#and he spends the entire day surly and annoyed

[electricsynthesis]

lance cries at their wedding and keith says he looks stupid and is an annoying crybaby as he reverently wipes the tears from his cheeks. Do you understand what I’m trying to say.

[daughter-of-melpomene]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑

❝ Adachi Star held no love for pirates, but she did not hate them either - rather, she feared them, which was certainly unexpected in someone who had essentially been raised on the open water. Her father, a pirate captain in his youth who had given up the life upon meeting her mother and having a child, had been only too eager to take to East Blue once again after his wife had died from illness, taking his young daughter with him, and as such some of Star’s earliest memories had taken place on her father’s ship, learning how to sail and being snuck the best bits of meals by the crew’s chef.

To many, it would have seemed like an idyllic childhood, going on adventures and spending every day surrounded by the beautiful ocean… but it was not nearly as lovely as it seemed. Like many other pirates, Star’s father was obsessed with finding the legendary One Piece, Gold Roger’s infamous treasure that would grant the mantle of King of the Pirates to whomever found it - but Adachi Storm, leader of the Thundercloud Pirates, took his mission one step further. Every action he took was another step towards what he saw as finding the One Piece and becoming who he was truly supposed to be - including tricking his daughter into eating a Devil Fruit when she was only ten years old, forcing unto her a great and terrible power for the purpose of creating his own little weapon against other pirates.

Granted the powers of the hokori hokori no mi - the ability to make any non-living thing crumble to dust, with nothing more than a solid touch and a moment of focus - Star had at first been thrilled with her new skill, wanting desperately to please her father and going through all the training to strengthen her power that he wanted her to. But when an action Storm forced her to take during a battle with another pirate crew resulted in almost that entire crew dead, Star had realized just how much the search for the One Piece had overtaken her father, how truly obsessed he had become and the creature, the monster he had made his daughter into as a result… and rather than trying to help him, to get through to him and make him realize just how much he was hurting those around him, she had run, just a scared thirteen-year-old unable to face the reality of what she had done or the fear that had crept into the eyes of her father’s crew when they looked at her.

For years now, Star has been running; going from village to village, never staying in one place for long, seeking out the best fighters around and getting lessons from them so that she can learn different ways to be destructive without using her terrible ability, and only using her power when absolutely necessary, too afraid of what could happen if she gave in to using it again. But after getting involved in a pub fight in Shells Town and the escape from the local Marine base that follows, she finds herself stepping onto a pirate ship once again (if one could even call it that), along with a dry-witted thief, a surly swordsman who might be the most annoying person Star has ever met, and an overly energetic boy with stretchy Devil Fruit powers who is determined to become King of the Pirates in a way that reminds Star uncomfortably, terribly, of her father.

As the motley crew of four first set out on their journey, each with their own secrets and intentions that they don’t plan on telling the others, Star’s only goal is to keep Luffy from going down the same obsessive path as her father, and hopefully knock Zoro down a few pegs while she’s at it. But as their little so-called “crew” delves into further adventures and truly unexpected relationships begin to form, she starts to find that maybe, perhaps, taking to the seas again will not be as awful as she feared… and that maybe, if this crazy newfound family cares about her as much as she cares about them, perhaps she’s not as much of a monster as she’s been thinking since she was only a child. ❞

One Piece Taglist: @auxiliarydetective, @starcrossedjedis, @xoteajays, @oneirataxia-girl, @supermarine-silvally.

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand, @ginevrastilinski-ocs, @luucypevensie, @ginger-grimm, @arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @impales, @claryxjackson, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @ocappreciationtag.

[mister-eames]

2/? comes from but more to separate arthur BD (Before Dreamshare) from Arthur AD (After Dreamshare).2. Similarly, is Eames from a wealthy background?3. Secret talents or hobbies? (I have a tendency to imagine Arthur as being extremely acrobatic & musically/rhythmically gifted. Thanks, JGL! Also I once read a fic where arthur could do parkour & the brain went BRRR! Good, yes, thank you.)4. Pet names given to arthur by eames that arthur (secretly) likes? Eames' favourite pet names for Arthur?

2. Ahhh Eames, Eames, Eames. Eamsie. I love all headcanons on his background, from wealth, to nobility, to very humble beginnings.

Eames is interesting, that way. When I'm trying to write Eames, in my head I try and justify how he got to where he is and which parts of him are a) parts of his personality that developed as an adult, and b) which are just quintessential, born-this-way 'Eames'. You know, like, he's a self-deprecating, underachieving over-achiever who gladly goes under the radar. Middle child. Has always been a shit-stirrer.

I think he walks and talks like old money and that is not a front or an act he's put on. I also don't necessarily mean that makes his family ostentatiously wealthy, or that he grew up in a mansion or whatever - but I think he grew up, at least for a time, financially comfortable. Middle-class, maybe, or what used to be middle class - could afford hobbies and take-out and movies on the weekend, could take annual vacations without straining the family budget. He learned the value of money the hard way later in life.

3. Secret talents/hobbies: Arthur I can definitely see as being talented vocally, something he doesn't have to work very hard at. He's insanely good at Jeopardy and trivia. Sucks at actual human languages but is a whiz at computer coding and taming machines, like car motors and PASIV's. Hobbies? He loves getting his hands greasy in a motor and making a car purr. Baseball. Loves going to a game at Citi Field and hearing Eames lovingly complain about how cricket is better. Avid collector of knick-knacks and could spend an entire day at yard sales and markets.

Eames - I mean, art is the obvious one, fanon wise and in my heart. I don't think he's an art snob by any means, I think he'd pay a street artist what someone else would pay for a famous painting (that Eames would steal). As the chronic underachieving over-achiever Eames has hundreds, if not thousands of his own paintings that he considers 'incomplete' but can't bring himself to finish. I'm taking this from Tom but has a genuine passion for animals, dogs in particular, not that he lets anyone know, but he's never met a fluffy animal he didn't want to pet. Will watch any animal documentary ever.

4. Look, I am such a sucker for pet names, no matter the fandom/OTP. It doesn't have to be 'babe' or 'pumpkin' it can just be a play/shortening on their actual name---still valid!! Love is STORED in the pet names/nicknames!! And Inception fandom is a bountiful trove for this and it makes me so happy!! Anyway!!! Back to your question!! 😂

Pet names given to arthur by eames that arthur (secretly) likes? - 'Darling', of course. 'Sweetheart' because most people, including Arthur, don't think there is anything sweet about Arthur - but there is at his core, under a lot of hair gel and a surly attitude and strong work ethic, etc. I think Eames favourites are the ones he says when he is least serious, most insincere sounding while trying to annoy Arthur: "my dove, my dear, my beloved" things he says in a bored drawl just to get an eye roll out of Arthur (and to hide the earnest feeling behind them). They always be pulling pigtails these two.

[liptonsbabe]

Remember me [F.O]

Finnick Odair x female! reader

Summary: President Snow hates the reader for some reason. The eyes and ears of the government are everywhere and Finnick fears you will be harmed. It's the two of you against the president's hatred, or the three of you?

Word count: 1.2K

Warnings: none

A/N: Finnick’s fic yay! I hope you’ all like this. This fic it’s finished but is in spanish so if you want to read the whole thing just let me know. As always, english not my mother language so please let me know if something’s wrong. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: A bun in the oven

My breathing pauses as I glance at the alarm clock resting on the stool. It reads two-thirty in the morning and I hold back a snort of exasperation.

I don't want to stir too much as Finnick is clinging to my waist like a koala. I can feel his breath on my neck and his oh-so-possessive grip on my hips. I must get up. I can't take it anymore

I gently remove Finnick's hands so he doesn't wake up, but suddenly he does and looks up at me. His sleepy eyes glaze over and he takes my hand as I sit on the edge of the bed.

“Where are you going?” he asks startled. I smile at him to let him know he has nothing to worry about.

“Relax. I have to go to the bathroom”

He nods and lets go of me, not entirely convinced.

“Don't spend too long”

I get up and grab the robe that's on a chair inside the room. I look at Finnick and notice how he's trying to fall asleep again, but he can't. He’s tense on the bed and closes his eyes only because he has to. I put on my robe and leave the room.

Ever since we started living together in the Capitol, Finnick has been surly as hell; and I don't blame him. He knows better than anyone what you're up against being in the Capitol with no chance of returning to the District. We can't go back to district four for the simple fact that we are mentors for the kids who every year go up against each other in the games. Finnick is scared because he knows that, if either of us messes something up, Snow would know how to remedy it.

Here we are helpless, kneeling at the mercy of President Snow with no way to escape. We are bound hand and foot

Finnick is scared; I can tell by the way he tries to spend most of his time with me and the way he acts like a rabid dog when anyone from the Capitol tries to engage me in conversation. I notice it, in these moments, when he can't stand me leaving him alone and taking too long to make an appearance. Especially now that we are in a house that Snow has given us as a gift.

I go into the bathroom and lean against the sink, lift my face and look in the mirror. Stress has done its thing leaving big dark circles under my eyes and small freckles on my cheeks; my lips are slightly chapped and my skin has lost a tone. I turn on the water faucet and soak my face as if the liquid could dilute the mask of doom this place has put on me.

I do the necessary and wash my hands, look at myself in the mirror again and bring a hand to my belly; there, where my child is growing. I frown worriedly whether I should tell Finnick or not, fearing he might get more hysterical than he already is.

I walk out of the room and am surprised to see Finnick standing in the middle of the room bare-chested and in his crumpled sleep pants. His fists are tense and he clenches his jaw.

“What do you think you're doing?”

“Finnick...”

“I clearly told you not to be late, you've been out of bed for over twenty minutes!” He comes up to me and grabs my shoulders hurting me. I let out a yelp and Finnick ignores it too angry to realize what he was doing.

“I was in the bathroom, Finnick. I didn't even leave this room”

He walks away as he tousles his hair; then I understand he's not angry, but worried. He turns his back to me and places his hands on his hips.

“Don't you understand? We can't stay away from each other for so long," he mumbles, knowing that they might be watching us.

“Really, you're overreacting, Finnick. I was just...”

“I don't care what you did!” he shouts and turns to me “It's the fact that you don't understand the seriousness of the situation!”

We stand in silence for a moment weighing what's going on. Finnick denies and walks over to me, grabs me by the shoulders this time gently and lowers his voice to a whisper

“Please, (Y/N), this is not a joke. We are not in a safe place”

“And when have we ever been?”I shout, too loud for anyone watching us to hear “Come on Finnick! We live in a place where they force little boys to kill each other for the fame and glory the Capitol can give them. This place is not unsafe, the world is”

“I'm talking about here, about this house” he says with a growing concern in his face- (Y/N), are you aware that we have entered the lion's den? For God's sake, we can't even go back to our District anymore.

“There would be no point in doing so, we would still come back every year to be mentors and watch our tributes die. There's nothing we can do, Finnick. Face it, Snow won”

I plop down on the couch leaving Finnick standing in place without saying anything. I tighten my arms over my stomach and lean back a little.

“I can't take it anymore, okay? I can't stand being with you all the time," I say. He looks at me sadly, "I love you. I really do, but this is getting on top of me. It doesn't matter if I'm with you or not, Snow will know the perfect time to attack.”

Finnick looks at me for the thousandth time and walks over. He gets down on his knees in front of me and takes my hands.

“That won't happen as long as I'm by your side, (Y/N). I know it's annoying and irritating that I'm glued to you all day, but it's the only way I have to protect you, do you understand? I can't let them hurt you. You are the only beautiful thing in my life and I don't want that to end because if that happens.... I would be nothing”

His clear eyes crystallize and his lips pucker holding back tears. I caress his face and begin to cry unable to hold back the secret that has been eating away at me. I close my eyes and my tears gain strength.

“Finnick..." I say and look at him. He squeezes my hand and a tear makes its way down his right cheek “I'm pregnant.”

I can notice his grimace of surprise only a few seconds after I let out the news. Finnick looks down, still squeezing my hand and then hides in my belly. I cry even harder and squeeze him against me.

“I'm sorry” I say” I'm sorry, I know this isn't the ideal time for this and I know....

Finnick's lips land on my robe in my stomach area stopping my speech. He begins to caress my belly and his tears wet my legs. Finnick was kissing his son with such fervor that it hurts.

“It's going to be okay," he assures us in a whisper. He looks at me and I notice the reddish hue in his eyes and nose “We'll be fine. Now there will be no one to stop me from my purpose. I will fight for you. I will give my life for you," he swears. And I believe him.

[shelikestv]

For @sinnabonka Happy Birthday, hon. I am so glad you’re in my life! You make my world a much better place! Ilysm!  🥰 🥰 🥰

***

"How about a kiss?" Dean asked, sliding closer to Cas's side of the bed.

Classic rock music played obnoxiously in the background and Cas groaned, throwing the covers dramatically over his head.

Dean laughed, poking at the blankets with a finger.

"Babe, come on. What's it gonna take to get your stubborn ass outta bed? I have plans for us today."

He nudged the blanket again, and he wasn't positive but he thought it sounded like Cas growled at him.

Surly, sleepy Cas was cute, kind of. But also since he’d become human it was very annoying, too. Hell, Dean was grumpy in the mornings and he knew it. But it was 11 A.M. and Cas was going on his seventh hour of sleep for the fifth day in a row. No way that was healthy.

"Dude, c'mon."

Cas hated when Dean called him ‘Dude.’ Surely it would get a reacti--

"Bite me."

Dean sighed. Tough love, then. He gently grabbed a fistful of blanket.

Three.

Two.

Yank!

The covers came flying off, revealing squinty eyes, wild and unkempt hair and a scowl so dark it could give Amara a run for her money.

Cas folded his arms and growled again. God, it should be funny, but it was actually a little terrifying.

Dean swallowed.

"You gotta get up sometime, man," he said sheepishly... then shrugged. "I'm just trying to help..."

With a glare fixed on Dean the entire time, Cas crawled to the edge of the bed on hands and knees, grabbing the pile of blankets and wrapping them over himself again.

God, between Cas and Jack, Dean wasn't sure who the bigger toddler was. He sighed, throwing his hands in the air.

Dean got up and walked to their shared dresser (most of Cas' clothes were Dean's anyway) and pulled out a few items. A cocked eyebrow peeked out from under the edge of the blanket, blue, bleary eyes staring at him.

"Dean, what're you doing now?" Cas mumbled.

"Shhh" said Dean.

He quickly popped the button of his jeans, removing his shirt and pants, tossing them into the hamper. He donned pajama bottoms and walked bare-chested to flip off the light, crawling back into bed with Cas. The hall light crept under the door just enough for Dean to make out Cas's extremely confused face.

"I thought you said you had plans," Cas whispered, though he didn't at all seem put out.

Dean laughed a little. "I had plans to spend time with you, dumbass," he whispered. Against his will, his eyes and tone were softer than he intended and he blushed.

Cas squinted again, skeptically.

"Look," Dean said. "I might... Miss you."

Cas smiled.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Ugh. I didn't mean... it's not a big deal, okay? I just mean if you’re lazy and stay in bed all day. . . Don't get that look."

Cas reached forward running his fingers through Dean’s hair softly in gratitude. Dean closed his eyes, leaning against his palm.

"You miss me," Cas teased, with a cocky grin.

Dean shoved his shoulder, groaning but they were both smiling and Cas snuggled up against Dean's chest, ear pressing against his heartbeat.

Dean kissed the top of Cas’s head lightly:

"Wherever you are, I wanna be," he said softly.

They stayed silent for a while until their breaths synced, slow and calm.

Then, very very quietly, Cas whispered:

"I love you, too."

[deadbiwrites]

a video of supergirl grabbing lena luthor's ass starts circulating and it's very embarrassing for sc but extremely funny to their friends

(I am SO sorry. Where do these hide? Why do I never see them? How long has this been here?!

Anyways, have some cute nonsense!)

The day starts like any other, honestly.

Like, sure, Kara’s never thrilled when she wakes up 20 minutes late and has to use superspeed to get through her morning routine and into the office on time, but it happens regularly enough that she’s just sort of used to it by now. Like, the sky is blue, the grass is green, she manages time poorly. Whatever.

But she does get to work on time, with just enough to spare that she can make a brief detour to Nia’s desk for the coffee her protege has already bought for her, thank her profusely (with perhaps minor promising of firstborn children), and slip into the morning meeting just as Snapper, James, and Lena start handing out assignments for the day.

“Well, well, good of you to join us, Ponytail. Let me guess, a family emergency kept you out all night again?”

‘I mean, that Abraxian wasn’t my family, technically, but someone’s family, so…’ “Something like that. Sorry.”

Lena catches her eye and quirks a brow in question, but Kara just shrugs easily and sips her coffee, pulling a silly face at her friend when Snapper’s attention moves away from her. When her eyes uncross, she can tell Lena is fighting not to laugh, eyes sparking with mirth as she bites her lip. Kara takes another sip of coffee, feeling a bit smug that she can get Lena to smile without even having to say anything to her. That’s real talent, right there.

Especially since Lena has to stand up at the front with James, who has been by turns cold, dejected, and surly toward her since their breakup (a big, real, final one) a few weeks prior. Lena had said that the whole thing was a mistake, that she should’ve never gone for it in the first place because she’d been right the first time- they’d had some chemistry, after all, but it certainly wasn’t compatible long-term. 

Which… Kara can certainly relate. Like, a lot.

Especially about the whole… James being kind of wounded about it part. That part had really sucked- when he’d done it with Kara, who he’d gone on like, a date with, it’d resulted in him deciding to become a vigilante. Rao only knows what he’ll do when it’s someone he dated on and off for over a year...

“Ponytail!”

Kara jumps, realizing too late that her wandering attention hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Yes, sir?”

Snapper rolls his eyes. “Great, now that you’ve stopped orbiting Saturn, you wanna go get that article started?”

Kara’s eyes widen slightly in a panic as she realizes that she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Uh…” Behind his back, Lena catches her eye and nods subtly. Thank Rao. “Yes. I super do.”

Lena snorts, James sighs deeply, and the meeting is adjourned.

**

“So what exactly am I supposed to be doing today?” Kara asks Lena as they stroll out of the conference room together.

“Well unfortunately for you, you have to interview a big-time CEO. You have a meeting scheduled with her in three hours.”

