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rosaliestark01 · 4 years ago

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Dusk Till Dawn - Part 8

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You play double agent while the Avengers search for you.

Warnings: more swearing than usual, angst, violence

A/N: @annies-marvel-imagines will no longer be posting more parts, but she will still receive credit.

You paced around Ezekiel's secret hideout and realized several things. The first thing is that there was no way that these two individuals managed to get their hands on such high-level tech by themselves. The second was that Ezekiel obviously lied about being your dad. The third was that Ezekiel most definitely had enough money to get a less crappy apartment. The fourth and most crucial thing you realized was that you'd have to play along with their plan longer than you wanted to.

Judging by the number of meals you've gotten, you'd guess you've been there for three days. It was hard to pretend that you wanted to wipe out the Avengers, but you had to remind yourself that this was just another mission. Except, you didn't have your suit or any means of contacting your team. Plus, the Avengers had no idea where you were, what you were doing, or what you were trying to do. You were on your own.

"Don't just stand there, you spoiled brat. Help us out," Eloise yelled at you.

Another thing that made it hard to act like you were on their side was the constant feeling of wanting to strange Eloise every time she opened her mouth. She honestly reminded you of a penny. Two-faced and not worth much.

"What the hell is this thing?" you ask as you approach the strange metal box that Eloise and Ezekiel had struggled to get out of Ezekiel's truck.

"You like it?" he asks, causing you to furrow your eyebrows. Was this guy serious?

"Did your ears suddenly stop working, or are you just that bad at listening to someone else's shit for once?" You say without thinking. The strange looks from them tell you that it was the wrong thing to say, so you backtrack. "Sorry, I'm still a little nervous about all this."

"It's fine," Ezekiel mutters, coughing awkwardly before becoming grave. "As long as you do your job, you have nothing to worry about."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You ask, suddenly becoming defensive.

"This is your new suit." Eloise snarks, clearly trying to get everyone's attention back onto the metal box. She pressed a button, causing it to open.

Inside was a suit that looked similar to your dad's iron suit, but instead of red and gold, it was black and purple.

"Why does it look like that?" You ask. Why would they base the suit off of Iron Man's suit if they hate his guts?

"We figured you'd like an upgrade," Ezekiel beamed proudly. You're assuming that he was the one who built it, but you weren't ready to jump to conclusions. The guy already had trouble figuring out how to open the microwave. "Your old suit seemed..."

"weak," Eloise rolled her eyes as she finished his sentence.

"It was flexible and bulletproof," you defended. The suit you always wore worked well for years. Who do these people think they are? "I made it with my d- with Tony Stark."

"That explains a lot." She crosses her arms as she stares down at you with a judgmental glare. "Trust me. If you're going up against the Avengers, you're going to want to wear this. It'll protect you better than that flimsy piece of shit you always wore before."

"Fine," you mumbled, remembering that it is in your best interest to pretend that you agree with them.

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

Peter felt like he was drowning.

He'd never gone this long without knowing if you were okay or not, and it was killing him. Without you, his Peter-Tingle, or Spidey-Senses as you called it, felt like a timer he couldn't shut off. He wasn't sure if it had to do with the fact that he was worried out of his mind or if it meant that you were in danger. Maybe both?

What was worse was that he had to pretend everything was okay. Happy was in the hospital, you were missing, and the Avengers were moving heaven and Earth to find you, but he couldn't join them. May and the Avengers insisted that he let the "adults" handle this. Did it ever occur to them that you matter to him just as much, if not more?

"Hey, Pete?" Ned and the rest of your friends approached him hesitantly. They all worried about you, but they knew that it was harder on him. "Is there any update on Y/N?"

"Not yet." Peter would have known if there was even a slight update. "Have any of you heard anything?"

"Gwen feels guilty about what happened at homecoming," Harley states ."She says that if she hadn't spilled her drink on Y/N, she never would have left the gym."

They all look to where Gwen was standing with her friends. She didn't look happy. In fact, she looked like she hadn't slept since word got out that you were missing.

"She should feel guilty." Peter huffs, "If she got over her damn pettiness long enough to realize that I love Y/N, I never would have lost her."

"Still... she said she'd back off," Harry says, feeling uncomfortable with the current subject. There is no excuse for what Gwen did, but she did look like she had learned her lesson.

"We want to help," Betty admitted, causing a bit of hope to fill Peter's mind. So far, all he's heard was "let the adults handle this". Knowing that his friends want to help find you was like a breath of fresh air.

"Yeah. It doesn't feel right to sit back and do nothing when Y/N is who knows where," Harry sighs, patting Peter on the back.

"Thanks, guys," Peter replies, smiling for the first time since you've disappeared. "That means-"

Before he could finish, he turned around, and not a second later, an explosion went off right across from the school.

"What the f-"

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

"I still can't wrap my mind around the fact that you never told us that Y/N was adopted," Clint says as he paces back and forth in the compound. He didn't have the slightest idea that anything was going on until he received a call telling him that you were missing and that help was needed tracking you down.

"He had his reasons; now are you going to focus more on that or finding Y/N?" Pepper replied, defending Tony. Although she agrees that Tony should have told you, she knows that he had his reasons.

"Maybe she doesn't want to be found?" Clint asks, although the second it came out of his mouth, he knew it sounded stupid.

"No," Steve says, his arms crossed in concentration. "I've known Y/N for a long time, and she's a good kid. She's going through stuff right now, but she'd never run away or leave Happy alone while he's in the hospital. Something else is going on, and I'd bet it had to do with those two."

The TV displayed everything they knew so far. The two likely suspects were none other than Eloise Day and Ezekiel Stane. Security footage showed you getting into Eloise's car, which was later found outside a shambly apartment building. After further inspection, your phone was found inside of the apartment belonging to Ezekiel Stane.

"Agreed". Tony stared at the screen, trying to figure out if there is anything he's missing. He knows that Ezekiel is the son of his old business partner. Tony knows that Eloise was a new student who gained your trust. What he didn't realize was their connection and what their goal is.

"If-When we find her, you need to tell her the truth," Steve tells him.

"Yeah, we'll go out for cheeseburgers and laugh about it. Am I right?" Tony snaps. It was clear that he knew who your real father is and that you might already know him too. "I- I don't want her to hate me when I tell her."

"Trust me. Y/N will understand if your heart was in the right place," Steve encourages, placing a hand on Tony's shoulder. For a second, Tony's shoulders slump before his resold seems to harden.

"Her real dad is-"

"I think you'll be able to tell her yourself," Nat speaks urgently. "Y/N's been spotted in Queens."

"Let's suit up."

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

You couldn't help but feel as though your plan was about to fail. Eloise and Ezekiel have recently kept a closer eye on you than usual, which isn't good. You have a feeling that they're on to you, which means that you might have to improvise.

"Play along," Ezekiel mutters in your ear before roughly grabbing your arm. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eloise pointing some blaster at you that looks too much like the one that Hydra dude shot you with.

Before you can ask what he was doing, a familiar figure swung in front of you.

"Let her go," Peter demands. Although you cannot see his face, you can tell he's angry. You felt bad for putting him through this, but in the long run, you'll have to put him through it a little longer.

"Fat chance, you spider freak!" Eloise roars, suddenly pointing the blaster at Peter.

"Wait-" You yell, but your voice is drowned out by Ezekiel's yells as Eloise pulls the trigger.

It was like everything was happening in slow motion. You wanted to scream for Peter, but the shot never made it to its target. Instead, it met with a familiar red, white, and blue shield.

"Whatever happened to my signal?!" Ezekiel yelled at Eloise, who rolled her eyes for the one-hundred-millionth time that day.

"I'm not letting you crap on my chance again, old man!" She barks at him as she continues firing the blaster. By now, all of the Avengers seem to have shown up, and her target was everyone.

"Don't you d-" He yells, but she ignores him.

Cursing, he tries to pull you away from the fight as he tries to think of a new plan. You already knew what needed to happen, but you weren't sure if you were ready to see everyone's faces when you are forced to betray them.

"So is this a thing now? Kidnapping my daughter for revenge or something?" your dad asks as he lands in front of you and Ezekiel, ready to fight.

"Who said I kidnapped her?" Ezekiel smirks. You wanted to wipe the arrogance off his face, but you couldn't. You had a job to do.

"Dammit," You curse. You press the button on your bracelet that morphed into your "new" suit. You didn't want to see the looks everyone will give you, so as you took down the people you call your family, you couldn't look them in the eye.

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serasvictoria · 4 years ago

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Stupid Games - Chapter 2

Pairing: Ubbe Lothbrok x Reader, Ivar Lothbrok x Reader

Rating: Explicit at the end

Word count: 7487 (look, I obviously have issues)

Summary: You used to live next to the Lothbroks when you were younger, but you moved away and haven't seen them since. A wedding brings you back to town after many years and during a bachelorette party you run into the brothers again.

Notes: After Hvitserk had a go in the first part, Ubbe and Ivar take over. I thought that this chapter would end up being more centered around Ubbe (he will get more attention in the next instalment), but Ivar had something to say about that apparently. He is a bit of a pushy shit in this chapter, but I was oddly into it.

Took me a while to post this, because I couldn't get the first part of this to work. I'm finally pleased with it now so hopefully it'll work for you guys as well *fingers crossed*

Part 1 (link to my AO3)

All images from Pinterest

Tagging @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @ritual-unions-gotme @vikingstrash @pomegranates-and-blood @quantumlocked310 @adrille88 @actual-queen-of-hell @youbloodymadgenius @punkrocknpearls @zuxiezendler

“A game?”

After Ivar had alluded to some kind of game that seemed to be going on between Hvitserk and Ubbe, something that neither of them wanted to comment on, their youngest brother had been the one to tell you what he had been talking about. It didn’t exactly help that Ivar looked a little bit too gleeful that he was the one that got to tell you all about this.

They had been playing a game. And it was all centered around you. That was why whenever one of them tried something when you were still a teenager, the other one was always keen to take it one step further. Everything from the kissing to the heavy petting to the dry humping, quite possibly all the way down to what had taken place in the restrooms earlier, had all been part of some stupid game.

“So the two of you were just playing with me this entire time?” Hvitserk had gone completely silent and seemed to be more interested in the contents of his glass. You somehow guessed that he was waiting for Ubbe to say something, since he was usually the one that diffused situations when they threatened to get out of hand, but his older brother never interjected. “Why would you even do that?”

“I would never do that to you,” Ivar suddenly said. “They are children.”

“Now hang on…”

“Shut up, Hvitserk.” Whatever it was that he was going to say, you didn’t exactly want to hear it. “Yeah, Ivar, you’re a real saint.”

“Better than them anyway.”

“I need some fresh air.”

“You want me to come with you?”

“No, Ivar. Stay here.” You leaned over to him and briefly pressed your lips on his cheek. “But thanks for offering.”

Before turning away, your eyes swept over Ubbe and Hvitserk for a few seconds and it looked like Ubbe had been about to say something, finally finding some words, but he closed his mouth when you turned away from them. Obviously sensing that it might not be the best idea to say something right at this very moment. You pushed yourself through the throng of people, the air too stifling now. When you were relieved that you could finally breathe in some cool air instead of the almost humid atmosphere in the bar. The night air was pleasant, on the cusp of summer and autumn, where the temperatures were still nice until relatively late in the evening.

Despite the fact that you had given it up years ago, it was times like these where you wished you hadn’t quit smoking. Since your hands needed to do something, you grabbed your mobile instead and scrolled through your instagram feed, if only to make sure that you weren’t opening yourself up to a potential conversation with anyone.

If you were honest with yourself, you had always expected that Ubbe and Hvitserk had been up to something all those years ago, but that a game had been at the source of it was quite unexpected. You had somehow convinced yourself that you’d just been having fun, that you were simply exploring new things with the boys next door, that you were using them just as much as they were using you. But it was never that simple, was it? Because at one point your feelings had very much entered into it, long before Ubbe had even kissed you.

But would they really be so cruel as to turn it all into a game? You knew and trusted these guys. You had a hard time thinking of them as callous. They wouldn’t do that. Not to you.

“Want some company?” You turned your head to the side and saw Ubbe approach you. He leaned against the wall next to you, but kept his distance. “I know that what Ivar said just now sounds really bad, but he was the only one that ever called what we were doing a game. Neither me or Serk ever looked at it that way.”

“Then what was it?”

“Interest in my case and Hvitserk was obsessed. Plain and simple.”

“Obsessed? With me?”

“What did you think it was?” He turned so that his shoulder was now pressed up against the wall and he could look you in the eye. “You remember that stupid card game?” You nodded. “Serk knew that you had never kissed anyone and he wanted to be your first. He figured that he had it in the bag as well, but he didn’t have a clue that I had a winning hand.”

“I had sort of figured out that it was the reason why he had suggested that dumb prize in the first place.” Why else would he have even come up with it to begin with if he hadn’t been convinced that he would win? “But why didn’t he just kiss me then? I wouldn’t think that he needed much incentive to do that. Especially when you take into consideration how many other girls he had already kissed at that point.”

“I don’t know,” Ubbe said with a shrug. “I probably know him best of all, but I don’t get his reasoning all the time. Maybe he thought that his best option was to turn it into a game.”

“That would explain it.” You looked up at Ubbe with a slight smile when your mind flitted back to that particular day. “And then he lost.”

“He was furious.” Ubbe started laughing. “Even accused me of rigging the game in my favour later.”

“It wasn’t like the kiss was any good.”

“Say what now?” He playfully poked a finger against your ribs. “I was prepared to put my heart and soul in that kiss. You were the one that pulled away.”

“Don’t remind me.” The only thing that you remembered was that you were absolutely horrified that Ubbe had essentially been forced to kiss you because of some dumb game. You’d wanted it to be a natural thing, not something that he had felt obligated to do. “He didn’t have any problems later on.”

“He wanted to outdo me.”

“Then what was everything that happened earlier all about?

“You want to know what he told me?”

“Well yeah.” You thought about it for a few seconds after answering him and added a quick, “It’s not going to be bad, is it?”

“Nope.” Sensing your apprehension, he reached out and took one of your hands in his as a comforting gesture. “He said that it had been worth the wait. As soon as he said that, I knew what the two of you had gotten up to while you were away.”

“Worth the wait?”

“He was obsessed with finding out what you tasted like. He even lost sleep over it at the time.” Ubbe barked out a laugh when he saw the surprised, yet also intrigued, look on your face. “It was pretty bad.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “He is such an idiot.”

You covered your face with your free hand and wished that you could just disappear right this very moment. This was definitely not what you thought was going to happen when you decided to come back to Kattegat after all these years. You always knew that there was a chance that you’d run into the Lothbroks at one point during your visit, but you hadn’t accounted for anything like this.

Ubbe’s hand slowly peeled your hand away from your eyes and his big blue eyes peered into yours quite insistently. “We’re cool, right?”

“Come on. As if I could stay mad at you.”

“Good.” He kept up his intense stare and kept holding your hands. Whenever you tried to pull your hands away, he squeezed until you stopped resisting. “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends on what you want to know.”

“Why did you never call?”

“Call?” You frowned, not sure what he was talking about. “When?”

“When you moved away. You promised to stay in touch, but you never did.”

“Oh. That. Why do you want to talk about that now?”

“Just always wondered about it. That’s all.”

“I don’t think I…” He tilted his head to the side in a similar way that Ivar always did to show that he wasn’t going to drop the subject. You sighed deeply and wished that he’d just let go of your hands already so you could cover your face again. “Stupid really.” You tried to figure out how best to say this since it had been based on nothing but teenage insecurities at the time and they seemed so trivial now that you were a grown up. Ubbe didn’t push you, he simply waited until you found the words, his thumbs drawing comforting circles on the palms of your hands. “I erm… I wanted to. Just figured you guys would be busy.”

“With what?”

“More important… stuff.”

“Cut the crap.”

“Okay. Jesus.” You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing that he couldn’t exactly pry your eyelids open. “I needed some time to adjust at first so I didn’t want to bother you guys with that dumb shit. Who wants to hear about that crap right? To hear me bitch and moan about how much I hated it there.”

Your mother had moved to be closer to her family and staying in Kattegat had hurt too much. Much later she had told you that everything there had reminded her of your father. Where they had their first date, where he had proposed, everything there had been tied to him and she wanted to get away from it. Her entire life before she had met your father had been in Silkeborg which seemed a million miles away from the only place that you’d ever known. You transferred into school in the middle of a school year and the only kids you knew there were two cousins, one of which you hated. You were absolutely miserable and basically kept your head down until you were old enough to go to college so you could get the hell out of there.

“I stayed in touch with Svana, Olga and Gunna and I eventually asked about you guys, since I was thinking of calling and I wanted to know if it’d be weird if I did that after going all silent for a while.” You swallowed. God, this was hard. “But they’d always go all quiet when I brought you guys up and I didn’t know why. They kept saying that you were doing fine and wouldn’t elaborate. So I asked Kára instead since she’s the only one that wouldn’t sugarcoat anything...”

That was where you stopped suddenly, not really wanting to continue. The reason was so incredibly stupid. It didn’t matter. The urge to go back inside and get paralytically drunk was overwhelming. Before you knew what happened, your face suddenly connected with Ubbe’s chest and he gave you a massive hug. He was still good at giving those. You still remembered that time after he had given you your first orgasm and the two of you had lain in his bed, hugging each other until it got dark outside. He never even said anything that time either, he just held you which was the exact same thing that he was doing right now.

“What did she say?” Nothing in how he held you gave away that he was angry, but you could hear it quite clearly in his voice.

“This is so stupid.” You pressed your head against his chest so that you could muffle your answer. “They told me that you and Serk were seeing Margrethe.”

At the time it had felt like the deepest betrayal to your young mind. It didn’t matter that you hadn’t been in a relationship with either one of them, but the only thought that had been on your mind at the time was that they’d moved on and found someone else. With your mortal enemy no less. It wasn’t like they didn’t know that the relationship that you had with her was strained, if you could even call it that at all.

You thought that the two of you had been friends at one time, but Margrethe had merely befriended you as a means to get closer to the Lothbroks. When that hadn’t worked, she had started spreading vicious rumours around school and the word about you being a whore that slept with all four of the boys spread around the school like wildfire.

It hadn’t mattered how much anyone had denied it, a lot of people had been a bit too eager to accept the gossip as gospel. Mainly girls had eaten it up like cake. Apparently a lot of girls were incredibly jealous of the fact that you were around the most popular guys in school almost constantly. The only girls that had stood by you through all of it were the seven girls that you were with tonight. Kára had even attempted to break Margrethe’s nose when she’d found out who had been behind the rumours and had been expelled for a week because of it.

In the end Margrethe had gotten exactly what she wanted.

“That’s it?”

“What do you mean ‘that’s it’?” You pulled away and slapped his chest suddenly. “You knew I had a history with that bitch.”

“Maybe you should have called and asked me about it.” He sighed and pulled you back in for another hug. “Or were you worried about what the answer might have been?”

“I was a dumb kid.” You pressed your head against his chest again and breathed in his comforting scent. He always smelled so musky and earthy. There was no other scent quite like it. “Course I was worried.”

“It was never that serious. Not for her anyway.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She had… issues.” Ubbe was picking his words very carefully. It wasn’t that big of a surprise to you to be honest. The fact that Margrethe was seriously troubled hadn’t completely escaped you back then, but you had never concerned yourself too much with trying to figure out what her deal was. “I tried to help her, but whenever I tried to broach the subject she’d run to Serk to badmouth me.”

Even if you haven’t thought of Margrethe for years, hearing him say that made you want to hunt her down. You would have told him that too, but that wasn’t what he needed right now. You were a bit at a loss how to make it better however. It didn’t seem like he was still hurting or anything so telling him that everything was okay was probably a million miles off.

“She always had her problems,” was all you said in the end.

“I know,” he replied. “All in the past.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Shut down on me.” He released you, cupped your chin and gently tilted your head up so you could look at him. “You used to do that when we were kids as well.”

“I swear that I wasn’t! But you started this. Not me.”

“So it’s my fault?”

“Basically,” you said with a grin as another idea formed in the back of your head. “So make it up to me.”

“Make it up to you?” His eyes started sparkling with obvious delight. “I’m not going to do what Serk did earlier. I never wanted to outdo him at anything. I know I can do better.”

“That’s not what I was thinking of!” You smacked your hand against his arm first before letting it rest on his bicep. You could not help but give him a light squeeze, briefly imagining how easy it must be for him to lift you up and pin you between himself and the wall. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re thinking about it now though.” He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“Doesn’t mean I want you to do it,” you replied. “Not out here anyway.”

“Hmmm.” He leaned forward, his beard tickling against your ear as he kept talking. “What do you want me to do then?” His large hands settled on your hips and he pushed you back against the wall. “You’re gonna have to tell me, princess.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Maybe.”

Ubbe settled his lips on your neck. All he did was kiss and nip at your skin, but you could feel your heart rate increase already. He briefly reached up to pull the collar of your shirt open, placed his mouth right on the spot where your neck met your shoulder and started sucking on your skin. Despite the fact that the two of you were standing only a short distance away from the red neon light that hung above the entrance to the bar, he covered you in such a way that it would simply look like the two of you were just making out. Besides, crazier stuff must have happened out here anyway.

“This what you had in mind?” he murmured huskily against your neck. Before you could reply, he moved his hands from your hips to your ass. “Or do you want me to take you home?”

“What is it with the two of you and this urge to get me back to your place?” You blurted out with a giggle. “I just wanted you to kiss me.”

“That it?” He peeled his lips away from your neck and pressed his forehead against yours. “Just a kiss?”

“Just a kiss.”

“You sure are easy to please.”

“As you know.” Ubbe never really had to try very hard with you and he knew this. In the past he would always joke about how blissed out you would look even after something as simple as a kiss. You tilted your chin up so that your lips brushed together. “You gonna kiss me or not?”

“Your wish is my command, princess.”

Pushing forward, he closed the small distance and captured your lips. The kiss that he had given you inside earlier had been intense as well, but it had been short and tasted of more. He didn’t have to stop now. He growled against your lips, kissing you so hungrily that it felt like he was trying to devour you. Even when younger Ubbe had often joked that he was like a wolf, something that his parents had recognised at birth and had named him for it. It had always made you laugh, but you could practically feel the resemblance now. If he could have his way, he’d no doubt be tearing your clothes off right now so he could eat you alive.

If he kept this up, you would be tempted to just turn around and let him fuck you right here up against the wall. Your entire head felt fuzzy and it was pretty hard to concentrate on anything other than Ubbe’s tongue which he kept slipping into your mouth. Hvitserk had worked you up to a frenzy not that long ago, but Ubbe was beginning to push you in a similar direction very quickly. One of his hands started sliding down and you knew that you should tell him to stop before you lost your mind completely, but you didn’t. His hot palm was on your bare thigh seconds later and then he slid it up, dipping his fingers into your panties so he could touch your bare skin.

“You’re burning up,” he groaned against your lips.

“Sure feels like it.”

“Want me to do something about it?”

It sure would be tempting to simply say “yes”. And oh so easy. Just one word. Just that little affirmative answer and he’d do something about this heat that he was gradually stoking inside of you. Your body was practically screaming at you to just say “yes”, to get it over with and stop putting it off. You could have what you wanted. Right here and right now. All you had to do was…

“Oh hell no!” You pulled your lips away from him, because you recognized that voice. “You little slut!”

“Am not!”

“Yeah, you are!” Svana was making rude gestures at the pair of you from the entrance with a big smile on her face. “Get back in here. We just bought another round. As for you,” she was pointing straight at Ubbe now. “We bought your ass a beer, so you’d better finish it before we let your brother have it.” She cackled loudly and then disappeared without waiting to see what the two of you were going to do.

“What do you want to do?” Now that his lips weren’t on yours anymore, it was a lot easier to think. When you didn’t answer straight away, he pinched your ass once before removing his hand from your underwear. “Go back in?”

“Be a shame to waste those drinks.”

“I guess.” He held his hand out to you and you took it without hesitation. “One thing though, you’re having dinner at our place tomorrow. Just to avoid any more interruptions.” You could feel all the hairs on your arm stand on end the second the words were out of his mouth. Just the thought of an evening with the two of them with no one around to stop them… your brain already went into overdrive. “Deal?”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

Right before the two of you passed through the entrance, Ubbe pushed you up against the wall right next to it very quickly and gave you one final hungry kiss that took your breath away.

It very much felt like a little taster to what could happen the following evening if you’d let him keep going.

*****

After the night you’d had, you were glad to be back in your hotel room.

When you and Ubbe had gone back inside to join your friends, you found that Hvitserk and Ivar had already joined them and the rest of the evening was filled with even more alcohol and witnessing some incredibly bad dancing from Hvitserk’s end.

Switching the light on in the small bathroom, you looked at yourself in the mirror and came to the conclusion that you looked like absolute shit. You stripped out of your clothes, dropped them on the floor and left them there. It wasn’t of the utmost importance that you fold them up right this minute anyway. You had already hung a slinky, spaghetti strapped nightshirt on a peg on the door. It had been packed in case you managed to get lucky sometime during this short trip and the way things were looking after tonight, there was a definite chance that you would.

Make-up removed and teeth brushed, you headed back into the room and promptly dropped face first into the bed. You spread yourself out over the mattress and pressed your face into the sheets. It was a good thing that you didn’t have anything planned until tomorrow evening (technically this evening), because you probably wouldn’t wake up until midday.

You’d been about to doze off when you heard your mobile. You swore and reached for it and stared at the screen. Unknown caller. You groaned and shoved it underneath the pillow. Probably a wrong number or some bad joke from one of your drunk friends. It kept ringing until it switched over to voicemail and you sighed deeply when it stopped, completely ready to let sleep overtake you…

It started ringing again. By now you were determined to ignore it, but as soon as it stopped, you kept hearing your ringtone kick back to life. Whoever it was, they would not allow you to fall asleep until you’d picked up. After the fourth time, you dug it out from under the pillow and answered.

“What!” The annoyance in your voice was unmistakable and you’d been about to start swearing about how this had better be really fucking important when you heard a familiar voice on the other end.

“That’s no way to greet an old friend.”

“Ivar?” You rolled over until you were laying on your back. “What the hell? Do you know what time it is?”

“4:48.”

“Jesus Christ. Why are you calling me? And how did you get my number anyway?”

“Ubbe gave it to me.” You’d exchanged numbers with Ubbe after he’d invited you round to have dinner with him and Hvitserk since he had promised to pick you up. “You didn’t want me to have it?”

“I didn’t say that.” You didn’t mind. Ivar would probably end up getting your number sooner or later anyway, but he still hadn’t mentioned why he had decided that now was a good time to call you. “I don’t know why you’re calling me, but can’t it wait until later?”

“No. I need to talk to you now.”

