#i want to shed new skin and i want new cells…i don’t want anyone to touch me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

babesonly · 3 years

Text

fic recs 2.0!

hello kings (gn) ive got significantly more fic than last time which means this is gonna be a little more organized than the last post bc it is much longer <3 categories in order are non casefic canonverse, casefic/roadtrip fic, finale fixits, endverse, non supernatural aus, and then non destiel ones. titles will be in bold for my favs! also within each category they’re in order from shortest to longest

Canonverse

I’m a tulip in a cup by godtiering (1.2k)

I worry that I never really came back from hell. I wonder why, if I got remade by heaven, I’m still the same screwed up kid that I always was.

Sometimes I worry I’m not into women at all.

"Guess not,” he looks at his shoes.

a REALLY good fic that’s basically just a look inside dean’s head during my bloody valentine do not read this looking for a fun time but please do read it

on vessels by flightsofangels (1.9k)

“You know,” Cas mutters into Dean’s bare skin. “When I was still… an angel, I used to dream that I would take you as my vessel.”

hello consumehimnatural fans!!!!! read newt’s fic right now its incredible

dean winchester is not a nicholas sparks protagonist by microcomets (1.9k)

Dean fell in love with Cas the way you fall asleep--slowly, and then all at once. Or some other hackneyed and trite bullshit. God, this is embarrassing.

dean is in LOVE. he’s also a disaster who keeps staring at cas’ hands. sigh

Stay by aeli_kindara (2.5k)

Coda to 13.06 (Tombstone). In which Castiel reckons with the aftermath of Dean's grief.

hello fellow widow arc fans <3 click here to see cas find out abt the events of advanced thanatology !

walking on a string by swordfishtrombones (2.7k)

Between the doomed offensive at the Firmament and the impending retreat from the ravaged northeast border, Castiel left camp long enough to answer one of Dean Winchester's prayers.

S6 DEAN IS A WAR WIFE. been really into early seasons deancas lately and this one is very good. god

the flesh of the mighty by Mudprophet (2.7k)

Ezekiel 39:17 "you shall eat the flesh of the mighty and drink the blood of the princes of the earth."

MY GOD. anyone who saw the @autisticandroids purgatory cannibalism talk and was interested read this right now. also anyone who enjoyed nbc hannibal OR raw (2016). if romantic cannibalism is remotely aligned with your interests read this right now. god

Sam Winchester, Ally At Law by alittleduck (3.3k)

Sam was pretty sure he could read every single gay friendly guide to coming out or supporting queer family members ever written and literally none of them would even imply that arguing with gay people that they were actually just homophobic constituted as "ally behavior". However, Sam was equally sure that none of those book authors had found themselves accidentally watching their brother get pounded by an Angel of the Lord at 9 am on Tuesday, so Sam was pretty sure he might actually still have the higher ground. Now, if only Jack would stop trying to bond with Dean using gay slurs long enough for Sam to convince everyone of that, he might just be able to cobble together some remnant of sanity or, failing that, dignity.

Or, the one where Sam desperately wants to invent PFLAG but Dean won't stop teaching Jack gay slurs

JACK VOICE HEY COCKSUCKERS.

hummed low by microcomets (3.3k)

Dean pulls the Impala over at a cider barn about thirty miles out; doesn't really think about it, just sees the hokey orange lettering off the roadside and lets his hands guide the Impala off the interstate with gravel spitting under the wheels.

they get a nice day out together and dean has a gay crisis and it’s written beautifully mwah

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi (3.9k)

In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything.

sometimes i think about this fic and it hits that at this point dean and cas would have been married for more than a year. cas my beloved...

an exploration of gender; angelic by sometimeswelose (4k)

Castiel's true form is made of electromagnetic radiation. He has spent the majority of his life, if you really want to add it all up and average the whole thing out, as a wavelength of celestial intent.

The thing about being made of light: it's light in the physics sense of the word. Castiel's waves are gamma, x-ray, micro, and radio. He's visible light too, of course, a visible light so intense that it is blinding to most humans.

hello trans cas community <3 he’s literally trans he was assigned genderless and then went hm actually i will be a man! love of my life

Some Boys are Sleeping Alone by prosopopeya (4.2k)

This isn't something that's okay, not for him, but it chases him through the years until it turns into something he can't -- doesn't want to deny.

ohhh deans tenuous relationship with his sexuality my beloved...

love. worship. consummation. consumption. by redeyedwrath (4.3k)

ConsumehimNatural (copyright marcusantonius) the Series!

These are all snapshots centered around the idea of you know. Hunger in Supernatural. Both carnal hunger and other kinds. Fics are shown in semi-chronological order but this series is generally nebulously early seasons.

for ANYONE who is a consumehimnaturual this is required reading it is INCREDIBLE and gorgeous and very visceral and i am so very obsessed with it. thank you redeyedwrath for enabling my brainrot

the reach of human sense by perilously (4.5k)

“You know what Jimmy Novak looked like. You think he was beautiful—gorgeous, hot, all of it. It’s him. Not me. This isn’t my face.”

“But,” Dean says. He doesn’t know where he’s going with it. Just that Cas’ face is right there, brows drawn together and cheekbones gleaming in the lamplight. It’s a face that’s made his heart skip probably a couple hundred beats collectively since they met.

And it used to belong to someone else.

this one is just very nice <3 cas gets uncomfortable w dean calling him attractive since dean has never seen his trueform and they work it out

Down in the River by Ias (4.7k)

Alone in Purgatory and hunted by Leviathans, Castiel finds himself praying to the one person who can't hear him.

cas i love you <3 cas alone in purgatory praying to dean bc dean is the only thing he still worships i love you so much

Creature of Habit by trinityofone (5.1k)

The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well.

written in s5 when cas was depowered and completely nails the later seasons bitchy husbands dynamic it’s very good and fun <3

sink by crackers4jenn (5.4k)

"Where to?" A 9.06 coda.

very bittersweet very well written and also canon compliant so do not go into this one looking for a happy ending but i DO recommend it it’s very good

Sensational by castiowl (6.1k)

“When I first came to earth, it was advised that we temper the senses bound to our vessels. They were a distraction, we were told. An antiquated form of experiencing existence that would hinder our ability to complete our missions, whatever that may be. My true form can better facilitate these experiences. What you would recognize as heightened senses of sight and sound, among other things.”

Or, how Dean helps Cas experience all five human senses for the first time in one night.

early seasons deancas man. i love the sound part i love dean being so worried about doing a good job with this. god. read this please

Something to Protect by Sass_Master (6.2k)

Dean’s violent reaction to being unexpectedly woken has become something of a running joke among them, but Castiel can’t help but look past it to the underlying cause. It makes him ache to think that Dean feels so unsafe, so persecuted, before he’s even fully conscious.

