He would never hurt her even if she was about to kill him. That's the evil genius of Radcliffe. He had to know that Phil would never do anything to hurt her.

That fact would surely change if he knew what she truly was.

She can barely stand seeing the compassion in his eyes. He thinks that she has no control over this. That the darkhold has somehow possessed her. He still wants to help. He still thinks she's human and not some kind of metal impostor wearing Melinda May's face. "Melinda-"

That name makes her stomach clench. It's just a reminder of what she's not. She's not Melinda. She doesn't even know what she truly is.

"No! I'm not...", she cries. Her mouth clenches up before she can spew the rest of the words that she desperately wants to say. She needs help!

The smell of gunpowder invades her nostrils. She stares in horror as Phil stumbles backwards into the bookcase behind him. His back knocks into the wood and rows of books. The bullet must've hit him in the thigh. She watches silently as he covers his right thigh with both hands. The blood is already beginning to drip onto the carpeted floor.

She can't even process what she's just done. A bullet had left the chamber because she pulled the trigger. She shot Phil.

There's only one thing left to do, leave him before she hurts him some more. Or before she has the chance to kill him.

"May!" She hears him yelling for her as she runs out of the room with the darkhold. She does this all without any hint of hesitation or a glance back in his direction because she's a cold heartless, monster.

All of this proves on thing. The thing that she did not want to admit, but now cannot deny. She is not Melinda May and never will be.

/End/

#Philinda #phil coulson #melinda may #philinda fic #coulson x may #phil x melinda

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