“Okay, fine,” you said with a sigh. You had known Ivar for long enough to know that he was the type of person that would end up getting his way no matter what and if Ivar wanted to talk to you, that would be exactly what would happen. It didn’t matter if you were too tired, you just had to get over it and accept it. “What is it?”

“What are you wearing anyway?”

“Ivar! What the fuck! I’m not telling you that.” You started laughing and was waiting for him to join in to let you know that he had asked you that question to be funny, but he never did. “Get to the point. Why are you calling me?”

“I was just thinking of you in that ridiculous outfit.”

“Oh. And you figured you’d call me to tell me about it?”

“Yes. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep after seeing that and I don’t think you should either.”

“Okaaaay…” You stretched out the word and found yourself wondering what else was going to be coming out of his mouth. “So what should I be doing instead?”

“Touch yourself.” For a few seconds you weren’t entirely sure that you’d heard him correctly, somehow convinced that you were imagining this entire conversation because you were so sleep deprived. But then he said your name in a low voice and asked, “Are you still there?”

“Y-yes.” You didn’t know why he was asking you to do this, but it had to be a joke to see if you’d actually do it. That was the only logical explanation. “D-did you just ask me to…”

“Touch yourself, yes.” He paused for a few seconds while you were still waiting for him to tell you that this was all a joke, that he had just been having some fun, but then he continued. “But you were wrong.”

“Oh? About what?”

“I wasn’t asking you, I was telling you.”

“Ivar, you can’t just call me at five in the morning and tell me t-”

“Yes, I can.” He cut you off before you could finish your sentence. “Touch yourself. I am not telling you again.”

“Ivar, fuck.” Hearing the command in his voice was working for you in ways that you had never thought possible. You pressed the index finger of your free hand against your neck, just below your ear, and started trailing it down. “This is insane.”

“Are you touching yourself, kitten?”

“Y-yes.” This really was a dream. You were having some kind of vivid sexual dream involving the kid that used to sit in the little red trailer behind your bike as he screamed at you to go faster. And now that same kid, all grown up by now, was initiating phone sex with you. “I am.”

“Where?”

“My collarbone.” Your finger had pressed into the dip above your sternum and had started trailing outward.

“Child’s play.” Ivar sounded less than impressed with you. “Are your nipples hard?”

“Ivar!”

“What?” You heard him chuckle on the other end. “Well? Are they?”

You looked down at your chest and could see your nipples pressing up against the silky fabric of your nightshirt. “Yes.”

“So touch them instead.” Despite the fact that he couldn’t see whether you were doing it or not, you thought that he would probably be able to tell if you were ignoring what he was telling you to do. “Your collarbone. Honestly.” You whimpered when your finger brushed up against the hardened nub. “Feel good?” You made an affirmative noise. “Squeeze.” You did as he asked again and stifled a moan. “Don’t do that.”

“W-what?”

“I want to hear you.” You repeated the movement and this time you didn’t try to silence yourself. “Good.” You could hear the pride in his voice. “Now move your hand down lower.”

Your hand skimmed down your stomach, moving down ever lower until your fingers brushed over your mound and you sighed deeply when your hand dipped down in between your legs. When you pressed against your covered core, you could feel that your underwear was already damp and you set to lazily rubbing your fingers up and down. Little gasps and moans kept tumbling from your lips and you gripped your mobile tighter in your hand.

“Did I tell you that you could do that?” Your hand stopped moving instantly and you made sure that Ivar heard how displeased you were. “No. I didn’t say that you could move your hand down that low.” Since you could somehow tell that it was coming, you pulled your hand away and moved it next to you to grip the sheets instead. “Start again.”

“From where?”

“Your collarbone.”

“I thought that was child’s play?”

“Just do it,” he replied mercilessly. “And don’t talk back. Good girls do whatever they’re told.”

“And who told you that I was a good girl?” He wasn’t in the room with you so you could be a little bit defiant. “Good girls don’t necessarily give guys blowjobs in restrooms.”

“Probably not.”

Without any warning, the call suddenly disconnected. You stared at your screen in confusion. Why would Ivar get you all hot and bothered like that only to hang up on you? So now you had to finish it yourself and then you could finally fall asleep. You’d been about to do just that when your phone started ringing again. When you looked at the screen, you saw that someone wanted to video call you. You swiped your thumb over the screen and the next thing you knew Ivar’s face came into view.

“You thought that I was going to leave you hanging, weren’t you?”

“I kinda did yeah.”

“I just wanted to see with my own eyes that you were going to do what I told you.” Ivar bit his lower lip. It was a move that was almost a little bit too calculated to come across as natural, but you didn’t really mind. It only made you wish that he was in the room with you so you could feel those lips on yours. “Now show me what you are wearing.”

You moved the phone up a little bit higher and slowly tilted it downward. There was a lace trim at the top of your nightshirt and the rest was made of a pink silky material. It didn’t exactly leave much to the imagination. You had your legs pulled up so he couldn’t see your underwear properly and you could see a slight frown crease his brow.

“Open your thighs.” You parted your legs slowly and made sure that he could see your panties. They didn’t match your nightshirt, but when you heard him whistle through his teeth it was made clear that he didn’t particularly care that you weren’t wearing a matching set. “Nice.”

“You like it?”

“A lot. Let me see your face again.” You moved the screen back up and smiled at him. “I want you to take it off now.”

“My nightshirt?”

“Everything.” He could probably see the hesitation on your face and you saw his eyes soften. “Would you do that for me, kitten?”

“Just my top.” You saw his other hand move into view for a few seconds, gesturing at you to continue. You put the phone down next to you, pushed yourself up into a sitting position and removed your top. Moving back into view of your phone, you sat in such a way that Ivar could see that you were half naked now without letting him see your bare chest. “See?”

“But not enough.” One corner of his mouth curled up in an almost wicked grin. “Just a peek.” You knew where this was heading, that much was obvious, but you had never done anything like this before and it made you apprehensive. “Do you want me to say please?”

“I’m not so sure you can say please.” You lay back down, moved one of your arms so it covered your breasts and grabbed the phone again. You held it high above you so he could see your face and the top of your chest. “Like this?”

“You’re not giving me a lot to work with here.” He sounded unimpressed so you moved your hand, aiming it down lower so he could see the arm that you were covering yourself with. “Move your arm.” You briefly closed your eyes and took in a deep breath to steady yourself, but didn’t pull your arm away. He said your name and you looked up at his face again. “Please?”

Very slowly, you spread your fingers so a single nipple appeared between them. His tongue peeked out from between his lips to swipe over his bottom lip. You saw his lips move, but before he could say anything you started circling the pebbled nub with one of your fingers. Ivar’s pupils were so big by now that you could barely make out the blue in his eyes anymore. You couldn’t help but wonder if he would come over if you were to ask him to.

“Move your arm.” You took a deep breath and very slowly started moving your arm down until it was resting right underneath your breasts. Ivar tried to hide it, but you saw his eyes widen ever so slightly and then he uttered a low, “Fuck.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What are you wearing?” He didn’t respond immediately, he merely looked amused that you even asked him this, so you tried to make your next words sound as commanding as possible. “Show me.”

Ivar kept his eyes on yours for a few seconds longer and just when you thought that he wasn’t going to show you anything at all, he slowly tilted the phone down to show you that his chest was already bare. You’d already felt it back at the bar when he pulled you closer to him a couple of times after he and his brothers had joined your group of friends, but my god, he was ripped. You’d been paying such attention to his chest and the tattoos that covered part of it, that you hadn’t noticed that his other arm wasn’t visible. In fact you might even have noticed that there was slight movement coming from that side of his chest, but sadly you hadn’t.

The camera moved down over his stomach and you found yourself wanting to know how his skin would feel against the palm of your hands as you skimmed them down his chest. It wasn’t until you caught sight of trimmed hairs that led down that you noticed that he wasn’t wearing any underwear either. And then, without any prior warning, his cock suddenly came into view. You saw it for a few seconds, your mind only barely registering how hard he was and how slowly he was stroking himself before he disappeared from view and you started swearing.

“Fuck! Dammit!” You rubbed your forehead and heard him doing his utmost not to burst out in laughter on the other end. “Not funny, Ivar.”

“I am sorry, kitten.” He cleared his throat, chuckled one more time and then asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Dropped my goddamn phone.”

“Look at me.” You rolled on your side to grab your mobile and propped it up against a pillow so he could still have a clear view of your face. It also meant that you would not be able to drop the damn thing on yourself again. You definitely didn’t want to explain a possible black eye to Ubbe and Hvitserk tomorrow. “Were you that shocked?”

“Wasn’t expecting you to be naked,” you replied, feeling mighty stupid about yourself right now. “That’s all.”

“So… now that you know that I’m naked…”

“I’m not going to be showing you my pussy.”

“I am shocked that you even thought that.” He even gasped, but you didn’t believe him. That fucker always kept a very tight lid on his emotions. No way that something like that would shock him. “You could still take your underwear off though.”

“I could.” When you didn’t move, Ivar started pouting. Very much like before, it was such a practiced move. How many times had he done something like that before to get what he wanted? “You sly fucker.”

“What did I do?”

“Shut up. As if you don’t know.” His mouth broke out into a wide grin and you shook your head. “You are such a dick, Ivar.” When you saw him open his mouth to speak, you cut him off. “Don’t say it.”

“Say what?”

“If you were going to say anything about how nice your dick looks, I swear that I’ll hang up.”

“I wasn’t going to say that, but thanks.” You groaned for even voicing that opinion out loud. You really had to learn to think before you speak, especially around someone like Ivar. “What kind of guy would say that?”

“Have you met Serk?”

“Good point,” he said with a chuckle. “I was just going to ask you to take your panties off again.”

“You always were a persistent little shit.” Why not give him what he wanted? You weren’t going to shove the phone in between your legs to show him that you were entirely naked, you’d made that clear already. “Tell me. Don’t ask me.”

“Hmmm. So you like that, do you?” His grin turned practically feral now that you’d given him a piece of information that he would likely use against you at some other point in the future. “Take your panties off. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” The word was out of your mouth before you even realised it and when you did, your cheeks flushed bright red. “Oh my god… I-I am so s-sorry… that was…”

“Hot?” Your horrified expression only amused him more and he started laughing. “You can call me that anytime, kitten.”

“I wasn’t…”

“But I did tell you to do something, didn’t I?”

And then the command was back. When an involuntary moan escaped your lips, he drew attention to his own lips again by running his tongue over his plump bottom lip. You mouthed the word “fuck” before reaching down and sliding your underwear down your legs. When they were off, you moved them into view of your phone to show him that you were now entirely naked and hearing him groan softly on the other end felt strangely good.

“Ivar?”

“What is it, kitten?”

“If you’re going to tell me to touch my collarbone again, I’ll kill you.”

“Impatient.” Before he could tell you to do anything, you’d already slid your hand between your legs and you made sure that he heard the sound that you made when your fingers finally came into contact with your soaking wet pussy. “Fine. I’ve been touching myself for a while so I’ll allow it.”

“You’ll allow it? Gee, thank you, Ivar.”

“I can be merciful,” he replied without a hint of embarrassment. “What are you doing?”

“Touching myself.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“Lord. This is kinda…” You squeezed your eyes shut and bucked your hips up against your hand. “Fuck.” His laboured breathing was starting to propel you closer to reaching a climax and when you opened your eyes to look at the screen again, you could tell that he probably didn’t need much more either. “I’m so wet,” you half moaned. “Wish you were here so you could… replace my fingers… with your tongue…”

“Oh y-yeah?”

“Mmmm.” You moved your hand away from yourself, quickly replacing it with your other hand and then held your arousal soaked fingers up to the screen. “See that?” His lips were moving, but no sound was coming out. You kept eye contact with him when you sucked your digits into your mouth, moaning as you did so. You moved your fingers in and out of your mouth, determined to give him some kind of show.

“I need to feel those pretty lips of yours…” He was finally able to talk now. “...wrapped around my cock.” You released your fingers with a loud pop and then presented your tongue to him, to mimic that you were doing something else entirely. “Just like that,” he said with a grin. “Bet you’d look good on your knees.”

“In my… skirt…”

“Yeah…” It was getting more and more difficult for him to talk now, you could tell, but he was still trying. “I’m so…”

Ivar never finished his sentence. All that came out was a low guttural growl and then he was done. His eyes were closed and his breathing was heavy as he came down from his high. You kept your eyes focused on his lips and his tongue that kept darting out to moisten them. When he finally opened his eyes, within seconds he knew what you’d been looking at.

“Kitten.” He practically purred the word at you and you could feel your muscles twitch involuntarily. Your movements increased, rubbing harder as the pressure continued to build. “I should just come over so I can make you come with my mouth and my fingers.” Your face started to feel hot and you gasped loudly. You were close. So close. “And then, if you’ve been a good girl, I might even fuck you.” He paused for a few seconds, his blue eyes locked on yours. “But only if you’ve been really good.”

“Oh my god…” One last circular movement around your clit, that was all you needed. You squeezed your eyes shut and all but wailed the words as your legs started shaking, your muscles spasming, your toes curling against the blanket. “Shit, shit, shit…”

You were aware of Ivar’s soft chuckle somewhere in the background, but it was hard to focus on anything after orgasming that hard. If it was already this good, what the hell was it going to be like if he was actually in the room with you? If he actually pressed that thick cock of his into you and growled into your ear what a good girl you were? The sheer thought of it was almost enough to make you come again.

Finally cracking an eye open, you looked at the screen to find Ivar’s blue eyes focused on you. One corner of your mouth curled up and then you wiped the sweat off your brow that had accumulated there. “Fuck. That was amazing,” you said with a breathy laugh. “I’m exhausted.”

“I can tell,” he said quietly. “Will you be able to sleep or do you need me for something else?”

Wait. Was he angling for an invitation here? You looked at the alarm clock that was on the bedside table. The red glowing numbers had the time at 5:16 in the morning.

“Nope.” You decided to play dumb. “Why? Did you want to talk?”

“Talk? No.” He chuckled softly in reply and ran his hand down his face. “So that’s how it’s going to be?”

“Yep.” You rolled over on your side and blew a kiss at the camera. “Good night, Ivar.”

Before he could say anything in reply, you had already disconnected the call and then pressed your face into the pillow as you laughed. Your phone started beeping almost immediately. You saw a message illuminate the screen and you unlocked it to reply.

The message read: That was rude.

Since you hadn’t had a chance to add his number to your contact list, you were seeing nothing but his phone number so you added him so you could at least see his name.

Good night, Ivar.

You saw that he was typing back and it didn’t take him long to send a reply. Good night, kitten. You were going to reply, but saw dots appear again. I’ll have to teach you some manners the next time we see each other.

A shiver ran down your spine when you read his message. You wondered what he was planning, but knowing him it would probably be good.

Good night, Ivar. And I’m looking forward to it.

He didn’t send you any more messages and you fell into a deep sleep shortly after while clutching your mobile tightly.

#vikings #vikings au #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ubbe x reader #ivar x reader #mar writes #mar moodboards

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acetarisborn · 4 years ago

Text

Happy (delayed) international asexuality day!!!

I haven't written (and posted) in a while and one of my most popular posts is the one about me simping for Asmo from Obey Me while being ace so... what better day to post this than yesterday!! But I fell asleep so now...

The brothers falling in love with an asexual MC

This is my first time writing one of these so it may end up feeling more like fanfiction than headcacons lol.

Asmo

The second you saw this gorgeous charming man it was love at first sight, and he felt the same way

Although you might have felt a little intimidated when you found out he's the avatar of lust. You might even think you have no chance!

But oh boy are you wrong

This man adores every aspect of you. From your gorgeous body to your breath-taking personality and he knows you love him as well.

The surprise in his eyes when he finds out you don't like him only for his looks is priceless

He can't help but blush brightly every time you give him the slightest of compliments, which sometimes turn into ankward laughs if he adds a sexual advance at the end

You try everything to let him know without telling him. Wear the ring, make several ace jokes and even wear the damn flag pattern on your clothes, to a point that the entirety of RAD but Asmo knows you're ace

But to be fair he might not even know what asexual means

He lets you know his feelings in a BIG way, something very intricate and romantic like a huge banner with help of the bros or plans a situation where you two end up dating

When you tell him you're asexual he's shocked to say the least

Not all humans enjoy sex?! Truly the newest concept he's ever heard

He does get sad at first, realizing he won't be able to experience that pleasure he's been fantazising about, but once he thinks about how out of all the beings in the Devildom you fell in love with the demon of Lust himself he bursts in laughter

He stops abruptly once he realizes why you look scared or sad because of his laugh and explains himself immediatley

If you tell him you understand if he doesn't want you he turns serious and grabs your hand

"Mc, you are the most gorgeous, kind-hearted and amazing person I've ever met, I didn't fell in love with how you are in bed or anything about sex! I fell in love with everything that makes you, you. I would never leave you over something so... so ridiculous! No matter how much I enjoy it!"

Once you guys start dating he showers you with gifts and fancy stuff (mostly skincare products)

He starts being super cautious about what he does or says, but eventually loosens up after the thounsand time you told him to do so

He also loves kissing you all over your face (if it's okay with you). On the lips, nose, cheeks or your forehead

All because he wants to remind you every day how precious you are in his eyes and that he loves you no matter what

Beel

You can't tell me you guys didn't fell in love that time you shared a room, you knew at the spot but this certified himbo is very oblivious

"Im hung-" He never gets to finish this sentence again because you always have a snack or food to offer him

Of course this is what starts his liking to you.

He doesn't realizes at first but it's the little things like what draws him in

He always wants to seat next to you at lunch and just talk for hours, he blushes at the sight of your smile or his eyes light up every time he sees you walk by

He begs you to cook for him no matter how many times you already do or say you're terrible. If you make him a bento this will make his whole week

Once he realizes his feelings he plans to tell you, not knowing you were planning on telling him you're ace and doing the same

"That's cool but um...whats an ace?"

Once you explain it to him he's a little surprised but nothing too extreme, he understands and didn't paid mind to sex anyway, he's happy he got to know beforehand.

"Oh, that sounds like you, good to know, specially now, because..."

He stops hiding a big box of chocolates and opens it, the chocolates spelling "Will you be my partner?"

If you ask him if he's okay he nods almost agressively, which ends up in you tackling him in a hug

Once you start dating he's ready to provide bear hugs and cuddles, he's the cuddliest demon in the Devildom

"Hey, I found this food/thing with the ace flag colors, thought you might like it"

He asks you to help him cook whenever he's hungry. Doesn't matter if it's the greatest culinary piece ever or an absolute disaster, he's happy he gets to spend time with you.

Levi

Okay but that overflowing PASSION when he rambles on about TSL, that fire in his eyes, *chef kiss* you can't help but stare dreamily at him

"watcha looking at normie?" He asks while blushing madly at the way you kept looking at him

The first time he finally accepted he's in love is when you dragged him to your room to watch a new anime, he realized you were a total weeb just like him (And I know you are because why else would you be here?)

Since then you have anime nights at least once a month with all the snacks you can get in your bed or couch

He obviously loves playing any kind of videogame with you, he doesn't like some of the ones you do but plays them anyways just to see you celebrate once you've won

Dragging you to conventions is a given, he spends weeks making you the perfect couples cosplay, staying all night muttering about how yours needs to be perfect

Since most of his brothers don't care/like or are too busy for his ramblings about a new game or anime he goes to your room very often. He's happy you're always there for him.

But IS HE JEALOUS

If he sees anyone flirting with you in the slightest of ways he'll go into overprotective mode. In a bad day this means as much as asking you for a pencil in class

We all know he puts you in a bit too high of a pedestal compared to him, but it's because he loves you and tries his best to gain confidence once you tell him how wonderful he is.

"They're so cool Henry! They are so nice to me and so pretty. I don't deserve them but do I want to try!!"

Since he's too shy and introverted none of you have asked the other out yet, but you decide to trust him and come out to him first.

"Oh yeah, I know plenty of asexual characters, I know what it is. That's great! You have my whole support!" This one takes you off guard

He talks about how he kinda suspected it but never said a word in fear that it could offend you.

This was enough for you to jump in and tell him your feelings.

To say he's blushing is an understatement. His whole body is red

"I like you to...But a-are you sure? You're just so pretty an- and amazing and I-I'm just a yucky otaku... Not that all otakus are yucky! You're not! Oh crap, I'm so sorry."

You snap him out of his rambling with a hug or a kiss, telling him how much you love him no matter how he belittles himself, because he's already perfect.

He tackles you in a hug out of excitement and says he loves you too

He has no problem with sex at all once your relationship starts, he wasn't having any to begin with and never thought of the idea of you guys doing it, so it's pretty much the same.

He tries his best to make bentos for you or use any romantic tecnique he has ever seen in romance animes

Instead of overprotective mode he now brags about his amazing partner to everyone he can.

"Mc, we should cosplay these characters! This one's ace!"

He'll do anything for you to feel safe and welcome in his arms no matter your sexuality.

Satan

This lovable bookworm fell in love later than anyone (except Belphegor) did, in the train murder mystery.

At first he thought it was mere admiration, but then why was his heart beating so fast?

Don't get me wrong, he's outraged. He hates that he's not paying attention to class to write poems, being distracted from his books because his mind wonders off thinking of you, and he despises that every time you bring him a cup of tea or flash a smile his face turns bright red in front of his brothers.

Eventually he has no choice but to ask Asmo and he is overjoyed. He offers himself as a wingman many times and Satan declines every single one

He doesn't tell you about this willingly, Asmo creates some devious situation where he ends up needing to confess his feelings.

He has never felt so relieved that the time you said you liked him too

He finally shows you some of his poetry (at least the less cringey ones) all of them talking about your outer and inner beauty in a way that almost moves you to tears

Everyone is surprised by how frequently one of the scariest demons out there lets himself get hugged by you at any given time, even if he's busy he always has time for you.

Also cats. Plushies, bags, clothes, anything with a cat on it you gift it to eachother

You eventually gather courage, enter his room and talk to him, thinking that maybe him being so distracted reading would soften the news

But he just nods mindlessly

"Satan? Did you hear me? I'm asexual" You take his book annoyed but the answer leaves you in shock

"Yeah, I know! can I go back to my book now?"

Turns out you were being painfully obvious and Satan is too smart not to notice.

"So... you're okay with it?"

"What in the world made you think I wasn't?"

He closes his book and you two have a long talk about how he accepts you and loves you for who you are over some tea

Mammon

He has always been in love with you as you have with him, what else is there to say?

Mammon melts at the slightest of touches and compassion you show him

He's so happy every time he's with you because you actually treat him like his brothers should

He loves them but they aren't the kindest towards him, so there's nothing better than hearing from you how much he's worth

He repeatedly asks you for money or pulls out some pranks but suddenly stops. How weird? Could it be that he feels bad for making you feel any kind of sad?

You have to stop him from saying he's your first several times, thankfully it eventually works

He tells you how great you are in a way he isn't directly telling you? But you can just know

"Hey, hu-I mean Mc! You're...the less annoying person in this place...Thanks for that" Yes, that was him trying to compliment you

As your bond becomes stronger he starts to loosen up to you. Leaving you gifts or flowers at your door with a smile on his face.

"Lucifer took my dear goldie for a week because of this but ya know... it's worth it."

When you actually accepted to go to the biggest casino in the Devildom he considered it as your first date.

You spend the hole night seeing him win and loose money, even pulling you in to have fun as well

You two take a break exhausted at a fountain. Mammon sees his chance and goes in slowly for a kiss

"Wait, Mammon. If we're actually going to...date, there's something you have to know."

"You're the most outstanding human, what the hell, the most outstanding being in the three worlds I've ever met in my eternity, Mc! What makes you think I'd leave someone as breathtaking as you over wether or not you wanna have sex?!"

"For some people it's a big dealbreaker..."

"Well, not for the Great Mammon! Only an idiot would let you go because of your sexuality. And no matter what they all say, I'm no idiot"

You end the night holding hands and going back to the House of Lamentation, ready to start this beautiful romance.

Lucifer

Ok. First things first. Everyone can agree Lucifer is (or seems) even hornier than Asmo, so this is gonna get...complicated. But we'll get into that

He sure seems the least likely to actually show the vulnerability of being in love, but gosh did you made your way into his heart

It was a long and diffecult journey to get him to like you, but he eventually got a liking to you the more you guys spent time together

You were able to make him loosen up as well.

Dragging him to anywhere you loved instead of being sat down with mountains of paperwork

Always waking him up after he fell asleep in his desk with a blanket, a hot cocoa (Coffee if the work needs to be done by the next day) and even a kiss on the cheek if he's lucky

By the time the whole Belphie situation was defused he was finally able to show his true intentions

He's a fairly elegant person, so when he tries to make an advance, he does it with style

This means all kinds of fancy places once he's off from work with the most romantic of views. Every day you feel like being swept over by a true gentleman

I'm pretty sure he'd have you as his partner by now, maybe he never officially asked but you both imply you're a couple at this point.

But as I said it, he has his whole...punishing thing......

It's exactly because he starts crossing the line with one if these why you just had to stop him and tell the truth

He gets shocked and slowly start fitting the puzzle pieces in place

"Well, this is unexpected. Wait. Have I... made you feel uncomfortable around me all this time?"

Once you nod he falls in his bed ashamed

"My deepest apologies, my love. I truly hope you forgive my reckless words. I must know, are you not feeling safe in this relationship?"

You explain how wrong that asumption is, telling him how every day with him is incredible, but showed your discomfort at some of the things he says

He was relieved he hadn't crossed the line yet and was never going to let himself cross it.

"I am so glad you shared this information with me, I promise to make this relationship the most romantic experience of your life"

He stays up all night researching everything ablout being ace, he gives you gifts related to this, finds out your love language and does what it is every day, he does every romantic thing you can think of and he even asks you to go to a pride in the human world!

He's willing to do all he can in order for you to feel loved in any way you want

Belphegor

Well, he did tried to kill you, so I'm pretty sure his betrayal hurt if you helped him for love

He knows you're at least a little scared of him and he knows he needs to apologize, but never finds the time because you always seem wary of him

He tries by leaving a note in your desk that says "I'm so sorry for what I did. Thank you for bringing our family back together"

This is the first smile he gets out of you as you look at him

This escalates to him passing notes whenever he's not asleep. In class, the table at dinner, outside while hanging out with you and Beel, anywhere. This happens so often you end up always having a pen in hand to answer.

It goes until one of you decides to speak, you start talking and become best friends in no time

Although Belphie seems too possesive for his feelings to be just friendship

Honey, if you thought Levi was bad he's nothing compared to Belphie

He uses every excuse to get you away from anyone that possibly flirts with you. It's either that or his death glare burning them for several minutes until they run or apologize

He always wants to be with you, even if he's sleeping he feels the lack of your prescence

This is why he always tries to convince you to take naps with him, snuggling with you is the best part of his day

If you're more of a night owl he'll do his best to stay awake and look at the stars with you in the planetarium. Sometimes falling asleep in your shoulders "on accident" wink wink

He mumbled about you in his sleep and that's how you found out and ended up dating

The relationship is pretty much the same with more kisses and hand holding, along with him convincing you to skip class sometimes just to sleep

Also plushies, a lot of them, all of them

You decide to tell him one day while snuggling beneath the stars. Being sure enough that he'll understand, although the nerves are still there

"Okay... so?"