Secretly, Castiel has been determined to work on that, to ease Dean into awareness in a less jarring way, smooth away one of the many stresses that follow him even in sleep. Now’s as good a time as any to try.

oh to sleep more soundly in the presence of someone you love...this fic is very nice i enjoyed it a lot

all this and heaven too by ftmsteverogers (7k)

“Hey,” Dean said. “I’m not ashamed of you, okay?”

Cas raised skeptical eyes to meet his.

“I mean it,” Dean insisted.

“I understand you mean it,” Cas said. “But I don’t think it’s any better if you’re only ashamed of yourself.”

hello trans dean community here is 7k of trans dean having to deal with his internalized homophobia now that he’s sleeping with cas <3 it is SO good

The wilderness. by orange_crushed (8k)

He takes a shower and the pressure is not especially good, but it doesn’t matter. It’s warm and he stands under the spray a long time. Human skin, he knows, constantly renews itself, shedding the dead cells of the epidermis. He wonders how long it will take until he is an entirely new person, until every cell on his surface is a new one. He looks at his hands under the water. It might take less than a month.

this might be the only post 9x03 fic on here with a happy ending actually? plenty of good melancholy leading up to it though <3 canon divergent after 9x03 though which means no 9x06 fanfiction gap but it is absolutely worth reading

till the juice runs by deathbanjo (8.4k)

Apparently whoever drew up the venn diagram of Dean’s sex life decided the circle labelled ‘good sex’ and the one labelled ‘sex with men’ should be kept far apart.

hello this one is SO funny dean finally gets comfortable enough with his bisexuality to start having sex with men and it goes so very bad every time so sorry about your shitty choices beloved </3

First Date by aeli_kindara (8.9k)

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

Castiel wishes he could see Dean’s face. He wishes he had any idea what to say.

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

this one is very sweet i liked it a lot <3 good refreshing little fic where they just get to have a nice evening together

Entertaining Strangers by cadignan (9k)

Dean settles on to his side, lying in the bed facing Castiel. “So you had sex without me and you bit all my moves. I think I deserve to hear about it, at least. What was her name?”

op im in love with you. premise is established relationship deancas and cas mentions he did have sex before dean and not only that it was a threesome. good for him <3 this fic is cas describing the story of what led up to the threesome and what happened during it while dean interrupts regularly. incredible

the shape you take by noviembre (10k)

“What?” Dean says, fake-offended. “I’d be hot as a girl, you know I would.”

And this is when he really, really should have stopped talking. When he shouldn't have whipped back around and asked, “Cas, if I was a woman, you’d fuck me, right?”

Because if he hadn’t said that, then he wouldn’t have had to deal with this:

Cas, meeting his eyes, forehead wrinkles all smoothed out like there’s nothing to be confused about anymore. Cas with something at the corner of his mouth that might barely be called a smile.

Cas saying, calmly and without hesitation, “Yes, Dean.”

Dean Winchester fucks around and, with the inadvertent help of some witches, Finds Out.

dean winchester your gender is diabolical. this fic is insane and its the only thing that matters actually. dean fully convinced its normal and straight to think about being a woman so you can fuck your male friend. incredible. op im proposing to you

Sinnerman by a_good_soldier (10k)

Dean listens to Nina Simone, reads Anne Carson, and makes out with a dude (sort of).

yall want to read about dean realizing he’s in love with a man as a direct result of learning to better respect women right?

you’re fooling yourself by cowboydeanwinchester (13k)

Dean Winchester and Castiel retire from hunting to raise baby Jack. Dean struggles to allow himself the things he truly wants.

Jack is two, Castiel and Dean are idiots, and Sam's gotta solve everyone's problems.

love a married couple who doesn’t know they’re married <3 everyone say thank you sam for bullying dean

The Girlfriend Experience by rageprufrock (15k)

While it's not like Dean hasn't had a couple of truly regrettable hit-and-runs in his sexual history, this is probably the saddest fucking thing that has ever happened to him.

a classic for good fucking reason. we’ve all talked about dean thinking holding hands is too gay after having just had gay sex but my personal favorite was sam accusing dean of cheating on cas because dean bought condoms. incredible

No Kingdom To Come by domesticadventures (16k)

��We should fuck,” Dean says.

Cas looks up from where he sits on his bed, hair still damp from the shower, frowning as he places a finger on the page of his book to mark where he left off.

There are a million things Cas could say here; Dean has rehearsed them. After lunch, his restlessness had given way to a vague panic, a dread that matched his every step and crept along with him from room to room. Eventually, he had returned to his bedroom and spent the rest of the afternoon pacing back and forth, playing out all the possible scenarios. When Cas asks him Why? or Are you being serious? or when he sighs and says, in that way he has, Dean, he knows exactly what he’s going to do. He’s going to shrug casually, like he isn’t invested in the answer, like he isn’t desperate for an outlet, and say, Why not? He’s going to raise an eyebrow and say, What, are you not interested? He’s going to crowd into Cas’ personal space, he’s going to shove himself right up in there and whisper Cas against his ear.

Instead, Cas says, carefully, “Okay.”

literally the only quarantine fic i’ve ever bothered to read in any fandom and completely worth it it’s SO good. they become fwb and dean has an existential crisis and he keeps bringing up meaninglessness and death during sex

Bodies by Speary (18k)

It was a secret they never acknowledged even with each other. It would change everything, end everything if either of them ever dropped the act. So they became very good at acting, at keeping up the lie that gave them what they wanted. Even if that lie involved constantly seeking out temporary, consenting female vessels, Cas would do it. He told himself it was worth it for Dean. He just hoped that he could stop wanting more, or maybe one day Dean might stop pretending that he wasn't really sleeping with Cas every time.

i don’t even have anything to add tbh if that summary did not immediately make you click we are very different this fic is incredible. god. fellas do you ever make yourself a woman so you can fuck the man you love without him having to talk about it or confront his sexuality

it’s such a mystery (the way you know me) by fleeceframe (20k)

So the man crouching in front of Castiel is named Dean. He wonders if that’s supposed to mean something to him.

“Cas must’ve got hit with something earlier. He just dropped like a sack of fucking potatoes a minute ago. By the time I was checking on him, he had already woken up again, but now he doesn’t fucking know who we are.”

“I’m right here you know,” Castiel says testily.

Sam’s eyes are wide even as his eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks between Dean and Castiel again.

“What do you remember, Cas?”

“Firstly, that I’m not Cas. I don’t know who Cas is, but it’s not me. I don’t know who either of you are, either."

or the one where castiel is hit with a memory curse that makes him forget the winchester brothers and is stunned to find out he has a family... also why can't he stop thinking about dean?

BEST amnesia fic oh my god. cas my beloved you deserve the world. everyone read this that is not a request.