“You?” Kara asks hopefully.

“You’re very sweet,” Lena chuckles. “No, Elena Watts. She’s a real estate developer, and she runs a nonprofit organization for homeless youth. It’s one of the articles we’re doing for next month’s spread. Contrary to popular belief, Cat and I weren’t the only women with high-profile jobs in this city. ”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool! Have you met her?”

“Not personally, no, but I have donated to her charity- it’s a very good cause, especially the outreach they do with queer youth.”

Kara elbows Lena gently. “You’re such a softie.”

“Mmm, maybe. But if you tell anyone, you’re fired.”

Kara clutches a hand to her chest, feigning horror. “Why Miss Luthor, what a blatant abuse of power!”

Lena shrugs. “I’m a Luthor, darling, I have to keep up appearances somehow.”

“Ouch,” Kara laughs. “See you at lunch?”

“Only if lunch includes a milkshake- I have a teleconference with both boards today. Unless you feel like joining me?”

“Wow, well as fun as that sounds, I’m gonna go do literally anything else.” Her comms crackle to life, alerting her of a hostage situation downtown, and Kara sighs. So much for a work day. “Alright, well, I’m, um, gonna go… see what I can find on Elena Watts. Maybe over another cup of coffee at Noonan’s.” She widens her eyes a bit, trying her best to convey that she’s going to be on Super-duty for a little while.

Thankfully, Lena picks up on it and grins. “You just want sticky buns.”

“Lena, I always want sticky buns. They’re like, my second favorite thing to eat.”

“Oh? What’s the first?” Lena asks, voice just a bit lower than usual. 

Kara opens her mouth and closes it, flushing slightly as she averts her gaze and adjusts the laptop bag on her shoulder. Stuff like that has been happening more and more, and she’s not 100% sure what to do about it. Because on the one hand, it makes her stomach do flips and tie up in knots and makes her brain do this… staticky thing where nothing filters in or out, just a pleasant buzz of how funny and smart Lena is and how much Kara likes hanging out with her and being flirted with (because that’s definitely what’s been happening, even if neither of them is really ready to address it) and just generally looking at Lena.... who is currently biting her lip and grinning up at Kara, and that buzz makes her kinda dumb, which is just really unhelpful. But on the other hand, it’s also kinda awesome and Kara really enjoys it, and-

“Kara?”

She spaced out again. Crap.

“Um. What time are you free for lunch?”

Lena sighs, seeming slightly disappointed that Kara isn’t flirting back at the moment (and thank Rao Lena can’t read minds), but she smiles back easily enough as they step off of the elevator. “I should be done by two.”

Feeling emboldened, Kara turns so she’s walking backwards in front of Lena and grins. “It’s a date,” she says with a grin, ducking forward to press a quick “friendly” kiss high on Lena’s cheek. She whirls and jogs out the double doors, leaving Lena smiling exasperatedly after her.

**

It is genuinely baffling to Kara that people still commit crimes in National City. It’s not even an ego thing, really, since Kara tries to keep herself humble (even when she manages to wrap up a hostage situation within twenty seconds of arriving on-scene without injuring any of the criminals or damaging the building too badly). Like, yeah, she gets that there’s a certain element of crazies who just sorta gravitate to places with a local hero, the big-bads who have their own suits and geek-toys and abilities. Them, Kara gets. Kinda sorta. But the regular ones, who are armed with like, pistols? Or knives? Just regular man made stuff without even the benefit of magic or kryptonite or something?

Why? 

She’s sure that if she asked, Lena would have some sort of statistical thing about large cities and poverty and all sorts of other factors that would end up making Kara feel like a jerk for being uncharitable to the criminal element of her city, but at the moment she’s mostly too annoyed by the fact that she has to spend her weekdays chasing them around instead of chasing stories.

Once all the hostages are freed and the cops secure the scene, Kara departs, flying into the alley behind Noonan’s and changing into her regular clothes before she heads inside to do a bit of research before her meeting with Elena Watts in a few hours (just because she’d used it as a cover doesn’t mean it was a bad idea…). She finds her favorite little two-person booth tucked into a quiet corner, plugs in her laptop, and gets to work, asking the waitress to please keep both the coffee and the sticky buns coming.

She gets a surprising amount done by the time she needs to leave for the interview, having a good foundation for what she wants to write and who Elena Watts is.

Ms. Watts turns out to be a pretty nice lady around Eliza’s age, if a bit busy and distracted by the steady flow of people in and out of her office. She answers all Kara’s questions with aplomb, happy to elaborate on most every point and eager to draw attention to the rising issue of homelessness among children and teens in the US.

“When I was young, my dad lost his job at the auto plant. It was supposed to be a temporary layoff, but the factory never reopened. We ended up losing the house, and we lived so far from our extended family that staying with them wasn’t much of an option. We lived in our SUV for six months, sleeping at shelters every now and again, if we could find one that allowed families to stay together. We showered at the local YMCA. Five people and a dog, living and sleeping in an old station wagon- even now, it sounds ridiculous. Eventually, we got back on our feet, but I never forgot that. It was just six months, but it was- and remains- the scariest, most uncertain time in my entire life, and it shaped me in a lot of ways I didn’t expect. And there are kids and families who do that for years. I just want to help them the way I wish that someone had been able to help us.”

At the end of the interview, Kara thanks her profusely for her time and for sharing her story before hurrying off to CatCo to type up a draft for Snapper (“What’s wrong with you, Ponytail, why is everything you bring me sappy and sentimental?”), which she finishes an outline of just in time to send it off before running to Big Belly and L-Corp for lunch with Lena.

She greets the newest in a series of secretaries (Anna? Amy? Ava? Lena’s really missing Jess, these days, but from what she’s told Kara, Jess is kicking butt in her new role as VP of Operations and will probably take over for the COO when he retires in a few years), and the girl waves her in distractedly.

And that’s when Kara’s day goes from normal to not, because inside the office are two masked men holding a stone-faced Lena at gunpoint on her balcony and demanding… something, probably. Kara’s a bit distracted by the loaded gun aimed at Lena’s head.

“Hey!” she yells, attracting both their attention. They whirl on her and Lena’s eyes widen in alarm, and Kara suddenly realizes three things- 1) she’s in her Kara Danvers clothes, not the supersuit, 2) she can’t speed into the suit now that they’re both looking at her, and 3) she has no plan.

Crap.

“Who the hell are you?!” one of them demands.

Kara… doesn’t have a good or snappy answer for that, and instead does the only thing she can think of- she throws the large milkshakes she’s carrying at them as hard as she can.

Which, in retrospect, is too hard, apparently because while yes, it is both funny and gratifying to see two grown men get absolutely leveled by a tasty dairy treat to the face, the one closest to Lena manages to elbow her in such a way that she falls backwards over the rail with an instinctual scream that makes Kara’s heart fly into her throat. She whips off her glasses, and by the time she’s out the window and speeding toward Lena’s flailing form, the suit is materialized. She gets under Lena, catching her carefully and dropping a bit further before slowing down (because she’s been made aware that when she doesn’t, the people she’s saving may as well be hitting the pavement), finally coasting to a stop about 20 feet from the ground.

Lena’s face is screwed up in a forced sort of focus, her hands clutching tightly at Kara’s shoulders and cape as she holds her breath.

“Are you okay?” Kara asks quietly.

Lena swallows thickly and nods, eyes still firmly closed. “I’m alright. Thank you- I’ll admit, I wasn’t quite sure how to get out of that one.”

“What was that? What did they want?”

Lena cracks an eye open. “Oh. you know, just my quarterly assassination attempt. I think my mother was starting to miss me, so she wanted to reach out.”

Kara snorts. “That really shouldn’t be funny.”

“Maybe not, but here we are.” Lena shifts a bit in Kara’s arms, cheeks a bit flushed from the adrenaline rush, and clears her throat. “Not to be rude, Supergirl, but do you think that perhaps we could continue this conversation… on the ground?”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sorry. I forgot we were, uh, flying.”

Lena chuckles as they ascend slowly back up to her office. “You forgot you were flying?”

Kara shrugs with an easy smile. “I guess you have that effect on me.”

Lena huffs a laugh against Kara’s neck, eyes squeezed shut again. They alight on the balcony, finding the two men still unconscious, covered in Kara and Lena’s lunch. Lena sighs as Kara sets her down, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What a mess.”

“Yeah, sorry, I sorta… panicked.”  

“I was so looking forward to a milkshake too…” Lena laments playfully.

“Well, then I have good news and bad news,” Kara says. She reaches out and gently wipes a bit of her own chocolate shake from Lena’s cheek with the pad of her thumb, tucking it into her mouth on instinct to get a taste of it. “The good news is, you do, in fact, have some shake on you!”

“Whats the bad news?” 

“Also that you have some shake on you.” Kara laughs, gathering the two men in her arms and hefting them a bit so they’re easier to carry. “I’ll get you another one. Be right back.”

She drops the men at the police station with a brief explanation before flying back into the office. Lena hands over her discarded glasses with a wry grin.

“I figured you’d need these before the police arrive.” She’s putting on a brave front, but she’s clearly still more than a bit rattled, if her too-bright eyes and thundering heartbeat are anything to go by. Kara steps closer and opens her arms in invitation, and Lena doesn’t hesitate to step into them. “Thank you,” Lena says fervently, tucking her face into Kara’s shoulder and wrapping her arms tight around Kara’s waist. 

“Always,” Kara promises, daring to press a reassuring kiss to Lena’s temple (and getting a bit of Lena’s strawberry shake for her troubles) before wrapping her up even tighter in her arms. “Are you actually okay?”

“I mean, my fear of heights has been reaffirmed,” Lena jokes, “but aside from that, I’m not hurt.”

“Good. I don’t like, love people pointing guns at you. Just so you know.”

“I’m not a fan either, for the record,” Lena drawls, burrowing even closer. “Even though I know you’ll save me, it still puts a damper on my day.”

Kara huffs a laugh. “Same.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, until Lena’s calmed down enough to stop shaking and calls her assistant (Audra, apparently) in, telling her what’d happened and that the police would be arriving shortly to take her and Kara’s statements, and please advise the security team to let them up discreetly. After the cops arrive, it’s a blur of questions, and Kara has to concentrate on telling the story of how she’d panicked and thrown the milkshakes at the men, and one of them had knocked Lena over the balcony (all true), and Kara had yelled for Supergirl, who had knocked the men out on her way to Lena (also technically mostly true. Technically. Mostly.). The police are sure to tell Kara that next time, she shouldn’t throw things at people with guns, and also to tell them both how lucky they are that Supergirl had shown up when she did.

“She’s always there when I need her,” Lena agrees, throwing a sly wink over the officer’s shoulder at Kara.

Kara just shakes her head and smiles. Even almost dying isn’t enough to make Lena not flirt with her. The woman is truly a marvel.

Kara’s comms crackle again, accompanied by Alex’s custom ringtone on her cell, and after assuring the police that she has no issue with giving another statement if they need her to later, hurries over to the DEO (making a quick stop in the back alley to change into her suit).

**

When Kara arrives, she’s told that J’onn and Alex are waiting for her in the Directors’ offices. She makes her way there, waving to the agents and scientists she knows. But it’s very weird, because every time one of them sees her, they start giggling before quickly hurrying off in the opposite direction. Like, literally everyone is whispering and pointing and giggling, and it’s giving Kara such visceral flashbacks to high school that it’s all she can do to not check her cape for a taped on sign that says ‘Kick me’ or ‘Freak’.

(Kids are mean.)

By the time Kara gets to her destination, she’s fully paranoid, sure that someone’s playing a prank on her, somehow, and that everyone but her is in on the joke. She opens the door with more force than intended and catches it just before the handle puts a hole in the wall, throwing Alex and J’onn a sheepish smile. She closes the door extra gently and leans against it heavily. J’onn and Alex just stare at her, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Busy day, Supergirl?” Alex asks, and after half a lifetime of spending time with her, Kara recognizes that she, too, is trying not to laugh. 

Kara’s had enough. “Okay, do I have something on my face? Or on the suit? Is someone messing with me?”

J’onn’s brow furrows. “No.”

“Then what’s the deal? Why is the entire DEO like… laughing at me? Did someone accidentally vent the lab fumes out into the main hub again?”

“No.”

“Did someone see me crash into that billboard last week?”

J’onn’s frown deepens. “What?”

“No,” Alex answers.

“Then why is everyone laughing at me?!”

“I mean, if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because of that,” Alex muses, nodding toward the big TV on the wall beside Kara.

She steps back to watch the news coverage of her dealing with the hostage situation this morning and frowns. “What, those guys? That was routine, what’s so funny about tha-”

“No, no, not that. That,” Alex clarifies, cranking up the volume.

“...reports are saying that the CEO of L-Corp, Lena Luthor, experienced an attempt on her life early this afternoon. Sources claim that she fell from a considerable height-”

“Hey, she was pushed,” Kara corrects.

“Shh!”

“...caught by Supergirl, who may have gotten a little… familiar with her.”

And there’s a video (clearly recorded on a cell phone but not the worst quality Kara’s ever seen) of Kara catching Lena and slowing to a stop above the sidewalk, of them talking quietly, of Kara’s hand definitely on Lena’s-

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Alex drawls, clicking the TV off with relish, a large, evil-big-sister grin spreading across her face. “Congratulations, Supergirl- the world just watched you grope Lena Luthor’s ass.”

“But I’m not- I wasn’t groping, I was catching! My hands weren’t… If it was groping, I’d be all up on her, and I wasn’t!”

“Camera begs to differ. It’s already trending on Twitter in National CIty.”

Kara puts her head in her hands and groans. “Why?! I was trying to save her!”

“You were definitely trying to save part of her,” Alex agrees. “Granted, it’s a very nice part...”

Kara’s head pops up, and she shoots Alex a look that’s between a pout and a glare. “You’re not helping.”

Alex feigns confusion. “Am I supposed to be helping?”

“Alright, enough,” J’onn cuts in before Kara can retort. “We just wanted you to be aware. I don’t think that this is going to be taken for anything more than it is- a humorous moment in the middle of a successful rescue. You shouldn’t worry about the press.”

And truth be told, Kara isn't worried about the press- she’s worried about the fact that she’s going to have to face Lena after this. Lena, who she knows for a fact has google alerts set for herself, Kara Danvers, and Supergirl, a gesture which is normally actually sweet and kind but is right now definitely gonna bite her in the-

“Okay! So, is that all?”

Alex blinks, looks over at J’onn, and shrugs. “I mean, yeah. Try not to make a habit of groping your crush when you’re in the suit.”

“I wasn’t groping her-”

Alex grins. “So you admit you have a crush? Interesting…”

“Alex!”

**

J’onn’s prediction is mostly right- no one seems to be taking the shots of her grabbi- saving Lena as anything other than a funny blip of a moment in their coverage of it.

He was wrong about the sheer scale. The clip had gone totally viral in a matter of hours, and seemingly every major network in the country has run the clip at least once as a bit of filler-fluff, and almost every major network anchor (including the ones at CatCo, the traitors) has made at least a passing joke about Supergirl being ‘Super-Handsy'.

Which means that Kara is very late getting back to Lena’s office with replacement food. But like, she’s been busy, okay? It’s not like she’s avoiding Lena, or something, because she’s embarrassed- which she isn’t, because she didn’t do anything bad or wrong and-

Anyways, it’s well past sunset by the time Kara gets to Lena’s office door again. She hesitates outside it for just a moment before shouldering the door open and knocking tentatively.

Lena’s attention jerks from whatever she’d been absorbed in to Kara, and a relieved smile blooms across her face. “Hey there.”

Kara finds herself equally relieved to not experience a repeat performance of earlier scary situations. “Hi,” Kara says, unable to resist smiling back. She raises the bags and cup carrier. “I bring grease and milkshakes. Again.”

“Oh thank god, I’m starving,” Lena says, rolling her chair away from her desk and rising into a deep and probably much-needed stretch. Kara very determinedly does not stare at the slight sliver of soft tummy that appears between her blouse and skirt at the motion. “I’ve been staring at this screen for several hours. And Sam called to yell at me- she says hello, by the way- she and Ruby are in town next weekend.”

“Good!” Kara crosses the room to the couch as Lena does, easily spreading out the veritable buffet of fast food she’d brought over the coffee table. “I mean, not good that she yelled at you, or that you’re still at work, Miss Luthor,” she says pointedly, receiving only an unapologetic shrug in response. “But good that, um-”

“I get it,” Lena chuckles, resting a hand lightly on Kara’s knee and boy, if that doesn’t make Kara’s brain go fuzzy and dumb again… “Thank you, for checking in.”

“Of course I was gonna check on you, Lena,” Kara huffs. “Plus, I know you probably didn’t get lunch, so…”

Lena hums around a mouthful of burger, chewing until she can politely speak again. “Well it’s delicious. Did you make it yourself?” she teases with a sly grin.

“Oh, yeah, totally. Slaved away over a hot stove for this- I just wrapped it in Big Belly wrappers so you wouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“Very clever.” Lena pops the lid off of her milkshake and drags a fry through it (an advanced culinary delicacy Kara had horrified her with initially but had eventually become a bit of a guilty pleasure). “Although I have to say, traditionally you’d have to buy me dinner before you grabbed my ass.”

Kara chokes on a pickle. “Oh no,” she groans, dropping the burger onto the wrapper on the table and dropping her very red face into her hands as Lena laughs beside her. She peers out from between her fingers. “I am so sorry, I was just worried about you hitting the pavement and like, catching you in the least jarring way and I wasn’t paying attention to where my hands were and I didn’t even notice until I got back to the DEO and-”

“Well I have so say, I feel a bit offended that you didn’t even realize you were copping a feel...” When the only response is another groan and a deep flush spreading from Kara’s neck to the tips of her ears, Lena relents. “Kara, Kara, it’s fine!” she laughs, pulling Kara’s hands away from her face and giving them a grounding squeeze. “Nia’s been sending me memes about it all day, which has improved my mood significantly. On the grand scale of fallout from assassination attempts, this one was at least funny.”

“I know that’s supposed to be comforting, but all it makes me wanna do is wrap you in bubble wrap forever,” Kara informs her.