You express your worries and he stands up looking almost menacingly but his words killed the scary mood

"Are you dumb? How did you think someone like me would even worry about that?"

"I'm not Asmo, beds are for sleeping. Come on, lets steal that cake Lucifer saved in the fridge, I heard it's sort of an inside joke between us."

After this he keeps asking you about the whole asexual spectrum, thinking he might be part of it. He's shows true interest at every question you answer and tries to use this new information for future dates.

All and all it's very relaxing to date someone like him, who surprisingly has a very loving and understanding heart behind what people are used to see.

#asexual #obey me leviathan #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me belphegor #asexual mc #obey me #international asexuality day #obey me shall we date #obey me asmodeus #ace pride #ace

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dessarious · 5 years ago

Text

What Makes a Family? Pt1

So it seems like almost everyone is good with me posting whatever randomness pops up, and I did tease a bit with the BioDad!Bruce thing so here’s the beginning of that mess.

AO3 Next

At seventeen Marinette had gotten very good at ignoring things. She ignored Lila and all the garbage the girl spouted. She ignored her classmate's insanity in not paying attention to what the girl said about Marinette, but believing everything else that came out of the liar's mouth. As Ladybug she ignored her partner's advances and all the people who kept telling her to give him a shot. He'd actually got Alya to help him set up a social media campaign in favor of it. So when she looked up to find her entire class looking at her with pity or concern she had no idea what was going on.

"Oh Marinette, I'm so sorry! I completely forgot the DNA test showed that you were adopted." Lila's insincere apology just made her roll her eyes and go back to sketching.

"You didn't forget but it doesn't matter anyway. Whatever jab you're hoping to land isn't going to hit but feel free to keep going." Lila teared up and half the class ran to comfort her while the others seemed frozen in their seats. No one really knew what to do in this situation, and it had been happening more often as Marinette decided she just didn't care anymore.

"That was uncalled for! You should apologize." Alya's stern tone just got another eye roll.

"That was a bit harsh dude." Poor Nino. Always caught in the middle with no real understanding what exactly he was in the middle of. Out of her peripheral Marinette could see Adrien giving her a disappointed look. Something else she'd gotten good at ignoring.

Finding out he was Chat Noir hadn't been nearly as devastating as she would have thought. It actually made everything make a lot more sense. She didn't have much respect for him, but she did feel sorry for him. That more than anything was why she hadn't taken his Miraculous back. If she found Plagg's true holder all bets were off, but for now she left things the way they were.

"Marinette, just because your birth parents didn't want you is no reason to take out your frustration on me." Oh Kwami, she was still going. It was kind of pathetic that she thought those words would hurt. Marinette put on a condescending smile.

"That's rather presumptuous. For all you know my birth parents could have died, or given me up to give me a chance at a better life. But for the sake of speeding this along let's assume you're right. There are plenty of parents out there that don't want their kids. Many keep them simply because they feel obligated or think it will look bad. They ignore or even abuse them because they're a reminder of the things they had to give up." The entire room had gone silent as she spoke and more than one person flinched. It wasn't her intention to make people feel bad about their own situations but maybe recognizing it would allow them to get help. "On the other hand my real parents, the people who raised me, not only want me, they chose me. They love me unconditionally and have always been there for me. I'd say I'm actually really lucky, wouldn't you? "

Just about everyone was shifting uncomfortably and avoiding eye contact. Lila was glaring at her and Marinette just gave her a bright smile before returning to her sketching. Sure the revelation that she wasn't biologically related to her parents had been surprising, but they'd talked it over and she understood why they didn't tell her. She'd been only a few months old when they found her on their doorstep with a note from her birth mother, and they'd wanted so desperately to have a child. That note was now carefully hidden in Marinette's room.

In class, the rest of her day went rather well. In between was another story.

"Girl I know Lila rubs you the wrong way but you can't just go after her like that. I know you saw the look Adrien gave you. Do you want to ruin your chances with him just so you can snark at Lila? It's not worth it and if you'd just get to know her I'm sure you'd be friends." Same stupid argument for over three years. She had Alya's lecture memorized at this point. Of course hers wasn't the only one.

"Mari, you know that going after Lila is just going to get her Akumatized. Not to mention what will happen to me if she complains to my father. Do you want him to ban me from seeing you? Or pull me out of school?" Same damn guilt trip for three years too. Yes, Adrien was in a crappy position but she was done with him acting like it was her fault or her responsibility.

By the time she made it home she was ready to just be done with the day. As she trudged to her room the list of things she still needed to do ran through her head making her even more annoyed. When she opened the hatch to her room and saw Luka and Kagami sitting shoulder to shoulder on her chaise and holding hands she decided to be the drama queen Kagami liked to accuse her of being and face planted across both their laps.

"Rough day?" The only response she could manage to Luka's amused voice was an incomprehensible whine. She felt more than heard the pair of them laughing at her.

“If you two aren’t nicer to me I’m revoking your snack privileges.” Her mumbled complaint just produced more muted laughter.

“Your dad will give us the entire bakery no matter what you say.” So what if Kagami was right? She could probably get her mom after them but her dad would still just find a way to sneak them food. She felt Kagami begin running fingers through her hair while Luka rubbed soothing circles on her back and she melted into them. Okay, maybe no snacks was a bit harsh.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Luka’s question caused her to groan. Same crap different day so there wasn’t really anything to talk about.

“No. I just want to stay here and pretend nothing outside this room exists for a while.” Luka started humming something that sounded like a lullaby as he continued to rub her back. Kagami started using both hands and gently used her nails to massage Marinette’s scalp. She loved them both so much even if she still couldn’t seem to pinpoint the moment they’d gone from three friends hanging out to three people in a relationship. Of course maybe that was why they worked so well together in the first place.

Marinette was moments from giving in to the pull of sleep when all of their phones went off. This time all three of them groaned.

“How bad is it?” Marinette felt Luka reach for his phone before he gave a sigh.

“It’s Lila again. We’d better head out before she comes here looking for you.” Great, not only did she have to deal with an Akumatized Lila she’d also have to deal with Adrien’s smug ‘I told you so’ in the morning. Maybe her parents would let her skip so she could finish some of her commissions. It was worth a try at least. She got up reluctantly and was met with worried looks from her partners and all the Kwami.

“I’m fine, just drained, I promise.” That didn’t seem to put any of them at ease. “Let’s go. The sooner we get there the sooner we can come back and make fun of whatever outfit and powers Hawkmoth gave her this time.” That at least got an eye roll out of Kagami and a gentle smile from Luka before all three transformed and headed off to save Paris, again.

AO3 Next

Ko-Fi

#maribat #bio dad bruce wayne #marinette dupen chang #lukagaminette #self indulgent drivel #mari needs sleep #mari needs a hug

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saltymiraculer · 5 years ago

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Ceremonial Kisses (Part 1 of 3)

Part 2

So I decided to try my hand at the “Marinette, the princess of China” trope and see how I did! Tell me what you think?

Also, the first chapter is going to be fluffy, the second chapter’ll have a sprinkling of salt, and the third chapter will be a mix of piles and piles of salt and some fluff. Be warned!

“I’ve got a big, big, big announcement for you today, class!“ Bustier chirped, clapping her hands to get their attention. “China’s princess will be coronated in a week and a half, the day she turns 18, as many of you know, and one class from the school will be selected to travel to China and watch the ceremony. Guess which class it was?“

“Uhhh…Mme. Mendeleiev’s!“

“Ooh, M. D’Argencourt’s? They’ve wanted that trip for weeks!“

“No, class, it’s ours! In three days, we’ll board the plane to Asia and have a few days to sightsee and explore, then attend the coronation on the second-to-last day!“

“Wow! Why our class?“ Kim asked.

Marinette knew exactly why. Marc had told her that the entire school was sick of Lila’s lies and wanted to enjoy the coronation without her butting in in the middle of the assembly to tell a ‘story’ about herself.

But she couldn’t just say that.

“You know, I actually know the princess,“ Lila said, immediately drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “But her identity is being kept a secret for now. That’s how we landed the trip!“

“Wow, Lila!“

“That’s amazing!“

“So cool of you.“

“They know that’s stupid, right?“ Alya stage-whispered, earning a glare from Lila’s new puppy–more commonly known as Kim. She shrugged. “I’m just tellin’ the truth!“

Alya, who was now her only other supporter next to Nino (and technically Adrien, but she’d discuss that later–it was very complicated), had decided to Google Lila’s name during a sleepover and found…some rather incriminating Facebook posts.

After that, she was 100% team Marinette and an amazing friend, along with Nino, who had decided that he needed a theme song. No one knew why.

But they loved him anyways!

So while Bustier was rattling off facts about Chinese emperors and kings and queens, Nino was showing them his latest idea to expose Lila.

“Okay,“ he started. “First, we go to China. Then we do our sightseeing and shit, and then. I did some research, and we can ask the princess questions if we’re with a national news channel. Alya’s blog counts. For real, we can talk to the princess of China. And we ask her if she knows Lila.“

“Brilliant plan, Nino. I wonder how the princess will react to a few teenagers in the middle of a crowd of famous people.“

Nino frowned. “The princess is only, like, 17. She’ll probably notice us, Als.”

“Oh, that reminds me, your birthday’s on the same day as the coronation, Marinette! Weird, isn’t it? That you and the princess have the same birthday?“ Alya asked, pulling out her phone and swiping through something.

“Huh, yeah. You’re right. Maybe we can invite her to my birthday party?“

“Ooh, the wiki page says she likes custard buns, and I’m not sure how they know that,“ Nino chuckled. “but make sure to stock up on those.“

“Noted,“ Marinette said drily as Bustier turned to them with a condemning look on her face. “Alya! I hope what you’re doing on that phone relates to the lesson!“

“China’s princess’s identity is being kept a secret because the last two were sent death threats, dangerous items, highly innapropriate items, and several other things that prompted them to not reveal the princess until it was necessary.“

“C-correct, Alya. Good job.“

“Nice!“ Marinette mouthed, high-fiving Alya, who flipped her phone around to reveal a website about the princess.

-🌸-

The final bell rang as several of the students cheered. One school day until the trip over, three more to go. Alya swung her bag over her shoulder and bumped Marinette’s elbow. “We goin’ to your place to hang out?”

“Yeah, my dad’s out anyways and mom closed the bakery for the afternoon. let’s go!“ Alya took Nino’s hand and walked the short distance to Marinette’s house. They entered and immediately felt something off.

Ah, there it was.

Sabine was leaning over the counter with a cup of very strong-smelling peppermint tea beside her. She was rubbing her temples and muttering to herself in rapid Mandarin.

“Maman? Are you alright?“ Marinette asked worriedly. Alya and Nino stood by the door–they had only seen her like this once before, when her cousin had been run over and killed.

“Yes, dear, everything’s okay, it’s just–there’s something I need to tell you.“

“Oh, no, did something happen to someone?“

“No, no, everyone’s just fine. I can’t not tell you without there being serious problems.“

“So what is it? What’s so important you had to close the bakery?“

“You’re the princess. China’s princess. The one nobody knows about.“

“I’m what?!“ Marinette screeched, grabbing at her hair. “I’m the heir to the throne of the most populated country in the world, and you waited until a week before the coronation to tell me?!“

“Holy shit.“ Alya and Nino said simultaneously. Sabine stared at them, likely just realizing they were there.

“Oh. They know now, too. Perfect, that’s just what we need, a reporter knowing who–“

“Maman! Alya wouldn’t tell a soul, I know she wouldn’t.“

Sabine turned to Alya. “I’m sorry, dear, I’m just stressed. With that trip to China in a few days and all that, we’ll have to close down the bakery for about a week.”

“And we never close down the bakery.“ Marinette finished, putting a steady hand on her mom’s shoulder. “But I know just the person to run it while we’re gone.“

As she was about to say who exactly would run the bakery, Nino backed into the door, wide-eyed.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. My best friend…holy shit.“

“Nino, I know this is a lot, but we’ll have to stay calm,“ Alya said, grabbing his hand. “So we don’t spill her secret. That’s top priority, all right? Don’t–tell–anyone.“

Nino sighed. “Sorry, babe. This…“ he turned to Marinette. “Do you have any cookies?“

Marinette grinned and led them into the kitchen. “Of course! Chocolate chunk or raspberry frosted?“

“Raspberry, all the way!“

“There’s the Nino I know!“

After a quick cookie interval, Marinette pushed her plate away and sighed. “Anyone up for an impromptu sleepover? You all left a bunch of your clothes here the last few times.”

“Marinette. If you know us, you will know our answers.“ Alya said solemnly.

“Hell yeah. Wanna go choose which terrible rom-com to watch this time?“

They ended up settling on The Kissing Booth, one of Marinette’s personal favorites (”To lighten the tension, you know?” Alya had said. “Although the tension in here probably weighs the same as an obese hippopotamus at this point.”) and made a bowl of caramel popcorn, with a tiny bag of sea-salt Skinny Pop for Nino.

“Sugar on popcorn is a crime, man. I ain’t touching that.“

“You’ve tried it once, Nino.“

“Yes, and I hated it. Is there anything else to be said?“

So they spent the next two hours in a blanket fort that was made almost entirely of throw pillows laughing over Elle and Noah and Lee being idiots, with a few highlights such as the iconic “Ninth grade skirt, eleventh grade body” scene, where Alya snorted and said “You know, Lila’s skipped so much school, might as well be ninth grade brain, eleventh grade work.”

“Too true,“ Nino agreed. “The other day, she called Chloe’s mom Aurora Bourgeois. That was a pretty major mess-up.”

“Shhh! Let’s just watch the movie!“ Marinette said, effectively quieting them down.

They watched the rest in silence with the usual laughs., ending up falling asleep halfway through the second movie, snuggled up on their respective couches. Marinette mother shook them awake the next morning, telling them to take showers and eat breakfast and get dressed and for god’s sake, Marinette, finish your homework.

“Crap, crap, crapcrapcrap! Nino, we’re going to be late if we don’t get ready fast!“ Alya shouted as Marinette ran up the stairs to change. “Can I use your shower, M?“

“Sure!“ was the muffled reply.

After about 10 minutes of running around and shoving waffles in their mouths, they grabbed their bags and ran off to school.

They burst through the door in the nick of time, the bell ringing just as they plunked down their things.

Bustier wasn’t there five minutes into the class, so they started talking.

“Marinette, you have to listen to Nino’s latest track, it’s–“ Just as she was about to describe Nino’s latest track, a bouncy-ball the size of a walrus snashed through the wall, nearly taking off Kim’s head.

There was a cackle from outside. “I am Gradack! You will all feel the same sorrow that I did!“

-🌸-

The fight was over relatively fast, and everything was calmed down and restored before their next class. Turns out Chat Noir didn’t show, so Marinette had to ask Alya for assistance.

In hindsight, she probably should have picked a better place to transform.

“Tikki, spots on!“ After she transformed, she was about to go to Fu to get one of the Miraculous, when she heard a strangled gasp.

“…shit.“

“My best friend is the princess of goddamn China and Ladybug? What the fuck?! Who are you? How did I not know? When did–“

“Alya, I know the feeling, but you can’t tell anyone. Got it?“

“Nino?“

“Well,“ Marinette paused to think. “Yeah, I guess. I trust him enough. Now, take this and transform!“ she tossed Alya the hexagonal box, and after a quick transformation, they ran off to defeat the saddened graduate of an akuma.

As she said, it was an easy fight.

They comforted the victim with four minutes (each) to spare, then ran back to the locker rooms to transform back.

Time Skip!

It was the morning of the flight to China, and she was ecstatic. Of course, she had to get up at 3:45 in the morning, but it was worth it–the flight took off at six in the morning, of course.

She could see the logic of wanting to arrive at 12:00, but she would’ve much preferred a red-eye.

Then she wouldn’t have had to stay up all night reading, because no way in hell would she just wake up at 3:45 in the morning.

The alarm would’ve had to go off for hours.

But back to the morning, she poured herself a sasquatch-sized mug of coffee, with about a gallon of cream and enough sugar to put an entire city of diabetics into shock, she started getting dressed.

Trudging around and haphazardly pulling out shirts, she finally decided on a simple red-and-orange flannel, a white t-shirt, and a pair of cropped jeans.

The she downed the rest of her coffee with an apathetic “Bottoms up!” and slapped her cheeks.

She grapped her suitcase and walked outside to where her mother was typing away on a laptop in the pitch-black night.

“Mom, why are you up?“

“Because I have to drive you to the airport, that’s why. And no alarm would be able to wake me up at 3 in the morning.“

“Preach. I’m ready to go, so can we get in the car now?“

After driving to the airport and saying goodbye to her mom, she walked into the airport and immediately saw the group of sleepy teens (and a certain disheveled teacher) leaning on their suitcases, trying not to fall asleep.

Nino and Marinette were already there, their eyelids drooping. The only person who looked properly awake was Sabrina, who was–inevitably–holding a saucer out to Chloé, who was sipping from a teacup.

Alya rolled her eyes and walked over to Marinette and Nino. “Who’re we missing?”

“Kim and Rose. They’re carpooling, so they should be here any minute.“

Just as Marinette had said, a few seconds later, Rose and Kim walked into the airport. Kim was still wearing pajama pants.

Another Time Skip!

“Marinette.“ Alya groaned, shaking Marinette’s shoulders. “Marinette, wake up, we’re here.“

Marinette’s eyes fluttered open. “No. Five more minutes.”

“Everyone else is already off the plane!“

“Shit. Let’s go!“ Marinette said, jumping up, grabbing her purse (which she had recently learned concealed a kwami) and scrambling out the door.

Alya picked up the mini-backpack she now carried (which held Trixx, cookies, and some grape jelly) and followed her out the door.

Almost as soon as they stepped off the plane, they heard a loud wail.

“Great. She’s back on her bullshit.“

“I just can’t believe she would steal that, Lila! It’s so unlike her!“

“M-maybe, but there’s p-proof! Look!“

“Oh, great, what did we do this time?“ Alya asked exasperatedly. They watched as Lila held out the remains of–from what they could see from a meter away–a sketch of an orange mermaid gown with a black lace collar, ripped into quarters and laid out on the ground.

Marinette gasped beside her.

“That’s your dress, isn’t it?“

A small tear made its way down Marinette’s face. “It was going to be for you,” she said softly.

Alya threw her arms around Marinette and rubbed her shoulders. “It’s okay, sweetie. Once you’re princess, we’ll sue her for all she’s worth.”

Marinette detached herself from Alya and wiped her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Alya.”

-🌸-

Nino stormed up to where Alya and Marinette were standing with a furious expression on his face.

“That fox,“ he seethed. “that bitchy little fox of a liar stole your drawing.“

Marinette chuckled wetly. “Yeah, we know.“

“Are you okay? I know how important they are to you.“

“I’m fine, Nino, and o–who the hell are you?“ A man in an oddly formal suit was standing next to her, holding out a small red envelope.

Marinette plucked the envelope from his fingers, opened it, and read the contents. She looked up and nodded at the suit-wearing guy.

“Good. In that case, Miss Dupain-Cheng, I’m going to need you to come with me.“ Alya and Nino immediately stepped in front of her in a protective shield.

“She’s not in trouble, is she?“

The strange man looked surprisingly amused. “Not at all–but you might want to come with us, too. You as well, headphone-boy.”

Nino put a hand on his chest and gasped in offense.

“Nino. He’s going to drive us to the palace. You’re coming, too, ya doof!“ Nino made a noise of realization and followed them out to where a black limousine was waiting.

They climbed in and drove off.

About five minutes into the drive, he moved his foot to the side, accidentally kicking a black box.

Just as he was preparing his final goodbyes, it sprung open, and inside was a junk food lover’s heaven.

“Dude.“

#ml #ml salt #ml salt fic #marinette dupain cheng #marinette deserves better #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #alya sugar #nino sugar #lila rossi #lila salt #lila bashing #adrien agreste #adrien salt #adrien bashing #marinette the princess of china #WHY ARE YOU READING THE TAGS

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janiedean · 4 years ago

Text

... the tyrion/sansa hairdresser/mortician au no one was expecting but happened

well @meri-vaahtoaa I TOLD YOU IT WAS GONNA HAPPEN TODAY AND IT HAPPENED, have a for now untitled tyrion/sansa mortician/hairdresser au inspired by this post with bonus guest star jeyne p. u___u don't look for angst, also extremely background mentioned jb plus jaime & bronn being themselves in the backstory, have fun u__u

This fucking teaches me to be drunk around both my brother and Bronn, Tyrion thinks for the umpteenth time as he keeps on walking - he needs a damned salon and he needs it now but he also had to get out of the neighborhood because like hell he’s going to risk running into anyone who knows his father. That’s the… least thing he needs, honestly, as if his life choices aren’t already something he has to fight for every other moment and he can’t fucking wait to be out of the house, which should be soon -

If he doesn’t get thrown out of his internship because of his horrible drunk choices.

Why did they have drinks together, why did they have drunk bets, why did he bet with Jaime that he would dye his hair bright blue if he stopped beating around the bush and confessed to the bartender that he’s been into her since they started coming to that specific place for drinks because he chickened out of it for months, except -

Except Jaime went and did it and it turned out that she actually had been looking back and Tyrion hadn’t been wrong in that assessment, but then he had to do it and he actually went and used a do it yourself dye and -

Well.

He honestly can’t go and start his apprenticeship with blue hair that’s also… well, not even professionally dyed, and considering the arguments that it created the least thing he needs is going somewhere he’d be recognized.

So, he’s plenty out of the neighborhood, but he hasn’t found someplace that felt… well, not extra fancy. The second-least thing he needs is extra fancy shops where people would send looks his way that he could absolutely do without.

Also, it’s fucking hot. Why did he do that in the middle of summer again? And why couldn’t he have bet something more reasonable - right, it was Bronn’s idea and they were drunk. Fuck.

He walks a bit more, wondering if maybe he should sit down and check on Google Maps if he’s ended up in the only area of the city that doesn’t have any, and then he sees one on the other side of the road - fine, he stopped because he wondered who names a hair salon Beauty and the Beast, but it costs nothing to have a look from the outside, right?

He crosses the street and walks up to the door.

First thing, the pricing list outside it looks… well, it’s not cheap, but it’s certainly not the ridiculous fares they ask where his sister goes to have her hair done, which is exceedingly good since he doesn’t want to spend a salary’s worth of an average office employee to get that blue crap out of his hair. He looks through the glass door - there is just one woman inside getting her hair done, which is also good because the least people around the shorter the wait, it certainly does look clean and while the pastel aesthetic is maybe a bit too much for his tastes - everything is a pastel shade, from the light yellow on the floor to the pale pink and violet of the chairs and the powder blue of the walls… well, beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to it, and the woman on the chair is chatting amicably with the chestnut-haired girl doing her hair and doesn’t look like she hates being there or like she chose the wrong shop.

Also, it’s two PM and he knows this is going to take long. He can hardly afford to fuck around much longer.

He pushes the door open and walks into the shop.

“Welcome!” The chestnut-haired girl says, giving him a nice smile. “Sorry if I don’t come over, but if you sit for a minute my colleague will be back from her coffee break shortly.”

“Sure,” he says, “no hurry,” and he goes sitting on one of the pale violet chairs on the side - they’re comfortable, at least, and he considers taking out the book he brought with to pass the time, but then -

“Hello and welcome! Can I get you a glass of water” Someone else chirps from his side, and right, he did hear the door open -

Oh.

“Hi,” he blurts, staring into a pair of lovely blue eyes belonging to supposedly the other girl working here - she has long auburn hair styled in a french braid and is wearing a blue summer dress that pairs with her eyes perfectly and she’s smiling down at him as if she’s not horrified by his horrid dye-job, or by his presence in the first place, which is his general experience in this kind of shops, so - that’s good, at least. “And uh, thanks,” he says, realizing he is thirsty.

“Be right back! Sorry, I was taking my break but we have no appointments today, so I’ll be on your case very soon.”

She goes to the corner of the room and grabs a glass of water from a dispenser, then brings it to him - shit, he needed it.

“So, what can I do for you?”

“Er,” he says, “I dyed that hair for a bet but I was called for an internship yesterday, and I start on Monday, so… I need a removal. If it’s possible.”

The girl leans closer, taking a good look at his hair.

“Hm,” she says, “it might take a while, but I think it’s possible. It’s not a very good dye job, if I can say so.”

He snorts. “Oh, you can. Please, I did it and I have regretted it every moment since.”

“Well,” she nods, “you’re lucky that most likely no one will show up for anything complicated today then. Jeyne, can you handle other customers in case?”

“Sure,” the chestnut-haired girl replies. “As if I don’t know you’ll have the time of your life.”

She rolls her eyes, then goes to a wardrobe in the corner and finds him a towel, tucks it around his neck and lowers a chair near the small sinks at the bottom of the shop so he can sit on it - he does, feeling extremely thankful that it’s extremely comfortable leather, and he can hear her tutting about bad dyes under her breath as she washes his hair once, twice, thrice, and her fingers feel really good on his scalp but he’s not going to think about that now.

“Just for the record,” she asks as she rinses it, “do you just want the dye to go away or do you want a cut, too?”

“Hell,” he says, “I need to look presentable. I suppose the cut can’t hurt.”

“Will do,” she chirps again, “and by the way, never use that kind of dye again. Not with hair this nice.”

Tyrion would have toppled off the chair if his head wasn’t thrown too far back for it to happen.

“I have nice hair now?”

“You can feel it,” she replies, “under all this… this,” she says, shaking her head.

“I know,” he says, “bad choices.”

“Extremely,” she goes on, rinsing. “But don’t you worry. I’ll have it fixed.”

“Really,” chestnut-haired girl says, “Sansa is a pro with that kind of thing. You’re in good hands.”

Oh. So her name is Sansa. It’s pretty, he thinks.

“Well,” he says, “I can’t wait to see how you manage it. I’m Tyrion, by the way. Figures you should know if I know yours?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she goes on, and gives his hair a last rinse. “Right, can you move forward?” He does and she dries his hair with the towel, then goes to find a mantel that somehow he doesn’t drown in. “Please,” she says, “on whichever free chair you prefer.”

He picks an empty one two spots away from Jeyne and the other woman and lowers it so he can sit down, and then Sansa raises it up again until his still sadly blue head is at the right height.

“Hm,” she says, grabbing a lock and feeling it between her fingers, “from what I see here you’re a natural blonde?”