More Than Ever by Sass_Master (20k)

Dean’s getting some pancakes together for breakfast when Cas saunters in after a run.

He’s trying to focus on whisking batter, unfairly distracted by Cas a few feet away, breathing heavily and shining with perspiration. Dean’s been painfully aware for a long time that Cas is pretty easy on the eyes, but he’s used to seeing Cas buttoned-up and unflappable, looking straight-laced in a stiff oxford and an unflattering trenchcoat.

Now Cas is sweating, Dean’s borrowed t-shirt clinging to his skin, flushed from exertion and Dean really can’t deal with that in his kitchen right now.

this entire series is really good i enjoyed it a lot, i’m just putting this one specifically on the list bc the rest of the series is very explicit and this is really good as a standalone for anyone who wouldn’t be into the rest of the series!!

Being Dean Winchester by Anonymous (20k)

"You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of hell. I can throw you back in."

Who the fuck was this bitchy "warrior of God" doing talking to him like that? Fuck Cas-tee-el and his dumbass trench coat and abrasive motherfucking attitude.

Dean was done with this shit.

***

Wherein a monster of the week steals the essence of Castiel's vessel, so he must use Dean, recently raised from hell, as a vessel instead.

it is at this point i realize that there are more fics than i expected there to be on this list that involves a threesome with only two people/using the presence of a female body to act like what’s happening is heterosexual. deangirlism is a disease

I Shall Not Want by domesticadventures (20k)

His grace is burning out, and the wasteland it leaves inside him becomes an echo chamber for all the memories, all the fear and doubt and self-loathing he's collected over the years. Things said and done hound him on endless repeat until he's convinced they’ll break through his skin and fill the silence of the bunker.

His head is killing him, and he sits hunched over an open book, not really reading, just digging his fingers into his skull and praying nothing slips through the cracks.

this one is GORGEOUS i love it so so much. dean and cas are both struggling so much to get by and they’re trying to support each other but fucking it up and they have to grow together and learn to cope with the fact that this is where their lives are and they fall in love i need everyone to read this

To Boldly Go by 8daysuntiltheapocalypseiguess (24k)

Title: Just One of Those Things Author: Impala67 Series: TOS Rating: M Summary: Four years into their five-year mission, and all the planets start to look the same.

In which Dean is not Gene Roddenberry, but he does write Star Trek fanfiction.

mx winchester writing star trek fanfiction to process his own trauma <3 this is a wip but it’s SO good and i also have not consumed a single piece of star trek media so it IS definitely readable to anyone who isn’t a star trek fan. please read this

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo (30k)

“Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.”

this is on here just for the 1.5 people who were putting off this one like i did for no reason. it’s extremely good and it is just gentle. i enjoyed it a lot

Heroes for Ghosts by pantheon_of_discord (42k)

After Sam and Dean are arrested, Castiel is left alone and scrambling to find them. He knows they’re locked away in a government facility, and he’s still able to hear their prayers, but no matter how he tries Castiel can’t seem to track them. He chases leads and even attempts to hunt on his own, but Mary is AWOL, Crowley refuses to help, and Castiel’s options are running out.

Weeks pass, Castiel’s hope dwindles, and through it all Dean prays, keeping them connected. His voice is comforting, frustrating, and occasionally annoying, but in his solitude Castiel comes to cherish it. But then one day, without warning, Dean stops praying, and Castiel is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his feelings.

yall ever wonder what it would’ve been like if the sam and dean arrest storyline in s12 was interesting? yeah <3

Teaching Poetry to Fish by aeli_kindara (52k)

In which Castiel teaches poetry to fish. Also, himself. Also, eventually, Dean.

(A series-long story, diverging slightly from canon after S14.)

cas learning about humanity through poetry before dean and thats what led to him developing enough emotion to be lobotomized....cas i love you so much

Emergence by ellispark (58k)

Something’s been missing from Dean’s life for the past three years, a void left after a hunt gone terribly wrong. He often feels a sense of longing with no discernible cause, a need to talk to someone who isn’t there.

A call from an acquaintance leads Dean to James Novak, a man who disappeared more than a decade ago, and suddenly Dean gets the feeling he’s found what he’s been missing. But James isn’t really James — he’s the angel Castiel, who’s wanted by angels, demons and hunters alike. And he may be at the center of the storm that wrecked Dean’s life all those years ago.

another cool amnesia fic!! for unknown reasons everyone forgot cas three years ago but cas didn’t forget anything. cas deserves so much love and support. god

a turn of the earth by microcomets (95k)

Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run.

Frigging fantastic.

(Or, in which Castiel gets stuck in Dean’s timeline preseries and Dean kind of hates it—until he doesn’t.)

cas getting to meet and fall in love with pre hell dean just as much as he loves the dean he already knows oh my GOD. i love this fic so much. turn of the earth my beloved

Crossing Lines by sometimeswelose (122k)

Two Deans, one Cas - it's not as sexy as it sounds

An ethics lesson from Hell

The one where Dean from the past meets Dean in the present. They're not sure they like each other very much.

deans intense self hatred vs cas’ unwavering love for every version of dean oh my GOD also this is a wip fair warning but it’s so worth waiting for updates i’m having such a great time with this one i cannot wait to see how it gets ended

Plot Holes by saltyfeathers (160k)

Of course it wasn’t over after the apocalypse.

There was season six. Then there was season seven. Against all expectations, there was season eight. There were the alphas and purgatory, and then the Leviathans, and then the angels fell. Enter season nine. Loose threads Metatron, Abaddon, and Crowley have to be tied up. Sam, Dean, and Cas have to try to tie them while at the same time dealing with their evolving relationships and newfound graceless states.

Amidst all the chaos, someone has started publishing the Supernatural novels again. Convinced there’s something amiss in the pages, Charlie starts her own quest to suss out the truth behind the Winchester Gospels.

With the help of various faces, old and new, they must now not only deal with the typical runs of demons and recently fallen angels, but also reconcile the battles raging inside themselves, as the fate of the world, once again, quite literally lays in the palm of their hands.

saltyfeathers said i WILL make the plot holes in this show mean something because the showrunners are sure as shit never gonna adress them ! and i thank them for it bc this was a really cool read

Casefic/Roadtrip Fic

Deprived Of Every Planet by KelpietheThundergod (9k)

Dean's breathing is audible in the scant space between them, irregular. The motel room is dark, pale blue shadows falling in through the gaps in the blinds. Throwing a pattern of uneven white stripes over the bunched up covers. Over Dean's fingers twisted in the sheets. One half of him in shadow, softened by the dark. The heat of his skin. The tremble of him under Castiel's touch.

He caresses a hand over Dean's chest, slowly. Dean's mouth falls open, his body arching into Castiel's touch. Castiel stops over Dean's heart. Through the fever of his desire, he rejoices about the wonder of experiencing another's heartbeat through one's own senses.