“Pass on that. But seriously, don’t worry about it- I know it wasn’t on purpose- unfortunately for me, you’re too noble to do something like that,” Lena laments playfully.

And whether it’s the knowledge that Lena is not, in fact, upset, the overall weirdness that has been this day, or this delicious burger fueling it, Kara feels a bit emboldened. “Hey Lena…”

“Yes?”

“What if I wanted to grab your butt? Just, y’know, as a hypothetical. For future reference.”

Lena quirks a brow at her, fighting a smile as she contemplates this. “Hmm. Strictly hypothetically?”

Kara scoots a bit closer on the couch. “Sure.”

 “Well, you’ve already bought me dinner…”

“And lunch, technically. Even if I gave it to the bad guys.”

“True. Plus you saved my life, so that gets you some points, probably.”

Kara pauses in her sly scooching. “Oh, hey, wait, no, that’s not-” 

“Kidding, Kara. I know you’d never use that to your advantage. I, however, have determined that strong moral fibre and nobility do, in fact, earn you more points, which is my choice on the matter and you get absolutely no say in it.”

“Oh. Um, alright, I think.”

Lena stares off into the middle distance, tapping her forefinger thoughtfully against her chin. Finally she shrugs. “Yes, I think you’re fulfilled the prerequisites for a bit of grab-ass today.”

Kara snorts, Lena laughs, and soon enough Kara takes her up on the offer.

**

“Hey Kara, remember that time you grabbed Lena’s ass and it made international news?” Nia asks around a mouthful of mushu pork.

“You mean last week? Yes, I remember,” Kara drawls. Beside her/halfway sitting on her lap, Lena snorts.

“That was the best.”

Alex glares. “Um, excuse you, no. No it was not. I had to sift through so much thirsting over my sister on like, every social media platform. It was the worst day of my life.”

Brainy’s brow furrows. “Surely that cannot be correct, Alex. Statistically speaking-”

Alex holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Trauma can’t be measured, Brainy.”

Kelly chuckles and presses a consoling kiss to Alex’s cheek, and it makes the tough agent melt into a doe-eyed puddle of mush that Kara snorts. And she says they’re gross... Kara sneaks a glance at Lena from the corner of her eye, and she catches Lena looking at her. She leans close and jostles her gently as she drops her head onto Lena’ shoulder. “We’re never gonna live that down, are we?”

“Probably not.”

“We have the worst friends.” When this elicits nothing but a chuckle, Kara tips her head back to see Lena still looking at her, a soft smile playing at her mouth and shining in her eyes. And like, this whole thing they’re doing is new, with the kissing and the actual dates and the... everything else. But the thing where Kara catches Lena looking at her and she doesn’t look away? That freakin’ knocks her out, every single time. “Hey,” she manages.

Lena grins down at her. “Hi.”

So yeah. Maybe the initial circumstances weren’t ideal, and she doesn’t love the mockery that’s been heaped upon her by all of her friends and loved ones (including Winn, who’d sent a missive from the future that literally just said ‘LOL’). But the fact is, Kara muses as she surges up just enough to kiss the corner of Lena’s mouth, that she doesn’t regret a thing.

[shepherds-of-haven]

Hope you had a fun week !! I was curious how would a trip to the amusement park go for the shepherds?

Thank you so much, it was literally one of the best trips I've ever gone on! :) And ooh, great question! Can you imagine all of the Shepherds going to an amusement park together?? The chaos... 🎠🎡

Blade: amusement parks are probably a bit too loud, crowded, and chaotic for him to be really gung-ho about, but he'd go! He probably wouldn't say too much but would patiently and long-sufferingly go on every ride everyone else wanted to go on... but he's not easily impressed, so you'd go on an intense rollercoaster and glance back and his face would be like 😐 gfldgjfdlg but then once night fell and you got him into one of those haunted houses, he'd get really tense and probably end up punching some poor carnival worker through the mirror maze!

Trouble: amusement parks are HIS JAM, I think he'd go to one on a first date if he could! He'd want to hit up all the most thrilling and intense roller coasters, eat all of the most indulgent, greasiest food, and play all of the carnival games! He 100% would love to show off his skills at those shooting games and win everyone fat prizes. By the time it was time to head back, he'd probably pass tf out in the backseat or on the train home from all of the sugar he inhaled, but he'd be having a grand old time all day!

Tallys: she's Not About that amusement park life, but she'd go along just to please everyone else! I think she'd mostly just be chilling in the under the umbrella of a shaded table in her sunglasses, reading a book or watching everyone else go on the coasters or taking pictures for them (totally of her own accord)! If she's in a more festive mood, I think she'd go for the calmer, chiller rides, like the "It's a Small World"-style boat rides or perhaps renting a tandem bike, something like that!

Shery: she'd be the person who brought a big backpack full of snacks and water and first-aid stuff for everyone else, because she knows Blade is going to need sunscreen but won't bring it on his person himself, and Trouble is going to need water after he almost throws up from the inevitable funnel-cake eating contest with Ayla and Red, and etc.! She'd wear a big sun hat and look very cute, and would be drawn to all the cute stuff at the amusement park, like taking a selfie with the big mascots and the princesses and etc.! She would definitely not want to go on any coasters or intense rides, but she'd be happy to watch on the sidelines with Tallys!

idk why i put that particular gif glfjgldfjgfd i just remembered amagi brilliant park and it made me laugh

Riel: he thinks amusement parks are unsanitary cesspits for howling ape children and plebs, so it would take a LOT of convincing for anyone to get him to go in lieu of just, like, staying home and working. If he were persuaded to go, he would come wearing shades, gloves, and most likely a dramatic scarf or hat, would refuse to touch anything without sanitizing it first, wouldn't sit unless he could perch on his handkerchief, and definitely wouldn't go on any rides, citing horrific accident and injury statistics anytime Trouble called him a baby for not going on the Steel Vengeance: Devil's Thunder 365 ride. He might nibble on some food or annoy some psychics or those carnival barker people who guess your weight or something, though!

Chase: oh boy, if you think his normal energy is high, wait until you see his Amusement Park Energy! He's all over the place, serving as the group's enthusiastic tour guide except he has no idea where he's going and is just picking sights and locations at random, easily distracted by any loud color, sight, or sound that passes his way. He is having a GRAND old time! You have to keep a close eye on him, though, because he might be slipping stray treats off of stalls and turning up with a whole smorgasbord in his hands, conning surly stall workers out of their stuffed animals and passing them to kids on the sly, pretending that his seatbelt isn't working on the worst ride possible just to freak the other passengers out, or pretending to lean and go "whoaaaaa!" against the Ferris Wheel cart just to aggravate Riel's vertigo and Red's panic instinct. He is also definitely the one playing 'matchmaker' and pairing people off to go through the haunted house together, ostensibly also to troll and maximize the memories/drama. It's chaotic but he's the life of the party and everyone is having a great time!

Halek: he's content to just chill and let everyone else have a raucous time. He is particularly interested in the amusement park food and can be found slouched on various benches around the park eating an ice cream cone or slowly chewing a soft pretzel while keeping one hand up to keep the sun out of his eyes. Comically, he has also been found with his overly-tall body slumped over one of the horses on the carousel and crammed into a tiny kid's roller coaster, which is just a scream for everyone else. No explanation for why he felt compelled to ride the Dumbo ride, he just wanted to feel the breeze in his hair!

Red: he is just vibing, looking forward to having a corndog, maybe some shaved ice or cotton candy: basically the normal amusement park experience! He's the type of person to actively collect all of the park brochures and maps, plan out the most efficient route, have an exact itinerary with the best ride times and accounting for lines and rushes... but for the benefit of the group, he could take or leave really any of the rides! He's most interested in the visual displays, like shows, plays, parades, exhibits, and fireworks displays!

Ayla: she's an adrenaline junkie, so she's racing Trouble to get to all of the most extreme rides and screaming her lungs out on the steepest drops and scariest roller coasters. She doesn't have time for any of the sissy stuff, she wants THRILLS! She's the type to be really impatient and want to either cut in line or complain loudly when other people either cut or dawdle. She can get so focused on the next ride that she'll barrel through a mascot, bowl over a princess, or even run through a pack of unsuspecting children!

Briony: she's extremely memory and experience-based, so her number #1 priority is that everyone is having a good time and laughing and making lots of joyous memories. To that end, she wants to do everything and is anxious to cram it all into one day! (This is where Red is very helpful.) She can come off as mother hen-y or bossy by the way she herds everyone to the next destination, but she actually brings order to the chaos and ensures they actually get to do stuff and stay together instead of just scattering to the four winds. She has a very romanticized idea of amusement parks in her head, so she really wants to do things like win a prize at the stalls, sit in the Ferris Wheel and see the fireworks, share an ice cream cone with someone, that sort of thing, and she either gets obsessive (prizes) or disappointed if it doesn't turn out the way she thought (the ice cream splats on the ground, the fireworks are blocked by trees, etc.)!

Lavinet: she's the group photographer and is the one taking pictures of everything, whether or not she's in the actual photos herself. Food and group candid shots feature prominently in her work, which are posted to social media accordingly. She is dressed entirely too posh for the occasion and refuses to go on coasters that could whip her hair around; she also decided to wear high heels, for some reason. She likes doing the fun, kitschy stuff like getting her fortune drawn at the psychic stall or shopping. If the amusement park is attached to a hotel, she is also very interested in spending some time at the spa or pampering herself there!

Caine: it's far more likely that he's at the amusement park with friends of his own age rather than traipsing around with the adults, and he'd be just a little rocket zooming around to all of the rides with a sticky, half-melted stick of cotton candy clutched in his hand and a wad of huge stuffed animals slung over his shoulder!

[sevenstarsinning]

Sweat

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6 - Ch. 7 - Ch. 8 - Ch. 9 Ch. 10 Ch. 11

Chapter 12

The faint sound of birds chirping pulled you from a heavy sleep, forcing you to shy away from the brightness of the sun and turn directly into a broad chest. Your eyes flitted open, curious when Vegeta had returned home and how exactly you got home, but it wasn't Vegeta and you weren't at home.

"Goku?! Fuck." You sat up instantly, recognizing precisely where you were.

"What's wrong?" He sat up with you, immediately on alert.

"What's wrong?! I'm here, that's what's wrong. Why am I in your bed?!" You started to panic.

"You passed out and Kyla said to make sure you got to bed after I dropped her off." He explained.

"She probably meant my bed, Goku. Not yours." You scrambled out of the bed, in full panic at the fact that you'd spent the night with Goku.

"I didn't think Vegeta would like me showing up in your bedroom with you in my arms. Plus, I-I missed having you here." He admitted.

"Goku, I know this hasn't been easy on you, but you can't just-"

"I slept last night. I don't sleep when you're not here." Goku climbed off the bed and stopped you from putting your shoes on, "I don't want you to go."

"Goku, I'm with Vegeta."

"But he doesn't need you like I do. He doesn't want to spend every second with you."

You let out a soft sigh, feeling even more conflicted by the second.

"Goku, I-" Before you could finish your sentence he cupped your face and kissed you.

You pulled back instantly, staring up at him in disbelief, but you couldn't stop yourself. You threw your arms around him and pressed your lips to his again. He pushed you back against the wall, hands gripping your hips as his tongue slipped between your lips. Everything about him was so soft, so sweet and perfect, it was hard not to get wrapped up in him.

"Stay with me. Please?" He begged softly against your lips between kisses.

"I- I can't." You said, feeling like you were breaking his heart all over again.

He stopped kissing you and pressed his forehead to yours, "I know. I just wanted to ask again."

"This was a bad idea. All of it." You admitted.

"I can take you home now if you want?" He stepped back from you.

"That's also a bad idea. We need more time, Goku. I think at least for a while, we should stay apart." As you said the words they almost tore your heart out completely and you could only guess how it felt for him.

"Okay. If that's what you want." He said, barely audible with his head hung low.

The ride home in the cab was heavy, every ounce of your being telling you to go back, to leap into his arms and never leave, but it wasn't that simple. You took a deep breath before you pushed the front door open, almost running straight into the wall of muscle and anger known as Vegeta.

He squeezed past you with nothing but a glare on his face and headed outside.

"Wait, can we talk? I... I'm sorry about not coming home. I started drinking and I ended up passing out," you explained, hopeful he wouldn't ask where you stayed. At least, that's what you thought you wanted until you realized he didn't care enough to ask.

"I'll be home later, we can talk then if you're even here."

"Can't you skip training so we can figure out whatever is going on between us?" You tried to keep calm and not start crying, but the entire fucked up situation was too much to process.

"I'm not training, that ridiculous Bulma woman is making me clean up the mess I made of the gravity chamber last night," he grumbled.

"Wait, what? You're skipping training to help Bulma?" You asked, brow furrowed at how ridiculous the idea was.

"Only so it'll shut her up," he added. The surly prince crossed his arms and let out a heavy sigh.

You knew there was absolutely no reason you should be jealous, or that you even had a right to be, but you couldn't shake the feeling.

"Can I come with you? We can talk on the way."

"No. You'll only slow me down." He shot you down quickly.

"I really want you to stay so we can talk about this stuff." You pushed, needing him to stay.

"Talking got us nowhere last time. I see no point in continuing the process over and over again."

"What other choice do we have, Vegeta? If we don't figure this out... " you trailed off. Neither of you needed to say what you knew was true. Something had to change or the relationship was going to be over before you ever got to fully enjoy it.

"I'll be home later," he said again.

He left without another word. You stood there, feeling empty and alone. You wanted to force him to stay, to hash things out, but honestly, what else was there to say? Your relationship began with him cheating on Kyla and with you fucking his friend.

"How dire is my situation if I'm considering day drinking?" You asked when Kyla answered her phone. Somehow, you had already adjusted to having her in your life as a friend rather than an enemy. Kyla without Vegeta was a drastically different person. Or perhaps you just never saw her as anything more than Vegeta's bitchy girlfriend.

"Well, that depends. If you're drinking right now, I'd say it's pretty fucking dire. At 5pm? Not so much," she answered without missing a beat.

"Damn. That's what I thought." You sighed.

"Dickhead do something?" She asked.

"Kind of, but not really. I spent the night with Goku and-"

"Hold the fuck up. You spent the night where?" She interrupted.

"He didn't take me home last night. We just slept, but we kissed this morning." You wanted to go back to that moment.

"And now Vegeta doesn't want to talk and he's over at Bulma's helping her with something. All of this makes me want to drink." You sighed.

"Fuck, it makes me want to drink." She said.

"I really don't know what to do anymore. I thought I could ignore the feelings for Goku, but they just keep getting stronger."

"If you want to really figure out how you're feeling and what you want, alcohol isn't the best option." Kyla said.

"When did you become the voice of reason here?" You knew she was right.

"When I started letting Yamcha hit it and found out he really is just empty space." She said with full seriousness.

"Apparently we both need a break from the bullshit."

"We've tried that two nights in a row. Both nights we ended up getting trashed with Goku and I'm pretty sure the three of us would've fucked last night on the baseball field if you two weren't hopelessly in love with each other," she said in one breath.

"We're not hopelessly in love." You argued.

"Oh, do you have evidence that you're not?" She shot back.

"Yes, I'm with Vegeta." You said simply.

"You do know that's not really helping your case, right? You can be with someone but still love someone else."

"Okay, well, we aren't hopelessly in love because Goku doesn't understand the concept." You felt like you were grasping at any defense.

"He may not understand the concept, but he understands what he feels, which is complete devotion to you." Kyla said.

"Goddamn it." You sighed.

"We can do this all day but you haven't given me a vaild reason against it. You also haven't mentioned actually being in love with Vegeta either."

"You're relentless, Kyla, goddamn." Your chest heaved and you let out a long, slow breath.

"Yeah, at some point I actually started to care about this shitstorm. Seeing Goku like this really tugs at those annoying heartstrings."

"What if you're right about me and Vegeta? The whole sexual attraction mistaken for feelings thing." You cringed at the mere thought.

"Then you have a choice to make. Stay with him despite knowing there are no real feelings there, or end things as they are before it gets any more complicated."

Everything she was saying was spot on, but you couldn't sift through the feelings without worrying you were wrong or making a mistake.

After your conversation with Kyla you tried to find something else to focus on. You cleaned the house from top to bottom, showered, cooked lunch, and even organized your bookshelf. By the time you finished you'd actively spent your time avoiding the topic of your love life, but the second you sat down, it all came flooding back.

You frantically searched for something else to keep your mind busy, but you came up empty. After collapsing on the couch, you began flipping through the channels on the tv, settling on one of your favorite movies that you'd seen a million times before but still loved. You focused on the movie and the insane chemistry between the two actors, finding yourself getting drawn in to the sex scene as it unfolded. Your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties as you felt yourself getting more turned on by the second.

You closed your eyes and thought about the last time you had sex, how rough Vegeta was with you, how he bit you. Soft moans escaped your lips as your fingers circled your clit. Images of Vegeta crawling up your body, eyes hungrily gazing up at you. You rolled your hips against your hand, Vegeta faded and Goku replaced him. His sweet smile never failed to leave you weak. The way he could  be rough with you and gentle right after was a balance no else could achieve, at least not in your experience. You were already getting close to coming just from the mental image of Goku on top of you, thrusting into you with the perfect amount of force. It wasn't any special saiyan form, just him. That was all you needed.

You bit your lip to hold back the moan, knowing which name you were close to screaming. It was all so confusing and complex. You focused more on how perfectly Goku fucked you, how quickly he'd learned how to work your body to give you the best orgasms. Your fingers moved faster as you neared your release, short breathy moans escaping your lips along with broken remnants of a name.

"Fuck... Goku..." you whimpered as you finally let go.

"Why did you even bother coming back?" Vegeta asked, ripping you away from the very private moment you were having.

Before your brain could process just how bad your next words were going to sound, you blurted them out. "I don't know."

"Foolish human. You don't know what you want- "

"Fuck off, Vegeta. This isn't one sided and you know it," you snapped.

"Don't assume you know what's going on in my head, woman. I was fine with whatever this is, you've been the one ruining it," he shouted back.

"Whatever this is? It's called a fucking relationship, Vegeta. Or maybe it was just sex for you and I was stupid enough to believe it was something more!"