“Sort of,” he shrugs. He is - his hair isn’t as golden as his siblings’, but it definitely is on that shade. Not that he ever bothered to look into it. “Wait,” he says, fishing into his pocket, and then he grabs his phone and shows her a picture Bronn took of him and Jaime during Tyrion’s latest birthday party which is about the only one of his he’s kept there where you can see his actual color very well. She takes it, squints, zooms on his head, then nods and hands him back the phone.

“Well,” she says, “we’re going to have to use a color remover to take out the blue pigment, then apply some more pigment to allow for the proteins in the hair to adhere to it. Then… yeah, possibly mix a few different types of toners to reach the goal of your natural hair color, and it’s going to take a while, but we should get there. Nothing that terrible.”

“Er,” he blurts, “how much chemistry did you have to study to get there?”

She smiles a bit wider.

“Yeah, I know, but some people don’t like if we talk like that. It makes it sound complicated, I’m told.”

“Not at all,” he says, waiting as Jeyne, who has finished the other woman’s hair, goes to the back room to presumably get Sansa at least the color remover, “not like it’s not… sort of my thing, too,” he says, and then he bites his own tongue - why did he ever do that, now she’s going to decide he’s a creep or something -

“Really,” she says as Jeyne comes back and hands her the remover, “do lean your head back. And what it is that you do?”

He takes a deep breath and tells her.

—

“Oh, so you’re a mortician?” Sansa says happily as she keeps on applying the remover to his hair, her fingers pressing along his scalp as she rubs it in. To her credit, she doesn’t sound like she thinks it’s creepy.

“Well, apprentice,” he shrugs, “but yeah, working on it. And starting an internship soon. Where I can’t… look like this. But yes. Just going through my degree - I had a final a couple days ago. Fuck, it was so embarrassing.”

“Did they judge your hair?”

“Called it apocalyptic, but I aced it.”

“Nice. What was it about?”

“Embalming, mostly,” he sighs. “All the chemistry about formadelhyde I had to learn.”

“Fun fact,” Sansa grins, “do you know they use it in clothing?”

… He somehow had not known that.

“What? Really? They forgot to cover that part.”

“Well,” Sansa says, “I used to crash fashion school lessons, my brother’s boyfriend snuck me in. I learned a lot. I think it’s because of the preserving qualities, though I’m sure it wasn’t… all of it.”

“I mean,” Tyrion blurts, “it’s a preservative but it’s also a disinfectant. Destroys bacteria and their food supply, and it’s a dehydrator, there’s a reason why we use it that much.”

“Hm,” Sansa nods, starting to put aluminium stripes on his hair - fuck, he looks ridiculous like this, “one wonders why you don’t just use alcohol then? Because I thought it was kind of carcinogen.”

Well, she did listen to those lessons for sure.

“It’s cheaper,” Tyrion sighs, “a lot cheaper. It cuts costs. Guess I’ll resign myself to the cancer risk.”

She snorts. “Please,” she says, keeping on placing those stripes carefully, “I’m pretty sure that’s exaggerating a bit. There, they should rest for half an hour. I have to place a few calls now but if you want to read while I’m at it feel free to, just don’t move your head around too much.”

“Roger that,” Tyrion nods, and settles back in the chair.

He has a feeling it’s going to be long, but at least she’s very good company. Jeyne looks about to say something but then another woman comes in the shop and she goes to greet her, and Tyrion goes back to his Chinese sci-fi book that he’s really enjoying and hopes that at the end of it he doesn’t have to shave his head because that dye was that bad.

—

Half an hour later, after washing away the remover, Sansa has moved on to applying the first round of pigment to his hair - the blue did go out, but it still looks…. well. Bad. He can see it just looking at it in the mirror.

“So, she says, “is your internship at a funeral home?”

“Yes,” he replies, “it’s during the last six months of the degree, then you write your thesis and you get your license, and honestly, it’s a nice funeral home. I hope they hire me for good. Anyway, it makes sense. We need to have… experiences with, uh, cases, you know, uh -“

“You can say bodies,” Sansa grins brightly, “it’s fine. I know what you do in funeral homes.”

“Oh, thank God,” he blurts. “I’m sorry, uh, people tend to get queasy when I mention them. The bodies, I mean.”

“That sounds nonsensical,” Sansa shrugs, “what do people think happens when they die? Anyway, you can absolutely say that. Hm, here we go, I think these can stay. Another… yeah. Half-hour, forty-five minutes? Get yourself comfortable. I’ll go mix those toners meanwhile.”

Oh. Right. The toners. Fuck, he can’t wait for this entire dye business to be over. Honestly, he hasn’t done that when he was fifteen, he should have stuck with it.

He grabs his book back and starts reading it again, except that he finds himself wishing he could chat with Sansa some more and he needs to get that thought out of his head right now, no reason to set himself up for failure.

He reads on.

—

Later, she’s washed his hair again and she’s still mixing the toners.

“Yeah,” she says, “I think this need a bit more work, but I’m curious. Is there anything you don’t like about your school? Because you sounded really excited before.”

Did I, Tyrion thinks, but then again… he almost never talks about it to anyone except Jaime or Bronn because everyone else thinks it’s morbid, and somehow this girl who owns a wholly pastel shop actually seems to enjoy discussing the topic, so why the hell not?

“I mean,” he says, “I think we should do autopsies.”

“Oh, you don’t? I’d have expected it.”

“Eh,” he shrugs, “me too, and I think we should for, you know, completion and so on, but we don’t, so I guess I’ll read up on it.”

“But,” she says, “hypothetically,” and she’s kind of smiling slyly, what, “let’s say that someone wakes up while embalming them. What do you do then?”

“I mean,” Tyrion replies, slowly, “I think there’s a pretty huge difference between a living body and a dead one?”

“Sansa, please,” Jeyne says as she combs through the hair of the other woman, who looks… a tiny bit disturbed, but neither Jeyne nor Sansa are, so… who cares. right?, “never mind that you need a bit more toner, but I think there’s a thing named rigor mortis that’d make it pretty fucking obvious.”

“That,” Tyrion replies, “also if one gets stuck in a fridge for a few days I think you’d be dead anyway. Not to be, you know, morbid.”

Sansa mixes a bit more toner and smiles wider. Right. She was so fucking with him. “I mean, you did pump them full of carcinogen just before, right?”

“Right,” he laughs as she tells him to lean back and starts applying the toner to his poor roots, “we did, technically.”

“Just stay still,” she goes on, “it’ll be another hour, I think. Then I can cut.”

Well, he decides, at least this entire process is being not overtly miserable.

He leans back and lets her apply the toner and then cover it with the aluminium stripes all over again.

—

“So,” she says later while Jeyne is going through the third client of the day and he’s sitting on the chair again after his hair was thoroughly rinsed and washed for the umpteenth time — he lost count, honestly, but now it does look like his usual shade, sort of, he thinks, “can I ask what was this infamous bet about? Also, I can see your hair is naturally wavy — should I just trim the edges? Because I can see you cut it yourself and it’s not bad but you kind of hacked at them.”

“Er, yes,” he says, “sounds good. Wait, naturally wavy?”

“It is,” she says, “I can recognize it.”

“I, uh,” he coughs, “I don’t think I ever had it long enough to notice?”

“It’s the exact same as your brother’s,” she shrugs, “just a bit darker, but again, this should tide you over for a while. I mean, by the time it wears off whatever travesty you did to your hair in the first place should be fixed and it’ll be as before and no one will notice.”

“Then - I guess you can trim only and I’ll see,” he says, his throat suddenly feeling dry. No one ever compared him to Jaime in that sense without making it… well. About how he’s not the person with the good looks in the family, so this entire thing is just - weird. “Anyway, uh, you can ask about the bet. I mean, it’s just embarrassing.”

“I’m listening,” she says, cutting the edges of his hair slowly, and surely she puts a lot more thought it in than he does while cutting it, but then again… it’s her job and he learned because he didn’t want his father’s barber to go near his head.

“Er, so,” he clears his throat again, trying to figure out how to tell her the sanitized version of it while sparing her from all the family ugliness, “I was out drinking with the brother and the best friend at the same bar we’ve been going to for months because they have good drinks and the brother absolutely had a crush on the bartender, except that he came from a, uh, toxic relationship, let’s put it like that, and I thought he wasn’t going to fess up ever, so - we were drunk and it came out and I said of course I’d dye my hair that horrid color if he fessed up to her and like, I thought he never would but he actually went and did it and — yeah. I mean, glad for him that it went well but not my greatest moment.”

“Aw,” Sansa replies, keeping on trimming, “I like a nice love story. I imagine he doesn’t share our interest in formadelhyde.”

Why does his heart beat a tiny bit faster when she says our interest?

“No,” Tyrion shakes his head, “he’s more into nerding over Middle Ages weapons, but at least he didn’t tell me Six Feet Under was boring, so.”

“I loved that show,” she replies, “who’d say it’s boring?”

“It’s my favorite,” he shrugs a bit as she puts away the scissors. “And a lot of people, but it seems like you have good taste.”

She nods as she grabs some lotion that she supposedly has to pass into his hair before drying it. “And what about you?”

“Sorry?”

“Well, he had a nice love story going into port, so what about you?”

“Er,” he hopes he’s not blushing, fuck, he’s usually not — he doesn’t fluster, fucking hell, “I — really am not looking. My family kind of… fucked up the only serious relationship I had going for me and most people get put off at the whole I want to be a mortician thing, so.”

“What kind of family fucks up relationships for other people?”

“The kind we come from,” he sighs, “but at least he’s out of that circus and I’ll be the moment I graduate.”

“Nice,” Sansa nods, “now just hold on a moment and I’m drying it.”

He nods — she grabs an hair dryer and starts blowing it and yes, he can see she got the exact shade right now that it’s not wet anymore, and — well, of course it’s her job to make it look good but the more she proceeds the nicer it looks, and now he can vaguely see what she meant when she talked about natural curls, and also… it feels fluffier? Lighter? He has no fucking clue, but the moment she’s finished — well.

“Fuck,” he admits, “I don’t think my hair ever looked this nice in my entire life.”

She grins. “I know how to do my job. Another moment.” She sprays some more lotion on her hands and runs it through his hair again. “This was just for a bit of nutriment, but there you are. You know, if you treat it a bit more nicely you might not need it me to make it look good.”

“Yeah, well, and what if I’d like to come back here instead?” He blurts, not knowing what the fuck he’s aiming for, but then she grins back a bit wider.

“I always like making new clients,” she replies, “especially when they’re cute and they don’t only want to talk about the gossip in magazines. That gets boring after a while.”

Wait, did she call him cute?

“Tell you what,” she keeps on as she takes the mantel off him and waits for him to get off the chair and follow her to the counter, “let’s say I don’t give all new clients a ten percent discount but I do give it to the ones I like.”

What the fuck —

“So, here you go.”

She hands him a receipt… with a fifteen per cent discount. “But you have to promise me you won’t use that crap dye anymore. That’s probably more cancer-inducing than formaldehyde could ever be.”

He has to laugh at that.

“Fair,” he says, “I won’t. Maybe I’ll come back before my last final. It’s two weeks from now,” he says, slowly, “I might want to look good for it. As much as it goes, anyway.”

“Oh, I’ll make you look incredible, don’t you worry.” She takes his card, swipes it, hands him the POS. He’s sure he doesn’t let it drop just out of sheer force of will. The payment goes through, she gives him his receipt and he pockets it, his hand still sweating —

“I’ll see you to the door,” she goes on, and she follows him out.

“So, Tyrion,” she grins again, “see you in two weeks?”

“Oh,” he replies, “absolutely.”

“And let me know how the internship thing works out. I like to know what’s up with the clients I like,” she winks, and then she leans down and kisses his cheek before going back into the shop.

Tyrion just stands there dumbfounded and only takes a few steps from the shop, and he didn’t mean to eavesdrop but he hears Jeyne the moment he starts walking away and —

“Sansa, I know you said you’d be forward after that asshole Harry, but I never saw you being that obvious. You really liked our mortician or what?”

“So what?” Sansa replies, and Tyrion thinks he’ll faint. “No point in playing hard to get and all. When he comes back I’m absolutely asking him out for coffee or something. I did like him.”

“Good for you,” Jeyne replies, “he seems nice and you deserve a nice guy. Even if that dye was a really crap choice on his part.”

“Oh, if I have a say in it no bad dye is ever coming near that hair. It was so nice,” she replies, and at that point he leaves because he really shouldn’t be doing this and he will faint, but —

But he smiles to himself all the way home.

He thinks he’s never looked forward to a final that much, and if she does really ask him out for coffee, no way he’s being an idiot and saying no.

And if he’ll brush up on cool embalming facts before then, well, you can’t blame him, right?

End.

#sanrion #tyrion lannister #sansa stark #jeyne poole #sansa x tyrion #those are the tags i suppose???#my fic

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washymylifeaway · 4 years ago

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IwaOi MasterList (WIP)

All the IwaOi fics I’ve recommended up to 02/13/2022! To count how many there are, control f “//“ (without the “ ofc, but with a space at the end) and it’ll tell you :) (from my count, there should be around 41 but that doesn’t account for each individual fic in a series!)

to be first, to be best by kittebasu (chanyeol) (T) 26.4k // okay I think I’ve read this fic like 3 times already, but the plot never sticks with me LOL. Not cause it’s a bad fic, but because I have a crap memory LOLOLOL. Regardless, I know it’s a good fic because like I said I managed to re-read on 2 separate occasions so yea.

Conquering the Great King by SuggestiveScribe (E) 105.6k // I LOVE THIS SERIES AHHHHHHHHH. Honestly I know the 105.6k word count is SCARY I UNDERSTAND BUT it is SO worth it. This is the first fic of the series and it’s mainly IWAOI, but there are other ships too so if IWAOI isn’t your thing, check for the other ships :) Also if you don’t mind smut (cause it is explicit for a reason LOL) then please I beg of you to read the whole series!!!!!!! I love love love this one and it really got me invested in the whole fanfic thing LOL.

The Loyalty of a Traitor by DeathBelle (E) 76.9k // ok so does me liking this fic make me basic cause I feel basic LOL. I really love mafia fics, and the way the story line developed was SO good, like IN LOVE with this story. This is a fic where you should read WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARY before diving in, but if the length scares you, don’t be. It’s so easy to fall in and get lost in the writing!

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle by kittebasu (chanyeol) (T) 66.3k // again, basic? Probably LOL but it’s good so I have no shame ;) Again, pls don’t let the word count scare you (cause it scared me LOL), you get really into it after like 2 paragraphs, so just make sure you have enough time to finish hehe.

Oikawa’s Last Wish/es by DanaiaCake (G) 5.1k // this one, man it’s short but painful LOL. Proof that angst doesn’t have to be long to completely break you ahhahah. It actually has a sequel (which is less angsty), but yea if you like finish this fic and are like broken, read it for some…. glue?

In Defense of Reptiles (and Other Gross Things) by rikke (T) 9.3k // this fic is so freakin cute omg. I love IwaOi, and the progression of their relationship in this is *chefs kiss*. I love everything about this fic, and pls read all the footnotes while you’re reading the fic because it gives it so much character!!!! Also I would cry if a garden snake bit me too, so back off Iwa :’))))).

Super Spy Husbands by leurauxe // I LOVE THIS SERIES AKJASFDJK READ IT. It’s SO good and I love their actions scenes and the BACKSTORY OMFG THE BACKSTORY. The proposal fic was SO GOOD AAJSFJLS. Like everyone is done so well in these fics and the plot progression? YES PLEASE.

Hell Mission by codename_bewareofthefangirl (T) 22.7k // okay IwaOi yes yes but Akaashi? MVP boys. It do be like that sometimes hehe. Anyway, the interactions between them (IwaOi and the whole squad) are gold. Also Iwa and the shower scene? Yes daddy ;)

hq detective AUs by valiantarmor // again, from that same post EHEHE. Man do I really love fighting in my fics LOL. This was super good and the plot itself kept me really engaged (what a twist omg). It does talk a bit about mental health issues, but it’s done so well, and they really did this AU justice! The three fics can be read separately BUT they’re all done so well, I think you should read them all :)

The One With The Spies by hangoverhater /Multi (but mainly IwaOi)/ PLEASE,,, the fics in this series? HILARIOUS. THE SECOND FIC ”Well, this is a nice change of scenery.” “It’s a prison cell.” “I was being sarcastic.” HAD ME DYING. Poor Daichi, he really needs those days off :)))))

Punches by Sebastians_senpai (M) 1.5k // hot Iwa hot bamf Iwa. Like entrance? Hot. Killing people? Hot. Anyway I want a boyfriend who will protect me if I get hurt. Can I be Oikawa? (you know being Oikawa would be an honor in itself)

training by Sebastians_senpai (M) 3.2k // again the smut…. ANyway, this one is some bamf Oikawa and head-made-of-steel Iwa LOL. Also some avengers talk makes it’s way up (and need I say, Iwa probably did look hot af when he did that), and him constantly hitting the other guy (cause spoilers hehe) made me laugh (ie. targeting LOL).

April 10th by orphan_account (M) 25.8k // this was based off the anime/manga Orange, so if you’ve watched that, it’ll make more sense. Even if you haven’t the plot still makes sense, but I recommend watching it first, it adds to the fic. I really like this one and it has a happy ending (which is kinda spoiler but whatever) and even though there’s no actual death (only implied), the tags are still pretty heavy, so I would be careful.

Shiver by Yuu_chi (T) 16.7k // THIS UGH. I’ve BEEN in LOVE with this fic for like five-ever omg. It’s SO good and the character portrayal and plot progression in this is AMAZING. Whenever I come across it, I always reread it cause it’s just so worth it! (Also that paragraph about Iwa trash talking himself made me laugh OMG.)

dyspnea/arrhythmia by carafin (T) 10.8k // I adore medical fics and I also love Iwa being good with kids,,,, (I think it’s very fitting okay? And the pokemon cameo was great) This was such a great fic and Iwa + Suga being friends is SO CUTE (crying into his orange juice, I want to be). I REALLY loved this fic, and the ending was *chef’s kiss*!!!! (STAN PAEDS IWA)

Build A Temple In Me by Authoress (T) 39.7k // God Oikawa and idgaf Iwa is such a good combination. UGH. I loved the plot of this fic and the conflict was done SO WELL. I also loved how Iwa kept coming back and HIS GRANDMA IS THE BEST <33333 But also their friendship was SO CUTE (THE SONG GUYS THE SONG) and poor Kyoutani :( (There’s also a spicy second fic you should read hehe!)

i’m gonna be the man who comes back home to you by baekuugo (insxouts) (M) 22.5k // UGH SINGLE DAD IWA? Yes please!!! I really love the plot in this one and sassy Kageyama + Hinata + Yachi is such a cute friendship! Also a proud stan of the IwaOi + SugaDai friendship agenda,,,, I love them. (Beware some spice is included aka smut LOL)

silver tongue by ohhotlamb (E) 10.3k // OKAY THIS WAS FUNNY. Like the betrayal and such made me laugh and it was embarrassing. All the emotions in one LMFAO. And like everyone in this fic and the secret operation? OMG. Anyway, there’s a second fic and ITS PRETTY MUCH GOLD AS WELL so like go read them both (RIP pizza party) :D (SMUT ALERT AHAHA)

love me like you do by crossbelladonna (T) 100.5k // this fic was SUCH a rollercoaster omg. First, the concept itself was great and the execution was flawless and Ushiwaka was ajfnlajsdnf. AND THE ENDING!!!! THE ending omg. And Lev being a car made me laugh LMFAO. And we love f ups AHHHHH. If this made no sense, you’re right,,, it didn’t,,, so you should go read it so it does HAHAHA.

darlin’, your head’s not right by aruariandance (T) 13.6k // AJKFFJA THIS ONE!!!! I really love this one and unconfident Oikawa is THE MOVE. I really liked the portrayal of Oikawa in this one, it’s done SO WELL :D Everything about this fic is amazing and the ending was SO CUTE,,, I love recursive endings!!!!!

nevermind (but i mind) by seabear (M) 9.9k // TELEPATHY. Okay prefacing this with the fact that there is SMUT in this, so be careful as you read! But the communication in this one? Nonexistent. And like Iwa’s mom? The mfing mvp. It’s a great fic and the ending was FLUFF.

Cool Dads Club by pancake_surprise (series) 29.7k // UGH I love this series. It’s fluff and cuteness central! They’re all so domestic with the CHILDREN!

Daddy Gay Care by fog_mind (T) 15.2k // CHECK TAGS AND WARNINGS,,, ab*sive exes and violence! This is a pretty fast paced fic and the relationship develop pretty quickly. It focuses more on the ship rather than the kids, but the kids are still pretty dang cute :)

florals for spring? groundbreaking. by MissMairin (T) 24.3k // there’s like 4 (?) weddings in this one. Well three. But I count the informal one too. Anyway, it’s basically wedding planning, but with children LOL. They’re really cute and honestly some of the lines Oikawa says in this are pretty dang iconic!

Supernanny: Iwaizumi Edition by thecivilunrest (T) 12.3k // I love the ending of this fic. But I also just love this fic in general! It’s really cute (UGH), and I really like this plot :D Iwa truly is a supernanny, and like I said, THE ENDING! UGH.

Fire and Rain by lavenderring (M) wip // THIS WAS RLY GOOD WHAT. I am here for the cowboy IwaOi but ALSO GAY PANIC IWA. Not them doing that before kissing I CANNOT WITH HIS LOGIC,,, THIS WAS SO GOOD THO TY FOR MAKING IT. A wip but one I’m willing to read while it comes out, so you should too >:) Am I gonna reblog every update from now on? PROBABLY LMFAO.

like hollywood stars by skittidyne (T) 5.1k // ok I like really like this one. Like LOVE it. There’s just so much about it that’s just done so beautifully and reading it makes me so uaisfja every time. I enjoy rereading this one because of how amazing the world building and plot are, and each time, I think I enjoy it more than the last!

Lost in Translation by rageprufrock (T) 9.6k // This was SO GOOD!!!! I love UCI iwa and the tweets are so FUNNYAJFJSJ! Everything about this was done super well, and it was such a fun read :D I loved the characterization throughout and usually I don’t really like OCs, but they really added to the story (and it was easy to keep track of who was who). Also the ending was GOLD AHAHHA.

The Dare by yourfavoritedissapointment (M) 5.2k // I love confident Iwa I think it’s one of the best concepts this fandom has ever come up with. Like just imagining him being so cock-sure HAHAHHA it’s great. Anyways, you can tell it’s true love because Iwa still wants to deal with Oikawa even though all THAT happened which in my mind, makes it true love HAHHAH.

summer, a thousand years later by vellaude (G) 0k // what? 0 words? yeah cause it’s an image fic HAHAH. It’s SO cute tho and it’s so sad HAHAJFSJ. The earthquake made me so sad and THE ENDING!!! AHHHH. I love reincarnation/mythical fics (? LOL ig comic HAHA).

let me be a part of the narrative by Slumber (T) 3.1k // REUNIONS! Also I found it so funny how Iwa reassured Oikawa that Matsukawa and Hanamaki would be rooting for Agentina HAHA. Anyways, this is your sign to only get with people who follow through with their grand plans (go for gold HAHAHAH).

Seijoh, Inc. by DeathBelle (series) 72.7k // LOVE this series, but couldn’t get around to recommending it anywhere (I think???) Lots of different ships, even outside Seijoh, and I think they can all be read separately? Overall, fun time :)

I Choose You by TripsH (T) 9.3k // a good AU verse :D I like this one and it’s a no communication one as well LOL. Pretty famous/popular IwaOi fic, idk why I haven’t recommended it yet considering the fact that I did like it,,, hmm.

Moral Ambiguity by DeathBelle (E) 16.7k // some k*lling but it’s not super explicit (for the most part). Interesting AU, written very well, do I approve of m*rder? Of course not, but my disapproval for ab*se is also,,, very strong. This is a big TAGS AND WARNINGS fic so pls be safe!

mint by tothemoon (T) 18.9k // another really well loved fic (for good reason) that made me surprised to know I haven’t recommended it yet,,, It’s written super well, and the plot is a lot of fun!

Hanamaki Disease by ArcticLights (T) 1.9k // like the eyyy fic but with memes LOL. It’s also only Oikawa and it’s got some old memes, but they’re good ones so I accept.

nothing half so sweet by rauchblau (T) 1k // ok so the amortentia trope is such a funny one, and i do love this one LOL. Stupid Iwa is best Iwa.

The Magic Creampuff of Destiny by thehazelverse (G) 2k // so obviously, if there is MatsuHana involved, there are cream puffs to be found. This is just pure fluff, and I think that it’s sweeter than the supposed cream puff LOL. It’s literally just Iwa being honest, and that, my dudes, makes for a good fic LOL.

Iwaoi’s Hogwarts Adventures (series) // this is an ICONIC IwaOi series, in my personal opinion, and they’re also so stupid throughout the whole thing LOL. We do love the not so secret, secret dating~~

Seijoh Sweets: Aoba Johsai Artisinal Bakery by FindingSchmomo (series) 22.1k // funny and cute series, lots of fluff, there’s a cat too and some Ushiwaka rivalry :0

K-Cup Coffee Verse by situational_irony_13 (series) 40k // um guys I love this series. Like love love this series. I adore professor AUs and like every single fic in this series is one I would read over and over again.

iwaizumi hajime has a ring by chocomelon (G) 4.8k // this got recommended to me by one of my moots (ily for this) and it was really fun! I enjoyed reading this a lot, and it boosted my mood :D

#rye’s ML #iwaoi #haikyuu fanfic rec #haikyuu fic recs #manga #anime #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq fic rec #masterlist

58 notes · View notes

lucky-katebishop · 4 years ago

Text

What I Read in August 2021

I... my first draft got deleted and that took forever to make so please like this for my sanity. I bookmarked 26 fics and read 1 book this month, so not as much as my previous two months but still! The majority is Harry Potter, but there's a spare Sherlock one and Friends one in there. A lot of these fics have other people raising Harry because that's just what I've been in the mood for lately.

Friends

For someone to ripple the waters by teatrolley

Plot: He’s fine, though, he tells himself. He’s dealing with it. He’s dating girls, and using the excuse that he’s bad at it when Joey asks him why he never brings anyone home anymore. He’s fine. That is, until Joey kisses him at New Year’s, and everything changes. Or: Chandler is in love with Joey and it's not the sort of thing you say out loud. Until, one day, it is

Characters: Chandler, Joey, Monica

Relationships: Chandler/Joey

Warnings: none

Tags: canon compliant, friends to lovers, POV Chandler, Chandler is gay, coming out

My Notes: I watched a lot of Friends over August and just!!! Chandler and Joey were the Troy and Abed of the 90s, I said what I said. This fic is so beautiful, the prose is amazing and it’s so heartfelt and it did make me tear up a little bit. I don’t typically read fics for sitcoms but I highly 100% recommend this one!