Dean gasps, but then he turns his face away and towards the dark. Eyes closed tight and brows furrowed like something is hurting him.

Castiel stills.

“Dean?”

the case is background on this one but it Does take place over the course of a case so im putting it here. god touchstarved dean trying so hard to work through his shit for cas head in my hands i love this fic so much

before and after breakfast by spocklee (10k)

The monster of the week is a ghost who hates meat, alcohol, and feeling yourself. Guess who it is during the commercials.

chapter 2 of this one.....god. dean and cas you are both so unwell <3 i love everything abt this fic everyone read it now

we shovel all the ashes out by xylodemon (15k)

Dean’s always known things were headed this way. He just figured getting dragged under would be cleaner and easier than jumping in feet-first.

fics that make you go Oh they love each other...also there’s lesbians in it literally what else could you want.

thunder road by dothraki_shieldmaiden (20k)

After Chuck is defeated and the Winchesters settle into life without God, Dean Winchester is bored.

OR: Dean and Cas take a road trip and figure out some stuff along the way.

this fic is just like. it’s kind! this fic is kind it’s just a pleasant experience and i enjoyed it thoroughly. they’re in love and it’s good

Suck It, Judy Garland by GlitterDwarf, midrashic (20k)

It had to be St. Louis. Or, the one where Sam and Cas get fake married for a case, and Dean loses his mind.

actually im gonna defend dean here imagine youre dean and cas gives what definitely sounded like a deathbed love confession while making eye contact with you and then immediately afterwards fake dates your brother. who among us would not have been a bitch about this

best friends without benefits by lizbobjones (20k)

It’s nearing three a.m. and they’ve been on the road a long time. Sam’s been asleep in the back seat since eleven. Giving up and handing the wheel over to Cas and letting the guy who doesn’t sleep drive had seemed like a good idea.

the premise of this fic is so funny. cas voice dean you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid. everyone read this

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo (22k)

This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore.

alt version of getting rid of the mark of cain, the darkness never happens. this one is VERY heavy but it’s so good and it has a hopeful ending. ive read this one twice and loved it both times

Someone Who’s Feeling For Me by ellispark (45k)

Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight.

Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away.

Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

hello op please contact me. please contact me and let me see the inside of your brain. this fic was an unparalleled experience and everyone should also go through it. i love it so very much

Bumper Cars by mansikka (111k)

Two teenagers are missing from an abandoned carnival, and there’s enough to raise suspicion that their disappearance involves a ghost. Dean, Sam, and Cas arrive in town to investigate, though what they find leads them away from those teenagers, and on the trail of a ghost story that churns up things from their past.

Can newly-human Cas, and Dean, with the help of shipper!Sam, work out the mystery behind the abandoned carnival and its ghost, and along the way, figure out the riddle that is them?

one of my absolute fav case fics it forces dean to confront some aspects of johns parenting and work through some shit and also him and cas fall in love and it’s really well done. love this one a lot <3

Finale Fix-its/Finale Denial

Sorry Jimmy by K_K_TiBal (2.1k)

Based on the tumblr textpost:

jellydeans: so are cas and jimmy novak just up in heaven existing at the same time katebushstandean: #jimmy moves to heaven timbuku so that dean stops trying to make out with him every time they run into each other at the heaven grocery store

this one is just extremely funny. local midwestern heterosexual man is forced to play relationship counselor to the dumbest gay people in existence because one of them wore his face

Dean Winchester Really Needs To Make Some Gay Friends by AreYouReady (2.2k)

“Like, I’m trying to think if I’ve had, I don’t know, crushes. If I ever had a gay thing before you came along and just didn’t notice,” Dean said.

Cas suddenly looked down, and away from Dean. If Dean didn’t know better, he would swear Cas looked guilty.

“What is it, Cas?”

“You have had several… gay things before.” Cas still wouldn’t look at him.

“What? When? How come you know this better than I do?”

There was no way the answer to this question wasn’t funny as hell.

dean learning about gay ppl via the memories of dean smith...incredible.

tiny difference (between ending and starting to begin) by sunforgrace (2.4k)

Sometimes Dean catches Cas staring at the sky.

It doesn’t happen often. Not when Dean’s around to tell, anyway. But often enough that he starts to notice.

Eventually Dean starts to recognize the pattern.

Cas just doesn’t watch the sky. He watches the birds.

Chuck is gone, Cas is human, and the world is safe. In the quiet aftermath Dean and Castiel find each other again.

i really don’t have much to say abt this one it is just very good and they love each other so much

Bring Home by cenotaphy (3.8k)

Dean's phone doesn't ring on the drive back to the Bunker, but that's okay. Because—well, maybe Cas lost his cell, what with getting shuffled back and forth between a cosmic void dimension and all. And anyway, Dean doesn't want this conversation to happen over the phone, he wants to—he wants to talk to Cas face-to-face. They should talk face-to-face.

Dean will tell him—

Dean doesn't know what he'll tell Cas. Dean is, in fact, terrified by how utterly and completely he does not know what he'll say to Cas.

cas being forced to face the consequences of sending the risky text that was despair <3

dean’s coworkers vs the heteronormative agenda by cowboydeanwinchester (4.1k)

Dean started working at a local auto repair shop in Lebanon, Kansas about a year ago. His coworkers don't know much about him. Except that he has a wife. Or maybe he doesn't. But he has a kid. Who is either a toddler or a high schooler. Who is either named Jack or Sammy. He also might have a best friend named Cas, but that also might be his wife.

Truth is nobody knows what to make of Dean.

obsessed w people not knowing a single fucking thing about dean because he talks so much and never explains anything. this fic is SO funny

Enhanced Extraction Techniques by goldenraeofsun (5.8k)

The Empty takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s, every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven. But in the middle of lecturing Cas in the form of Balthazar, it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

the empty playing mind games on an awake cas bc it can’t put him to sleep is a thing i like a lot and this is very very good

Speak Silence No More by rea_sunshine (8.1k)

When Dean imagined this moment, it went like this:

Dean bursts into the Empty—guns blazing, chin high, righteous anger coursing through him. No matter what form his plans and fantasies and whiskey-drunk-whispered-promises took, he is always, always successful. When he imagined it, he was finally the hero Cas deserved.

The reality of the moment is this:

It’s fucking cold.

dean and cas STILL managing to not communicate with each other properly after the confession is so funny to me and this fic does it really well. also i like that a human being in the empty, where humans do NOT belong, had some like. consequences

my heart is a compass by lagaudiere (10k)

“There you are,” the Empty says, in Dean’s voice. It’s cold, like Dean’s eyes are cold, his expression set in contempt. It’s the expression Cas feared, he realizes, all the times he thought about saying it. Revulsion. It makes him feel sick in the way that goes beyond physical, here where there is nothing physical left.