It hurt to watch your relationship with him deteriorate so quickly, but you didn't cry like you expected. You did start to think it was mostly a physical attraction, but that wasn't something you were ready to admit.

"It is something more, you frustrating woman! I want you around more than anyone else on this pathetic planet," he roared, revealing more of his feelings than you expected.

"Then why weren't you here? Why have I spent the majority of our relationship either alone or with your ex?" You stared back at him, waiting for some explosion of anger.

"You chose to strike up that friendship with Kyla, not me. And you were well aware of how I spent my time but you couldn't be satisfied with that." He said.

You stood up and approached him, "I wasn't satisfied with seeing my boyfriend every now and then and having to beg him to stay home. I need more than that, Vegeta." You hated to admit how much you needed reassurance, affection, but it was the truth.

"I'm not going to be the weak, clingy boyfriend you want. You'd think your new friend would've caught you up on that little detail." He said.

"I don't want clingy, Vegeta, I just want  you to be here, at least half the time." You felt like you were begging for basic attention.

"You're the one who pursued me, you wanted this."

"I didn't fucking want this. And I remember you being the one to kiss me first and then fuck me to prove whatever power, dominance thing to Goku."

He made two easy strides towards you, "don't act like you're innocent in any of this. You were jealous of Kyla from the second we started dating and I was no longer looking in your direction."

"Oh I'm far from fucking innocent, I know that." You had been carrying the guilt with you since day one.

"What do you want, woman? Just tell me what you want." He asked.

"I-I don't know anymore. I thought I wanted this, you, but now it just all seems so fucking... fucked. What about you? What do you want?"

"I'm not answering the question for you. You either want to be with me or you don't. It's that simple." He crossed his arms.

"It's not simple though." You shook your head, everything seeming more complex by the second.

"Then I'll make it simple."

In one swift movement, he had your body pressed against his and kissed you like he never did before. You could feel his need, and it threw you off. For a second, you thought it was an accident. But you knew the mighty prince of all Saiyans, if he let that little trace of emotion through, it was because he wanted you to know.

You kissed him back, feeling the ache in your chest growing. You wanted Vegeta, or at least you wanted to want him. Seeing him vulnerable like this was almost too much to take, especially when all it did was make you even more confused. But you continued to kiss him, hoping things would suddenly become clear, that you'd know the answer instantly.

You pulled yourself away abruptly, "I-I don't know. I- this isn't helping. I just need some time to think."

Vegeta's expression quickly turned from a rare softness back into stoic and brooding.

"When you figure out what the hell it is that you want, let me know." He stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

His words echoed through the night, circling your mind as you fixated on them. What did you want? Who did you want? It was a simple question, but there were no simple answers.

You tossed and turned, finally giving up on sleep. You resorted to standing in the living room having fake break up conversations with both of them. That only complicated the process of sorting through your feelings and you were left feeling more confused than you were before. Part of you wanted to work it out with Vegeta. He was willing to show a softer side, something you were desperate for.

Meanwhile, Goku was amazing, affectionate, and he wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable in front of you. There was a third option, your last resort if there was no clear decision. You could distance yourself from both of them. The question was, could you handle the pain of not having either of them?

[kickingitwithkirk]

The Coupon Book Of Love

Summary: Dean and Y/N have a falling out during a hunt and return not speaking. This upsets Jack who decides to help fix their relationship.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Confused Jack Kline, Mentions of Sam and Cas

A/N: for @winchester-fantasies  #winchesterfantasies1000followerschallenge.

Word Count: 2623

Warnings:  fluff, some arguments, ogling of m/f body, necking, mild language, implied sex

Prompt: 10. “I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with.” 

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing fluff so hopefully it doesn’t suck and there was to be coupon photos included but I couldn’t get them the right size and had to delete.

*No beta, all mistakes are mine

*****

Jack Kline was sad. 

Dean and Y/N had returned from a hunt not speaking to each other. This was not completely abnormal for them. Their relationship is one of extreme passions, running hot or cold depending on the day.

It was when Y/N moved back into her old room and Dean started drinking all the whiskey in the bunker they all knew something very bad had happened. Sam tried to find out what had happened but all he could get out of either of them was ask Dean or ask Y/N. 

After Sam retired for the night, Jack went to his father Castiel and asked why do people who are in love like Y/N and Dean hurt each other? 

He said that human love is complicated and had no definitive answer.

Jack could not let them go on like this. Y/N was perfect for Dean, she could help with his highs and lows, make him smile when he was in one of his dark moods and had an off kilter sense of humor that matched his.

So Jack turned to the internet looking for the answer. 

He found all sorts of sites with recommendations how to: repair relationships, muddle through misunderstandings, blogs from magazines like Cosmo on how to fix things with your significant other, spice up your love life, even watching Dr. Phil on YouTube.

But most of the advice given was about vocalizing thoughts and feelings and Dean doesn’t do those things.

Jack starts thinking when they return from a hunt Y/N will say to Dean, “I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with.”  Dean’s eyes always lit up like the displays at Christmas when Y/N asks him for a cuddle. Which is weird because Dean is vocal that he doesn’t cuddle.

Sam teases Dean that Y/N’s secret code for nookie didn’t fool anyone. Dean tells him to shut up while smiling.

Jack shakes his head, is cuddle and nookie the same or are they different things...humans are very confusing.

He’s about ready to quit when he notices a tab for Pinterest that wasn’t closed yesterday and clicks on it. There were a few boards; cooking, pies, vintage cars, pinup girls.

Unlike what Sam is always saying, Dean does use the internet for more than watching porn. 

Jack scrolls around for a while looking at other pins when he sees something. Tapping on the photo he reads the description. He likes the idea presented but it’s not quite right for Dean and Y/N...

...so he comes up with his own plan.

******

The Next Morning

Dean staggers into the kitchen looking for coffee. Lots of coffee after another night spent with Jack, Jim and some wild turkey. Going over to the pot he wonders why Sam hadn't made it after his morning run like usual. Dean sees a piece of paper taped to it with a typed message.

Please go to the library ASAP.

Dean ponders the note while the coffee is brewing and grudgingly heads there after pouring a mug. He is surprised to see Y/N standing by the table looking as tired as he felt. Then he notices a paper in her hand. “Got one too?” He asks, slowly moving to the other side, the table separating them. 

She nods once in acknowledgment.

On the table between them is a letter and two small boxes with their names written on them. Dean slides the letter towards him and reads it out loud.

Dear Dean and Y/N,

I don’t like it when you fight, it makes me sad. You're treating your love as something disposable. I want you to be happy like before and since both of you are stubborn so I’ve come up with a way to help. 

Each box possesses a specifically tailored coupon for each of you with extra, individual instructions accompanying it and must be completed together once a day in order. 

Sam, Cas and I are on a hunt so you have the bunker to yourselves. Have fun.

PS: No peeking ahead-this means you Dean. 

*****

CAR WASH

I can't believe I agreed to do this repeatedly going through Dean's head as he entered the garage after they had opened the boxes and shared their first coupons.

He’s grabbing the paraphernalia kept there for bathing his Baby when Y/N walks in wearing...oh crap...that button down plaid shirt tied up under her bust and those cutoffs made from an old pair of jeans of his that hug her curves just right.

Okay, if that’s how she want to play…game on baby.

Dean hands her a sudsy bucket giving her the look. Y/N blinks perplexed as he walks over turning on the faucet and starts wetting down the Impala. 

She pulls out the sponge and starts soaping down the passenger side as Dean works on the drivers side. They watch each other, quickly looking away when caught.

By the time they meet at the trunk they're both wet, Dean’s t-shirts clinging, accentuating his torso and his jeans have molded to his bowed legs and scrumptious bum. Y/N abruptly hurries to the front of the car.

Dean, smirking to himself, makes the mistake of looking up through the windows. He can see Y/N stretching over the hood as far as she can reach, water and bubbles sliding over the slope of her breasts, nipples pebbled up under the material.

She bends down in front and he quietly steps to his right looking down the side of the car and can see her pert rear swaying in the air as she's scrubbing the grill. Dean reaches over the top of his jeans, pushing down his harding length.

“Okay, she's clean enough, I'll finish up here.” Dean gruffly states. Y/N pops up confused, “Um, are you sure, we haven't waxed yet.” 

Dean feels himself flushing, that’s the last thing he needs right now is Y/N’s breasts bouncing as she's vigorously buffing his...car. “I forgot to get a new can, we’ll do it later.”

“I’ll go get cleaned up and meet you back here in an hour for the next part.” Y/N says as she leaves the garage hips swaying as she walks up the steps. 

“Good thing were not leaving right away.” Dean mutters to himself grimacing at how his wet jeans have become way too constricting.

~~~~

Y/N slid the prepacked basket onto the trunk and shut it, hearing Dean come to a sudden halt and peered over the roof at him, taking in his flushed expression.

“Something wrong?” She inquires.

“I.. uh..I haven't seen you in that in a long time.” Dean stammers out awestruck waving his hand at Y/N’s appearance. Her hairs pinned up in loose waves and dressed in the tea length, off the shoulder summer dress he loves on her.

“Not the most practical thing to wear when chopping off a vamps head.” She quips.

“So, where are we going?” Dean asks, pulling the key out of his pocket.

“I’m to drive us...” she starts, “Nope, not happening sweetheart.” Dean steely interrupts. 

Sighing Y/N walks over, “My instructions say I'm to drive to a predetermined location and I can't tell you where it is so I need the keys,” holding her hand out, “Please.”

Dean clenched his jaw reluctantly handing her the keys and got in the passenger side.

They drove for about an half hour, Dean glaring out the front window the entire time. Y/N turned onto a tree lined gravel road going a quarter mile before stopping. They sit in silence gazing out the front window astounded.

In front of them is an abundantly flowering meadow surrounding a small, private lake. 

Jack couldn't have picked out a more perfect place.

“Sooo...what are we supposed to be doing?” 

Y/N hands him the coupon reading…

ROMANTIC PICNIC

*****          

MOVIE NIGHT                 

Y/N enters the Dean Cave not surprised Dean’s already settled in one of the recliners with pizza, popcorn and various other snacks spread out and a twelve pack Margiekugel cooling in the iced tub between the chairs.

They had spent the day doing various choirs separately around the bunker to give each other some space after yesterday. Y/N admitted to intentionally teasing Dean while washing the Impala and vice versa. During their picnic, something neither of them would ever normally do, they had fun together.

Dean seemed to be enjoying spending time together like they haven’t had much of lately but when they got back he decided to go out for a few cold ones instead of spending the evening in and pissing off Y/N.

“Ready for a marathon of The Man with No Name sweetheart?” Dean smugly asks trying to get a rise out of her. Y/N’s grabs some pizza and settling in the other chair takes a big bite of the meat lovers slice and chews slowly. Dean stares wondering why she hasn’t reacted, well aware Eastwood is not a favorite of hers.

Y/N finishes chewing, fishes a beer out of the tub opening it and after taking a long draw finally glances at Dean and flashes her coupon.

CONTROL OF THE REMOTE

“Sonovabitch,” Dean spits out, sinking in the chair cause knowing Y/N she’ll pick some long-ass, drawn out British dramedy that Sam’s the only one willing to watch with her, “I'm gonna get that Nephilim for this,” he pouts but will never admit he’s actually pouts.

A saccharin smile crosses Y/N’s lips as she takes the remote from him and brings up the menu to select a movie. Dean kills the beer in his hand and grabs another as she continues searching, occasionally clicking on one before going back undecided.

“Will you just pick something so we can get it over with.” Dean surly growls out, opening his fifth beer. Y/N gives him an annoyed huff pressing start. 

Dean jerks upright in surprise at her choice, “Seriously, we're watching...”

“...I don't like spaghetti westerns but seems you forgot I do like slasher films,” Y/N interrupts, “and don't you dare tell Sam, he already thinks I'm off my beam since we got together as it is.”

“Alright and I'll not take that last part as an insult.” Dean happily agrees, snagging the popcorn/M&M’s bowl shoveling in a mouthful as Y/N rolls her eyes, settling in to enjoy an evening of some slice and dice together.

 *****    

HOME COOKED MEAL       

‘’Argh! This is ridiculous, what made Jack think I could cook anything?” Y/N yells at the tablet sitting innocuous on the counter in front of her with the recipe Jack had picked out, taunting her.

Dean stopped in the doorway observing the mess Y/N is making of his kitchen. The flour bag is tipped over one counter spilling on the floor, the cutting board has something green cut into so many different shapes it's unidentifiable, other various items scattered about as the skillet on the stove is starting to smoke.

Then the alarm goes off screeching throughout the kitchen.

“Turn the stove off!” He yells over the alarm rushing over switching the stove off and grabbing a lid to smother the fire. Once it's out he turns on Y/N, “Are you trying to burn the place down? Don't you know not to set the heat on high under oil?”

“Yes Dean, I'm trying to burn the bunker down so I can get out of doing this!” Y/N screeches loudly waving the coupon in Dean’s shocked face.

He's never heard her like this, Y/N is one of those people that nothing outside of hunting makes her lose her cool, it’s one of the reasons he fell for her.

Dean approaches cautiously, reaches out placing his hands on her shoulders and slowly running his hands up and down her arms. “Baby, it’ll be fine but you need to calm down,” softly speaking in the soothing voice he used to use to calm Sam down when he was little and having a nightmare. “Now, what are we fixing for dinner?”

“Salmon Croquettes with wild rice and steamed asparagus.” Y/N glances over at the tablet, “I can’t understand why Jack would give me this, he knows I can’t even boil water outside of a tea kettle and...what do you mean we?”

“You really think Jack would intentionally let you cook anything outside of a bowl of cereal after the Cajun waffle incident?”

“They weren’t that bad.” 

“Sweetheart, we had to buy a new waffle iron.”

 “Alright Guy Fieri, what does yours say?” Dean pulls the coupon out of his pocket.

DESERT NIGHT

“I got your favorites and if you're a good girl,” Dean pauses, licking his lips teasingly, “I’ll let you decide how to devour them.”

*****                           

Dean grabs his jacket off the chair back and heads to the library looking forward to tonight's activities. Well, he’s part of it anyways since Y/N hinted hers was something he never ever did.

Dean steps up into the room and stops dead in his tracks when he sees Y/N sitting at the table in her outfit for evening. 

“Damn sweetheart.” 

“You don’t clean up to bad yourself Winchester,” Y/N remarks as she gets up walking around him, seeming to be mentally undressing him, “and since I don’t know where we’re doing tonight I was thinking that if you play your cards right,” she leans up, her voice husky next to his ear, “you might get lucky.” 

Dean takes his plump lower lip between his teeth and slowly lets it slide out making Y/N’s breath hitch as they stare into each other's eyes.

“So what are we doing tonight?” Y/N inquiries in a slightly breather voice than normal.

DATE NIGHT

Dean slides his arms around her waist, “I was thinking of taking you somewhere you haven’t been in a while,” he leans down kissing along her collarbone, moving up the side of her neck, “depends on what your half of the evening entails.” 

 Y/N retrieves the coupon from her jeans back pocket and Dean groans, dropping his head onto her shoulder.

SLOW DANCE

 “I was thinking we can do what this coupon literally says or we could interpret it a different way.”

 “Okay, I'm listening.” Dean mumbles.

“Well, there was no specific instruction from Jack as to what type of slow dance...” Dean’s head snaps up, his pupils dilating to the point the mossy green color has all but disappeared as Y/N keeps talking about the different types of slow dancing they could try.

“What are you asking?” Dean interrupts, his whisky roughened voice is even more gravelly sounding as his aching with desire.

Y/N walks backwards till her hips bump against the library's table, hops up on it leaning back onto her elbows, “I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with.” 

~~~~

Later that night

“So we agree we're not gonna tell them the real reason for our fight?” Y/N asks as she finishes braiding her shower damp hair, sitting at the foot of the bed. Deans leaning against the headboard with their last two coupons sitting upside down next to his sweat pant clad hip.

“They’ll think it’s stupid, especially Sam,” Dean remarks, “so, you ready to admit that Die Hard is a Christmas movie.” 

“Nope, you're never gonna convince me,” Y/N pronounces as she climbs onto Dean's lap leaning forward to softly brush her lips over Dean's before sitting back and picking up the coupons turns them over...

YOU WIN THE FIGHT  

YOU WIN THE FIGHT

“I think we better hang on to these, ya know, just in case.”

[nat-20s]

ooh can i have some reluctantly soft hcs about jon pre s1-s2? (maybe even some about pride??)

okay so we gettin REAL soft tonight babes!

-so for pride Sasha and Tim have officially formed the Taking Martin To His First Pride Team and all three of them spend like a week going back and forth on whether or not to invite Jon bc a: he’s a bit surly and b: he might?? be the Token Cishet? (he’s neither, but they don’t know that.) and while a token cishet can be supportive of his friends at pride they also don’t know if they?? qualify as his friends??

-There’s a conversation that basically goes like

Tim: im sure even as a straight guy he’d like to at least be invited. Wait. Is Jon straight? Do we know?

Sasha: I dunno. I get a Vibe from him that says otherwise

Tim: really??? but he’s not receptive to my charms???

Sasha: believe it or not Tim not being attracted to you specifically is not a conclusive indication of heterosexuality.

Tim: sources???

Martin: guys he’s..probably straight. even ignoring just, god, statistical probability, i kind of?? want to?? hold his hand???

Sasha: and that means???

Martin: i pretty much only ever get crushes on deeply unavailable men. Hence why Tim does not make me swoon.

Tim: now that just sounds like a challenge. ALSO I’m pretty sure Jon counts as deeply unavailable regardless of whether or not he’s straight. Not exactly the most open person around. 

Sasha: i say we invite him anyway! if he’s shitty about it I’ll make sure his email doesn’t work right for a month! 

Tim: Sasha you terrify me. I love you.