*complete*

Sherlock (stand-alone)

Feel the Tide by positivelymeteoric

Plot: Things John Watson doesn't expect to do when he transfers to a new school: A) Befriend his (possibly) mad roommate. B) Investigate a particularly nasty streak of murders with his (most likely) mad roommate. C) Fall slightly (or not so slightly) in love with his (definitely) mad roommate. D) All of the above.

Characters: Sherlock, John, Harry Watson, Mycroft, Lestrade, Moriarty

Relationships: Sherlock/John

Warnings: none

Tags: teen!lock, high school

*complete*

Harry Potter & Sherlock

My Experiment by lemoncurry

Plot: Sherlock steals a boy. Sorry- rescues. John helps, because what choice does he have? But not even Sherlock knows just how not-boring things will be...

Characters: Sherlock, John, Harry Potter, Mycroft

Relationships: none

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: pre-Hogwarts

*incomplete* [last updated 2013]

Logic, Meet Luna by Applepie

Plot: Luna Lovegood has moved into 221c Baker Street! So what happens when you mix a 'loony' pureblood witch in a muggle area with logic driven residents? Err... not much, really. Just a whole lot of confusion.

Characters: Luna, Sherlock, Mycroft, John, Lestrade, Sally Donovan

Relationships: none

Warnings: none

Tags: humor

*complete*

Recalibration by Noxilicious

Plot: Mycroft more or less finds himself constantly cleaning up his dear brother’s messes, but in the case of one Harold William Holmes-Evans, he might just prove to be the one ‘mistake’ he won’t be able to rectify.

Characters:

Relationships: Sherlock/Lily Potter; Mary/John; Sherlock & Harry

Warnings: none

Tags: parentlock, canon compliant, pre-prisoner of Azkaban, post series 3, family drama, angst, hurt/comfort, muggle Sherlock, Sherlock is a Good Parent, Sherlock has a Heart, protective Sherlock, genius Harry, bogus deductions, fluff

*incomplete* [last updated 2017]

In Search of Companionship by kris799

Plot: After the events of the Sign of Three, Sherlock falls into a bout of melancholy; Mycroft, the consummate manipulator, suggests "filling the gap" and events largely get out of hand from there. A Sherlock adopts Harry!fic, set between Episodes Two and Three of Season Three.

Characters: Sherlock, Harry, Mrs Hudson, Mycroft, John, Mary

Relationships: Sherlock & Harry

Warnings: none

Tags: Parent!Sherlock, Child!Harry, adoption, John is out of the picture but not really, manipulative!Mycroft, magic, slow paced, perhaps glacial, Sherlock has many thoughts, and a mental!John to call him out on his crap, he’s not crazy, Harry cooks, and tries to take care of everyone, bored!Sherlock leads to bad [great] ideas, set in season 3

My Notes: don’t get your hopes up for Sherlock to find out about magic, it doesn’t happen and since the last time this was updated was almost seven years ago, I don’t think we’ll get to read it. However, it’s still very good and while it does give off some weird Sherlock stalkery vibes, this fic still kept me engaged and Sherlock and Harry’s relationship is great.

*incomplete* [last updated 2015]

Harry Potter of Baker Street by Dayja

Plot: Sherlock Holmes discovers family he never knew he had, and John Watson finds a child living in the cupboard.

Characters: Harry, Sherlock, John

Relationships: none

Warnings: none

Tags: family, friendship

My Notes: this one!!! Is so amazing!!! It’s so cute! I don’t really like to read kid fics all that much, but this one is worth the read!

*complete*

No Thank You by IHScribe

Plot: Harry Potter declines to attend Hogwarts, and Albus Dumbledore is forced to go and convince him otherwise. Too bad he didn’t expect the boy’s father(s).

Characters: Sherlock, John, Harry, Dumbledore, Mrs Hudson, Mycroft, Moriarty, McGonagall, Pomfrey, Hagrid, Snape

Relationships: Sherlock/John

Warnings: none

Tags: none

My Notes: this one is very funny and very sweet. Honestly fuck Hogwarts.

*complete*

Friend by esama

Plot: Sherlock finds the skull when he's five.

Characters: Sherlock, Harry, Mycroft, Mrs Holmes

Relationships: Sherlock & Harry

Warnings: character death

Tags: kid fic, alternate universe

My Notes: This one is so cool and original! I never thought about where Sherlock’s skull came from!

*complete*

Harry Potter & Supernatural

The Youngest Winchester by TheLastWincehsterStanding

Plot: Harry James Potter had thought, given the current circumstances, that going to America to track down his biological father was a fantastic idea. Unfortunately, like most of Harry's plans, there had been very little planning and far too much impulsiveness. Had he known what sort of monsters lurked in America, he would've stayed in England.

Characters: Harry, Bobby Singer, Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Sam Winchester

Relationships: Harry & Dean & Sam Winchester; Harry & John Winchester; Harry & Bobby Singer

Warnings: none

Tags: non-Potter Harry, the hunt for Yellow Eyes, season 1 of Supernatural, book 5, surprise! It’s a sixteen year old boy!

My Notes: I don’t really remember this one, I’ve read like four of these types of Harry being a Winchester story and I generally forget what happens in this one

*incomplete* [last updated 2018]

Harry Potter (stand-alone, specifically Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood)

That escalated quickly by SquaresAreNotCircles

Plot: Percy and Oliver get stuck in a Ministry lift (with seven other people present).

Characters: Percy, Oliver, Fred, George, Ginny, Bill, Ron, Charlie, Arthur, original male character

Relationships: Percy/Oliver

Warnings: none

Tags: humor, fluff

*complete*

Petty Theft by pinksnowboots

Plot: Percy pilfers Oliver's sweater. The twins are suspicious.

Characters: Percy, Oliver, Fred, George

Relationships: Percy/Oliver

Warnings: none

Tags: slice of life, drabble, sweaters, accidental coming out, established relationship, sharing clothes, quidditch, Oliver is protective

*complete*

Five Times Percy Thought Oliver was Beautiful and One Time Oliver Did Something About It by hufflebadgerinthetardis

Plot: The rule worshiping, strict, and by-the-books Gryffindor Prefect Percy Weasley has a secret. He’s got a huge crush on fellow Gryffindor and Quidditch Captain Oliver Wood. Percy was resigned to loving him from afar but he should have remembered that secrets don’t stay secrets for long at Hogwarts.

Characters: Percy, Oliver, Fred, George

Relationships: Percy/Oliver

Warnings: none

Tags: none

*complete*

Burn Across the Sky by MoonytheMarauder1 (beforethemoon)

Plot: When Oliver Wood stops talking about Quidditch to stare at Percy Weasley, Ron, Fred, and George know something is up.

Characters: Percy, Oliver, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia, Katie

Relationships: Percy/Oliver

Warnings: none

Tags: secret relationship, bad matchmaking, humor, protective siblings, quidditch, gay Percy, gay Oliver, injury, the hospital wing, exasperated Hermione, Harry is oblivious

My Notes: this isn’t the full plot, but it was very long and I only have so much time. Read this, it’s very cute

*complete*

I dare you to dare me by SquaresAreNotCircles

Plot: Fred didn’t even blink. “Harry said he didn’t want to join.” “So did I,” Oliver murmured. George didn’t allow him to stall any longer. He put his feet up between Fred and Angelina on the sofa and tilted his chair on its hind two legs. “Oliver, mate, truth or dare?”

Characters: Percy, Oliver, Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell

Relationships: Percy/Oliver

Warnings: none

Tags: truth or dare, Gryffindor Quidditch Team, the consumption of innocent earthworms, fluff

*complete*

It’s the truth by SquaresAreNotCircles

Plot: Fred and George refuse to believe Percy has a girlfriend. Oliver seems to know more. It's all very mysterious, until it isn't.

Characters: Percy, Oliver, Fred, George, Ginny, Harry, Hermione, Ron

Relationships: Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood

Warnings: none

Tags: fluff

My Notes: Percy and Oliver really are just teenage Sherlock and John, aren’t they? Just saner and have less crimes involved.

*complete*

Harry Potter (stand-alone)

Harry Potter and His Increasingly Worrying Letters Home by hopeless_hope

Plot: Dear Mum & Dad, Sorry my letters have been brief lately. I hope you’re all well! Just wanted to let you know that my friends and I stumbled upon a three-headed dog on the forbidden corridor that the stairs rather determinedly took us to. Is that normal? Love, Harry… or In which Lily and James survive Voldemort's attack, Sirius is never sent to Azkaban, and long-distance parenting is hard. Especially when your reckless Gryffindor child keeps sending concerning letters home and rushing into trouble before anyone has the chance to respond.

Characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron, Lily, James, Sirius, Remus, Draco, Snape, Dumbledore

Relationships: James/Lily; Sirius/Remus; Harry & Lily; Harry & James; Harry & Sirius; Harry & Hermione & Ron

Warnings: none

Tags: everyone lives/nobody dies, Lily and James live, angst and humor, the Golden Trio, most things are the same except now harry has adults who care about him, the marauders are a lil happy family, not peter tho bc fuck that guy, fix-it, friendship, harry grows up with a loving family but he’s still a reckless little shit

My Notes: this is another fic I’m very excited about. Reading new fics is something I don’t do often, I usually sort my fics by kudos and go backwards from there which usually means I miss out on amazing stuff like this! I do have to wait, which is a pain, but I’m still very excited about this fic, I see a lot of potential in it.

*incomplete* [last updated 1 August]

turn and face the strange by viennawaitss

Plot: ‘He sees himself as a creature of evolution, or perhaps a phantom of peculiarities - a great, winding python, yearning for the snap of his jaw, a snowy lamb, unchristened and stumbling across land on trembling legs.’ Reality, growth and the steps toward change. Or, how Harry’s brief expulsion isn’t the worst thing to happen to him.

Characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron, Blaise, Pansy, Sirius, Theo Nott, Draco

Relationships: none

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: resorting, trauma, nightmares, the Golden Trio, book 5, Slytherin Harry, friendship, mental health issues, growing up, coming of age, and already fighting the government

My Notes: I am so freaking excited for this fic! It has everything I want! Resorted Slytherin Harry, dealing with abuse and trauma, amazing Slytherin friendships, I mean come on!

*incomplete* [last updated 19 August]

Know this: in some way, you’re already dead by ulittuq

Plot: Harry has been fighting against being an obscurial his entire life and Sirius’ death is what pushes him over the edge.

Characters: Harry, Dumbledore, Tom Riddle

Relationships: none

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, canonical character death, some noncanonical character death, suicidal thoughts

Tags: obscurial Harry, ambiguous/open ending

My Notes: part of a series but both fics are very short. It's only about 2k words.

*complete*

The Chosen One and The Halfblood Prince by waitingondaisies

Plot: Severus Snape was discovered as a spy mere days before the start of the school year. Thankfully, Albus had been working on a vague contingency plan for this possibility. It had been inspired by the question, “What would it take for Severus Snape to see that he was wrong about Harry Potter?” The answer? Force Severus to go undercover as Alfonse “Eli” Hopkirk, a sixth year Gryffindor.

Characters: Harry, Ginny, Snape, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Neville, Luna

Relationships: Harry & Ginny; Harry & Snape; Hermione/Ron

Warnings: child abuse

Tags: angst, undercover, Harry needs a hug, slow burn friendship, Ginny is a good friend, not canon compliant - HBP, no Snape as defensive teacher, no Slughorn

My Notes: this one is so fun! Snape tries to act as a sixteen year old and it goes as well as you’d think. It’s really funny but also really heartfelt, it’s part of a series of two and the second one is more Severitus than the first.

*complete*

By His Side by silver_fish

Plot: After what is surely a more-than-preventable potions accident, Harry Potter winds up stuck in the hospital wing, unable to wake up. Severus just wishes he knew why Poppy won’t stop bothering him about it.

Characters: Harry, Snape, Pomfrey, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore

Relationships: Harry & Snape

Warnings: references to addiction

Tags: severitus I guess? Just some good bonding, set during HBP, harry is sad and so am i, emotional hurt/comfort

*complete*

Unmasked Lilly’s - Year One by TheWillofTheQuill

Plot: Severus Snape was adamant, no - determined to hate Harry Potter. After all, he was the spawn of James Potter, his childhood bully. But when Harry turns up for his first year, malnourished and fearful, it is up to Snape to solve the mystery of why the small boy has bruises that he will not show and scars that will not heal. Sworn to protect Lilly's son, Severus Snape is about to face his hardest challenge yet; gaining the trust of a boy who has sworn to never trust again.

Characters: Harry, Snape, Dumbledore, Draco, Hermione

Relationships: future Drarry

Warnings: child abuse

Tags: Severitus, hurt/comfort, angst, abused Harry, Snape adopts Harry, Slytherin Harry, good Slytherins

*incomplete* [last updated July 2021]

A Pair of Shoes that Fit by Darkorangecat (Calacious)

Plot: Harry is lost in the Forbidden Forest when he goes looking for Neville’s Remembrall after Draco steals it from the boy once again. As Harry wanders the forest, wondering if he’ll ever make it back to Hogwarts, the entire staff is sent out to look for him, including a much peeved Severus Snape.

Characters: Harry, Snape

Relationships: none

Warnings: child abuse and neglect

Tags: Snape eventually adopts Harry, first year, hurt/comfort, angst

My Notes: this one is so cute and so sad, Harry’s only eleven in this fic and Snape is trying his best

*complete*

The Guiltless by branwyn

Plot: When Harry appears at the Welcoming Feast wearing a glamor only Snape notices, Snape decides to find out what the glamor is hiding.

Characters: Harry, Snape, Luna, Dumbledore

Relationships: Harry & Snape & Luna

Warnings: domestic violence, child abuse

Tags: Severitus, Snape mentors Harry, hurt/comfort

*complete*

Within Doors by Lomonaaeren

Plot: It takes three detentions for Severus Snape to realize why Harry Potter cleans cauldrons so well—and even more for him to decide what to do about it.

Characters: Harry, Snape

Relationships: Harry & Snape

Warnings: canonical child abuse

Tags: angst, detention, present tense

*complete*

Summer of Bonding by MagicaDraconia16

Plot: It was the summer of love . . . er, no, not really. Left waiting for the Dursleys, Harry is found by the last person he'd expect to see.

Characters: Harry, Snape, Dumbledore, Flitwick, Hermione, Ron, Molly, Fred, George, original house-elf characters, original male character, Stan Shunpike, Dobby

Relationships: Harry & Severus

Warnings: canon-typical violence, child abandonment, minor violence

Tags: humor, angst, nightmares of canon-typical violence, spiders, awkwardness, someone else (not Snape or Harry) dies too

My Notes: this one is so sweet and really captures how awkward Harry and Snape are

*complete*

Harry Potter & Everything

Raising Harry Collection by Steerpike13713

Fandoms: Harry Potter, Daredevil, Sherlock, Labyrinth, Batman, Gravity Falls, MCU, Once Upon a Time, Doctor Strange (comics), Buffy, Merlin

Plot: A collection of unrelated fics that have to do with people other than The Dursleys raising Harry Potter

Characters: too many to name, really

Relationships: Matt Murdock/Foggy & Belle/Rumplestiltskin

Warnings: none

Tags: genderqueer Loki, genderqueer Lily Evans, Loki is Lily Evans Potter

My Notes: since the fics are unrelated you can flip flop around the chapters to find the ones you really want to read. I think my favorite ones are the Batman and Daredevil ones :) (also the author wrote a really good Lucifer & Chaos Adventures of Sabrina series)

*complete*

#harry potter #fanfiction #fic recs #fanfic recs #supernatural #sherlock #johnlock #hogwarts #the mauraders #wolfstar #drarry #the golden trio #my posts #mcu #marvel #harry james potter #my recs

15 notes · View notes

phynali · 4 years ago

Text

so not to ruminate on things that vex me, but the past 2 or so months have been kinda shit, and i’m trucking along and there absolutely are high points and good things and joys that balance some of this out, but i need to vent out some of the negative emotions somewhere to get ‘em out. so i guess i’m doing that here because -

we’re in lockdown#6 where i live (state of victoria) and it’s hard, this yo-yo of restrictions and swinging in and out of one lockdown after another.

for those who understandably won’t know, what we call lockdown here means not just restaurant and commercial closures and mandatory working from home unless you’re in an industry where that’s impossible -- it also means no guests (0) inside you’re home unless you’re both living alone and single or else romantic partners, it means not leaving your home at all except for one of 4-5 necessary reasons, not being outside for more than 2hrs per day even to exercise, and not going more than 5km from your home unless required for work/medical/etc required reasons.

it’s intense. we spent (i think) 128 days in this degree of lockdown in 2020, never mind how many we spent in other forms of restrictions and working from home. and we’ve been back in it four (4) times in 2021 already. in-out-in-out-in-out -

it’s taking a toll on the mental health of every person i know. we get weekly emails with wellbeing and resilience tips from my job -- not just “be productive or else” capitalism but heartfelt ones from wellbeing officers with copies of articles like this one on languishing from the NYT, acknowledging we’re all struggling and directing us to the plethora of wellbeing resources our workplace is trying to provide, not only to us but reminding us they offer it to our families too.

i’m one of the lucky ones. i’m really not trying to wallow here or to pretend otherwise. i appreciate that i can work from home, even though i can’t focus when i do and it this interacts with my adhd to fuck my productivity. even if i’m so behind and delayed it feels like i’ve lost 12-18 months worth of work and it will have long-term ramifications on my career -- even so, i still i have a job. i still get paid. and i even kept my job, a bit by the skin of my teeth but i did, when my sector downsized last year. yes, the way my employer went about lay offs left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth (my own included), but i made it through.

and my sector, while affected, is by no means the worst of the collateral damage.

the yo-yo of lockdowns is taking a very very real toll on industries like hospitality, tourism, commerce. and the economy does have indirect effects on health and mental health as well. my friend, a waitress, was on her way to work the evening shift at a restaurant when she got the call about the latest lockdown. she had to turn around and go home because the announcement came just hours before the lockdown was imposed, and every place suddenly had to close by 8pm. bye bye evening shift. so much of the government support for these industries has dried up, has been inadequate.

lockdowns save lives. i don’t begrudge my state for imposing one except that yes -- i’m resentful we’re here again with only six cases. i can be both accepting and grateful and also pissed and tired and more all at once.

even more than the latest lockdown, i’m pissed about the yo-yo. that we went into lockdown in june, came out in july, went back in in july, came back out in july, are going back in now, in the first week of august. three lockdown/re-openings in 10 weeks, as if this rollercoaster doesn’t completely incapacitate our ability to plan or prepare for anything more than a week out, more than a day out -- in this case, more than a few hours out. 4pm the lockdown was announced, with an 8pm start time. as if that doesn’t have more insidious consequences on individuals and industries than a more clearly articulated and consistent approach. as if all the restaurants that got to open up this week didn’t purchase large food orders for this weekend that will spoil because they were given 4 hours notice to close their doors.

that’s the part i hate, right now more than the lockdowns themselves. consumer sentiment was at a high in april, optimism was everywhere. people felt good, and like we had a plan forward. now -- well, now my job is sending me emails about how normal and okay it is that i might be ‘languishing’ because aren’t we all?

and i absolutely do begrudge my federal government, and i’m angry with them, and this is part of why:

youtube

but i also accept, to some extent, that these decisions have all been made in difficult circumstances, and i’m not really about to pretend i could do any better.

at the same time, australia’s vaccine rollout is among the slowest and lowest at least within OECD countries. i know that’s partly because we’ve managed the keep cases low and therefore we are prioritized less when it comes to who needs the vaccines most (and thus who is earlier in line to be able to purchase) among other geo-political reasons i won’t get into, but it still very much sucks. our timeline and ability to move forward and ability to stop having lockdowns requires a mostly-vaccinated population, and that’s not something we’ll have anytime soon.

and i am a visa-holder here and my family is back in canada and with our current border restrictions leaving to visit is honestly is not an option because i wouldn’t be able to return, to work. i’m managing that distance okay most of the time despite my homesickness and frustration but my partner’s parents are older and his mother’s health just isn’t amazing and it’s weighing on him a lot.

a phd student i work with just had a parent die in another country while stuck here, had to drop everything to return, is devastated by not being by their parent’s side when it happened because it came on sudden, and now won’t be able to come back into australia after, will have to finish their thesis remotely from abroad. stories like that are becoming commonplace in certain circles, here. this student is not the first or only person i know who has been in that exact situation in the past year.

it’s enraging, and upsetting, and instills a sense of helplessness because -- there’s nothing that can really be done about it. there’s no good answer, but it’s scary to think of what could happen. i know it scares my husband. if his mother’s health suddenly dips -- does he drop everything and leave? how can he not? would i go with him or hold the fort here? what ramifications does that have either way?

right now, we’re in the first stages of getting permanent residency, my job is putting in the nomination, and this is one of those awesome high-points i mentioned. it’s a very much needed sense of security in my career and my future in this country. but while a PR application is pending and under review, you can’t leave the country, even in pre-covid times. it takes months to get the application fully nominated, accepted, then submitted, and months on months to process.

in january 2020 we had agreed that for xmas 2020 we’d return home to canada. obviously the world changed and we quickly determined that wouldn’t be the case. we pushed that plan back to july-aug 2021, then to october 2021, xmas 2021. my partner’s sister asked him last week if we started making plans, booking things for xmas, was calling to check that we’d had our second jabs. he had to explain the situation to her, that we aren’t even eligible for our first vaccine yet, that we aren’t holding out any real hope of visiting, not this year, not until mid-next.

anyway - i’m just. languishing, i guess, if that’s the word for it after all. i know it’s not the same as depression -- i’ve had episodes of that, been treated for it in different ways. this is and feels different, even if there are obvious similarities. whatever to call it, it sucks, and i hate it. and i hate the other lows and anxieties and crap i’ve been dealing with in the past few months as well that didn’t make it into this post about covid. crap with work, with friends, with goddamn car rentals of all stupid things. crap that’s making me anxious and crap that just needs processing. crap that is, ultimately, massively exacerbated because lockdowns turn us into little rats gnawing on the bars of our cages.

and i guess i just needed to talk about it somewhere, to organize my thoughts and free up some headspace (emotion space?) currently being used to hold these thoughts and feelings in place. i kind of hate posting personal crap like this and always get the urge to delete but i also have a hard time organising my thoughts if i don’t write them out with this intent to post. sort of want to go outside and scream at god, sort of want to phone up a friend and yell at him for an hour for being an exhausting ass, sort of want to be alone for a day to curl up under a blanket with a movie that’ll make me cry because raging at the universe is always so much easier when i’m alone and unobserved. but i guess since those aren’t especially kind or feasible i’ll post this instead.

anyway - if you read to the end of this for any reason, i’m not trying to be maudlin, and there’s really no need to respond. it’s just a feelings dump, sucking some of the poison out, not really much different than journalling but i’ve always been better at that online than on paper.

#ugh #personal post #just organising thoughts and bitching about present circumstances #because i'm tired of 2021's bullshit and needed to vent a bit #gpoy

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mrskurono · 4 years ago

Note

i wanted to say something related with the thing about the plain repetitive fics earlier when the notification popped up but was busy and in a horrible humor 🥴🥴 so imma say it now

we as consumers (the ones who only read) are most at fault here i think bc the writers always ask and the ones with beautifully written 5k words almost beg for readers to interact/reblog so it spreads and gets to other people(i am at fault here too im a social anxiety ridden person) and because of this lack of interaction the "shitty" or plain or whatever gets more interactions... on other side there are also lazy ass people that don't wanna read 5k words (their loss lol) and stick with the plain ooc shitty cookie cutter stories, the ones who get the spotlight unfortunately...

sorry for the long ass rant, got lost in the middle and wrote it with a baby crying and screaming and laughing by my side lol, hope ur having a good day/evening and taking care of you and your baby💕💕

For the five hundred and fifty two years I've been on this site I will say there was a definitive switch between supporting content creators (of any media) and now expecting things to be spoon fed them in the simplest way without feeling an obligation to return the favor with even the meager of feedback. I wouldn't say it went down hill when Tumblr did it's purge bc honestly it was going downhill before that. It was like one month people were excited to share their hyperfixations and fandoms. And now no one wants to do anything bc of the cringe worthy puritan culture that has swept through most social medias. This focus on likes only, popularity and being a god send famous person is just so fucking weird to me. Anymore anyone is so afraid to even entertain the idea that they would consume something "unsanitary" and then get in trouble for it that it's reached its way to the creators. Many have stopped bc of hate. Many have stopped for fear of hate. Just as many have stopped bc its just not worth it anymore. It's frankly sad bc now "trendy" things are the only thing that sells. Tik tok reaction crap, daddy kinks, uwu sub babies, etc. This very tiny box of what's "ok" has doubled down on so many people just straight up quitting. These things that have been deemed "acceptable" while other things get demonized.

And this goes for non sexual items too. Wanna write best friends au? Unrealistic, bull crap, "never happens". But twelve dozen people wanna write a mafia au? Great, brilliant, "totally plausible". A lot of people complain about the sexual factors of fandoms but honestly fluff is just as looked down on unless it's exactly how this mass decided it to be. It use to be in fandoms you could find so much. Oh my god there was so so so much you could find. If you thought of it, you could find it. But now its the same idea regurgitated fifty times. I get people enjoying what they enjoy (I for one enjoy friendships and mutual pining and such) but the fact that everything else gets shoved to the side bc the majority doesn't "want it" and then others are "too afraid" to engage frankly means more and more writers are going to leave and not come back. And it's sad really bc so many writers are wonderful and great but no one wants to support them. I understand being anxiety riddled. I didn't start posting even online half a decade after I started writing. I kept everything on a note app and interacted with no one when I did get brave enough to post online in the small fandoms I was in. So the anxiety thing I get but at some point you have to decide if it's worth more to lurk and watch your content creators and friends leave. Or to support them and others.

Make entirely new blog. Give no defining traits to yourself. Don't even have to talk to anyone if you don't want to. But reblogging (with proper tags) means a million different things to artists of all kind. You don't even have to leave a comment. Simply reblogging something and making sure it can be spread through proper tags in the fandom means the world to creators and it's so small but keeps us going. I do it here on my blog all the time. I'm not an avid reader but I adore art and reblog the crap out of characters I might not even like. Just so that artist knows "hey, someone saw this and they want more people to see it bc its amazing"

This isn't meant to be mean spirited or a lecture but frankly Tumblr is going to loose a lot of its media and its sad to watch it go down the drains. But on the brightside ao3 is still wonderful and a heavenly place to post fics! The traffic is wonderful and to any fic writers who haven't signed up for it I really suggest it. All the fandoms I've posted in so far have been really engaging and lots of people even comment which is just such a serotonin boost. If you haven't started cross posting on ao3 I highly suggest it

#three.talks #anon

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magniloquent-raven · 4 years ago

Note

for fluff: "one more chapter" or "there's enough room for both of us"

it’s been 84 years............ but here u go lmao tysm for the prompts!!!!!! i used both!