The moment before it happened had been so sweet it covered up all the hurt. For years, Cas had been holding back those words, biting down on his tongue to keep from saying them. And now he had said it, and he knew that it was good, knew that it was worth it. But on the other side there is only this.

In the Empty, Cas dreams of his regrets, until someone comes looking for him.

one of thee best dean rescues cas from the empty fics out there i love the way his memories are written i love how many of them were ones that this fic came up with to give me new things to have brainworms over instead of just making me more fixated on He Watched Him Rake Leaves than i already am

killing time by orestespdf (11k)

It's been four years since Dean saved Cas from the Empty and confessed his feelings in return, and in their Vermont lakehouse, the retired couple is now learning how to heal. One morning, Dean gives Cas a haircut.

(A character study of Castiel.)

perfect fic perfect fic no notes no complaints they love each other so much and now dean is giving cas a haircut and they’re spending the day together. god.

and every time we kiss, i swear i can fly by knameless (14k)

Every time, Dean tells himself it’s the last.

aka, twelve times dean and cas kiss.

a just boy best friends kiss for every season <3 mwah

for which no words exist by MediaWhore (14k)

'a prayer for which no words exist' // richard siken

"Dear Cas who art in my bathtub, give me the strength to be honest about how I feel. For your sake and for mine. Forgive me all the times I wasn’t in the past, all the words I should have said but didn’t. And please stay. Please stay with me when all is said and done. Amen. "

Dean rescues a newly human Cas from the Empty. That's the easy step.

mediawhore i am in LOVE with you oh my god this fic. this fic. dean taking care of cas after rescuing him dean wrapping cas in a blanket oh my GOD

swimming with the fish pond fish by februyuri (17k)

Some time between Dean bleeding out on a makeshift hook in a barn in Ohio and Sam making marshmallows on his funeral pyre, Dean was brought back to life. By Castiel. Again. Dean agreed to it if only to give Jack time to work out the glitches up top. So, now Dean’s back in the land of the living and things are ... actually good, for once.

Or, as good as they can be when demons are attacking Earth, Dean’s failing to get over why he died in the first place, and Cas is suddenly, inexplicably taking every opportunity to casually tell Dean that he loves him.

this is a wip! but it is so good and so worth the read i love it a lot and am very excited for the last chapter. it IS pretty heavy though dean has a LOT to work through

looking like a true survivor (feeling like a little kid) by courfeyrac (20k)

"Jack’s a clever kid—has been ever since he was born, maybe even before that—but Dean’s pretty sure he hasn’t figured out where they’re going yet. And Dean’s… Dean’s excited about it. He remembers planning surprises for Sammy when they were little—saving up quarters and sneaking off to the arcade the year he turned seven, or slipping a book Dean had seen Sammy admiring into his jacket before sprinting out of the store the year he turned twelve. There was only so much Dean could give him back then, hindered by lack of finances and transportation and a father who paid attention. Now, though, Dean’s got a wallet full of cash, a tank full of gas, and the freedom to give his kid the kind of birthday he deserves."

Or, it's Jack's fourth birthday, and the kid wants to go to Build-A-Bear.

EVERYONE READ THIS RIGHT NOW. that is not a request this fic undid me. oh my god. oh my god. they’re a family and they’re going to build a bear and they love each other. oh my god. also no it isn’t a baby jack fic he is 4 and he is also alcal

what’s missing is found (our souls can exhale now) by sobsicles (27k)

It's not the first time Claire has ever gone missing. It is, however, the first time Kaia panics about it. Dean's dragged into the mess, but he soon finds that it's the best thing that could have happened to him.

~~~

"But have you ever just met someone and maybe it wasn't from the first moment, maybe it was after all these other moments that meant more than you ever expected them to, and it seems like your soul just—just—" Kaia makes a helpless gesture with her hands, pushing out, and she breathes out loudly. "Like it can finally exhale. And that person isn't guaranteed to make you happy, but they're—they're important. You just know it, you can't even escape it, you can't let them go. Ever met someone like that, Dean?"

"I—" Dean halts, his mouth hanging open. He's looking at Kaia, who's looking at him, and his heart is fluttering in his throat like a caged bird aching to soar again. His mind threatens to spiral out of control, but he focuses, swallowing hard. "Yeah. Um. I—yeah, I have."

deancas AND dreamhunter we love to see it also dean DOES smoke weed with kaia and apologizes for pulling a gun on her what more could you want in a fic

Command Me To Be Well by prospopeya (28k)

Dean did a lot of thinking about when and how he would get Cas back. Months of it, actually, stretching into a year, because while Sam and Eileen were settling into their new lives, Dean was stuck. He was stuck in a faraway corner of the bunker, dark and empty and hollow, ringing with the sound of a vibrating phone.

So when he falls to his knees in that same room, exhausted, hurting, breathless, and he feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up to see Cas, he realizes that he doesn't have a single clue about what to do now. Getting Cas out had been easy--actually, it'd been the opposite of that--but the planning of it, the methodical desperation of one attempt after the other had been a familiar rhythm. It'd been soothing almost, solid, something to focus on that wasn't Cas's eyes, watery and jubilant in a way Dean hadn't ever seen that up close on anyone, let alone Cas.

And now Cas is pulling him to his feet, and Dean's stumbling, and he instinctually grabs Cas's arm, and his hand lights up with a fire that he isn't prepared for.

"Hello, Dean."

oh post despair lack of communication....oh dean refusing to work through his feelings...this fic is incredible i love it everyone who enjoys dean doing everything in his power to avoid talking about feelings up to and including having sex with the guy who’s in love with him multiple times should read this

break the skin (to break the barriers) by sobsicles (29k)

The first time she meets him, he's nothing more than an almost-missed appointment.

SOBSICLES TATTOO FIC MY BELOVED. dean grieving and getting tattoos and it turns into tattoo therapy. im SO in love with mitzi it’s insane. requires some suspension of disbelief for how long a tattoo takes but it’s an incredible fic and an unparalleled experience. sobsicles does not miss

ascend by quiettewandering (53k)

Something in the world is wrong.

Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.

But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?

SUPER cool concept i liked this a lot i’m pretty sure everyone’s read it already but just in case someone hasn’t you absolutely should

oh sooner or later it all comes down to faith by sobsicles (62k)

Getting used to Heaven is something of a marvel. It ain't perfect, and Dean thinks he'd hate it if it was, which is probably why it isn't.

~~~

"You don't understand," Dean whispers, exhaling shakily. "I know you don't, because even I don't. The instant you were gone, I wanted you back. Cas, I wanted you back. I wanted—I wanted—"

Cas stares at him, searching his face. After a moment, his own face falls slack, eyes widening just so. "Oh," he breathes out.