Sasha: 😘

So Tim casually knocks on Jon’s door and is like “hey boss we’re going to pride this weekend would you like to come with?” and Jon goes through a whole Face Journey because while, at this point, he Knows he’s trans, is pretty?? sure?? he’s bi, and is aware of being ace but not of like the word or that other people are Like That, pride is still..a lot. Especially when he’s not out to any of them. Reluctantly he ends up agreeing to come along and actually DOES and it’s good? it’s weird for him but it’s nice. It’s really nice and it feels safe and joyful in a way that he’s not used to. He’s doesn’t pick up any merch but the fact that it exists, that there’s people like him out here and living life? it’s lovely to watch. Doubly so to see his coworkers all having a blast. It’s not like any of the other three are particularly dour at work, but here? the three of them THRIVE.

non pride related

-Before he is just so stressed all the time constantly Jon used to sing to himself quite a lot! You can pry “Jon is a good singer” from my cold dead hands. before he becomes Boss Man he’s willing to keep singing even when a coworker walks in and sasha in particular is like woah! that sounds really nice! After shit goes down he kind of stop singing, which sucks because it’s something he really enjoys but it just. Doesn’t come out anymore. Until Scotland at least. Martin is extremely taken with it. 

-There’s a point where Jon walks in on Tim desperately trying not to fuck up the Other Eye when it comes to putting on eyeliner and after about 7 minutes of struggling because it’s just one of those days Jon is like “jesus christ”, grabs Tim’s face, and applies a FLAWLESS, symmetrical cat eye in like .2 seconds. Tim is DELIGHTEDLY like “Jon what the fuck??? :DDD” and Jon is like “i went to college” even though it explains NOTHING and Martin, who’s been watching this exchange the entire time, is a Touch Starved Gay Icon with the World’s Dumbest Crush who thinks nothing but “jon. Hands. Face.” before saying “I Would Also Like Eyeliner” and Jon is like GROANS you would wouldnt you and then does it anyway. Jon doesn’t realize he cataloged the feeling of martin’s face under his hands until like. two years and one soppy dream later

-Jon establishes himself as a clothing thief in season 1 while martin is staying in the archive. one day he accidentally takes Martin’s hoodie and DOESN’T even notice even though it’s a: blatantly not the cardigan of the same color he thought he was grabbing and b: oversized on him. Martin sees him and is like “is that?? my hoodie??” and that’s when jon finally looks at what he’s wearing and just replies, “Yes.” Martin asks, “Can I..have it back” and since Jon is Pissy and Sleep Deprived and generally not in his right senses and also his animal hindbrain is like hhhg hoodie smell good he flatly responds, “No.” And Martin finds it a very confusing mix of deeply annoying and deeply endearing. 

-other items jon has stolen:

one of roises big ol hair clips

a scarf of sasha’s

a pair of Tim’s pajama pants?? how did he even get those???

Like half of Georgies wardrobe at some point or another

-Before he became archivist, he had a favorite little reading nook in the institute. It was private and sunny and quiet and HIS and he spent many a lunch there without anyone knowing, back when he got to read for fun 

-for all the shit that he tries to give Martin about letting a dog into the institute, over the course of his career there he has temporarily snuck in three different stray cats and also a very sad looking hedgehog because he’s a bleeding heart with the rest of em

-he’s not the best baker but when he DOES manage to make something really well, he would almost always bring it into work to share, with a note listing ingredients and a “feel free to eat” note, but absolutely making sure no one knows it was him that dropped it off. Sasha recognizes his hand writing every time but they have a silent agreement that he always sneaks her the best of the batch and she doesn’t say anything

[kvtyes]

↪ brief introduction to katye jakobson.

BASICS

full name: katye terhi jakobson.  nickname(s): kat, kit-kat ( used largely by her brother to irritate her ).  age: thirty-three.  date of birth: 19 february 1988. zodiac sign: pisces.  place of birth: tallinn, estonia.  ethnicity: white.  nationality: estonian.  gender: cis female. sexual orientation: pansexual.  romantic orientation: panromantic.  religion: she was raised orthodox catholic— she had a confirmation and all but in her adulthood she’s never practiced all that much; the most she does is go to confession on occasion but even then her brother more or less has to put her in a choke hold to get her to do it. occupation: when she’s not being bogged down by royal duties she’s an architect -- her usual projects tend to be renovations to the palace in talinn or their country homes outside of the city.  language(s) spoken: estonian, finnish, english; greek & turkish ( both of which she’s started learning on her own now that she’s been told she’ll be marrying selene if all goes to plan -- she’s not fluent by any means but she learns things quickly ).  accent: she has a fairly thick estonian accent that can and has been mistaken as german or other slavic & finnic based accents which kat tends to roll her eyes at. she tries to enunciate fairly carefully when she’s speaking but when she’s excited or rambling about something in particular her accent can make it a bit difficult to understand her.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

face claim: evan rachel wood.  hair color: blonde ( naturally ); she’s dyed it several colors over the years and at the moment it’s more red than anything.  eye color: blue. height: 5′7″ ; 173 cm.  weight: 120 lbs. build: slim. tattoos: kat’s debated getting tattoos several times over the years but has yet to follow through with anything -- her main consideration at the moment is a tattoo of a grey wolf, the national animal of estonia.  piercings: she has traditional piercings in her lobes, an industrial piercing in her left ear and a helix piercing in her right ear.  distinguishing characteristics: her accent, the way she carries herself, the fact that she’s almost always got a cigarette tucked behind her ear. 

PERSONALITY

label: the black sheep.  positive traits: capable, clever, compassionate, considerate, creative, curious, daring, dedicated, earnest, empathetic, generous, independent, loyal, observant, passionate, protective, reliable, selfless, warm. negative traits: competitive, irreverent, sarcastic, self-conscious. aloof, anxious, crude, haughty, hedonistic, impulsive, timid. goals/desires: to find a way to be happy, to carve out some freedom for herself even within the confines of royal life, to be the sort of person her fiancée can be proud of.  fears: autophobia ( fear of being alone ), losing her brother.  hobbies: teasing her brother, sketching new designs for buildings she’d like to work on, studying architecture, traveling, drinking, going out when she’s in the mood for it, spending time with people she enjoys, flirting with cute people, making a mess of most political situations she’s in, annoying her parents, learning new things, playing chess, reading, building her collection of obscure mythology books.   quirks: she remembers people’s names and faces after meeting them even if she only interacted with them for a few seconds, she gives the contacts in her phone their names in estonian, she’s constantly doodling thoughts on new designs she’d like to bring to life in a small notebook that’s always with her, she tends to talk shit about people in any language other than english -- usually estonian because that comes the easiest but she’ll happily switch between any language she knows if she knows the other person won’t understand. likes: whiskey, cute girls, cute boys, sci-fi films, historical dramas, most foreign films, trivia shows, horror movies, compliments from cute people, her brother, the anonymity of living in big cities, jazz, classical piano pieces, being recognized for her talent rather than her title, sex, good booze, good food, spending time with people who appreciate her as a person, .   dislikes: being taken seriously only because of her title rather than how hard she’s worked to earn respect in certain areas, dealing with most public relations things, long winded speeches, having to attend political functions in general, being talked down to, arguing with her brother. 

FAMILY

father: artur kalev jakobson ; king artur II, colloquially known as the ‘bear of estonia’.  mother: sofia agnesia jakobson née kask.  sibling(s): kalev taevas jakobson ( fraternal twin ).   pet(s): she has a european burmese cat named antoni after antoni gaudi, the architect.  financial status: too rich for her own good. 

HEADCANONS

katye is thirty-three & the older twin between herself and her fraternal twin brother kalev — who has, as far as she’s concerned, always been the more palatable person between the two of them. in comparison to her brother katye is, to put it lightly, something of a disaster -- she has an endlessly short temper and none of the grace her brother possesses when it comes to political engagements and discussions and has absolutely no problem expressing her general annoyance with all of the politicking that comes along with being royalty. she’s aware that she needs to “grow up” -- so to speak -- and a part of her has continued to wonder whether her marriage arrangement is her parents’ way of forcing her to settle down into a version of herself that might be slightly less ornery and difficult for the general public in estonia to grasp and perhaps, though she finds this more difficult to believe, allow her to realize that in spite of her future as queen -- she can still carve out some form of freedom and individuality within her position.

it’s always suited her to be the more negatively perceived of the two of them between herself and her brother and a part of her -- though katye’s reluctant to admit it -- is relieved that earning as much attention as she does allows her brother -- who is far more gentle and far more shy than she is, to stay out of the spotlight as he chooses. away from cameras and the press in general katye’s not spectacularly difficult to get along with -- she’s witty and charismatic and is likely the first person to toss out a self-deprecating joke or quip to relieve any tension in her day-to-day interactions. the generally surly and cantankerous impression she gives the media as a whole is more of an act than anything else and with a bit of patience and occasional, careful prodding -- it isn’t difficult to see that katye is more or less a deeply flawed but deeply loving and ultimately well-meaning woman.

she has a genius level IQ. It’s not something she discusses often ( for the most part only her family knows, because she’s already treated a certain way due to her status as a princess and honestly abhors the thought of being treated even more differently due to that ). she studied to become an architect when she was in school and was quietly on her way to working with a firm properly by the time she was being relocated. she tends to use her fairly active mind to manipulate her way in and out of situations ( she’s very, very good at talking herself out of trouble and takes full advantage of it when she can ).

she’s a fairly outgoing person underneath the sheen of frustration and general surliness she’s working with right now; she’s an incredibly loyal and kind person at her core, and though it can be difficult for people to stick around long enough to sort out those parts of her she does have a few very close friends who seem to have had no trouble digging down to the heart of her.

she has absolutely no qualms about sleeping with anyone she finds even remotely attractive. she doesn’t quite know how to have a relationship with anyone ( as she’s not sure how to broach the subject of someone actually having to deal with what a train-wreck she is for an extended period of time ) but she craves attention and affection and sex is a decent enough way for her to get that. it’s something she’s trying to avoid entirely now that she’s in the same place as her future wife and as nervous as she is about being found lacking in her fiancée’s eyes she does want to make a positive impression and build a positive, meaningful relationship.

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Footie 7

previously on Footie

By the time the the skies cleared, the world warmed and shook off the rust that accumulated during the long, wet winter. Gone were the obscenely heavy and low clouds, and in their place, puffy white things lazily drifted along while the chill in the air lessened with new sunlight streaming through fresh leaf growth on winter-blown branches. 

The streets were fresh, the people alive and streaming out into them with new vigor to chase the first hints of warmth and yellow sunshine on their cheeks and faces, an entire city with their eyes tilted upwards, sighing happily and distracted from real life with moments of humanity peppered back from the dismal sorrow of the autumn months. 

It was a beautiful spring. It was going to be one for the books, with flowers filling sidewalks and spilling out from cracks in sidewalk. 

There wasn’t a set schedule, or at least one that kept for very long. But there was a rhythm to the day, even without a harmony. It was impossible to keep up with everything, but Clarke realized she was just going to have to live her life a week at a time. 

Lexa had her own routine, made even more difficult by travel. While Clarke found herself making her way to Lexa’s place between games and training and her own school assignments and workdays. 

But it worked. The timing of it all, of the season and the year and the life-- it all just seemed to completely work. And for reasons not completely explored, Clarke realized she appreciated the timing of it all because it meant that Lexa wasn’t around and she could take it slow, something her mind just didn’t think about near her. 

“She looks good out there today,” Jake nodded as he reclined, coming over a cold that left him mildly irritated by almost anything. 

If anyone was not built to grow old, it was Jacob Griffin, head coach and Hall-of-Famer. Surly and annoyed by the inconvenience of illness, he grunted and watched the game with the same vigor as someone who was still coaching. 

“She always looks good,” Clarke smiled slightly as she continued to balance her gradebook for the semester so far. 

“I mean she’s really putting work in. The team’s at the top of the board and I think they have a good enough chance of staying there to win.”

“Lexa’s so precise and focused. It’s oddly contagious.” 

“I have some good news for the Olympics.” 

“What’s that? You’re going to get the permission to come?” 

“Better. That’s the way!” he cheered as Lexa took a shot from deep, burying it deep in the net for the first goal of the scoreless half. “Hell of a shot.” 

“It’s me. I’m lucky in this jersey.” 

“That must be it.” Clarke watched her father chuckle at the notion before shaking his head and leaning forward to watch the replay a little better. Gone was the deep wheat-color of his hair and now it was replaced with a little more salt. He was still fit, perhaps more gaunt than before because of the treatment. Deep beneath it all, a bit of life still existed despite all else. 

“So what else was it? You’re coming to Tokyo?” 

“I was invited to commentate.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah, seriously,” he rolled his eyes, his good mood coming around despite how he felt. “Some people still like to listen to me.” 

“I can’t relate.” 

“I can’t believe they’re going to let me commentate. I have to practice being impartial. How am I going to root for Lexa and the home team but not actually root for anyone?” 

“Are you kidding me?” Clarke scoffed. “Any chance for you to talk about soccer nonstop, and you won’t be able to shut up let alone root for anyone.”

“That’s true,” he nodded. 

“Are you going to be good to go?” 

“I think so. Other than this cold, I’ve been doing well. Plus, after the clips of me and Lexa went viral-- is that the word?” he waited until his daugher nodded. “Once that happened, I got a lot of emails with different offers.” 

“Mom’s okay with it?” 

“She encouraged it.” 

“Must be sick of you just laying around the house.” 

“Or she really wants to go to Japan.” 

Clarke found herself smiling, happy that her father sounded happy despite his annoyances. She was grateful to have a new appreciation for his love of the sport. They sat on the couch together, and Clarke leaned against her father’s side. He put an arm around her and started to couch coach well into the second half. 

In a completely different city, Lexa sprinted across the field, her footwork weaving the ball through three defenders before she got the shot off to the top right corner. With a punch to the air, she slid on the grass and was adored by teammates and cheered by the stadium. 

There was something poetic about watching someone do something that brought joy to the universe. Lexa was often the first person to diminish what she did, but she couldn’t see this part, the part that Clarke saw when she watched her father disect a play, or when the player on the field disappeared and floated, not one ounce of focus to be spared for anything else other than breathing and scoring, and even then the brainpower reserved for breathing was minimal. An entire brain worked to score, to move, to be precise and exact. 

Clarke smiled as she watched, proud of her girlfriend, proud of the girl who bashfully asked her out and now, who she was finding was awfully silly and very smart and quiet. If she wasn’t mistaken, sh might have even guessed that she loved the soccer player. 

“I’m going to meet Lexa’s sister,” Clarke muttered. “And her niece.” 

“When are they coming?” 

“Next week, for finals.” 

“Well, you’ve been dating for nearly a year now. Might as well as get it over with, right?” 

“I’ve never met anyone’s family.” 

“It’s not that bad. You’re a good person. Anyone would be lucky to have you date their sister or daughter or aunt or granddaughter or neighbor.” 

“You have to say that.” 

“I do,” he agreed, squeezing her shoulder. “But I also mean it.”

“I like her a lot.” 

“I figured.” 

“I don’t know if we’ve self-determined things, but I thought it was a joke, when we said it was fate, but I don’t know. Sometimes I think it is.” 

“Everything is a bit of fate, Clarke. At least the big things in life,” Jake explained, as if it was something he remembered he should have taught his daughter long ago. “Good or bad or indifferent. You and Lexa orbited each other, and then BAM, you can barely remember life without her.” 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

“It’s not a bad thing, to spend your life with someone else.” 

“You just really want me to date her because she’s a soccer goddess.” 

“It doesn’t hurt.” 

Clarke rolled her eyes and clapped as Lexa got a foul, righting herself quickly and preparing to take her kick, all business, hair stuck to her forehead and neck, body drenched with sweat. It wasn’t even a game she had to win, but still demanded to play. 

“They’re going to love you, darling,” the coach promised again after the shot went wide by a few inches and the camera flashed back to Lexa’s tight jaw and groan of complaint for failing to score again. 

“Thanks.” 

“Now tell me I’m going to do a good job as an announcer.” 

“You can’t ask for reassurance like that. You’re Jake fucking Griffin.” 

“You’re right.” 

“But you’re going to do great. I already know it. I can’t wait to watch you and Lexa.” 

“I have to start preparing, watching older footage, scouting players-- there’s a whole slew of things to make sure I know the most.” 

“I’m not going to help you study. I get my fill of soccer with that one,” Clarke decided as she nudged her chin at the screen. 

“Speaking of, is she going to offer me tickets to the championship or do I have to outright ask?” 

“Dad, seriously?” 

Jake just shrugged and took a sip of his secret beer, grinning to himself. In moments like this he found himself almost tolerant of cancer. Almost. Because he wasn’t sure he’d ever spent so much time with his daughter, and here they were, watching a game and talking about things of substance, of fears and frustrations and goals and victories. It was moments like that, in which he could almost respect fate. Almost. 

XXXXXXXXXXXX

“I’m so happy you’re here. It’s not even funny,” Lexa grinned, silly and happy in the beautiful day. 

There was a kid on her shoulders, hands beneath her chin, surveying the world from the perch. Her sister walked beside her, enjoying the spring sunshine and the feeling of her sister showing her around a city she’d never been to before. 

“Not because you just won the championship three days ago or because you’re set to fly back with us for training camp?” 

“Or because of the ice cream?” Mia added helpfully. 

“Maybe a little the ice cream,” she nodded and took another lick of her cone. 

It’d been a whirlwind of two weeks, and for the first time, Lexa felt as if she could finally breathe. Gone were the nerves of playing on such a large stage. Gone was the unsettled feeling that came from traveling so much. Gone was the weight of an entire city on her shoulders and it allowed her to inhale and hold it before slowly exhaling, savoring the warmth of the day and the aura of the street. 

“She’s absolutely in love with this place,” Anya observed as she watched her daughter taking in all of the sights. 

“You’ll have to come visit me more, how does that sound, Mia-Girl?” 

“I’m not allowed to fly on a plane alone.” 

“I guess your mom can come too.” 

“Are we going to watch more soccer?” 

The sun began to set behind the buildings, while a few people recognized the athlete, interrupting to ask her questions an utterly gush. It was something her sister and niece got used to being around. 

“No more soccer. You didn’t like my game? There was all the confetti and balloons.” 

“But it is so long. It takes so many minutes to play, and I get very tired and bored when you don’t have the ball or score points.” 

“You make a good point.” 

“I like it better when we go to see the castle and that fun science museum and stuff.” 

“I liked that stuff too.” 

“We miss you at home,” Anya explained as they made their way to her sister’s place, oddly proud of the beautiful place she found for herself, and more relieved with the circle of friends she made. 

“I miss you sometimes.” 

“Just sometimes?” 