CW for some brief suicidal ideation, just in case. it’s v mild but pls be careful yall (i know, this fic was supposed to be fluffy 😅)

posted on ao3

------

Billy’s life had changed a lot in the past two years.

So much that some days he barely recognizes himself in the mirror. The scars, the state of his hair—which he hasn’t cut since last summer and generally just throws back for convenience’ sake—the stubble he doesn’t bother with most days. Small things, in the grander scheme of what’s different about his life, but it adds up.

And it’s Friday night, he’s curled up at home, and perfectly content to be there.

There’s a steaming mug of cider on the coffee table (a scratched-up old thing that Hop left him when he officially handed off ownership of his trailer to Billy), and wind rattling the windows, and Max is asleep in the next room. It’s...cozy.

El stopped by earlier that afternoon, Max in tow, demanding Billy let them stay because Mike was being a dick or a DnD campaign was going on too long and El’s character died a while back so she was bored, or...something. Possibly Mike was being a dick about her character being dead. Max kept chiming in with her own two cents worth but it really just made the whole thing harder to follow.

But it didn’t really matter why they stopped by, they’re always coming up with reasons to invade his living room and eat all his food and nag him about teaching them how to do fancy braids. And Max usually wanders off to nap in his room when El starts asking Billy to read to her.

Which is what he’s doing now.

Last month he read her Jane Eyre (her idea). A week ago they started The Hobbit.

It’s been slow going, considering how often El interrupts to ask questions, and every time there’s a song they have the same argument about him not actually singing, but they’re making progress.

He’s reading through the weird goblin song as monotone as possible just so he can laugh at El’s disgruntled scrunchy face, and putting up with her poking his thigh with her toes when he rolls his eyes at her, and honestly having the time of his fucking life, because, yeah, saying things have changed in the past two years is the understatement of the decade.

When he gets to the end of Over Hill and Under Hill and closes the book she gasps dramatically, sitting up and pulling the ugly orange throw blanket (gift from Mrs. Byers) she’d been snuggled up in tighter around her shoulders.

“Billy, no!”

He drops the book in his lap and raises his eyebrows at her. “It’s the end of the chapter.”

“No.”

“Yeah, it definitely is.”

El frowns at him, her whole face going pinched. “But you can’t stop there.”

It’s moments like this that almost make Billy forget she can kill people with her brain. Moments when she just looks like a kid, all wrapped up in her favourite blanket and pouting.

And it’s like she knows that’s his goddamn kryptonite. Because those moments also remind him that she deserves this. More than anyone he knows, she deserves all the childish crap she wants, and more. It won’t ever replace the childhood that was taken from her, but it’s a start.

So, needless to say, Billy has a hard time saying no to her.

He drops his head back against the cushion behind him, staring at the ceiling for a moment—pretending to contemplate, while she glowers at him—and sighs loudly.

“One more chapter.”

She beams.

They’re only a few pages into Riddles in the Dark when a car pulls up, and Billy doesn’t even have time to put the book down before the front door bursts open.

“El! Will thought he—is that The Hobbit?” Dustin comes to an abrupt halt two paces into the room, blinking at the book in Billy’s hands. All his little friends nearly collide with his back, and there’s suddenly a gaggle of obnoxious teenagers huddled in Billy’s doorway.

“Who cares,” Lucas scoffs, pushing him out of the way so he, Wheeler, and Will, can shuffle the rest of the way inside. “Get out of the way!”

Billy is still trying to figure out what the fuck’s even happening when Steve goddamn Harrington walks in behind his pack of brats. Because of course he was the one who drove them here. Him being a fine upstanding citizen and all that. With nothing better to do, apparently. (Not that Billy has room to judge anymore.)

Suddenly the bickering kids are mostly background noise. Billy always did have a hard time concentrating on anything else when Steve’s in the room. Especially when he’s looking like that, warm brown eyes lit up with interest, and the corner of his mouth pulling upwards in a half-smile. His cheeks are pink from the chill outside, his hair a mess from the wind, and locking eyes with him makes Billy’s heart pound.

They’ve been on good terms these past few months and it’s a special kind of torture that Billy wouldn’t give up for the fucking world.

But he doesn’t get to enjoy the view for long because—

“—the Mind Flayer might be back!”

Billy stiffens. “What?” He glances at El. She’s sitting up straight now, her eyes dark, expression closed off.

Mike sighs irritably. “Weren’t you listening? Will thinks he might have sensed the Mind Flayer, so we needed to make sure El’s okay.” He crosses his arms, glaring at Billy. “Because the stupid thing wants her dead, remember?”

“Wheeler,” Steve hisses, and smacks the kid’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Billy grits his teeth, cold fingers trailing down his spine. “I remember.”

The room is silent for several agonizing seconds, the kids all exchanging glances. Until Billy’s bedroom door opens and Max shuffles out, rubbing her eyes.

“What’s everyone doing here?”

They’d all been hanging out at Steve’s when Will had a bad feeling. The same kind of prickling bone-deep chill he’d gotten two summers ago. Needless to say, ignoring it until people started dying didn’t seem like the way to go this time, hence the home invasion.

Which had been Steve’s idea, apparently. Or. His initial reaction had been to blurt out does this mean Billy’s possessed again, and it had spiraled from there. To Mike freaking out about El not being safe because she was here, to Lucas reminding him that Billy had only gotten the better of her when she didn’t have powers, to Dustin yelling about checking in with her either way because she might have The Facts.

And so they’d broken a couple traffic laws to get here.

Billy suspects Steve feels guilty about suggesting he might be possessed, because he got very awkward when it was brought up. And he stepped in several times when Wheeler and Sinclair’s interrogation got a little too intense (there were threats of hot pokers involved).

It should have felt condescending—Billy’s a grown-ass adult, he doesn’t need someone defending him from lanky teenagers—but he can’t help feeling a little warm when it’s Steve coming to his defense.

The discussion overall is a mess. El doesn’t have any answers, Billy hasn’t felt anything odd lately, and the lack of anything to go on beyond Will having a momentary freakout is putting everyone on edge.

Max, who squished herself onto the couch between Billy and El, cuts through the cyclical arguing after the third dramatic eye-roll from Mike. “Guys, can you cool it for a second. We’re getting nowhere.” Her protest is punctuated by a yawn, which makes El giggle.

“She’s right,” Steve sighs, mussing with his hair absentmindedly. “Billy and El are fine, everyone’s fine, we should all get some sleep.”

“Dude, are you sure you’re good to drive?” Dustin asks, squinting appraisingly at Steve. It’s a fair question, it’s late and Steve looks like he’s about to keel over, but Billy’s not sure he likes where this is going.

“Who said anything about driving?” Max snorts, glancing at Billy.

Damnit Max.

“Is there even space for everyone here? This place is tiny.”

“Fuck you, Wheeler, not all of us can live in goddamn mansions.”

The kid opens his mouth to retort, bristling with indignation, but Will interjects, stuttering a little in his haste, “I, um, I’d feel a little safer if everyone, you know, stayed in one place? At least for tonight?”

And that pretty much settles it.

Once everyone mumbles their (in some cases reluctant) agreement, El crows “Sleepover!” and drags Max off to find spare blankets, leaving Billy sitting on the couch alone and wondering where the hell Steve is gonna sleep. For...no particular reason...other than…

Well.

It’s not like Mike was wrong, the trailer wasn’t built to house six teenagers and two twenty-somethings. Most of them are going to end up squished on the living room floor, and Max and El already called dibs on the couch, and...well, unless Steve wants to crash in the fucking kitchen there really isn’t anywhere else for him to go other than Billy’s room. He doesn’t even have a goddamn tub the guy could curl up in.

And just because he’s wanted Steve Harrington in his bed since minute one, doesn’t mean he wants it right now. Not like this.

Because like this he has to deal with Max’s side-eye, and El’s knowing look (the girl has been in his head, she literally knows everything about him), and Will’s weird wide-eyed interest, and worst of all, Steve not doing this because he wants to.

In fact, judging by the way he blanches when Max suggests it, Billy’s room is the last place he’d like to be. Which is not really something Billy ever really wanted hard proof of, thanks.

He’s dealt with enough in his life, he didn’t need to know exactly how repulsive Steve finds the idea of sleeping in the same room as him.

“You’re welcome to sleep in your goddamn car if my floor isn’t good enough for you, Harrington,” he bites out, probably harsher than was warranted.

Steve blinks at him, mouth falling open, eyebrows raised.

“Oh my god, it’s too cold to sleep outside, Billy,” Max says, rolling her eyes. “Stop being such a dick.”

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Figure your shit out, I’m going to bed.”

The silence he leaves behind is tense and awkward.

He’s been laying in bed staring at the ceiling, moping and berating himself, for about ten minutes when the door creaks open.

“Hey, uh,” Steve’s voice is soft, uncertain, and Billy feels like even more of an asshole for snapping at him. “I’m just...gonna...crash on the floor. Um. Good night.”

This is punishment isn’t it. For being such a douche for so long. Now he gets to try and fall asleep knowing Steve fucking Harrington is laying nearby, sleepy and warm and out of reach. He listens to Steve shuffle around, getting situated, laying out blankets and trying to find a soft bit of carpet to lay on. Has to bite his tongue to keep from saying something stupid. Like offering up his bed. Or poking fun at how much Steve sighs when he’s getting comfortable (Because it’s dumb, not cute. Definitely not cute.).

It’s unclear how long they lay there in the dark, Billy watching moonlight cast the outlines of skeletal trees across the wall, listening to Steve’s quiet breathing to remind himself he’s not alone. That the shadows are just shadows and there’s no reason to be tense and sweating and—

Billy’s pretty sure it’s been long enough that Steve should be asleep, considering how tired he looked, so he tosses his blanket off and swipes the pack of cigarettes off his bedside table, hoping to god the floor doesn’t creak when he pads across the room. There’s no noise coming from the other room, so either the kids are asleep too or a miracle has occurred and they’re all just being really quiet.

He slips out the side door, and takes a breath. The lake is too still, despite the wind. No self-respecting body of water doesn’t have waves. But it’s pretty enough, he supposes. Enough to make for a decent view while he smokes a cigarette.

Takes a couple tries to light up. His hands aren’t what they used to be, especially in the cold. Holding off a thirty-foot meat puppet bare-handed does that to a person, tears shit up that doesn’t heal right afterwards.

He’s about halfway through his cig when Steve joins him. Billy’s shoulders stiffen at the sound of footsteps, and he doesn’t relax at all when he realizes who it is.

“Hey.”

Out of the corner of his eye Billy watches Steve lean against the porch railing beside him. He takes another drag before he looks over properly, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Billy raises his eyebrows. Gestures with his cigarette and turns away again. “No shit.”

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him, and he resolutely ignores it. Stares out at the water and flicks cigarette ash over the railing. The wind picks up again and cuts through his thin shirt. Should’ve grabbed a fucking sweater. Not because the cold bothers him at all, but...well, because it doesn’t anymore.

He shivers when a completely-unrelated-to-the-weather chill runs down his spine.

“Soo…” Steve fidgets, and trails off awkwardly, his nonchalance painfully fake.

The corner of Billy’s mouth twitches, and he raises his cigarette to his lips, a flimsy excuse to hide his smile.

“Did, uh. Did El choose the book, or…?”

He chokes on a mouthful of smoke. Doc Owens did tell him he shouldn’t have taken up smoking again. Though he was probably more concerned about Billy’s scarred lungs and than Steve Harrington-related hazards.

Coughing definitely does hurt a lot more than it used to though.

He flinches when Steve touches his shoulder, pats it, rubs a little—trying to help with the coughing, presumably—making Billy’s heart trip over itself.

Once he’s no longer wheezing he wipes his eyes, and waves off Steve’s apologies, hoping the embarrassed flush on his cheeks isn’t too visible in the dim light.

Steve’s hand stays where it is.

For several quiet moments Billy waits for him to withdraw but he doesn’t, and Billy finally meets his eyes. Which was probably a mistake. His heart skips again. He’s still not used to Steve looking at him like that. Soft and wide-eyed and concerned and…

God, he’s so fucking beautiful. Billy used to dream about getting this close without needing pretense, without having to pretend, getting to bask in the warmth coming off him and feel his breath on his skin and see something other than indifference—or worse, the hatred that came later—looking back at him. What he has now is...not quite what he wants. It lights him up but leaves him wanting.

Another gust of wind makes a mess of Steve’s hair, locks falling into his eyes and sticking up in all directions, and Billy itches. Clenches his fist to stop himself from fixing it.

“Her dweeby little friends kept talking about it, and she couldn’t get through it herself. So...” Billy trails off, scratching his cheek and glancing away. “I may have had a copy laying around.”

Steve’s hand finally leaves its perch on his shoulder—both a disappointment and a relief—to brush the stray locks of hair out of his face. He grins at Billy, whole face lit up and stupidly pretty even as his fingers get stuck in tangles. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Billy bites the inside of his cheek. “My mom used to read it to me.”

It’s easier to talk about her now. Mostly with El, who’s still the only person who knows the full story, but, well, he’s pretty sure at least Max and Steve have guessed the bits they weren’t told. Or, hell, maybe El told everyone everything during those months he was out of commission and everyone thought he was dead, and no one’s brought it up to his face because it would be awkward as hell.

In any case, Steve’s expression softens.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “So, you and her were pretty close, huh?”

If asked Billy would have blamed the sudden sting of tears in his eyes on the wind. “I guess.” A pause. “Not enough for her to take me when she left,” he mumbles, chewing his thumbnail and frowning out at the lake.

His cigarette hangs between two fingers in his other hand.

“Billy…”

“Don’t. I’ve heard every condolence in the book, okay. It’s...it’s fine.”

For several long moments the only sounds are the dry rustle of leaves in the wind and Billy’s nail-biting.

Then Steve slips his fingers around Billy’s wrist and tugs gently. Too surprised to resist, Billy lets him. Lets his hand be pulled away from his face, thumb pressed to his pulsepoint, lets him hold on for a beat longer than necessary before letting go. And Billy stares at him the whole time, lips parted, shoulders tense, waiting to see what Steve will do next.

What he does next is smile a little sad, and tilt his head. “It’s a bad habit, you know. Biting your nails.”

“I don’t have any other kind of habit.”

“Hm,” Steve hums, “I don’t think that’s true.”

Which is a weird thing to say, and a weird thing to get emotional over, and yet Billy kind of feels like he’s been punched in the chest.

He rubs at the knotted scar tissue that spiderwebs across his whole torso, and can’t help but wonder—not for the first time—if Steve’s perception of him might be a little blinded by the one good thing he’s ever done. He’s tried to be better since then, atone a little, but Steve’s confidence in him still feels unearned.

And all the work he’s put into getting his shit together might all be for nothing anyways, if some fucking slime monster decides to crawl down his throat again. If Will’s right and that thing is back...for all he knows the thing has it out for him too, after the shit he pulled at Starcourt. He thought he’d end up dead, he wasn’t exactly worried about making himself a target in the long run.

But now...

Billy exhales slowly through his nose, eyes falling shut for a moment before he grits out, “I can’t do it again.” Steve blinks at him, nonplussed. “This,” he taps his scars, “The fucking. Mind Flayer bullshit. I can’t.”

“You…” Steve folds his arms across his stomach, hands clutching his elbows. It’s a nervous tic that makes Billy ache. Always makes his heart clench, but tonight that gets lost in the black hole of anxiety already twisting up his insides “You won’t have to, I—we’ll protect you. If we stick together—”

“It’s not a guarantee.”

“No, but—”

“We don’t know anything about this alien shit, for all we know I was never really free of it, and—I just—promise you won’t let it use me again,” Billy’s voice breaks, and he clenches his jaw to try and hold it all back, the taste of bile in the back of his throat, the crushing weight of existential panic pressing in.

Steve’s eyes widen, “What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean. Crash another car into me. Let your ex shoot me in the fucking head. I don’t care how, I need you to stop me.” He needs to understand, Billy’s eyes bore into him, willing him to understand.

But he shakes his head, face twisted up with horror, “I don’t think I can do that.”

Billy takes a step towards him, desperation bleeding into his voice, “Steve.” He blinks back tears. “Please.”

“Don’t—” Steve looks away, curling in on himself, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what, ask you to perform a public fucking service?” Billy spits, eyes stinging, face burning. He regrets the words once they’re spoken, but there’s no taking them back now. He’s talked with Owens about this sort of shit and he thought he was past it.

Apparently not.

He deflates. Like a slap in the face, it stops him dead, turns his agonizing back inward where it fucking belongs. Wiping his eyes, he sighs.

It’s too late to stop the puppy-dog eyes Steve’s giving him now though. The unreserved sadness in the way he’s looking at Billy is so overwhelming it’s almost palpable. “Is that really how you feel?”

Is it? He’s not sure anymore. It was for a long time. Long enough that he couldn’t remember feeling any other kind of way until El reminded him. But now…

He shrugs. “It’s...complicated. I—ah, shit!” His hand jerks, and the cigarette he’d been holding falls to the ground. That never used to hurt so fucking much. “Damn thing burnt me.”

He sucks on the stinging knuckle, waiting for the pain to subside, tasting salt and ash, and looks back up at Steve.

They lock eyes.

Steve’s expression has closed off, his gaze still heavy, but with something else, sliding down Billy’s face with an intensity Billy’s not quite sure what to make of. He’s struck dumb by the attention (not something he usually has a problem handling), lips still wrapped around his finger but his mouth has gone slack.

It feels like a static shock, one crackling jolt of a moment, something sharp lancing through him, and then it’s over. Steve’s blinking, glancing away. Billy’s hand falls to his side. It would be like it never happened except he still feels charged, pent up, heart full to bursting and stomach in knots.

Billy sighs, and rubs his eyes. “Let’s just...go back to bed.”

Wording, Billy. Wording. His cheeks warm a little, but he manages to keep his expression neutral as he turns and heads back inside.

He practically throws himself into his bed, curling up on his side and pulling the blankets around him, back turned to Steve. Sleep seems like a pipe dream at this point, but doing anything other than pretending to get some rest would involve talking to and/or looking at Steve, so. Not an option.

But after he listens to Steve settle back into his little pile of blankets, the minutes crawl by, and Billy gets twitchy. Wants so badly to move, toss and turn and fidget, and say something, but doesn’t know where to start and doesn’t want to draw Steve’s attention, and—

God, this is so fucking stupid.

Billy rolls over. “Steve.”

“Yeah?”

The room is silent for a beat. He shuffles around a little and the sheets rustle loudly in the quiet.

“Would you get up here,” he says suddenly, all at once, demanding, scarcely believing what the fuck is coming out of his mouth.

“...What?” Steve sounds a little breathless and it makes Billy’s stomach clench.

“Just...there’s enough room for both of us, alright.” Jesus christ.

The lump of Steve and blankets on the floor doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak, for what seems like an eternity, and Billy’s about to brush it off, turn it into a joke, take it back, something, when—

“Okay.”

Oh.

What?

Oh god, he’s getting up. This is happening. Billy stares at his silhouette, the tense line of his shoulders, his awkward gait, and wonders why he’s agreeing to this if he’s so goddamn uncomfortable.

Guess the floor is officially less comfortable than being in bed with Billy. Joy.

But then he’s sliding under the covers and Billy forgets to be bitter because his brain is mostly static at this point. White noise and his heartbeat thundering in his ears and the deafening creak of boxspring groaning under unexpected weight.

And Steve’s doing that thing again, sighing, little hums as he wiggles around getting himself situated, and Billy is dying. He thought he was being punished before, but now he’s sure, because this is ridiculous. No grown man should be that adorable.

By the time he’s gotten himself comfy Billy is about ready to combust.

It doesn’t help that he’s decided to lay down extremely close and facing Billy. It’s so intimate it hurts.

“Do you think you’ll actually sleep?”

Billy shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe.” He tries to make it sound more casual than it is. Like it’s a choice and not the sad fact that he’s too fucking anxious to relax.

Seems he’s not the only one though, Steve keeps fidgeting, his face doing something weird Billy can’t quite see in the gloom. But he doesn’t have to see to recognize Steve’s tics.

“Spit it out,” Billy sighs.

“What did you mean. When you said it’s complicated?” Steve asks softly.

Ah.

“You really wanna get into this?” He sure doesn’t, but Steve nods and Billy’s fucking weak when it comes to giving Steve what he wants. “I meant that...I...used to feel like that. All the time. It was fucking relentless.” He thinks about rolling onto his back so he won’t have to look at Steve for this, but finds himself stuck, drawn in by the faint starlight reflected in Steve’s eyes. “But nowadays I’ve got...shit to hang on for, I guess. Doesn’t make it all go away, but it makes it easier.”

“Oh.” Steve wriggles a little closer, his hand landing in the space between their pillows. Right next to Billy’s hand. Close enough that he can feel him there, but not quite touching.

He doesn’t say anything else, which Billy’s grateful for. He’s got Doc Owens for the big speeches about how life is worth living, and it’s grating enough getting them from someone who’s literal job is to say that kind of shit.

It helps. It does. But he can only handle so much.

Speaking of which.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says quietly. He’s keeping his hand too still for it to come across as casual, trembling with the effort. If he moved his pinky just a little they’d be touching, and he’s painfully aware of this fact.

“What for?”

“Earlier, when I...I was asking for a lot.”

“Oh.” Steve shifts, the blankets rustling as he shuffles around, but as much as he fidgets, his hand stays where it is. “Billy...I don’t want you to have to go through that again, but…”

Billy, on an impulse—with a feeling somewhat akin to stepping off a ledge without a parachute—hooks his pinky over Steve’s. In the dark he hears a soft intake of breath, can just barely make out the way Steve’s mouth falls open, moonlight casting shadows when his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

“I know. It wasn’t fair to—”

“No, no,” Steve flips his palm upward and laces their fingers together, squeezing Billy’s hand. “It’s not that. You have every right to be scared, and...look, this whole thing is batshit crazy, none of us know how to deal with it.”

Billy runs his thumb along the length of Steve’s index finger, marvelling at the contact, and the way his pulse flutters when the gesture is returned. It takes him a second to find his voice, “True, but you’ve never asked me to mercy kill you.”

Steve exhales, the ghost of a laugh, and it warms the back of Billy’s hand. He shivers, his whole arm tingling. “Billy, I haven’t gone through half the shit you have.” A pause. “I want to help. Anything you need, just...not that.”

Anything. It catches in Billy’s throat, stops his heart for just a second, reminds him that they’re inches apart, in bed together. For the second time tonight he feels like he’s been punched in the sternum, and he goes rigid, relaxing only minutely when Steve squeezes his hand again.

“Careful, pretty boy. Saying shit like that might give a guy ideas,” he murmurs, gaze searching, wandering Steve’s face, the shadows cast by the soft fall of hair across his forehead.

“Oh yeah?” Steve pulls their clasped hands to his chest. His heart is racing, but his voice is steady, “Well, have enough ideas with no follow-through and a guy might think you’re all talk.”

Billy’s breath catches. The world stops. “You...you don’t want me to follow through.”

The reality of the situation hits him like a train. Flirting is one thing, he’s always had a hard time keeping his mouth shut around Steve, but this is something he’d only ever regretted letting himself imagine because he knew he’d never have it. And now that it’s within reach...

“See, the thing is…” Steve slides a little closer. His knee brushes Billy’s thigh. “I really, really do.”

“I—” his voice breaks, mouth dry, throat closing up as he tries to swallow past the lump making it hard to breathe.

“Billy,” Steve whispers, a hot puff of air against Billy’s lips. “Please.”

Fuck.

He surges forward—hard enough that their teeth click together—and his mouth muffles Steve’s gasp. The hand not cradled against Steve’s chest comes up to touch his cheek, fingertips caressing his jaw, coaxing him closer, sliding back to thread into his hair.

Steve’s lips are plush and warm against his, curved into a smile that leaves Billy tingling, dizzy and drunk on sensations. The way his mouth tastes, the softness of his skin under Billy’s scarred palm, the way his heart twists when Steve reaches out to touch his chest.

He pulls back, and rests his forehead against Steve’s. His eyes stay shut and he just breathes. Soaks up the moment.

“God,” Steve sighs, nuzzling their noses together. “Always knew you’d be good at that.”

“Yeah?” Billy asks quietly, fiddling with the stray locks of hair behind Steve’s ear. He’s feeling...raw. Vulnerable. It’s a fragile state of being, one wrong word away from breaking. Or a few right words away from fucking bliss, but that never seems to be how it goes for him.

“Yeah, even when we didn’t like each other I wondered. Annoyed the hell outta me.”

“Steve…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully, “I always liked you.” If his heart wasn’t already racing, it sure would be now. He braces himself for the worst.

But it doesn’t come. There’s a pause. Steve’s fingers curl into the front of his shirt. “Oh.” He presses a chaste kiss to Billy’s lips, lingering, before chuckling lightly. “That explains a lot actually.”

Billy’s cheeks burn. Yeah, he supposes it would. “You’re not...freaked out?” he ventures, hesitant.

“Mm, nope.” He reaches up, brushes a stray curl out of Billy’s face. “Definitely okay with this.”

I love you.

The thought doesn’t shock him but the desire to say it out loud does. The way it lodges itself in his throat and sticks. He hasn’t said it to anyone—hasn’t wanted to say it to anyone—since his mother left. The precedent is intimidating, but…

Steve smells like honey and clean air, laying in bed with Billy, warm and pliant next to him tracing patterns in Billy’s scars, his gaze is fond, his smile is soft, and...and Billy’s in love.

He swallows. Pushes it down for now.

He kisses Steve again. Slower. A gentle press of mouths, and another. Takes his time deepening it, teasing with his tongue. He waits for Steve to pull away, to decide that this thing is one thing too far, but it never happens. Steve lets him escalate, and gives as good as he gets.

They’re both breathless and flushed and Billy’s riding high on the bubbling warmth in his chest, lightheaded from it. He slides his leg over Steve’s, straddling his thigh, pressing down, seeking friction.

He shifts, rocking forward a little, and Steve moans, low and deep right in Billy’s ear.

They both freeze. Steve’s breath coming in ragged little bursts against the side of Billy’s face.

“Pretty boy, as much as I’d love to hear more of that, no one else in the house does.”

“Jesus christ.”

“No need to bring him into it.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughs and buries his face in Billy’s shoulder. “Just give me a minute.”

“Aw, I get you all riled up, baby?”

Steve slides a hand down, down, and palms Billy’s cock, drawing a short gasp from him. “Yes.”

They stay entangled the rest of the night, dozing in and out of consciousness, Steve pressing the occasional sleepy kiss to Billy’s collarbone. And...Billy’s not sure what will happen after tonight, but he knows it’ll be easier to deal with if he gets to keep this. Whatever this is. He doesn’t have the heart to ask, not yet, but for the first time in a while, he has hope.