Dean wants to be furious that Cas has figured it out before he has—whatever it is—but he's not even that surprised. Cas knows him too well, always has, even more than Dean knows himself. He's been kicking Dean in the goddamn teeth with how deeply he understands him, even about the things Dean doesn't, ever since they first met. You don't think you deserve to be saved, that's what Cas had said. All bundled up in impossibilities and power, this being that looked at Dean Winchester and knew every single inch of him, as if he had a right to each part.

"What?" Dean grits out.

"I love you, too."

the ONLY heaven fic. i do not read heaven fics bc i refuse to budge in my finale denialism i refuse to read fic where it is accepted that dean dies. i was hesitant to read this but god im glad i did it was so good. literally the best possible outcome of dean dying

Endverse

final fantasy. by orange_crushed (1.9k)

“If I’d actually been born human, would I have gotten sick like everyone else? Would I be running around gnawing on the neighbors?” Castiel tilts his head up and even from here Dean can see the black ring of his pupils, wide and dark as dead stars. He’s high as fuck and he’s been loading the guns for forty-five minutes. He stares into the space where Dean is. He smiles and shows his teeth. “Maybe you’d have already put a bullet in my head.”

"This is why you don’t lead storytime anymore," Dean says. "This kind of shit."

endverse last night on earth fics are something that can be so personal actually. god

The Last Song by Moorishflower (3.5k)

The very last song is the Song of Solomon, and Castiel sings it only for Dean. Set in "The End."

this is like. pre endverse and the tone is so like. wistful? is the best word ive got? it’s gorgeous i love it but fair warning there is graphic description of like. viscera and infected wounds

to think that we could stay the same by cipherwriter (6.5k)

cas has all he needs; himself, his creation, and enough power to continue this cycle for a long time. he's fine. dean wants to take care of him anyway.

oh my GOD this one is good it’s based off the thing of how originally endverse cas was supposed to be just sitting in a room killing and resurrecting the same cockroach over and over. very bittersweet at some points i love it a lot, do not read it if youre looking for something happy though lmao

the first church at the end of the world by withbloodstainedclothingon (11k)

The angels don’t eat the brain. Only Croats do that.

this one is fucked but it’s incredible it contains very heavy and violent subject matter and cas is an Actual cult leader he doesn’t just have orgies it is SO well done and i had a great time reading it i recommend it very highly if the warnings sound like something you can stomach

Down to Agincourt by seperis (1.1 million. i know. yes it’s a wip)

There is no such thing as a guarantee when it comes to war.

The outcome's known. Why try? Return your rusty sword to battered sheath, bow your head and bend your stubborn knee. Why take the field when you cannot win the war? But Harry -- he went down to Agincourt.

PLEASE. i know the length is intimidating i KNOW it’s a very long fic but please. please read down to agincourt i am begging you. head in my HANDS this series is incredible.

Non Supernatural AUS

Long-Term Relationship by bendingsignpost (2.7k)

Castiel says, budging over to make room for Dean on the couch, “I thought we should have a serious talk about our relationship.”

Reflexively, Dean laughs.

Castiel does not.

“Uh, Cas... you know we’re not dating, right?”

look man it’s bendingsignpost okay. it’s bendingsignpost it’s good and it’s sweet and you should read it

One White Lie by komodobits (11k)

Castiel takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t need to run through what he’s going to say – he’s already planned and edited and rehearsed it a thousand times. He is going to ask Dean Winchester out to dinner. If it’s not too forward, he’ll say, perfectly charming. You see, I’ve seen you around the neighbourhood and you always seem so earnest and I’d really like to get to know you bette— The door swings open, and Castiel panics.

He intends to excuse himself. He means to apologise and come back some other time. However, in a moment of blind fear, what comes out of his mouth instead are the words, “Could you spare a moment for Jesus Christ?”

do you ever pretend to be a jehovahs witness for months to hang out with the guy you like because you fucked up asking him out? yeah.

separate ways and sleeping dogs by sobsicles (53k)