“Yeah,” Lexa grunted as she pulled the kid from her shoulders as they made their way to the elevator. “But forget that. You guys can help me pack.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

Even from the hallway, Clarke could hear the noises of a family laughing from behind Lexa’s door. It was a sound she almost got used to experiencing over the past two weeks, with Lexa’s sister and niece in town. It was a much more welcomed sound that the roar of the crowd at the championship, or the people calling her name in the street when she was out with her girlfriend ever since. It was certainly better than the multiple phone calls she got from her mother fretting about her father’s deal to commentate in Tokyo. 

Naturally, Clarke was worried about her father, but seeing him come back to what he loved, even just at the game the one time, was more than enough to prove to her that he needed it more than anything else. 

Even after spending a whole game and a few trips around town together, Clarke was still slightly nervous about spending time with Lexa’s sister, as if every time she did, she waited for the inevitable call from Lexa that said she’d considered it and it wasn't going to work. Anya was stoic and tough to read. It was almost comical for Clarke to think of how Lexa seemed practically animated beside her poker-faced sibling. 

But the call never came, and Clarke had to remind herself to not be so ridiculous. It was absolutely silly to think Anya had any reason not to like her. 

And so she knocked. 

“Hey,” Lexa greeted, easy and happy and with a dish towel on her shoulder as she dried her hands. 

The thoughts were gone and Clarke remembered the girl who walked around town in the middle of the night just to talk to her and prolong a date. 

“It smells really good.” 

Clarke leaned forward and kissed her girlfriend at the door. She pushed her hand against her chest, laying it flat there while she tasted her for a moment, the wine still tart on her tongue, soft and sweet before going further into the house.

“You smell really good,” Lexa retorted with a floppy smile. “How was your day?” 

“Long, but okay. The sun is out so the kids are itching to burn off the winter energy.” 

“I can barely keep up with one, let alone a whole herd like you do every day. I don’t know how you do it, Griffin.” 

“Well, when a mediocre salary and lackluster benefits package rolls up to your door with the promise of weekends off and a pack of thirty primary-aged kids, any sane person would jump at that kind of career opportunity.” 

“When you put it like that…” 

“It was a good day, just long,” Clarke chuckled. “What’d you guys get into?” 

“Mia made me take her to the park, and we watched a puppet show, and played on the late.” 

“Don’t forget the ice cream and the shopping,” Anya supplied, sitting at the counter with her glass of wine as Clarke followed the soccer star into the kitchen. “Lexa hates shopping, unless it’s for toys to spoil a kid with.” 

Slightly guilty, she just shrugged and picked up her spoon to stir something on the stove. 

“We may have done a little shopping,” she agreed. “Nothing too crazy.” 

“We’ll see when the packages start to arrive at home.” 

They bickered in a way that Clarke didn’t understand-- sisters. It was a concept she understood inherently, but in practice was beginning to see how inept she’d been at truly learning the full notion of having someone like that. She had close friends, friends she’d give a kidney to, friends she’d die for, friends she couldn’t live without, but there was a bit of a shared history between the sisters, a legend and lore, that transcended some of what Clarke considered to be her dearest confidants. 

“Grab a glass, join us. Anya picked out a nice red on her own excursion today.” 

“A girl after my own heart,” Clarke nodded approvingly as she reached for a glass to pour a much deserved drink. “If those two were left unsupervised, what did you get up to today?” 

“Just a little bookkeeping,” Anya murmured over her glass as she flipped through a stack of papers. “My sister is hopeless at any of this stuff and refuses to listen to anything her agent suggests unless I read it first, like I have some kind of law degree or something--”

“You could and should,” Lexa interrupted. “She has better instincts than I do. I love Indra, but at the end of the day I’m a collection of numbers and commas and dollar signs. I trust Anya to give me her hoenst opinion.” 

“Because you don’t pay me.” 

“Exactly. If I paid you, then the integrity of the process would be ruined.”

“Can’t have that,” the oldest sighed and flipped and drank.  

“She acts like she gets annoyed, but the moment I make a decision without asking her, and all hell breaks--”

“Don’t you start! You signed a deal to move across the entire world. That warranted a bit of a freak out--”

“That was one time and it turned out okay. It truly is a great opportunity, and you even admitted it--”

“You got lucky and I still don’t like it. Someone breaks your heart and you key their car, not impulse trade yourself--”

“It wasn’t impulse. You knew it was an option for months.” 

Like a ref at a tennis match, Clarke looked at each of them lobbing facts and histories at the other. None was bitter, and in fact most seemed almost comical to them as they argue the finer points of indignation. Clarke took a large gulp of her wine. 

“As I was saying,” Anya ignored the rebuttal and explained it to Clarke as her little sister went back to the stove. “We have a system in place for a reason.”

“If you could not trade yourself to another continent, I would appreciate it,” Clarke muttered, earning a grin. 

“I don’t know, this offer to come back home doesn’t look so bad.” 

“I just won a damn championship and unpacked the last box. I think I’m set,” Lexa shook her head and held a spoonful for her girlfriend to taste. “Plus, what do I need money for? My sister works for free.” 

“I’m going to bill Indra my hours as a freelancer.”

The squabbling remained at the same level, but Clarke began to hear the love woven throughout, and as much as Lexa couldn’t admit it, sparring with her sister was her love language, and Clarke was almost certain it was the same for Anya. The only question now, was how did she survive it.

XXXXXXXXXX

“I’ll clean up in the morning,” Lexa offered as her sister began to pile plates in the kitchen.

“Oh, I know you will,” her sister grinned, her cheeks slightly tinted with the drink they’d gone through during dinner. “It was nice to see you again, Clarke.” 

“Good to see you, too.” 

“I’m going to check on the ki and head to bed. Tomorrow we’re going to the art museum and I need to start to taking naps to keep up with a first grader.” 

“And I’m taking them to that diner we like by the station.” 

“Get the potatoes. You’ll love them.” 

“I’m going to gain seventy pounds visiting this damn country,” the oldest complained as she made her way down the hall with a wave over her shoulder. 

The dining room seemed a little more empty all of a sudden, slightly quieter now that the third of the dinner party was gone in search of sleep. Lexa smiled and sipped her wine before looking at her girlfriend, the first time they’d been alone in what felt like months. 

The eyes never changed, Clarke realized, as she adjusted slightly in her chair, pulling a leg up and balancing her cheek on her knee. Quietly, they looked at each other. Neither speaking with words. 

“You look beautiful,” Lexa offered, cocking her head slightly as she played with her glass. 

“You look like a champion.” Clarke earned a chuckle and slight blush. “Your sister was so proud. And Mia was screaming. I wish I had it on video. They’re very proud of you.” 

“Anya loves you, by the way.” 

“I don’t know about that.” 

“She does. She was worried about me falling for you. I think she might be ready to beat you up if you break my heart, but she likes you.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” 

Lexa nodded, dreamy and mildly intoxicated from the food and the wine and her beautiful girlfriend and her wonderful family and the fact that she had a championship ring on the way and the fact that she was going to represent her country. 

“I should head home,” Clarke sighed after looking at her phone and sliding it on the table. 

With monumental effort she pushed herself up and stood while Lexa refused to move except to take another sip. She made it a few steps before a hand grabbed her wrist. 

“You should stay.” 

“Your family is here.” 

“I miss you.” 

Puppy dog eyes followed and Clarke allowed herself to be pulled down into a lap. She missed her girlfriend’s smell, she realized. She missed how she felt and looked at her, and as much as they’d seen each other, it felt almost new again, a comfortable kind of same that was just renewed. 

“You’re a busy lady.” 

“You’re my favorite way to spend time,” Lexa promised. “You’re just so… so… I like you.” 

“They leave in a few days, and then you’ll be gone.” 

“I’ll see you in Tokyo,” she promised. 

“I know.” 

It was a little bit of a lie. Clarke was aware of the schedule after getting her hopes up to see her dad when he was in tournaments as a kid. But she knew Lexa would be busy for most of it, and it wasn’t about her. It was about support, as much as it killed her to not scream for more. She’d never dated an actually talented soccer player before, but she knew the role. 

“Stay tonight,” Lexa whispered again, kissing her shoulder. 

“You have plans tomorrow morning.”

“Come with us. I need you tonight.” 

“You’re just tipsy and needy right now.” 

“Yeah,” she shrugged, her lips half pulling up in a mischievous grin. “I need you tonight.” 

Clarke moved her hands, rubbing them up her girlfriends chest, over her shoulders and to her neck. She ran her thumbs along the corner of the soccer players jaw, staring at her lips before meeting her eyes, debating what to do. There really wasn’t much to think about because they both knew what she was going to do. 

“I need you to take a week off so we can celebrate all of your accomplishments.” 

“There’s never enough time. I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much as I’d like--”

“I knew what I was getting into, somewhat.” 

“Once you realized who I was.” 

“Yeah, after that.” 

Clarke sighed and leaned forward, tenderly kissing her girlfriend, savoring the feeling of the quiet and the night and the world when they were allowed to exist together. She hadn’t thought about anything else on the planet except for them, together.

“You going to make it worth my while if I stay tonight?” 

There wasn’t much of a word uttered, but Clarke got her answer.

NEXT

[chilling-seavey]

Amoureux (c.s./d.s.) - Chapter Fourteen

A/N Song for this chapter is Slow Dancing in the Dark by Joji. The lyrics are too real for this story and the vibes are immaculate. 

A/N2 This is a bit spicy...proceed with caution...

The ballroom was set up with long tables dressed with white linens and the most expensive china for the dinner party the following afternoon, the butlers spending the entire day preparing the event to be perfect. Daniel was kept out of the palace as everyone knew he would some how cause havoc on the preparations for his own enjoyment – or at least that’s what they expected him to do. Recently, Daniel was too preoccupied to even think about his usual little pranks on the palace workers, too hung up on a certain French princess and how to get his brother gone.

Jonah was supervising the youngest two children by the pond, annoyed that his formal duties now seemed to be down to simply being a babysitter. He was surly not impressed with it. Even still, he sat and read as Anna played pretend among the trees, trying to get Daniel to join who was too busy daydreaming as he stared across the pond to where Christian and Louisa were riding the horses.

“Jonah.” Daniel finally spoke, trying to push his little sister away who was tugging at his arm.

“Yes, Your Royal Highness?” Jonah answered without looking up.

“What would happen if Christian didn’t want to marry Louisa anymore?”

“That is not an option.” Jonah said.

“But what if he said I could marry her instead?”

The older man finally looked up from his book with raised eyebrows and he titled his glasses down his nose to peer over at the boy.

“Dani, please!” Anna whined, smacking her hands against his shoulder.

“Go away, Anna. I’m having a conversation.” Daniel gave her a small shove and she fell backwards onto the grass. She simply glared at him and got up with a huff before stomping off.

“Did he say something to you?” Jonah asked.

“No, no. Just wondering.” Daniel shrugged. “Would I be King then?”

“No. You would not. And Louisa would no longer be on her path to becoming Queen. You would be Duke and Duchess.”

Daniel hummed in response, picking at the grass under his feet.

“You would only be King if Christian abdicated the throne or passed away. You would be next in line to the throne.”

“Oh, I don’t want to be King.” Daniel shook his head as he glanced back over at Jonah. “I’m not stuck up enough for that role.”

“Stuck up? I would not say that one would have to be-“

“Christian would be a good King.” Daniel continued, glancing over at the couple far across the grounds. “I guess.”

“May I ask what is with the sudden inquiries, sir?”

“Nothing in particular. Just wondering.”

“You will be assigned a bride when you turn twenty as well, Your Royal Highness. Do not fret. Your time will come.”

Daniel frowned.

“Daniel!” Anna wrapped her arms around his neck. “Please play with me!”

“Alright, alright.” Daniel grumbled and got himself up from the grass, letting his little sister pull him into the trees to be bossed around to her crazy rules in the newest game she just made up.

~~

Louisa cleaned up from horseback riding in plenty of time for the dinner party, Mary helping her into a dark blue down with a deep neckline and puffed sleeves that sat off the shoulder, her hair set in its usual curls down her back and her bangs tied back from her face with a matching blue ribbon. The Royal Family was led into the ballroom together, standing to welcome each guest to their event before everyone took their seats, Louisa tucked securely on Christian’s arm. At the table, Christian was across from Louisa as usual, sharing his gentle smiles to her as often as he could. Daniel was still on Louisa’s right, just like in the dining room set up, and he had to smother his smug smirk into his glass at the luck of it all, a smug smirk that no one would have caught onto anyway but the secrecy of it all was thrilling.

After his little escapade with the letter, Daniel had expected her to turn him in but her nearly eager response was pleasantly surprising. They found themselves slipping letters under each other’s bedroom doors before supper which was the perfect time to not be caught, giving them something a little daring to read before bed. Daniel and Louisa were both young at only sixteen, both sheltered and unsure of the realities of adulthood, but to them, their few arguable love letters were more than enough to keep the risk of their little ‘relationship’ heightened to the point of exhilarating.

The dinner party was the last place either of them wanted to be really. Christian was head of conversation as his father, the two of them leading a discussion of recent parliamentary goings on, especially regarding America’s Revolution which they were still feeling ripple effects from. Louisa simply focussed on her meal, trying not to let her mind wander too far. It was difficult, however, with Daniel sat beside her, close enough that she could smell his cologne and nearly feel his warmth, wanting to sneak off from the table in the middle of the meal. She could only hope that Christian would turn the attention to her to get her mind out of where it truly didn’t belong.

Her wish was granted as everyone turned to look at her, Christian’s beaming smile making her hesitate mid-bite of her meal.

She glanced around shyly, “I am sorry. What was the question?”

“Are you looking forward to the wedding?” Christian repeated one of the guest’s questions.

“Oh, yes, very much indeed.” Louisa grinned, straightening up in her chair a bit more. Christian smiled at her. “It is hard to believe that the day is almost upon us.”

“Only three more weeks.” The Queen added. The table filled with excited exclamation, all of the guests to be present on the wedding day itself.

Louisa nearly startled at the hand on her thigh and she resisted the urge to look at Daniel in fear of giving him away. The weight of his hand on her lap was comforting and agonizing all in the same and she dropped her right hand under the table to slide her fingers into his. The conversation continued; Christian, as usual, taking the lead as she sat back and simply listened. Daniel kept his hand in hers as they continued eating, Louisa thankful for being left-handed at a time like that as to not be found out by something as minuscule as suddenly switching hands mid meal. She kept her focus on Christian across from her as Daniel’s thumb rubbed soft patterns over her skin. She glanced at Daniel casually, meeting his cheeky smile for a brief second before looking away again.

He gave her hand a squeeze before sliding his fingers out of hers to set back on the table. Louisa couldn’t deny she wished he didn’t move away and it took a lot to keep herself from reaching back over to take his hand again.

The night was long and terribly boring after a while, Louisa and Daniel sitting beside each other in silence, Daniel’s usual remarks too used up to even be funny anymore and they just stared at the wall blankly, offering polite responses and smiles when they were spoken to. When the dinner concluded, the guests were ushered outside to their carriages with formal goodbyes from the Royal Family who saw them off.

Christian and Louisa said their private goodnights to the family once they were back inside and he set his hand on her back as he led her upstairs to bed after the long evening festivities. They stopped outside her bedroom door and he took her hands in his.

“I wish we could have spent more time together tonight.” he whispered to avoid his voice carrying across the hallways and down the grand staircase they were stood nearly right beside. They didn’t notice Daniel watching them from the landing, tucked behind the banister.

“Me too.” Louisa smiled gently, giving his hands a small squeeze.

“You looked absolutely breathtaking tonight.”

“Thank you.” Louisa blushed, welcoming his lingering kiss to her lips. He pulled back just as quickly and she dropped her gaze to the carpet.

“Sleep well.” Christian said, letting his hands fall out of hers as he headed across the palace to his own bedroom.

Louisa sighed deeply and ran a hand through her hair, her expression nothing but uncertainty and a bit of heartache that Daniel caught from his hiding spot. He watched her head into her room and close the door quietly behind her.

Mary was already in Louisa’s room with the fireplace lit and the wash basin and everything prepared for her to get ready for bed. The lady in waiting helped untie the princess’ hair and brush it out in front of the mirror and helped her out of her gown and hung it up as Louisa got into her white nightgown. The women spoke softly about their days and what happened, Louisa talking about her ride with Christian around the grounds and how she was getting more comfortable on horseback and even bit him in a bit of a race although she was sure he let her win. She didn’t feel quite ready to go past a steady trot yet.

When she was washed and changed and ready for bed, Mary said her goodnights and left the princess alone for the night. Louisa glanced around the room for a new letter but found none so she carried her single candle over to her night table and set it down as she got into bed for the night.

She hadn’t even had time to blow out her light before her door was opening slowly. Louisa stayed silent in slight fear as she held the candle out in front of her to try and see through the dark room to who was coming in.

“Just me.” Daniel whispered, shutting the door behind him and rushed over to the foot of her bed.

“Dani, what are you doing here?” Louisa asked softly, pulling the sheets higher over her as she sat in her nightgown. Men were definitely not allowed to see women in their nightwear, and she found herself quite embarrassed as he stood at the foot of her bed with his own candle, staring at her.

“I missed you.” Daniel climbed carefully onto her bed, kneeling on the end with the burning flame held in his hand.

“You should have come earlier. I am in my nightgown.”

“I am too.” Daniel giggled, looking down at himself dressed in his own white bedclothes.

He shuffled up closer and leaned over her to set his candlestick holder next to hers on the bed side table before sitting down next to her against the pillows. The candlelight flickered warm dancing shapes over his soft features and Louisa couldn’t help but let her gaze drift over his face, how his hair was a bit of a mess and falling over his forehead, light eyes wide and full of thrill from the secrecy of his little adventure to get to her, and his lips just as perfect and pink and alluring as always. Louisa took a deep breath and looked forward again, twisting the diamond ring around her finger nervously.

“Are you staying here tonight?” she asked softly.

“If I am permitted by you.” Daniel answered.

Louisa licked her lips as she looked back to him, feeling him close to her as he was curled up facing her on top of her bedsheets. She nodded, biting back a cheeky smile as he grinned at her and shuffled under the blankets with her. A strange feeling was burning in her chest, her eyes drifting past him to her desk drawer that housed his few letters, the words feeling more than a bit of a youthful and silly fantasy now. She felt more drawn to him than ever, shuffling closer to push her lips against his before she could even second guess it.