#steve harrington #harringrove #billy hargrove #stranger things #harringrove ficlet #harringrove fic #a raven's writing desk

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osrasaskblog · 4 years ago

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Well, guys.

I really hoped that I wasn't going to make this post, but I'm afraid it needs to be done.

I started writing Opal, Sapphire, Ruby, and STEVEN! in 2016, when I was in high school. I loved the characters of Opal and Ruby and Sapphire and I wanted to see more of them than what was in the show. I was curious, what would it be like if they had swapped places with Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl? How would those different personalities work together? How different would things be if they were the characters that we followed? I would have loved to read a fic of it.

And then I figured, well, hey, why don’t I write a fic of it?

So I took to my little writing tablet and started up my new story. And I had so much fun doing it. I loved writing Ruby, who was a spitfire but also had a gentle heart. I loved writing Sapphire, who was cool and composed but always warmed up to her friends, especially Steven. I loved writing Opal, who was just so many things at once—a calm leader, but also a goofball, a wise war hero but also a cool aunt-like figure. Most of all I loved to write Steven, who was just so funny, a goofy and adorable kid who was also shouldering the responsibility of a world on his shoulders.

It was so relaxing to write these little episodic chapters, especially as the quiet kid in class who could never stay too far from her works-in-progress. I knew back then that I was going to be a writer someday, because I had this deep, passionate need to create stories and characters. But without an original idea of my own yet, I loved writing fanfiction. I think why I love to write fanfiction so much is because even though there’s something already there, I’m taking it and reforming it. I guess it’s kind of like those “finish this picture” pages in coloring books. There’s something already there, but you finish it—you decide what it will be. Is this pretentious? Maybe. I’m not always great with words, ironically.

So I wrote all these short chapters with this new set of characters, and I thought, I’m going to change things up. I didn’t just want it to be different characters saying and doing the exact same thing as the original story—I didn’t want to copy-paste the episodes scripts and use the “replace” tool to change the names. I came up with new backstories for the Crystal Gems. I looked at the original episodes and thought of how I could tweak them, mix them up a little bit.

The chapters started to get longer and longer because of this, and my own writing style developing a lot. Instead of just no-beta keyboard smashing between my classes, I actually sat down and wrote things out, put in more descriptions, more dialogue, etc. And for a really long time I thought that the same-but-different format of the story was a good thing. I thought it was fun to write new characters in new situations, while also having that familiarity—many reviewers would comment things like “I can’t wait to see how they’ll react to X!” or “I can’t wait until we get to [insert episode here]!” That was originally the whole point of the story—different situations, same characters.

I enjoy reading through my work sometimes. Though, I’ve said to several people that I avoid the first chapters of OSRAS because I just think my work was so subpar back then. And again, I liked the same-but-different story I had written. It was fun, it was simple.

Then things started to get different. When? Well, I can’t really pinpoint it, but if I had to guess:

I recall, though, as I was writing “The Ocean” (which was posted around the same time as the “Bismuth” episode) that something was off. Even though I enjoyed writing the fic, this chapter was my first curveball—because in the show, “Mirror Gem/Ocean Gem” is a gamechanger. It changes everything that had been established already, introduced a new character, and set a different tone from the series so far. And in writing this arc for OSRAS, I realized that I…didn’t really have much to offer.

The episodes were very Steven-and-Lapis centric. The Crystal Gems weren’t involved very much. So…what was really the point of writing it? Because the readers already know what’s going to happen. Even back then I looked at the chapters I wrote and thought, this doesn’t have that same-but-different appeal. It’s just the same. What about Steven talking to Lapis in the whirlpool was different from him talking to her atop the pillar of water?

Afterwards, the show started getting into its “everything is changing” point in Season 3. Soon after “Bismuth” came “Back to the Moon,” where we find out Rose shattered Pink Diamond. This was a big “oh crap” moment. Finding out that there was a Pink Diamond was a big “oh crap” moment, because this was when the fandom was at its peak of theorizing.

And even though I kept writing the fic, I was trying to figure out how I was going to tackle this. Because there was no way to get that shock into the fic. It would just be Steven reacting to something the readers already knew. No shock. No drama. Just marking stuff off the checklist. It happened in the show, so it would happen in the fic.

The same-but-different appeal didn’t seem like that anymore. It seemed more like a problem than anything. Like I said, reviewers often said stuff like “I can’t wait for this episode!” But one or two did say that they just didn’t feel the same way—that they couldn’t really see a point in writing a fic that was basically just the original series with a few minor tweaks. I don’t like brushing off criticism, in fact I love criticism, but to this I originally just shrugged and said, “Well, that’s what the fic is. Don’t like, don’t read, I guess.”

Now the problem was that I didn’t like it. I found some reprieve when I wrote chapters like “The Common Soldier,” which delved into the entirely-different backstory of Ruby, but then there was “The Test,” “The Invasion,” and “The Jailbreak.” And “The Jailbreak” was like…the point of the whole fic. The big thing that the chapters were leading up to, where Opal would be “revealed” as a fusion and Pearl and Amethyst would make their debut. And again, same-but-different. The readers were seeing what it would be like if they were the fusion instead of Ruby and Sapphire, and it’s fun, right? They’re not expecting to be shocked, they were reading for the “what if”, right? The biggest curveball I threw in that chapter was having Peridot fuse with Lapis instead of Jasper…which I decided to do when I began writing the chapter, so I scurried to figure out where I was going to go with it.

I decided that in the next fic (Twists & Turns) I would decide to amp up the differences. But I stumbled. “The Shock”, ironically, was not a shock. Opal and Steven find the Cluster just like how he and Garnet did. Then “The Mistake”, where even though the reason for Opal and Ruby’s fight was different, there was always going to be a fight. I struggled to find this balance between the familiarity and the need for something different. I figured, yeah, there’s still the desire to see new characters react to the same situations, but what else? That was it.

To try and remedy this problem, I started planning my chapters ahead instead of writing by the seat of my pants like I was. I started getting more and more into making things different. I tried to figure out how to make Chrysocolla different than Malachite, and came up with a “peaceful” resolution as opposed to the action-packed one. I would hit the same story beats, but I thought, the pull will be the different context and motivations.

But…the original series kept going, and we all know how it went. Rose turned out to be Pink Diamond. The Crystal Gems go to Homeworld to confront White Diamond. Steven finally changes her mind. And more than that, all the character arcs are wrapped up. Garnet embraces herself as a fusion, Amethyst finds her self-worth, Pearl decides to fight for herself rather than anyone else, etc, etc. A lot of stuff that just would not carry over to OSRAS. Like, how would I even try to recreate Change Your Mind??? How on earth would I find a way to write the Rose-is-Pink reveal without the readers going yeah, yeah, we know?

So I started to come up with a whole new thing. Or at least, I tried. This is where Star came from. Something completely new, completely original, to set the fic apart from the original series. I knew that I needed to create an ending for the story—and more than that, the characters. Opal, Sapphire, and Ruby all have their own individual stories that would need to be wrapped up.

But all the ideas that I had for the finale of the fic were vague and blurry. Which was really bad, because writing a story when you don’t know how it’s going to end is…very stressful. I realized eventually that I had made a very hellish situation for myself.

I wanted to write a new, original story. But the first ~36 chapters were just an adaptation of the original series.

I feel so awful right now because I feel like I lied to so many of my followers so many times. Some asked if Spinel was going to appear, and I said I think I found a way for her to fit in just fine…and then I dropped that whole idea, and thus lost a place for Spinel. Sometimes I said “I have a plan for how this will work out” when what I meant was “I plan to have a plan for how this will work out.”

So, to summarize:

1. The original series started to become so lore-heavy that a “same story, different characters” fic was just not going to work.

2. Even so, that was what the fic had been for a very large time. To write a new and original story, I would still have to work with what I had already done. Like the “finish the picture” page in the coloring book was like 99% done and I had very little space to make something creative.

3. Because I no longer wanted to do a same-but-different story, I had to let go of the show’s original storyline and come up with my own…while I was already writing the story. Again, I had no ending for the story even though I was posting chapters for it as often as I could.

And I kept doing this for…years. Because I refused to let this fic go. I felt such an attachment to Opal, Ruby, and Sapphire and their stories that I had come up for them. The first fic was 259,004 words long. And Twists & Turns? 305,428. I couldn’t just throw that much work away, I had to salvage it. And more than anything, I still had so many follows, favorites, and bookmarks, readers leaving me reviews, people sending me asks into my inbox. When I went through rough times in my life and was slow on updates, so many readers comforted me, telling me it was okay. And I had people tell me that this fic was…important to them. That it made them happy when they were in rough times.

But the truth was…I just didn’t like this fic anymore.

Sometimes I found myself enjoying it still. Writing Jasper’s redemption arc was truly fun for me, one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. I love writing the comedy style of Steven Universe. I loved writing these characters and their interactions. And yeah, sometimes I would still re-read some of the earlier chapters and enjoy doing so.

But…

Every time I post up a new chapter, I just wish it was something else. Even if I loved Jasper’s redemption arc, Lapis and Peridot’s unique relationship, the fight between Steven and the Crystal Gems, it was like watching good scenes from a bad movie for me. Like yeah, this is nice, and I like it, but when I looked at the bigger picture, I was just disappointed. It felt like the original vision, a very simple and straightforward SU but Opal, Ruby, and Sapphire instead, had just…chained it down. I wanted to be creative, make a story that was original, but each chapter I’ve been posting lately just feels like that 99%-done picture.

And all those ideas for the finale just—never came together. Some became pretty clear. There were things that I came up with that I thought, Oh, that’d be so COOL! But because of what the fic already was, it would have never worked. It would’ve broken the rules of the setting, or it would have come out of nowhere with no buildup. I had a whole lot of puzzle pieces that wouldn’t fit together. The time that I put aside to try and figure this out were just hellish. I have spent hours staring up at the ceiling, trying to figure out how to end this story, and each and every time I’ve walked away with no progress and more stress than I can handle.

I can’t recall what all detail I’ve gone into, but I know I’ve told readers before that life has been stressful for me as of late. Not just with work and school, which are taking huge bites out of my time, but health issues and family issues, too. And it feels so stupid, to say that writing a fic for a children’s TV show was another problem, but the truth was that it was. I already had/have so many things weighing me down and causing me anxiety, and on top of all of them I’ve been putting time aside almost every day to worry about this story.

I’m writing this now after three hours trying to find a way to wrap up this fic and coming up with nothing. The only solution that I can find now, to just stick with the original storyline set up by the show, doesn’t feel like a solution at all. It would still have that huge, glaring problem: I have already seen this, so why should I read it? And probably a large part of that has to do with Steven being the protagonist, and already establishing that he’s going through an arc dealing with trauma and identity issues…just like the show did. Not adding anything new.

On top of the lack of a proper solution, though, the idea of writing three more seasons’ worth of OSRAS fills me with dread. This story, which has no set ending or resolution to its plot (let alone its character arcs), could take me years to finish in that absolutely unsatisfying manner I mentioned. That’s years of writing a story that I only find occasional joy in. Years of dedication to something that I just regret at this point.

So, I guess you figure by now that this is a bit of a farewell. And just writing that makes me feel so shitty. I feel like I’m about to cry now, because even though I’m committing to this decision, and even though I’m feeling relief already, I am wracked with guilt. I feel as though I’m letting so many people down. After months and months of “Sorry for the wait, promise more chapters are coming!” and months and months of “I promise we’re getting to X soon!” now I’m taking that all back. And again, I’ve had people tell me how much this fic means to them. I imagine that some people are going to be reading this, and they’re going to be hurt and angry and betrayed, and I honestly can’t blame them. Not just because I know firsthand how frustrating it is to have a story I really love be discontinued, but because I feel as though I’ve lied to my readers.

Unfortunately, as I said, I’m committing to this. This is just the only solution that I can find to this problem that’s been weighing down on me for years now. OSRAS is always going to mean something to me, because like I said, I did find joy in the characters and the interactions, the dialogue that I came up with. I wrote this story for five years. But the little joys weren’t enough to outweigh the stress. Ideally I want to say something like But maybe one day I’ll figure out a proper ending, but I can’t promise something like that.

WITH ALL THAT BEING SAID...

I’m attempting to work on a revamp at the moment. I still very much like the idea of a swapfic, but I’m going to need to make it from the ground-up. Maybe I’ll make Connie the same character; maybe I’ll put it in a different setting. I still have ideas for Ruby’s story as the last of her kind, and Opal’s unique situation of a fusion by necessity. Like I said, I did have some thoughts for how these could have been resolved, but with the current state of the fic, they wouldn’t be possible.

I’m going to leave the fics up, promise I won’t be deleting them. If anyone wants to ask questions, my inbox is open, but I can’t promise immediate answers. And if anyone wants to message me about plans I did have for the fic, feel free to do so, but I won’t be posting them publicly on the blog. I may revisit them if I ever go for a revamp. And some things I’m going to keep to myself, because they’re ideas that have a stronger chance of being revisited and I’d rather keep them secret.

So this is coming to be about 3,000 words now. And maybe 3,000 words is way too much for a “I’m discontinuing the fic” post, and maybe this is 3,000 words of pure overdramatic whining, but I wanted to give a full explanation here for why I’ve made this decision.

The second-to-last thing I wanted to say is that I’m sincerely sorry to anyone who feels hurt by this. Like I said, maybe one day I’ll try this again after all, but as-is, the state of OSRAS feels like a mess that I can’t fix. Plus I’m going to be a little selfish and do what’s going to relieve me of this stress. All I can say is that I am positive that if I decided to continue this fic, it would have been obvious in the writing that I’d lost my passion for it.

The last thing I wanted to say is a giant THANK YOU to all my readers and followers over the years. Even if OSRAS is over, I want each and every one of you to know that all your reviews, favorites, and bookmarks always made my day a little better. I only hope that if/when I get around to the revamp, it will be so much better than OSRAS was.

So, this is goodbye to OSRAS for now. Again, my sincerest apologies, and my sincerest thanks.

Sincerely, myself, Opal, Sapphire, Ruby, and Steven

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chipper9906 · 4 years ago

Text

Hello, Stranger

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 15 EPISODE 18 ‘DESPAIR’ AND SEASON 15 EPISODE 19 ‘INHERIT THE EARTH’

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 6,201

Status: One Shot - Complete

Summary/Preview

The man above him was panting heavily, wheezing for breath through pained grunts, and usually, Dean would find some comfort in knowing he at least got a few good licks in.

Instead, all he could do was drop his head back into the carpet with gritted teeth. Great. He was Dean Winchester; He had taken on monsters that most believed to be fairy tales, he had taken on Lucifer, he had taken on God. Hell, he had even killed Hitler.

And now he was about to be killed by some goddamn junkie that had broken into his apartment.

Fan-friggen-tastic.

* * *

A post episode/ post season fix it fic because my heart hurts and I needed some happiness.

Link To Fic

Click Below To Keep Reading

* * *

Dean Winchester is a homeowner.

Well, he signed a contract that lets him rent a shitty, musty, one-bedroom apartment that has questionable stains on the carpet and the lingering smell of weed soaked into the walls, but it’s his. It’s also situated between a few bars and a pizza place that serves the best damn meat lover’s pizza he’s ever tasted in his life, so y’know. Silver linings.

The off-yellow, fluorescent light of the fridge hums obnoxiously at him, lighting the two last bottles of beer he has sat snugly in the corner. Dean pulls one out, grumbling to himself as he pats at the chipped kitchen counter for the bottle opener. He flips the cap off with a flick he has done many times, chucking the cap somewhere to the side (he swears he’ll throw them away later) and flopping down onto his couch with a groan.

His phone shrills at him from within his jean’s pocket and Dean throws his head back with an exasperated sigh. This was what he signed up for, after all. He just didn’t know how Bobby did it. The whole ‘normal job whilst also acting as an information source for the hunter network’ crap. If it were up to him, he’d just do the ‘hunter network’ stuff. You know, what actually matters. But he’s too old to be living out of motels which were paid for with fake credit cards and cash from hustling, so he has to do it the legal way. That’s not to say the apartment is a huge step up from the usual dumps he and Sammy used to stay in when on the road, but still. It’s his place.

Relief floods through him when he finally yanks the phone out of his pocket and sees Sam’s name plastered across the screen. Looks like he was free from hunter duties for a while yet.

“Heya Sammy,” Dean greets him the second he has the phone to his ear, his smile practically audible through the phone. “Is this an ‘another apocalypse’ phone call or…?”

“No, you jerk,” Sam chuckles down the phone. “It’s a regular phone call. You know, that thing normal people do when they check up on family?”

Dean nearly snorted into his beer. “Yeah, well, we’re far from normal, Sammy.”

“Funnily enough, I’m aware of that. But this is as close to ‘normal’ as we’re going to get. It’s the best we’re going to get.”

Dean hummed thoughtfully, swallowing down a mouthful of beer. “Yeah? Tell that to the dumbass newbie at work who decided he didn’t need to put the oil cap back on after changing the oil… oil everywhere Sammy. Everywhere. I can hack off vampire heads all day, but dealing with people? It’s a nightmare, Sam.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Sam assured him. “We’ll get used to it. It’s… Dean, you know how nice it is to hear you complain about work? Hearing ‘my co-workers a pain in the ass’ instead of ‘there’s a Were on my tail, bring the silver’ is something I never thought I’d get to experience.”

“Were on my tail? Wow, great pun there Sam…” Dean mumbled into the phone, getting a half-amused half annoyed snort from his brother. “Maybe one day I’ll go full ‘Bobby’. Get a cabin out in the middle of nowhere, open up my own mechanic shop… though, doubt I could go back to the old way of looking up the lore… Hey, they do satellite internet, right?”

Sam had suddenly gone very quiet. Dean raised his eyebrows as he waited for his brother's response, the white-noise from the other end of the line the only reassurance to Dean that the line hadn’t gone dead.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, I think that’s something you could get set up.” Sam finally answered. “But… you know you can do all that without the whole ‘hunting network’ thing, right? That is still an option-,”

“I know, Sam,” Dean cut off his little brother abruptly. “I know that’s an option. And maybe one day I’ll realize just how old and broken down I am and accept that. But-,”

“But you won’t,” Sam sighed subtly.

“Maybe one day,” Dean repeated softly. “I just… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to quit cold turkey, Sam. I just… I need to do something.”

“Have you been on any hunts?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders, forgetting that Sam couldn’t see him. “Eh, a few. No solo hunts, before you panic. There was a hunter going through town, uh, Jason White? Hadn’t heard of him before, but-,” Dean huffed quietly in laughter. “-He sure as hell heard of me. Seems the Winchester name still has its rep around the hunter community.”

“I can never tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Dude was giddy to work with me, so I’d say it was a good thing.” Dean took another swig of beer. “And that’s when they don’t even know we kicked God’s ass!”

“Jack kicked God’s ass,” Sam corrected him. “We got our asses kicked by God.”

“Yeah, but… we needed to get Chuck to beat us up for the plan to work, so… I think it’s fair to say we brought down God.”

“Depending on who you tell that to, you might end up being flayed rather than hailed as a hero.”

Dean paused with the bottle of beer to his lips. “Point taken… maybe it would be better to keep it to ourselves.”

“Probably,” Sam agreed with a chuckle.

“How ‘bout you, Sammy? How’s college life treating you? Again?”

“It’s…” Sam was about to do the usual ‘everything’s great’ spiel, but something about Dean’s inquiring tone made him pause. “… it’s more difficult than I’d thought. I don’t know, maybe I should have had some kind of buffering time between, try and adjust a little before going back.”

“I can imagine.”

“Back then, I felt like I belonged in college, you know? I felt… on par with everyone around me, but now? I stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Yeah? Well, you are an old man amongst eighteen to twenty-year old’s.”

“Thirty-seven isn’t old, jerk. Plenty of people go back to college when they’re…”

“…older?” Dean finished his sentence with glee.

“Shut up.”

Dean laughed smugly at his brother’s annoyed grumbles, though he quickly pulled himself back together. “Seriously though Sammy, I… I hope you know I’m proud of you for this. I know it’s not exactly what we – what I imagined, but… I’m glad to see you living out the life you set out for yourself. I know I wasn’t supportive of you when you first left for college, and I know it’s gonna be tough for you. But if you can go up against God and win, I’m sure you can pass your bar exam.”

“Thanks, Dean.” Sam’s voice sounded a little choked. “How are you doing, anyway? I didn’t really ask.”

“Living the dream, Sammy. Living the dream.” Dean answered dryly, staring sombrely at the last dregs of beer in the bottle and wondering whether it’s worth grabbing the last bottle from the fridge. Future Dean will hate him if he does…

“Seriously, Dean.” If Sam’s voice was anything to go by, he had the puppy dog eyes on full effect right now. “How are you? You okay? I know it’s been hard since… since…”

Dean swallowed hard, letting his eyes flutter shut and his head lean back against the couch. “No, Sam. I’m pretty damn far from okay. And I’m not sure if I ever will be, but… I’ll learn to cope.”

“Dean, it’s… don’t be afraid to ask for help with this kind of stuff. I know it’s a bit unconventional when it comes to our lives, but-,”

“A bit unconventional?” Dean spluttered. “Sam, how the hell would I go about explaining any of this to a shrink, huh? ‘Hey, I had the literal Death trying to kill me, and one of the few people I love sacrificed himself to save me by telling me he loves me.’ Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go down a-,”

“What did you just say?” Sam interrupted in a quiet, shocked voice. “Dean, you… did Cas say-,”

“I’m not talking about that, Sammy.” Dean’s tone left no room for argument.

“Cas was my friend too you know, Dean,” Sam argued back, his voice understanding but digging too much for Dean’s liking. “I know you don’t like talking about this, but-,”

“No, Sam. I don’t like talking about it.” Dean snapped curtly.

“But-,”

“Cas was my Eileen, Sam.” Dean could hear Sam’s mouth snap close, the stunned silence on the other end of the phone too loud in Dean’s ear. “And I know you sure as hell don’t like talking about her. I had to… Fuck, do you have any idea, Sam? I never let myself think about it, about what Cas was to me. He could be a stubborn bastard and hard to read at times, and this whole damn time, he loved me and… he never told me. All this time he’d been holding that to himself and he just… I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t say anything. He was just gone, and I…”

“You loved him.”

It wasn’t a question. Dean squeezed his eyes shut at Sam’s words. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. And he never got to know. He never heard me say it.”

Dean ran a tense hand through his hair, pulling at the strands with a pained grimace. “I still see him sometimes, Sammy. I feel like I’m going crazy. I’ll see a flash of him in a crowd, see that stupid tax-accountant get up of his out of the corner of my eye, and… I keep telling myself he’s gone, that I need to move on.”

“You will, Dean. Sometimes, after… after Jess, I’d see her, too. Grief does strange things to the mind.”

“Yeah, I know, but… I can’t help but think about when I lost him in purgatory. When I kept seeing him, back then, and… all that time, he was trying to reach out to me.”

“This isn’t like then, Dean.” Sam’s response was like a punch to the chest. “Cas was in Purgatory. When he was trying to contact you, he was back on Earth, right? Cas is… he’s in the Empty. The only being with enough power to get him out was Jack, but-,”

“But Jack’s not gonna be hands-on,” Dean said miserably.

“Right…” Sam replied with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Dean. I wish it was Cas, you know I do, but… he’s gone.”

“I know. I know that, Sammy. I’m not denying he’s gone, I just… I miss him. Guess I always assumed we’d win this thing together, you know? ‘Paradise on Earth’ and all that.”

“I don’t even know what Cas would have done after all this,” Sam said with a mild tone of amusement. “After meeting Cas, it felt like we had to stop one apocalypse after the other.”

“Poor guy never really got to catch a break,” Dean agreed sadly. “Maybe I could have trained him up to be a proper hunter, just like he wanted. Or… maybe he would have flown home.”

“Home?”

“Yeah, y’know; Heaven. If the other winged dicks let him back in, that is.”

“Dean… I don’t think ‘Heaven’ is Cas’ home. At least, it hasn’t been for a while, anyway. If Cas was still here, well… whatever he decided to do next, I can’t imagine anything that didn’t involve being by your side, Dean.”

* * *

The later into the night it got, the more tempted Dean was to break out the bottle of whisky he has hidden under his cupboard for ‘emergencies only’.

The only saving grace was that Dean had the day off tomorrow, so it’s not like he had to worry about work. Tonight was just going to be… one of those nights. Getting off the phone with Sammy always left him feeling bittersweet; happy to hear his brother’s voice, but the reminder that he was so far away only worsening the dull ache he felt in his chest that he could only fix by drinking until everything went black and numb.

‘THUMP’

Dean was upright from his bed in seconds, fingers curling around the comforting grip of his pistol under the pillow. The sound hadn’t come from his room, rather somewhere else in the apartment – the living room, perhaps? The kitchen? He slowly peeled off the covers, untangling them from his legs and stepping softly onto the dusty carpet, thankful it would mute his footsteps.

Dean cautiously approached his closed bedroom door, placing his ear up to the door and straining his hearing. Nothing. For a moment, he wondered if he had simply imagined the noise, his emotional and exhausted mind caught between sleep and lucidity, conjuring up a sound to distract him.

Maybe, if Dean were a normal person, he’d have waved it off and headed back to bed. Hunter's instincts are hard to shake off though, and not checking the apartment simply wasn’t an option. Sure, he had thrown up all the usual sigils in the apartment the second he had moved in (and likely ruined any chance of getting his deposit back), but you never know.

Dean clasps his free hand around the rounded doorknob, painstakingly turning it until he hears the ‘click’ of the lock, wincing at how loud the usually quiet sound felt in the silence of the room. Dean swings the door open slowly, peering out of the room and into the pitch-blackness of his apartment. He can barely make out the shadowed outline of his furniture, lit up only by the muted lights of passing traffic peeking in through the partly opened blinds.

Dean takes a single step out into the living room when a hand clasps around his shoulder.

He whirls around in an instant, knocking off the assailant’s arm and lifting his pistol to aim. The gun is wrenched out of his hands in an instant, the unexpectedly strong pull nearly sending him tumbling straight into his attacker. Dean hears his gun clatter to the floor, and he throws a punch out of instinct, feeling his knuckles connect with the strangers’ jaw. There’s a pained grunt from the man, definitely a man by his posture and deep, surprised groan of pain, and Dean jabs out his fist again before the man can counter. His fist lands squarely in the man's gut and Dean knows by the sound the man makes that he had just had the wind knocked out of him.

Dean’s next hit isn’t as successful, the man catching Dean’s fist mid-swing and twisting him away, pushing him forward until his chest hits the wall with a resounding ‘thud’. Dean grimaces at the pressure against his back and arm, kicking out a leg backward and feeling it connect with the guy’s knee. It buckles, the pressure on his back gone and Dean takes the advantage, spinning around and shoving the guy hard. He sees the blurry black figure go sprawling backward, slamming into the wall opposite with another pained grunt. Dean scrambles to the floor in search of his gun, blinking rapidly in an attempt to adjust to the darkness of the room. He just about catches a glint of metal, reaching for the gun before it’s gone again, kicked out of sight by his attacker. Dean growls in frustration, jumping to his feet as fast as his body will let him. It seems he isn’t as fast as he once was, the man grabbing him by the arm and slamming him back down to the ground before he can even blink.