Dean is three years sober when Cas comes back into town.

~~~

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Dean, once again, has to swallow the urge to offer to swallow something else. It's very hard to resist the gut-wrenching pull of want that hooks in his chest whenever he looks at Cas. And to think, he used to have him, used to be able to act on that want.

God, he's so fucking stupid.

Well, there's no point in kicking himself three years later for shit he can't change. He'll just sit right here and pretend that his fingers aren't twitching with the urge to reach out and touch. He can't do that anymore, and it's his own damn fault.

"Three years ago," Cas prompts.

Dean huffs a weak laugh. "Yeah. Eventful."

this fic hit me SO hard emotionally oh my god. don’t have much to say bc most of my thoughts on this fic are very personal but my god read this please

Everyone’s a Critic by Englandwouldfall (109k)

The one where uninspired chef Dean Winchester has a one night stand with the male (!) food critic who described the flavour of his garlic bread as 'closeted' and accidentally ends up dating him to try and prove that he's a kick ass chef, thank you very much.

(He may have a point about the 'closeted' thing).

this one is SO fun. dating the food critic who called your garlic bread closeted and lying about your career because you’re embarrassed and you want to redeem your food in his eyes but then you fall in love with him

Non Destiel Centric

gender? you mean that thing i have that pisses people off? by bigender dean winchester (homosexualitie) (946 words)

sam and dean paint each other's nails and dean abuses the technicalities of her gender. what more could you want?

HELLO HE/SHE DEAN COMMUNITY oh my god the pure rush of euphoria reading this. oh my god. oh my god.

the quiet road to a distant city by rottingbrains (1.2k)

Sam stares out the windshield again. They’re approaching a city, and she can see the lights in the distance. She’s past the danger zone, and she feels like the world around her reflects that in some way she can’t put into words- as if God is telling her that it’s okay. She did the right thing, and soon she will be past the lonely unknown and into the warm, forgiving light of acceptance. Or something. Come to think of it, the lights only look warm from far away, and she knows that the actual city will seem far less welcoming. Still. Best not to imagine the worst when it’s already going well.

required reading for transfem lesbian sam fans. fics that live in your ribcage to make your heart feel good

Four People Ruby Seduced & One She Actually Fell For (Or: Ruby's Epic Love Affair with Humanity in General and Sam in Specific) by tuesday (3.7k)

In which Ruby has a lot of sex, is not any kind of therapist that would be legal, and helps a few people out for her own reasons. (S4/S5 AU)

for everyone out there who enjoys ruby being a girlboss <3

Fractured Link by Trell (orphan_account) (5.5k)

Meg goes on, resolute despite the way Dean flinches, "He likes me. He likes me a lot, and I like him back, and that's probably good enough for both of us. But fuck me for saying so, Dean-o, he loves you, probably more than anything else on his daddy's green Earth, and you need to man up and give back what Clarence over there has been devoting to you for years."

this is meg/dean/cas which is not smth i really seek out but this was extremely good. set in s7 so it’s meg and dean and honey cas and it’s a lot of dean figuring his shit out and trying to forgive cas and i love meg a lot in this

#spn #supernatural #destiel #deancas #mine

472 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Sleepover

Warnings: noncon, fingering, oral, somniphilia, unprotected sex, pre-existing relationship

This is dark!Steve Rogers x reader (side of Sam Wilson x reader) in an established relationship and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader stops at a safe house but isn’t as safe as she thinks.

Note: Pretty much I wanted to make the trope “there was only one bed” dark, so I did. Reading the warnings. Last chance.

Also saw that @mcudarklibrary was having a somniphilia theme for August and September so thought this could be a contribution!

I hope y’all enjoy!

Let me know what you think! (Like, reblog, reply, leave some words, a gif, nonsensical emojis)

The safe house was small but it would do. It was just you for the night until you headed to the rendezvous and found your way back to New York. A week of reconnaissance and several days of retreat and you could have slept in the grass. Well, it wasn’t much better.

A double mattress on the floor between the narrow counter and table that folded into the wall. The bathroom was barely more than a closet. A tight shower and a floating sink beside the small toilet. You weren’t entirely sure why this was on the list of assigned safe points but it had been the closest.

You set your bag on the counter and unzipped it as you flipped on the light in the bathroom. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you answered as you pulled out the cotton tank and sweats you’d wear after a hot shower. The clothes you had on were better off burned than washed.

“Baby, I’ve been tryna call all day.” Sam didn’t even give you a chance to say hello.

“You know I’m on a mission, right?” You asked as you went into the bathroom and dropped your clothes on the closed toilet seat. “I can’t be on my phone all day.”

“Thought you were headed to the safe house?”

“I’m there now but it took a while,” You reached for the shower faucet but paused as you heard a rumble in the distance.

“I miss you, baby,” Sam purred. “Maybe we could have a little fun on the phone tonight… Facetime?”

“What the--” You went to the window as the roaring of the motor grew louder. You pulled back the thick curtain and peered out. You sighed. “Sam.”

“What?” He asked innocently.

“How much fun are we gonna have with my chaperone here?” You sneered.

“What do you--”

“Steve.” You said plainly as you watched Steve killed the engine and wheel his bike around the back of the house. “I can’t believe you.”

“I swear it wasn’t me, baby.”

“Mhmm, and you also didn’t tell him to tail me in Rome.” You huffed.

“That was different.” Sam argued. “I promise, it’s nothing to do with me.”

“You have fun alone.” You said. “Distance makes the heart grow… fonder, is it?”

“Baby--”

“Love you.” You sang and hung up before he could respond.

You really did love Sam but he could be overbearing. At first, being fellow agents had been fun and dangerous. But as things grew more serious, he acted more and more like a babysitter. You both took the same risks, you didn’t understand why he was anymore worried about you than himself.

You placed your phone on your duffel as you carefully stepped around the mattress that took up much of the space. You opened the door a crack as footfalls crept around the side. You pushed it open entirely as Steve came into site.

“Steve,” You greeted as you crossed your arms.

“Oh,” He looked genuinely surprised. “I didn’t see your… car?”

“In the trees,” You nodded to the nearby forest. “Precautionary.”

“I… shit, I didn’t know you were here. I was just in the area on intelligence and needed somewhere to crash.”

“Mhmm,” You held open the door for him as he approached. “You sure someone didn’t tip you off?”

He blinked at you and turned back as he entered. You followed and locked the door.

“You mean Sam? Come on, after Rome, he can deal with his own paranoia.”

You squinted at him and sighed.

“Well, if you can’t tell, there isn’t much room.” You waved to the small space. “More a shed than a house.”

“Geez, yeah,” He looked around. “Well, I can--”

“It’s fine. These things happen. I’m sure you’ve slept on worse.” You shrugged. “Almost thought I’d be in my car for the night.”

“As long as it’s not too much of a bother.” He rubbed his neck. “I didn’t mean to barge in.”

“It’s one night. Won’t hurt anyone.” You said. “I’m just gonna get cleaned up and lay down. I’ll try to stay out of your way as much as I can.”

“Alright,” He put his bag down next to yours. “I’ll try to do the same.” He unzipped his bag. “Save some hot water for me.”

You gave a thin laugh and went back into the bathroom. You closed the door but it didn’t click. You tried several times and found the latch broken. You huffed and cranked the faucet. The shower whined and the water pattered down against the old porcelain.

You undressed, careful to keep an eye on the small space between the door and the frame as you did. You stepped behind the curtain and the rings rang against the rod as you pulled it into place.

You sighed as you melted beneath the hot water. You let the steam swallow you up and scrubbed your skin clean. You stepped out and took one of the half-dozen towels hidden away in the cupboard.

You let out a ‘whew’ as you dried off and dressed quickly. You walked out with the towel and draped it from a knob on the counter.

Steve turned away from the window. It was dark outside already. He smiled awkwardly.

“You done in there?” He asked.

“Mhmm,” You nodded and grabbed your phone as you let him past. The place was even smaller with him there.