Daniel raised his hand to her cheek to keep her close, smiling into it as she kissed him strongly, her hand setting against the mattress beside him to keep her upright as she was leaned in towards him. They stayed like that a while, hung up on each others lips like always, until Daniel was slowly sliding an arm around her waist and rolling them over. Louisa fell back softly against the fluffy white bedsheets and down filled pillows, staring up at him with slight uncertainty but still nothing but desire in her face.

“This okay?” Daniel whispered.

She nodded, breathing out a soft, “yes” as she pulled him down to kiss her again.

The feeling of him on top of her was strangely comforting, her arms wrapping themselves around his body to hold him close as he kissed her like his life depended on it. The dark, candlelit room was filled with the sounds of their deep kisses and the ruffle of sheets as they slowly and carefully stripped out of their nightwear.

It was a mess of kisses and soft apologies and awkward shifting and plenty of blissful giggles, the two sixteen-year-olds too wrapped up in their reckless love and thrilling secrecy to even worry about the awkwardness of it all. Their eye contact was nearly unbreakable, their noses touching lightly in close proximity and soft kisses shared when their lips would brush. The candlelight flickered off the diamond ring still on Louisa’s hand that was tangled in Daniel’s dark hair, sending small stripes of warm light across the bedroom walls.

His name falling from her lips was Daniel’s favourite sound, more than any piece by Mozart or Bach or even Boccherini; if only he could have her and her beautiful soft voice, it would be the only music he would need for the rest of time.

Louisa was never one to truly live in the moment, always hung up on one thing or another in the back of her mind, but in that very moment she was only focussed on Daniel and how she wanted nothing else but him.

When the candles burnt out and the sheets and pillows were a mess on the bed, the two young lovers were laid side by side curled up, breathless, in each others’ arms. They shared small kisses and gentle touches, as if they couldn’t still get enough of each other, before finally drifting to sleep.

[shy-marker-pliers]

High school AU thingamabob

Dark

17 year old senior

class president and is kinda high and mighty about it tbh

“yes i know student council can’t really make any changes without the input of the superintendent but IM THE PRESIDENT AND YOU’RE NOT SO SUCK MY DI-“

does sound/lights for all the shows the school puts on

dating wilford and no one knows how or why they’re together

had a deep as hell voice and a beard the second he hit puberty

takes every ethics/psychology class he can

wants to be a lawyer

that one kid that everyone fears but is actually kinda chill if not a little surly

wears a collared shirt and tie to school every day and would totally get made fun of for it if he wasn’t terrifying

listens to classical music unironically

“oh my god i’m so going to fail this test” *proceeds to get the highest grade in the class*

protector of the gays™️

person: *says something mean to a student because they’re lgbtq+*

Dark: *teleports in front of said student* omae wa mou shindeiru

Wilford

19 year old senior

Yes he still has the mustache

doesn’t give a fuck about what anyone thinks of him

deadass wore a dress to school after one of his friends got made fun of because she wore a suit to a school dance

b u f f a s h e l l

could bench press a teacher if he really tried

on the cheer team

“no i’m not wearing pants, this miniskirt makes my ass look great!”

everyone’s bodyguard

usually attracts a crowd of nervous underclassmen

has mild dyslexia

tol

gives his friends piggyback rides

president of the drama club

works hard enough in school to pass his classes but that’s pretty much it

sleeps in class

Bim

15 year old freshman

vice president of the drama club

wilfords shadow

first freshman to help run the drama club and shoves it in everyone’s face

shouts his gayness from the rooftops

secretly super insecure

loves plants and helps out in the schools greenhouse

named all of the plants but if you tell anyone he’ll stab you

gets mostly B’s and C’s

has mild ocd but not enough to affect him severely

talks like a game show host cause he thinks it makes him sound attractive

it doesn’t

Google(s)

16 year old juniors

identical quadruplets

they have to wear different colors every day or else no one knows which one is which

they’re called the googles because their backpacks match the colors of the chrome logo and they’re super smart

straight A 4.0 GPA students but Oliver has to try a little harder than his brothers

all of them are in the robotics team except for ollie

Blue works on programming and red and green are on the build team

Ollie is the sweetest day of sunshine to ever exist and everyone loves him

he’s basically adopted Eric as his lil bro

tutors people in the library every tuesday and thursday

the other googles disapprove of his relationship with bing but he makes ollie happy so they don’t do anything about it

they all work in a supermarket and they’re saving up for college

ollie wants to be a vet, red and green want to be engineers, and blue wants to be a web developer

Bing

17 year old junior

mostly A’s, a few B’s.

his full name is zachary bing but people call him bing because he’s always trying to one up the googles

dudebro

was pining after ollie for months before chase finally felt sorry for him and told ollie how he felt

they’re dating now and it’s adorable

so soft for his boyf

a really good skater and wins a lot of local competitions

doesn’t study but still gets p good grades

wears sunglasses all the time because he has light sensitivity

Has ADHD

s t r o n k

always challenges people to arm wrestle him

can sing really well and plays gitaur

shares a youtube channel with chase where they skate and to challenges and stuff

Dr. ipiler

18 year old senior

Everyone calls him doc because he helps the school nurse and takes every single biology and health class there is

all A’s

really wants to be a surgeon

best friends with Schneep

huge star trek/harry potter nerd (ravenclaw if you’re wondering)

almost always at schneep’s house studying or just chillin’

kind of a control freak

thinks he’s charismatic but he’s actually kinda annoying

but annoying in a funny way

has a pet ferret that he sneaks into school

feral

espresso and sugar flows through his veins

“i actually got a good sleep last night.” “oh really?” “yeah bro i got a whole half hour!”

super dark bags under his eyes

Host

17 year old junior

all A’s except for in gym class

he has eyes in this

his real name is Simon Charles Teller (there are specific meanings to those names btw look them up) but he’s called The Host because he does morning announcements every day.

has gold eyes and a lot of people find it unnerving

“hey i have a podcast you should totally listen to it”

nocturnal

spends all of his free time in the library

always reading in class but the teachers don’t really care bc his grades are good and he does his homework

wants to be an english/poetry teacher

crushing on the cute shy kid from his english class

doesn’t talk much but he’ll still be nice to you

that one kid who’s always correcting the teachers

Runs the D&D club (he’s the dungeon master)

Eric Derekson

16 year old junior

Mostly high B’s, a couple of A’s.

lives with his uncle mark after he ran away from his abusive dad and is living a happy life

the guy that always volunteers to take care of the class pets over the weekend

animals love him

has anxiety, mild paranoia and autism.

animals, harry potter, and pokémon are his hyperfixations.

he also really likes gardening

crushing big time on hostioli

spends his entire english class staring at him and blushing

is seriously considering joining D&D club just to be able to talk to him

he’s in the art club

wants to be a vet and maybe do some freelance art stuff on the side

Ollie keeps yelling at him to just ask host out already but he’s too nervous

my poor bb boi

Wears sweaters all the time

wears headphones to block out noise if it ever gets too loud at he goes into sensory overload

disaster bi

Yan

18 year old senior

gets C’s

non-binary

has a makeup tutorial channel on youtube and has a pretty decent following

That one weeb

dyes their hair a new color every week

also has a new crush every week

everyone knows who their newest victim is because they never stop watching them

draws anime or cute animals for every art class

wants to be a a fashion designer

does MMA

everyone kinda stears clear of them

writes their first initial along with their crush’s on every notebook they own

has gotten suspended for beating kids up on multiple occasions

doesn’t really have that many friends but they don’t mind

spends their lunches watching their crush

in the drama club and the art club

Randall Voorhees

18 year old senior

C’s and D’s

Eric’s cousin/bodyguard

they have a lot of the same classes and walk everywhere together

loves animals and has like 10 pet rats

he doesn’t really care about his grades because he knows that he wants to be a woodworker/construction guy

makes little houses out of scrap wood for his rats and Eric thinks it’s adorable

always sneaks his rats to school and lets them have play dates with dr. iplier’s ferret

“nO IM NOT RELATED TO JASON VOORHEES HES NOT EVEN REAL SO SHUT THE HELL UP-“

used to live in nyc in queens and still has a pretty strong accent

completely incomprehensible when he’s excited or angry bc of the accent

everyone is jealous of his hair

spends like 100 dollars on shampoo and conditioner and stuff but it’s worth it

acts like the straightest guy in existence but could not be more gay

his boots are always muddy

Yancy

16 year old sophomore

his name is Yancy Bird

g...get it? like jailbird? ahaha...ok i’ll stop

permanent resident of the detention room

but he gets to just chill out and read for an hour so he doesn’t really mind

mostly gets detention for beating up kids that bully others

fuck the system

always wears a leather jacket and blue jeans

“hey, the 50’s called and they want their-“ SMACK. “shut up.”

takes a lot of criminal justice and psychology classes ironically

in the botany club but if you tell anyone they’ll never find your body

everyone is surprised when they find out he’s friends with Eric and ollie

pan but in denial

“i’m not gay guys, that ain’t me, i’m just comfortable with my sexuality. so i can admit when i see a guy with a handsome face and pretty eyes-“

that song is great btw you should listen to it

anyway

always makes really dark jokes and everyone is like “are you ok?”

except for his friends they just laugh

“lmao wouldn’t it be funny if everyone like...died”

[chelsfic]

Inherited - Chapter 4 - Dracula/OFC - Dracula (2020) fanfic

Summary: The Count’s innocent housekeeper falls further under his spell.

A/N: Hooooo boy! This started out with a lot of imagery and some boring stuff about chores and then it just turned buck wild. Major NSFW warning. Smut! There is also more bloodletting. If you’re at all questioning the way blood drinking/sharing works in the context of this fic I did a post about it last night.

As always if you’d like to be tagged in future updates just send a carrier pigeon or comment or reblog or whatever. And endless thanks for reading!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three Emilie woke the next morning with the taste of Dracula’s blood on her lips and the lingering memory of his touch ghosting over her skin. The misery caused by his callous and cruel behavior at dinner was forgotten. A smile curled the edges of her lips as she opened her eyes to a new day. She mentally reviewed her task list. She would start by clearing the dining room and washing the soiled china in the scullery annex. Then her morning chores: dusting the downstairs rooms, sweeping the corridors. She’d been meaning to polish the silver candlesticks for sometime, perhaps she’d have time for that before nightfall. The Count tended to keep nocturnal hours, so she always waited until just before sunset to creep into his room and build up the fire in the hearth, refresh the water in his wash basin and put out fresh towels. In any other household these chores would be performed before dawn. 

She braced herself for the chill morning air and threw off her blankets in one swift movement. Just because her master kept late hours did not excuse her lying in bed late into the morning. It was difficult to adjust to the long hours when she first came to Carfax. Emilie woke at seven and frequently stayed up past midnight depending on the master’s plans. But she was accustomed to the schedule now and found it a bit of a comfort after the chaos and emotional confusion of the last couple days. 

She stood and grabbed a heavy knit shawl off the back of her rocking chair, pulling it tight around her narrow shoulders and moving to stand at her tiny window to enjoy the sight of the rising sun lighting the kitchen garden. The colors were somehow more vibrant this morning. The grass, trees and plants seemed to positively glow with verdant, pulsing green life. The sunlight crept over the earth and she could see its progress, inch by inch, with more clarity than she’d ever before experienced. Emilie had always been slightly near-sighted, but this morning she saw ever leaf and blade of grass with crisp definition. Not only that, she could smell the sweet scent of the morning dew dissipating into the warming air. Her senses were enchanted and she found herself lingering at the window for several minutes before finally shaking off the feeling and turning away. It was simply an extraordinarily beautiful morning, she reasoned with herself. Nothing more unusual than that. 

When she entered the dining room a little later she expected to find the dirty china from last night’s meal still set out on the table. But the table had been cleared and a fresh cloth laid out. There was nary a crumb or crumpled napkin left for her to tidy. She quirked her head and frowned in confusion for a second before her thoughts were interrupted by a haughty voice from the hallway behind her.

“Finally!” Miss Lucy strode into the dining room wearing the same gown she’d had on the night before. She’d tidied herself as best she could and looked well. She was a little pale, the flush of wine and seduction having faded from her cheeks, but otherwise she looked merely annoyed. “I’ve been waiting here for half an hour, don’t you serve breakfast for guests in this house? I’ll be informing the Count of this abysmal treatment you can be sure.”

Emilie cringed and rushed to the china cupboard to begin making a place setting for the Count’s guest, apologizing profusely as she worked.

“I-I’m sorry, Miss Lucy! Of course I’ll get you your breakfast directly. I didn’t...I didn’t realize you’d be staying overnight or else I would have had something prepared for you,” her words were sincere. Emilie took pride in her work and hated to be seen as lazy or inadequate. Her obvious fretting seemed to assuage the young aristocrat slightly.

“Very well,” she sniffed and took a seat at the table. “I’ll have fresh fruit and porridge. I prefer a light breakfast.”

Thank goodness for that, thought Emilie. She wouldn’t need to call for Cook at his little cottage on the outskirts of the Abbey’s park. She curtsied and apologized again before rushing down the discreet servant’s staircase to the kitchen.

Miss Lucy’s surly attitude persisted after breakfast and she kept Emilie on her toes all day with petty requests. Her morning chores went neglected as she made up Miss Lucy’s guest room, just next door to Dracula’s chamber she noted with a pang. Fresh linens, hair combs, water, dainty snacks and an order sent out to the village for spare dresses and shifts. Emilie did it all and was grateful, at least, that she was too busy to examine the jealous feelings that rose up within her at the thought of Miss Lucy spending another evening with Dracula.

Finally, as the sun lowered on the horizon, Emilie excused herself to tend to her master’s needs before he rose for the evening. Miss Lucy at least seemed to understand that Count Dracula would come first in this household despite her guest status.

Emilie left the guest in her room and stepped out into the corridor, heaving a great breath and leaning her weight into the wall for she feared she might simply collapse with fatigue both physical and mental. It wasn’t just that Miss Lucy was demanding and rude. She also insisted on making little pointed comments about the Count’s obvious admiration of her. Emilie worried that Miss Lucy was aware of her...feelings toward her master and delighted in hurting her. Perhaps she was reading too much into things. Perhaps Miss Lucy was simply jealous of anyone else who might have a claim on Count Dracula’s attention. A satisfied little smirk appeared on her lips before she quickly squashed it. Miss Lucy had no idea how much attention the Count paid to his housekeeper.

She entered the Count’s room silently and tiptoed across the plush oriental carpet balancing a pitcher of steaming water and a basket of kindling, fresh towels draped over her shoulders. She looked quite foolish but she managed. She got to work right away, bustling about the room while Dracula slept on. Once she’d finished all her tasks she stole a moment to look over at him, cold and still as the grave in his slumber. The lines of his face were smooth in repose and his sharp nailed hands rested over his stomach. Her mind flashed back to last night and the sight of him slicing into his own skin with one wickedly sharp claw, the feeling of his hot blood dripping onto her lips, sliding down her throat. 

Emilie’s feet moved of their volition carrying her to the master’s bedside. She looked down on him with adoration written plainly on her face. Her hand hovered over his and she bit her lip fearful of being discovered but unable to resist settling her palm over his clasped hands. They were cool to the touch and she willed her own warmth to flow into him and feed his spirit. 

“Really, Emilie, I’m quite shocked,” the Count’s sardonic voice whipped her out of her reverie and she took a step back from the bed, cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry, Count--milord,” she stammered, voice trembling with nerves. He had wrapped his body around hers only last night, ravishing her with kisses. But she still felt impertinent and untoward, a servant daring to aspire to her master’s affections.

Dracula sat up against the headboard and she realized with a shiver that he wasn’t wearing a nightshirt. His broad, muscular shoulders and dark-haired chest were bare to her. Emilie lowered her gaze and clasped her hands before her, the perfect image of a prim housekeeper awaiting orders.

The Count smirked and patted the bed beside him, “No need to be sorry, little one. Come here, won’t you?”

Emilie stood frozen for a long moment, her warring thoughts apparent on her face. She should not let this continue. Miss Lucy was getting dressed at this very moment for another evening of debauched seduction with the Count. It was entirely inappropriate. What would her grandmother say?

Dracula’s voice turned cold and he commanded, “Come here. Now.”

She snapped into action and scurried up onto the bed beside him. Despite her nerves and qualms she had the presence of mind to enjoy the ultra plush feel of his feather mattress so much more luxurious than her simple bed. She sat primly beside him, hanging her feet over the side so as not to dirty the blankets with her shoes. 

Dracula watched her with eyes lit in amusement. He snaked an arm behind her and hugged her against his bare chest. Emilie gasped as she felt a flame of heat light up her core. Being so close to him had an undeniable effect on her. 

“Don’t tell me you’re still shy with me, little one?” he teased, walking his fingers up her leg and settling his hand flat against her thigh. “Not after last night?”

“Milord,” she whispered, trembling under his gaze, “it’s not proper. I am a servant…”

The Count shushed her and he tugged at the fabric of her skirt, raising the hem and dipping his hand underneath to skim along the smooth skin of her thighs. Emilie couldn’t help a muted moan of pleasure at the sudden contact. 

“Emilie, I want you to call me Vlad. When we are alone together. Can you do that?” his voice was cool and matter-of-fact even as his fingers danced over her inner thighs and crept upward.

“Yes,” she breathed in response to his question or perhaps merely to encourage his hand between her legs. “Vlad.”

Dracula smiled and plunged his hand upward, pressing the heel of his palm against her and stimulating her sensitive clitoris through the thin fabric of her drawers. Emilie gave a rather undignified shout and he leaned down, touching his cheek to hers and whispering into her ear, “Good girl.”

He loomed over her, naked and humming with masculine energy. His hand cupped her sex and he pistoned his wrist to grind his palm against her over and over again eliciting little hiccups of pleasure from his inexperienced young housekeeper. She squirmed against him, arching her back and bucking her hips against his hand. Dracula brought his forearm down across her chest to keep her pinned in place. 