His back hits the floor hard, the air leaving his lungs in one giant ‘whoosh’, dust erupting from the unkempt carpet under him. His attacker had clambered over him, the heavy pressure he felt on his wrists surely the man pinning him down, the weight on top of his legs surely that of the stranger. His head was spinning, vision blurry from the dark, and the hit to the back of his head when he landed. The man above him was panting heavily, wheezing for breath through pained grunts, and usually, Dean would find some comfort in knowing he at least got a few good licks in.

And now he was about to be killed by some goddamn junkie that had broken into his apartment. Fan-friggen-tastic.

“Hello, Dean.”

His heart stops. Pauses, for just a moment. When it kicks back into gear, it's with a hard, resounding thump. The voice was gruff, grated, that of a man who had either smoked ten packs of cigarettes a day or had had his vocal cords shredded apart. It was familiar, like coming home, and he wants to scream to the Universe how fucking cruel it is for him to be losing his mind like this, that it was bad enough to be seeing him, but to be hearing him too?

Unless…

He squirms underneath the man’s grip, his shallow, quick intakes of air a sure sign of an approaching panic attack. To Dean’s surprise, the man's grip slackened, and he let Dean scramble up to his feet. Dean stumbled back into the wall as the man smoothly got to his feet, stood there silently watching Dean panic as he slapped his hand against the wall, searching for the light switch. Dean’s hand passes over the smooth cool plastic of the panel, and he smacks down hard on the switch.

The light bursts to life, bathing the room in that sickening bright white. It’s blinding - as if lightning had struck inside his apartment. Dean still has his hand glued to the light switch; his gaze glued to the stranger stood opposite him.

Except, that was no stranger.

There’s a thin trail of blood slipping down a split lip that’s curved up into a subtle smile, blue eyes glossy with unshed tears that are scanning up and down Dean like he can’t quite believe he’s there. His chest is still heaving with exasperated breaths from their scuffle and he’s holding himself awkwardly, one leg taking more of his weight than the other – likely a result of Dean’s attempt at defending himself.

“Cas? Cas, is this… is that really you?” Dean’s voice is breathy, uncertainty laced in every word.

“I spent the whole drive over here thinking about what to say when I saw you,” Castiel said. “And now all I can think is how I should be scolding you for not checking to see if I’m a shifter or a demon first.”

Dean blinked owlishly at Cas, the shock mixed with the adrenaline sending his brain into overdrive. Cas’s shy smile widened briefly for a moment, barely wincing at the sting of his split lip being pulled.

“Actually, I… I was worried for a moment that I had been told the wrong address and had broken into someone else’s residence. But then you were pulling a gun on me and it seemed a bit too late to ask, so I-,”

Dean rushes forward before Cas can finish his sentence, throwing his arms around Cas’s shoulders and burying his head into his neck. He’s fully aware his hands are shaking, scrunching up the back of Castiel’s trench coat so tightly that he can feel some threads popping loose under his fingers. Castiel’s hands were wrapped around his back in return, squeezing Dean close with all his worth, eyes squeezed shut in content with his head nestled next to Dean’s.

When Dean pulls away, it’s to hold Cas at arm’s length and just… look. Take him all in. To savor the warmth of Cas’s under his hands, to drink in the smile he never thought he’d get to see again. Because there’s a part of him that still doesn’t know if this is real, and he wants to take the time to memorize the feel of Castiel in his arms.

“You, uh…” Dean says somewhat awkwardly. “You need a drink?”

* * *

Dean’s been staring at Cas for way too long then is socially acceptable now.

He’s perched on what Dean knows from experience is an incredibly uncomfortable bar stool at the end of the kitchen counter, the beer Dean had offered him pressed against his split lip from their, um… reunion. Dean tapped his fingers against the cool glass of whisky he held, watching Cas as his eyes scanned curiously around the apartment, and Dean starts to feel guilty for not keeping on top of the cleaning as much as he should. In his defense, he wasn’t exactly expecting company.

“How… how are you here, Cas?”

“I had to hot-wire a car that had been left parked in a desolate road near a field in Illinois. In my defense, it seemed rather neglected, so I doubt it’ll be missed. It was quite difficult finding you actually, your number no longer worked and I had to visit many, many bars to find some hunters who had some knowledge on your whereabouts-,”

“Cas, that’s… that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean how are you here?”

Castiel pulled the bottle away from his lip, placing it down delicately on the countertop. The signature frown was back on his face, along with the cocked head that Dean found much too endearing. “Dean, have you not noticed?”

Dean followed Castiel’s hands to where he had placed a finger on his split lip, wincing when he pressed down a bit too hard.

“What? That I greeted my best friends return from the dead by giving him a beating? Yeah, I kinda noticed.”

Castiel sighed quietly, and Dean grinned at the exasperation. “Have you not noticed that it hasn't healed?”

Dean frowned at him in confusion. “Oh. Why haven’t you…?”

It finally clicked.

Dean sat up straight as it hit him; looking to the split lip, to the bruise that had already begun forming on the edge of Cas’s jaw, to the way he held out his leg at an odd angle like it was bothering him.

Almost as if…

“You’re human?”

“I believe so, yes. My grace was… warped. It’s been through a lot, through the fall… but… I believe it had been different from the very start. Chuck was right, in a way. I was ‘the angel with a crack in his chassis’. Maybe that’s why I was the only one. Out of all the other me’s that exist… I was the angel that began to feel. The angel to fall in love with the righteous man. Angels aren’t supposed to love, you see. Emotions are seen as distractions. Emotions were thought only possible to humans because of one thing.”

“Souls,” Dean answered for him.

Castiel nodded. “Dean, do you understand what the Empty is? What happens to us? It’s… it seems almost peaceful when you think about it. To spent eternity just… sleeping. But we don’t sleep. We dream. We dream of all that we regret. For most angels and demon’s, they have only one regret; their death. What they did wrong to meet their end, tortured endlessly by that mistake. I didn’t dream of my death though, Dean. My death was no mistake. Instead, I dreamt of you. I dreamt of all the times I let you down, of all the things I should have done or said but never did. Angels aren’t supposed to do that, Dean. Those aren’t the regrets soldiers of God are meant to have.

“The Empty isn’t a complicated being. It’s… it’s nothingness, and it wants to exist as nothingness. Billy made it promises she wouldn’t keep, keeping it awake when all it wanted to do was to return to sleep. So when it had dragged us into that place, when I fell into that sleep… perhaps it assumed it would be able to return to sleep. But my dreams, my regrets… they weren’t of the type that any another being in the Empty had. My grace wasn’t settling, it was… it was like an animal in a cage, it was…”

“It was keeping the Empty awake.”

“The Empty wanted me to suffer. But in doing so, it was suffering itself. It didn’t understand why; I didn’t understand why. Why my grace. What made it different? It wasn’t until I had been spat back out here; when the Empty had figured it out before me that I realized. It wasn’t my grace, Dean. It wasn’t grace at all, not anymore. I’m… I’m still not sure how it happened, whether it had been happening for a while, if it was the reason my grace had been diminishing over the years, or… if maybe Jack had a part to play in it, or… or if it was just myself. If me falling for you, to be the first angel to do that… maybe it’s something that could happen to all angels.”

Dean had never been more confused in his life. “What are you talking about, Cas?”

“My grace was changed, Dean. An angel’s grace, it’s a source of power, a piece of God himself; just like a soul. I’m not just an angel who has lost his grace, Dean. My grace is still here, just changed. Adapted. I’m human in every sense of the word.”

Dean knew what Cas was getting at, but he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “…You have a soul?”

“I have a soul,” Castiel confirmed, giving Dean a watery smile. “Humans were not meant to exist in the Empty. It’s not something the Empty has ever had to deal with - emotions. The Empty is a powerful being. It can tear into your mind, to know all that makes you suffer. But a soul? It doesn’t know how to approach that. It doesn’t know how to make it quiet.”

“So… so what does that mean now for you?”

“It means I’m here,” Castiel answered simply, his wandering gaze returning to their surroundings.

Dean smiled, glancing down to the whisky in his hand to avoid seeing Castiel’s judgment of his shitty apartment. “Yeah? And what do you think of… here?”

Castiel hummed thoughtfully, taking his sweet time to look around the abysmal contents of the room which Dean knows full well only takes about ten seconds to take in.

“It’s rather small,” Castiel finally gives his verdict. Dean ducks his head with embarrassed laughter, scratching awkwardly at the back of his head.

“Yeah, well… a high-school dropout who has barely any prior job experience and next to no references doesn’t exactly get many calls for interviews.”

“I see,” Castiel replied with an understanding yet sad smile. “Why did you and Sam leave the bunker?”

“Well, after Sammy decided he wanted to give college another shot, and after you and Jack, it was… the bunker was too empty. Too quiet. Too many memories, I guess. And it’s not like I was gonna be hunting like I used to without Sammy…”

“You’re not hunting?” Castiel asked, surprise clearly written across his features.

“Sometimes,” Dean replied with a shrug. “It’s… Sammy wanted another shot at the normal life, and after everything… that doesn’t even begin to cover what the kid deserves.”

“And what about you?” Castiel said with a questioning frown. “What about what you deserve?”

Dean laughed one humorless chuckle. “Cas, I always expected to go out in a blaze of glory. Maybe with Sammy by my side, maybe not, but-,” Dean paused, turning his eyes down. “I didn’t… I didn’t picture a scenario where I lived and you didn’t. I didn’t know what life was going to be like after that, after you… I didn’t think it was a pain I’d have to live with, you know?”

Cas’s calloused hand rests over Dean’s, thumb gently sweeping over his wrist. There’s a sadness and regret to Cas’s gaze, but a comforting smile curled onto his lips. “When I took that deal… a part of me never expected for it to be claimed. I thought the Empty had made some colossal mistake on its part, because… I couldn’t envision a scenario where I’d be happy. A scenario where we beat God and we made it out alive. But then I wondered… I wondered how much the Empty knew of me. It had tortured me with it once, with what I feared and… of who I loved. And Dean, it was almost funny when I realized, when I assumed the Empty had surely made that mistake. It knew what I wanted most, and yet, it was something I could never have.”

“What you wanted?”

Cas’s smile turned sad. “You, Dean Winchester. I wanted to know the touch of your lips, of the feel of your skin under my hands… I wanted to know what it would be like to wake up next to you, to be something that brought you some sense of happiness… I wanted to know what it was like to be seen as something more than family, a friend, a brother… I wanted what angels aren’t supposed to want. I wanted your love, Dean Winchester.”

“…Cas-”

“But there was a simplicity to it.” Cas continued before Dean could form the words he wanted to say. “I couldn’t get that happiness because… because I wouldn’t let myself feel it. It was easier to just push it down, to pretend as if this hadn’t been something eating at me ever since I had rebelled. And to just… to just say it. In letting myself feel it, in telling you, in telling myself… that was my own form of happiness. It wasn’t in knowing you felt the same way, it wasn’t that I needed you to say it back… I said it because I needed you to know.”

How did Cas do this? Every time he thought he knew what to say, Cas found a way to rip the words right of his mouth. Dean was thrown through a loop again, his brain brought to a standstill. None of it made sense in his mind. The thought that he was Cas’s happiness, that he had somehow made an angel of the lord love, it was just… why him?

“In a way, the Empty lost,” Cas told him. “It wanted me to suffer. It was cruel, yes, but genius on its part, I must admit. To only take me once I had found happiness on Earth, but… I didn’t suffer as it took me, Dean. To die, knowing you were safe? That I had kept you safe? My mission is and always will be to save Dean Winchester. If my ending was the one where you get to live the life you deserve? Then… that was my happiness.”

Dean huffed, staring down at his whisky, absentmindedly spinning the glass across the counter. “You had found your peace. I get that, Cas, I really do,” Dean stopped spinning the glass, eyes flickering up to meet Cas’s. “But if you think the life I deserve is one that didn’t have you in it, then…”

Dean chuckled dryly, taking a small sip of his drink, welcoming the burning sensation that crawled down his throat.

“Dean, don’t think I wouldn’t have wanted… this,” Castiel insisted, brows furrowing. “I would have been content to carry on the way we are. I would of course wanted to stay with you, and Sam, and Jack, just as we were.”

Dean licks his lips nervously, tasting the lingering leftovers of his whisky. “And what if I’m not content with that?”

Cas frowned at him, a brief look of panic flashing across his face. “I don’t get what you mean?”

Dean laughs. He can’t help it. They’re small hushed snorts of laughter, dropping his chin down into his chest and shaking his head, his shoulders shaking with every chuckle. “Oh, Cas… We’re both idiots, aren’t we? Biggest damn idiots there are.”

Castiel was only getting more and more confused.

“Cas, what the hell did you think that mixtape meant?” Dean asked once he lifted his head back up. “What did you think that prayer back in Purgatory meant, huh? Both times? When I prayed to you every damn night in that hellhole?”

“I… I assumed-,”

“Assumed… yeah, we both kept making assumptions about the other, huh? You know I’m not great with words, Cas. I’m… I speak better with my actions, you know? But this… you… I didn’t know how to handle the way I felt for you. Calling you my brother was easy because that was a love I knew how to process. It was easy. You knew I cared for you, and I thought that was enough.”

“It was enough,” Castiel assured him.

“No, it wasn’t, Cas,” Dean insisted. “I was too much of a coward to tell you the truth.”

“Dean, you don’t have to-,”

Dean grabbed Castiel by the lapels of his trench coat to shut him up, tugging him forward and damn near dragging him over the counter. Castiel had gone wide-eyed, bracing himself by grabbing onto Dean's arms, keeping him suspended over the counter.

“Listen to me,” Dean stresses the words, keeping his eyes locked with Cas. “You’re not just my best friend. You’re not just my brother. You’re all that and more. You’re not just what I want, you’re all that I need. And I’m telling you this now because I should have told you all those years ago. I should have told you when you told me. I love you, too. You got that? I love you.”

And then Dean kisses the shocked look right off of Cas’s face, just to drive the point home.

It’s far from the best kiss Dean’s ever had. The taste of Castiel’s blood is metallic and tangy under his lips, and he went into the kiss a bit too rushed and hard. There’s definitely a clash of teeth at first, and a kiss was apparently the last thing Cas was expecting as his lips remained frozen in disbelief for some good few seconds. And yet, it was perfect.

Because it was Cas.

It’s not until Dean’s hands frame Cas’s face that he gets a response. His lips move under Dean’s, chapped yet addictingly soft. Dean’s thumb brushes down Cas’s cheek, the burn of stubble against his skin something new, but a reminder that this was Cas. It was Cas’s lips on his. It was Cas’s hands brushing through the short strands of hair at the back of his neck. It was Cas pressing his body into him, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle that never thought the other piece would fit.

When they break away, it’s with a surprised “Oh,” from Cas that has Dean shaking quietly with repressed laughter, his forehead pressed against Cas with matching smiles on both men's faces.

“Like I said-,” Dean said softly. “-Idiots. Both of us.”

“I prefer the term ‘fools in love’,” Cas said with a grin. “Still idiots, but we have an excuse.”

“Yeah... yeah, I like the sound of that.” Dean agreed, returning Cas's gentle smile. “So, back on Earth, grace gone – or, changed into a soul. What’s the plan now?”

“Just... live life, I suppose. Experience humanity, of all there is to offer. Grow old...”

“Hmmm,’ Dean hummed in content. “Can you perhaps picture a little cozy cabin out in the woods? Maybe a yappy dog that won’t shut up and is constantly shedding all over the damn place, but you love anyway?”

“I think I could get on board with that... so long as there’s a cat running around that’ll provide the dog with some company,” Cas paused, squinting suspiciously at Dean. “Is there already a dog?”

“Apartment has a ‘no pets' rule. Miracle’s shacked up with Sammy for the time being, keeping the kid sane through exams.”

“...Miracle?”

“Yeah. Y'know, coz she was a miracle.” Dean swallowed nervously, struggling to get the next words out. “And... in this vision of the future... maybe you see yourself growing older with a grizzled, greying green-eyed hunter?”

“...Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“If you really have to ask that question, then I’m afraid I’m going to use to demote you back to ‘idiot'.”

“Wow,” Dean blanched. “Having a soul has made you a sassy dick.”

“You say that like you don’t love it.”

“I deal with it, but only because I love you. There’s a difference.”

Dean’s word elicited a beaming smile from Cas, that toothy smile he so rarely sees from Cas that he knows he’s going to be spending the rest of his life trying to see as often as possible. And really, what else can he do but smile back, just two idiots smiling at each other in a cramped, barely lit kitchen?

“I never thought I’d hear you say it…” Castiel admitted quietly.

“Well, be prepared to hear it until you get sick of it, coz I’ve got a lot of times I should have said it to make up for.”

#Destiel #destiel fanfiction #Destiel fanfic #destiel fic #castiel/dean winchester #Dean Winchester/Castiel #dean winchester/cas #fix it #fix it fic #happy ending #angst and fluff #dean/cas #cas/dean #CasDean #reunion

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iggy-of-fans · 6 years ago

Text

Of being a Ladybug

So this one will Hopefully be a little less angst and a little less salt buy still a good read. Hope you enjoy!

Cons of being a Ladybug

There are a lot of things about being Ladybug that made Marinette's life difficult. The fact she always got sleepy in winter, the fact that the cold affected her more strongly than before. The way she never got enough sleep because she had to patrol. Having to deal with Chat Noir and his tantrums and flirting. The way she sometimes had to ditch her other responsibilities in favour of fighting Akumas. Hawkmoth. But right now, the thing that got to Marinette the most was that she couldn't call Lila out. Being Ladybug, a hero, meant she couldn't use being Ladybug for selfish reasons. She'd learned her lesson the last time, and in the end it hadn't even been worth it. But as Marinette, she could at the very least gather some evidence, just in case she made good on her threat. Adrien may think taking the high road was best, but Marinette could see the damage she was subtly dealing to Alya, and also to the others, a toxic kind of take and never give mentality growing in the class in the week since her return. Little things, like Kim asking to copy Max's homework instead of simply getting help with his dyslexia, Alix getting annoyed at Nathaniel for paying more attention to the art than to her when they'd hung out last, Mylene getting frustrated and feeling neglected when Ivan took her to practices instead of dates. Things that had never bothered any of her classmates before were starting to cause rifts and fights. Lila wasn't the best liar, anyone could figure her out with half a brain cell and a smartphone. Her power really came in manipulating situations in her favour, her ability to cry on command and have people feel sorry for her. But her ability to read people was her only real genius. She always knew just which buttons to push to make people feel guilty, insecure or "righteous" fury. So it was subtle, but the classroom was becoming toxic to be in. Marinette, being so giving and kind, was the most taken advantage of.

But as it turned out, Marinette didn't really have to do anything at all. Alya did the work of outing Lila by posting an interview on "The Amazing Lila Rossi, the New Every Day Ladybug and Ladybug's best friend!"

Marinette felt bad for Alya, but also a bit vindicated, since maybe this might finally teach her to fact check. Marinette crossed her fingers in hope of Alya getting off with a slapped wrist and sent the video to Penny Rolling and the Italian embassy general e-mail. It was Sunday night, at least she wouldn't have to wait long to see the results.

Monday morning burned bright with hope, as Marinette saw a special interview announced from Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, Prince Ali and several other names Marinette didn't recognize. Nadja Chamak was not going to be hosting though, as several people being interviewed had complained about "unprofessionalism" of the Parisian News anchor. Marinette shrugged, at least she wouldn't have to babysit. She went to school, hearing whispers of LadyBlog being shut down by Officials due to inaccurate information. Marinette sagged slightly, 'that sucks', she thought. She'd hoped Alya wouldn't be too badly affected. Suddenly a shadow fell over her and she looked up to the frowning face of Adrien Agreste.

"Adrien! Morning good! Good Morning! Hi!" Marinette stuttered.

"Did you have anything to do with the LadyBlog being shut down?" Adrien asked, his eyes spelling disappointment.

"What? It's being shut down? Why? And what do you mean me? What power do I have over anyone, let alone Alya to shut that down?" Marinette asked, a negative feeling travelling down her spine. What the hell was Adrien on about?

He smiled reassuringly suddenly," You're right. What was I thinking. You may be our everyday Ladybug, but it's not like you have the influence to get a free blog shut down."

Adrien smiled, patted her shoulder, and walked past her towards the classroom. Marinette stood frozen. Did… Did Adrien think… Did he think she was… Worth less? Because she wasn't rich? She stood there past the final ring of the bell, until Tikki popped her head out.

"Marinette, are you okay?" she asked quietly. She was highly dissatisfied with Adrien at the moment, but needed to focus on her own charge.

"Am I… Did Adrien… I thought he was better than that…. But… He actually thinks because… That because I'm not rich, that I have no power…?" sheshe frazed it like a question, but Tikki and Marinette both knew the truth.

"You should get to class, Marinette" Tikki said instead. Shaking herself, Marinette started walking, only for the alarms to start.

"Tikki, spots on!" Marinette shouted, and took off towards the sounds of crashes.

Alya woke up Monday morning excited to see the result of her post the night before. She'd worked with Lila all weekend to get it perfect and now the fruits of her labour would be sewn. She opened the blog and stopped. Yesterday, before posting the video, she'd had 675 followers. This morning, only 231 people were left. She scrolled to the comments.

"Oh yes, I saved Jagged's non-existent cat, from his non-existent private jet, on a tarmac which civilians aren't allowed onto. And I came to Paris months after Ladybug started saving Paris, but I was supposed to be the original and I just recommended my friend instead!... Yeah right! Who the hell believes this crap? "

" my favorite line in this video is where she claims to have grown up as jagged stones favorite person, but doesn't even get his home city right!"

" oh ladybug totally loves chat, she just wants to keep it on the dl. {attachment} this video taken a couple weeks ago while chat threw a tantrum cause she refused to go on a date with him"

"Clara Nightingale and I were ACTUALLY in the same dance class, and I don't remember a sausage with a mouth being in that class"

"if ladybug can heal her supposed tinnitus, why isn't she curing cancer?"

The comments continued along that line when suddenly a loading error came up. Alya scowled and reloaded the page, only for a [401: error. The page you are trying to load no longer exists]. Alya paled.

"No! No no no no no no no no!" she chanted as she tried to reload it, and then tried to go in to check the coding. Everything was shut down. Alya started to tear up. This couldn't be happening! She was sure Lila wasn't a liar. Marinette just didn't like not being the center of attention, just as Lila said. Marinette just, just this once, couldn't find the good in a person, but Laya could. Alya opened Google and looked up 'Jagged Stone pets', 'Jagged Stone cat', 'Clara Nightingale dance school', 'Prince Ali charity foundation', and finally 'Lila Rossi'. The only thing that came from the search was that Alya felt like a total idiot for not believing Marinette. And an Italian school site. She clicked it and had Google translate the page.

"STUDENT COMMITS SUICIDE AFTER SEVERE CASE OF BULLYING"

The name of the victim was never released, but schools in Italy were all warned about Lila Rossi. According to the article, this should be in her school files… Why did Mlle. Bustier not warn them? A knocking on the front door distracted Alya from her screen.

"EXCUSE ME?!" Alya's mother screamed, and Alya bolted to the door. Her mother rounded on her the second she opened the door.

"Alya! What is the meaning of this? You're being sued for misinformation and defamation and slander!" her mother continued, holding papers in the air and waving them about. Even still in her housecoat with messy hair, her mother struck a terrifying picture. Alya shrunk in on herself. There would be no sneaking out of this one.

Rose looked at her phone again, her eyes dim and her head bowed. Phrases like "I have never heard of this girl before", and "if this is the type of persons you surround yourself with", "Perhaps I was mistaken in trusting you", and most hurtful of all "This is the last time you will hear from me" jumped out of the email at her from Prince Ali. She had been so excited in her last message to him, telling him how Lila had told her of their adventure together, and Lila was giving her such good advice on her singing, dancing, songwriting and more. Her email had burst with praise from and for Lila, and wanting to hear Ali's version of events as well. Usually he emailed back within a few hours, but this time it had taken over a week to hear back from him. In the email he had sent, was an attachment to Alya's interview of Lila and a short message, saying only that he had never met Lila Rossi, and he'd thought Rose was smarter than to believe everything she heard, and if she kept that kind of company and believed such outrageous lies then perhaps he shouldn't have contact with her anymore, since she was seemingly too gullible and too naïve to take his friendship seriously. Tears dripped down her cheeks onto her phone. Why was Marinette always right about these things.

Jagged Stone watched the video that Marinette had sent to Penny on his big screen in his suite in Paris. He was not at all impressed with her obvious name dropping, made up stories of her greatness, and claiming he'd written a song about her. Marinette's short message of "HI Penny, I understand you and Jagged are crazy busy, but this interview ended up on my friend's website, and I just couldn't ever remember Jagged mentioning a pet other than Fang. I've even looked at some older interviews where he said he'd hatched and raised Fang when Jagged was only 15! I have no idea where this girl is getting her information, but I didn't want you to think that all of Paris had completely lost their minds and thought this heads up might put you in a better space to deal with weird questions if they ever come up. - Love, Marinette"

Jagged listened to the little chit on the screen claiming shevd received tinnitus from saving his cat. Geez! Did this girl have any idea the kind of implications this could have on his musical career?! The hell is wrong with kids today? And the girl interviewing her never even checked her sources? Poor Marinette, stuck with such complete idiots and liars. He really should try to talk Sabine into letting him take Marinette on tour with him again. This was getting ridiculous. He frowned even harder when Clara Nightingale was accused of "being jealous and stealing" sausage girls dance moves. He started feeling his blood boil slightly as he distantly heard Penny shouting into a phone for lawyers and interviews and "gosh darn it, anyone but some idiotic French Anchor". He honestly wasn't sure which of them was more pissed. Himself or his fiancée.

Clara Nightingale broke her phone on the far wall of her apartment. Two decades of dance and singing lessons, of poetry and practice and some little chit half her age thinks she can tell people that she stole it? Tears at the corners of her eyes, she was grateful Jagged had sent it to her with the assurance that Penny was already setting up interviews and lawyers. Thank Ladybug and all that is good for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. If she hadn't had the foresight to send this video to them, then there would have been absolute hell at their next public appearance. She glared at her broken phone on the floor. Steal her moves, did she?

At 4am in Metropolis city, Lois rolled over and sleepily answered her phone.

"Yes?"

"I know it's early, Lois, but I have a job for you in Paris…" came from the other end. Louis bolted up in bed.

"I'm listening"...

To be Continued

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