He watched her face, the pretty blush of blood rushing beneath her pale skin, the artery in her neck dancing with the pump of her racing heartbeat. He felt his fangs elongate and saliva pool in his mouth. He descended on her then, biting into her lower lip and growling in pleasure at the small stream of intoxicating blood that flowed into the kiss. He tore the waistband of her drawers away and dove his hand inside to brush over her bare skin. He inserted one elegant, long finger inside her, delighting in her startled squeak. He pumped into her as he sucked the blood from her lips, all the while barely containing the animalistic blood lust raging to be unleashed. When he thought he could resist no more he felt Emilie’s thighs clamp down on his wrist and the pulse of her muscles as she reached her climax. 

He pulled away from the kiss and watched her face in fascination. Gone were her charming little worries about impropriety. The girl was lost to wanton pleasure. She locked her arms around his neck in a fierce hug as she rode the waves of her orgasm. Dracula slowly removed his hand from between her legs and patted down her skirt in deference to her feminine modesty. He lay beside her on the pillow and watched her heaving breast and half closed eyes. She is perfect, he thought to himself, idly drawing his wrist up to his lips and grazing a razor sharp fang across the skin. Or...she will be perfect, once I’m finished with her.

“Come now, darling,” he cooed, cradling her head and bringing her lips up to kiss against his wrist. “It’s time for a little drink.”

Tags:

@charlesdances​ @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @just-mimii @irrelevantwriter​

[thewhiterabbit42]

Wicked Games

Pairing: Gabriel x reader

Series Summary:  When a trickster seeks revenge on Gabriel, he traps the archangel in a sex dungeon with the person he despises the most: you.  

Word Count:  3432

Chapter tags/warnings: swearing, people being dicks

Series tags/warnings (as it stands): dark fic, medium burn, kidnapping, sex dungeon, mutual pining, enemies to lovers, violence, graphic depictions of horror, dub con, non con, oral sex, it’s a sex dungeon so likely all the sex, confessed feelings, bondage, more tba

A/N: This is a dark fic.  Please read all tags/warnings carefully.  Big thanks to my beta and @starchaser-the-prophet for taking a peek at this!

Based off the following request by @inuhimesblog

Part 2

“Seriously?  You’re going to leave me with her?”  Gabriel’s disdain is palpable, overflowing from his features and spiraling out into the space surrounding him.  

You try not to take it personally.  You’d hate feeling leashed too, if you were an ancient being whose entire existence consisted of being top of the food chain, and you imagine it especially hits a nerve given how he’s spent the last seven years.  

“If you didn’t want a chaperone, then maybe you should have stayed put for the five minutes we told you to, instead of inviting a bunch of your old friends over for tea and almost getting us all killed!”  Dean insists.

“How was I supposed to know they were on Loki’s side?”  Gabriel demands.

You can see the way betrayal sparks bright behind gold, another heavy blow to an ego that, by all accounts, should be shredded beyond recognition.  Maybe it is, but even you have difficulty discerning when he insists on being such an ass about everything.

"Because all gods are a bunch of backstabbing assholes?" Dean guesses.  He’s just as sardonic and pissy as the archangel is these days, so much so, you can’t stand being in the same room with them.

"They're not gods," Gabriel says flatly.  "They're maenads."  

"I don’t really care what they are," Dean retorts, gesturing to dismembered corpses strewn along the floor.  "Demi-God, god, trickster, whatever.  The name changes, the song stays the same.    You can't trust any of them!"

If eye rolling were an Olympic event, the archangel would take home the gold.  He folds his arms over his chest, his entire upper body getting into the movement.  His head drops back and the look on his face suggests even Heaven can’t help him as his weight shifts between feet.

You can't blame him.  The entire situation screams power move by Dean.  As much as you don’t agree with it, you’re not really in a position to either challenge or refuse him, and you suspect the current predicament is as much a means to keep you in line as it is Gabriel.

"Look," Sam steps into the fray, trying to be the voice of reason in this whole mess.  "We need you, and, like it or not, you need us."

Short, sweet, to the point, and more importantly, accurate.

"And if there are more of these things out there," he looks down at the bodies at his feet.  "Then it sounds like you could use someone to help watch your back."

Gabriel's glare swings toward him, skepticism bubbling through the surface of his anger.

“And I don’t know what you’re complaining about, because she’s the one that dropped those things, not us,” Sam adds, a touch of attitude broaching his tone to drive his point home.  

While you appreciate the reminder, it’s not as if the archangel wasn’t there, moving perfectly in tandem with you.  Somehow, you make a great team, despite how roughly things go when there isn’t a common enemy you want to murder instead of each other.  

As Gabriel’s scathing stare slides in your direction, you feel another layer of your patience peel away.  You’re not thrilled with the situation anymore than he is, but then again, when has he ever been thrilled to see you?

That’s not entirely true.  There was a time he was playful and cheeky, where he used to call you endearing nicknames that drove Dean insane.  Even if they weren’t really for your benefit, it had been nice to pretend someone might want to call you those things.

Now, he calls you the littlest Winchester, despite the fact you are not related to the infamous brothers, and he treats you no differently than if you were one of them, which most days means you catch a whole lot of flak for things you’ve never done.  

You recognize it’s a defense mechanism.  He’s been through so much between his family, Loki, and Asmodeus, though it’s hard to remember that when you’re dragged into the latest pissing match, and he acts like the whole thing is your idea.

“Yeah, well, you’re not exactly my idea of a good time either,” you mutter, your irritation getting the better of you.  

You miss the way something shifts in his features, eating away at the hardness around the edge of gold as you glance back to the brothers and add, “And if I’m delegated to playing nursemaid to that one,” you jam your thumb toward the surly archangel, “Then you two are on cleanup duty.”

Dean makes a face, looking down at the collection of limbs on the floor.  Surprisingly, he doesn't argue.  "Sam, get some trash bags from the trunk.  The industrial ones."  

As if he has to specify you need the body-sized ones.  

“And my bag please,” you ask.  

Sam nods, slipping out the door without another word.  

There’s an extra tension in the room whenever it’s just the three of you.  You used to be the one to manage it, the one who could smooth things over whenever the two of them locked horns, but now you’re just as at odds with them as they are with each other.

It doesn’t feel right.  None of it does.  The bitterness.  The constant fighting.  Only you don’t know what to do about it anymore.  

"C'mon, grumbles, let's get your mess cleaned up,” Dean orders, toeing what might be part of an arm with the edge of his boot.

Gabriel is not pleased to be on the receiving end of a nickname, face pulling into a sardonic smile that borders on murder. Before he can zing anything back in the hunter’s direction, the door swings back open and Sam walks in, supplies (which wisely includes a tarp and some heavy duty rubber gloves) in hand.  

"Notice I said you two."  You gesture between the brothers, murmuring a thanks to Sam as he hands you your bag.  

"What do you plan to do?  Supervise?"  Dean’s in rare form, and there’s a thinly veiled accusation simmering beneath green that you can’t touch right now.  

“You think those claw marks are going to stitch themselves?”  You question, gesturing toward the Gabriel’s shredded leg.  From the amount of blood and nearly black stain on his pants, you’re certain he’s only alive because he can’t technically die from bleeding out.  

You reach into your satchel and pull out your modified first aid kit.  It has the basic supplies, the biggest difference being the amount of gauze and bandaging included (for those archangel sized wounds) and some herbal components that stimulate grace regeneration.    

You move a chair next to the dresser in front of what might be the only clean section of carpet left.    

"Drop the jeans,” you order, patting the back of the chair with invitation as you begin to lay out what you’ll need.  

There's a brief moment where the Gabriel you knew flits to the surface.  "Here?  In front of everyone?  Kinky."

You almost smile.  Almost.  Because one light moment isn't even close to being a bandaid on your relationship.  No matter how much you'd like it to be.  

Especially when he follows it up with another blow.

"But I think I'll pass on being the guinea pig to your Dr. Doolittle and take care of myself, thanks."  He holds out his hand expectantly, and it takes a concerted effort not to smack him upside the head with the supplies.  

You settle for shoving them directly at his chest.

“Well if nobody needs me, I need some air.”

“They need you,” Dean gestures to the body’s on the floor.  “Us, right here?”  He swings his finger between himself and Sam.  “We need you,” he says pointedly as you pass right by him.  “Hey!”

Your instincts flare as he moves toward you, and there’s a visceral jolt through your chest that prepares you to react.  Sam intervenes before you get the chance, tall frame stepping between you as he puts a hand on his brother’s chest.  

“Dean.”  

You don’t care what look is burning into your back right now.  You’ve spent the last two days trapped in a car with a volatile version of Dean who reminds you of something you spend most of your time desperately trying to forget ever existed.  

“Let her go.”  

Dean doesn’t fight him, and the slam of the door is your final contribution to the conversation before you take off across the parking lot.

***

You should have kept walking.  Doubled back to the highway.  Hitched a ride in any direction, so long as it was away from there.  Away from him.

Gabriel’s camped out on the floor, leaning against the foot of the bed.  Instead of watching TV or playing on his phone like any normal being would, he’s bouncing a baseball against the wall with a persistent ker-thunk.  

It’s the same motion over and over: off the thin carpet, against the same dingy spot parallel to the dresser, pausing just long enough to make you wonder if he’s finally done, before starting all over again.  

Good god it’s annoying.  How did you ever put up with him?

Only you know how.  

Before, he was smooth.  He knew how to lay on the charm and flatter his way into good graces.  He used to be like Cas; beneath that outer surface lay something soft and warm, though instead of a rough veneer, it was the guise of detached hedonism.  

But now he’s all pointed barbs and caustic sarcasm, and it rubs you so raw that you have little patience left to weather the truly obnoxious moments anymore.

“Drama queen, much?”  You finally snap.  You’re young, but the reference isn’t lost on you, and as much as he wants to act like he’s imprisoned, he has far more ways to escape this hole in the wall than you ever will.  

Ker-thunk.  “Better than being a lap dog.”  

He doesn’t miss a beat, and this remark hits harder than you expect.  You’re not certain if it’s the connotation or the sheer acidity behind it, but he’s never this mean-spirited with you.

You breath in.  

Ker-thunk.  

Then out.  

Ker-thunk.

And in.

Ker-thunk.

Reminding yourself - ker-thunk - of all - ker-thunk - the horrible things - ker-thunk - he’s been through - ker-thunk - and how they - ker-thunk - change a person - ker-thunk.

Ker-thunk.

Ker-thunk.

Ker-  

You grip the edges of your lorebook so hard you’re convinced you’re fingerprints are going to sear straight into the leather binding.  

“Just because you’ve been dealt a shitty hand doesn’t give you the right to be a dick to the rest of us.”  

Not exactly where you’d hoped to land, but between him and Dean, the well you maintain to stay diplomatic in these situations has run so dry it’s going to take some biblical sized relationship repairs raining down on you to fill that sucker back up.  

Silence falls and you’re given a moment of reprieve.

Literally, one.  

“I’m the dick in this situation?”  His head whips around so fast it reminds you of the movie The Exorcist.  “Tell me, which one of us is on a leash right now, and which one is holding it?”

Right.  Because it’s your fault he goes into situations half-cocked, low on energy, without any backup, nearly gets himself killed, and pisses off the only allies he may have left.  

“Door’s open, don’t let it hit your ass on the way out.”

There’s a window in the bathroom you’re happy to shove him out of as well, but you decide to keep that suggestion to yourself in an attempt to keep things marginally civil.  

You get up from your chair and toss your book aside, in need of another way to decompress.  Despite the fact it’s not even noon, you head toward the mini-fridge, which is stock full of your maladaptive coping mechanism of choice.  

The moment Gabriel sees you pull out a beer, he lets out a scornful snort.  "Have another one, Winchester."

His insult hits a target dead center, though it’s not the one he’s aiming for.  Instead of slamming your integrity or moral turpitude, or whatever the shit he thinks he’s poking at, you feel cut off at the knees.

You’re not a Winchester, and it’s not that you want to be one so much as know you never can that makes this a particularly sore spot for you.

The reminder is draining, because it’s always there, hanging over your head, and you’re as sick of it as being caught in a game of Tug of War between two equally stubborn individuals.

“Can we do something other than argue for once?”  Exasperation softens the sharpness in your tone as you sit on the edge of the dresser.  

You hold the beer in your hands, focusing on the cold against your palms and the dampness that forms against the warmth of your skin.

He considers your question, absent-mindedly tossing the ball up in his hand.  “We could always play a game.”  

For a moment, he almost looks like himself again, mischief sparking, shaking off the varnish within gold.  His lips twitch as if attempting to smile, but they're heavy, immobile, and another indication of just how much has changed.

Part of you wants to humor him for the sake of keeping this tenuous break, but the rest of you is pretty god damn tired of being someone else’s punching bag.

“I have a novel idea,” you begin, leaning forward and resting your elbows on your legs.  

He deflates, dour demeanor returning.  “Oh, this should be good…”

You regret saying anything, but as with most things in your life, it’s too late to go back.  You run your thumb along the condensation of the bottle, tongue darting out across your lips as you prepare yourself for whatever comes next.  

“Why don’t we do something productive like, I dunno, talk about the group of deities out for your blood?”  You’re careful not to sound too concerned.  Doing so gets you batted at faster than a feral cat who’s cornered.  

“Yeah.  Real fun topic to be revisiting.”  

It’s still the least combative response you’ve received recently, and it gives you some hope you might be able to reason with him.

“Gabriel, if I’m going to be sitting next to someone with a giant target on their back, I’d like to know what it is my enemy might be firing so I can do something about it.”  

That, and you’d really like to avoid becoming a smear on the wall.  

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, there’s nothing coming but a whole lotta blanks.”

You’re not sure what rankles you more: the insincere and wholly mocking term of endearment he throws at you that used to mean something, or how dismissive he is of the danger you’re both in.

“Why won’t you let anyone help you?”  

In the few moments he isn’t forcing you to see a spectrum of red that exists only in his presence, there are startling shades of deep blue that squeeze around your heart because you already know why.

Some part of that must show, his mood worsening exponentially.  "Maybe because I don’t need anyone’s help?  Especially yours."

And back to square one you go.

"You are the most frustrating man I've ever met," you mutter, slamming the top of your beer down on the edge of the dresser and popping the cap off.  You bring the bottle to your lips and the bulk of the drink bypasses your tastebuds, pouring straight down your throat.

“Seems unlikely, given your Winchester worshipping status, but you’re no walk in the park either, toots.”

You glare at him, wondering just how much trouble you’ll be in with said Winchesters if you decide to paint a banishing sigil on the other side of the bathroom door and blast the archangel’s insufferable ass into the next state.  

As if sensing the brewing mutiny, both your phones buzz, Dean’s contact flashing across both screens.  

Meet me at this address.  Important.  

Thank God, or the gods, or whatever was out there for small favors.  You need something to do other than go another ten rounds with each other.

“C’mon," you tell him, hopping back to your feet without a second thought.

“Really?”

Here it comes.  

You down the rest of your drink as he readies his next jab.

“What's up between you and the lumberjack?”

You’d ask which one, but the question is so ridiculous you can’t do anything except blink. “Excuse me?”

Is he implying… what the hell is he implying?

“Every time he says jump you ask how high without a second thought, but here you are, all up on my lamp post about not knowing what you’re walking into.”

There are differences between him and Dean.  Big ones.  Ones he should be able to grasp, but you don’t trust him to, and if there’s anything you’ve learned with either of them it’s that sometimes it’s just easier to deal with things on your own.

"There's nothing going on."

Your quick dismissal only has the archangel's stare narrowing.

"Does he have something on you?"

“Jesus christ, Gabriel, can we argue about this in the car?”   You’d prefer not to argue at all, but getting him out the door is now your number one priority, and you have a feeling this is going to be worse than the time Dean left you with that toddler from Hell.  Literally, a demon hiding in a three year old’s body that knew how to push every one of your buttons so you’d overlook the fact it couldn’t cross the line of salt in the doorway, rather than wouldn’t.  

“I’m being serious,” he says grabbing you by the arm as you try to pass.  The contact startles you, as does the admission that follows.  “I know I've been kind of an douche lately --”

“Kind of?”  

He ignores your knee-jerk response.  “The point is, you can talk to me."

That might be the funniest thing he’s said all day.  

You snort.  "Good one."

“I’m serious.”  He pins you beneath a sober stare, one noticeably lacking a scathing edge.

You’re not certain what to do with that.  

“He doesn’t have anything on me, alright?” You sigh.  “Now can we please go?”

He eyes you even more intently before his features abruptly harden again.  “Don’t tell me you’re in love with him.”

You decide not to justify that with a response.  Not a verbal one anyway.  You hope the middle finger you raise in his direction as you try to head to the door is a clear enough indication of where you stand on the matter.  

As usual, the idiot-savant in him has already made up his mind on the matter.  

“Oh for shit’s sake, you are.”  He grabs you by the wrist, stopping you in your tracks, and you’re too busy trying not to scream to notice the myriad of emotions that flash through his gaze.  “Seriously?  Since when did you become deaf, blind, and dumb?”

He's so far from the truth it should be laughable.  Except it isn’t, because it’s him, and you’re over this conversation.

“Since when did it become any of your business who the fuck I’m interested in?”  You yank out of his grip, shoving him out of your space.  “Don't act like you care about me or anything other than playing Uma Thurman in your little Kill Bill revenge fantasy."  

Gabriel freezes, surprised by the sudden burst of hostility from you.  

"Now you can either get in the car, stay here, or fuck off to Fiji for all I care, but I am leaving," you snarl before storming out of the room.

You didn't sign up for this.  He and Dean can sort it out between themselves if they're going to insist on being self-centered pricks the entire time.  You just want to wake up one morning and feel like you’re worth something again, something no one else seems inclined to let you do.

Before you even make it to the vehicle, Gabriel’s there, waiting for you in the passenger seat.  You’re relieved and annoyed.  You need a break, but despite that, you know this is far, far better than facing an irate Dean.  

Mostly.  It really depends on how much trouble either of your mouths can get into.

The answer is potentially plenty once you plug the address into your phone’s GPS and realize you have a forty-five minute drive into the middle of nowhere ahead of you.  

You take a deep breath, managing not to wrench open the car door.  There are far worse things you’ve endured.  How bad could one car ride turn out?

Part 2 >>

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