You dropped down onto the bed and your screen it up with a notification. It was Sam. ‘Babe? Hello?’ You unlocked the phone and found several other messages.

‘Was in the shower. Looks like a long night with the old captain.’ You replied.

‘Hey, nothing to do with me. Promise. I’d check in myself ;)’

‘Sure, sure.’

‘Come on, baby, don’t be like that.’

‘Even if it wasn’t, night’s kinda ruined.’

‘Just don’t let him see ;P’

You shook your head and lowered the phone. The shower groaned in the next room and your stomach fluttered. It would be difficult but you did miss Sam terribly; in many ways.

‘I can’t.’ You typed as you listened to the stream of water. The door hadn’t caught for Steve either and upon a glance you saw his blurry silhouette behind the curtain. Sam was quick to respond.

‘You’ve done worse, baby. You remember Rio ;P’

‘I regret Rio’. You giggled under your breath, the memory of the humid hideaway and your little escape with Sam as Bucky kept watch. You were still certain he’d spotted you on his surveillance.

‘He’s an old man. He’ll probably sleep early.’

‘You realise this house is tiny. I’m surprised he fit through the door.’

‘But I miss you :)’

‘Don’t do that.’

‘I know you miss me more. Can’t wait for this sugar.’

You barely stifled your laughter as the shower stopped and you texted Sam a heart eye emoji before flipping to another app. You knew Sam wasn’t going to let up but it would be awkward enough spending the night here in such close confines with Steve. You and him were rarely alone; you usually had the buffer of Bucky or Sam. You’d always found the First Avenger a little stringent; tight-lipped and a bit of a hard ass.

Your eyes flicked up as the door opened all the way and Steve stepped through. You cleared your throat and glanced back at your phone. He only had the towel around his waist. You crossed your legs and scrolled through your timeline.

“Forgot my clothes out here,” He said. “It’s been such a long day, it’s all slipping my mind.”

“No worries,” You kept your eyes on your phone as he gathered up a bundle from his bag and fled back to the bathroom.

You blinked and finally lifted your head. Your phone buzzed and you looked down. ‘You got me all worked up.’ Sam included an eggplant at the end and you quickly swept away the bubble. Steve emerged in a pair of track pants and an A shirt that did little to conceal his muscular torso as the fabric was stretched taut.

He shoved his dirty gear in his bag and fished around for his own phone. He neared the other side of the mattress and gave a doubtful look at the space beside you.

“Um, sorry if it’s a bit cramped.” He lowered himself carefully. “You know, about seventy-odd years ago, you wouldn’t even have noticed me.”

You chuckled and shimmied over to give him more space as he leaned against the wall next to you.

“It’s fine. Sam’s a bed hog. I’m used to it.” You assured him.

“Oh, yeah, I learned that once.” Steve scoffed. “This place in Germany. A lot like this one. He’s not very accommodating.”

“No, not when it comes to sleep,” You muttered.

“Chatterbox,” Steve remarked as he unlocked his phone. “As is Bucky today… uncharacteristically.”

Your own phone buzzed as Steve opened up his messages. You lifted your own screen and cautiously swiped up. ‘How long til he’s asleep? I’m so hard it hurts.’ Sam’s message had you framing the phone with your hand in shame.

‘Don’t get me worked up,’ You warned as you shifted beside Steve.

‘I was just looking at those photos you sent on Valentines. I can’t help myself.’

‘Stop :/’

‘You know I can’t. That little outfit was too much. Tell me you still have it.’

‘He’s going to see. Stop.’

You coughed and flipped your phone as you sensed movement along your peripheral. You peeked over at Steve but he just stared at his phone as he typed with his thumbs slowly. Maybe you were overly paranoid. You looked at your screen again.

‘You look just as good without it.’ Sam’s text made your stomach knot.

‘You never seemed too picky :P’

‘I bet you look just as good now. What are you wearing, baby?’

You wanted to laugh at him. You weren’t exactly dressed to the nines. ‘Sweats and a tank. Very sexy.’

‘Oo u know I love ur ass in sweats’.

‘Haha, sure’.

You heard a growl from beside you and quickly lowered your phone. You looked at Steve as he shook his head at his own cell.

“Sorry, Bucky’s just… being Bucky.” He blackened his phone and sat up. He tucked it under his pillow and yawned. “I think I’m just going to sleep. I’ve been on the road all day.”

“Sure,” You said. “I’ll get the light.”

“You don’t have to sleep yet.” He slid down onto his back. “I don’t mind.”

“Nah, I’m pretty tired myself.” You said.

You left your phone on the mattress as you stood and pulled the string of the hanging bulb. The space went black and you carefully toed your way back to the bed. As you got onto the mattress you nearly landed on Steve and apologized as you righted yourself. You fished out your phone as you laid atop the covers.

“Night,” You said as you held your phone to your stomach.

“Night,” He echoed.

You rolled onto your side, your back to him, and dimmed your screen. You unlocked your phone again. ‘When you get home, I’m taking you to dinner and you’re not wearing panties.’

‘Ur so bad.’

‘Not as bad as you, baby’.

'You really gotta stop. I need sleep.'

'I'll leave you alone if you send me something to tide me over ;)'

'Steve is right here'.

'When he's asleep. Trust me, he's out like a light after dark.'

'I'll try… no promises.'

You hid your phone and listened. Steve barely moved and you could only hear his breath as it slowed to a steady lull.

You rolled onto your back an glanced over at him. His eyes were closed and no tension marred his face. You bit the tip of your tongue and sat up.

You kept watch over him as you opened your camera. You turned on your flash and flipped it around. You had one shot in the dark. You pulled down your tank top, goosebumps as the fear of getting caught tickled your skin. You lined up your finger and clicked as you gave as coy a look as you could manage.

Flash, snap, you quickly laid back down and pulled up your shirt. You were on your side as you checked the pic. Not bad… you sent it and held in a giggle. Your phone buzzed not long after.

'Oh baby that will def get me thru the nite'. You sent a heart and a kissy emoji in reply and told him you had to go to sleep.

He returned the sentiment and you set your phone on the floor, content to wait until your homecoming for a release of the heat pooling in your core.

You closed your eyes and yawned. You really were tired.

💤

Steve sighed. She was asleep. He could tell as her heart slowed and her breaths evened out. He had fought to keep still until she did; as she had continued her texting, and even as she had chanced to take that naughty photo. And right beside him!

It was hard to keep his cool as he laid next to her. As she got out of the shower, he’d chanced to look up and see her through the crack of the door before she wrapped herself in a towel. And then he had barely been able to keep his eyes on her face as her nipples stuck out beneath the cotton of her tank.

And next to her. Her warmth seeping into him. He could sense her nerves as Sam goaded her through her phone. As she did a poor job at hiding her screen and he pretended to be distracted by her own. She had completely missed that he’d open the tracking app with the little dot that blipped right over them. The very one that told her where she was at all times.

It’s how he found her all alone in the safe house. Convenient that it was so small but he had a plan either way. He’d been fantasizing about this very moment for months. Close to a year. Every time he saw her it got harder to act normal. Often he just shut down and went quiet. And seeing her with Sam…

His hand was on the waist of his track pants, fingertips picking at the elastic. He’d been hard all night, at this point, throbbing. He flinched as his hand brushed his erection through his pants. He let out a strained breath through his teeth and shivered.

He peeked over at her. In her sleep, she’d turned on her side to face him. She looked peaceful and yet a shadow of that naughty grin she’d given to her phone remained. Steve began to rub himself through the thin crotch of his track pants. He groaned. Looking at her, it felt even better. Her airy snores, just a hiss between her pouted lips, kept time as he stoked himself.

His other hand grasped hers. What was he doing? He dragged her hand from where it laid bent before her chest and he pushed it down until it was next to his. He slid it beneath and held it to his hard dick as it twitched. He swallowed a grunt as he used her palm to pleasure himself.

She murmured and he let go of her. Her hand fell between them but she didn’t wake. She fell onto her back and brought her arm up over her head, her elbow barely missing his temple. She grumbled and her breaths petered out once more. He watched her for a moment and admired the way her tank top had been pulled askew and her sweats had rolled lower on her hips.

He couldn’t help but trace the elastic with his fingers, grazing the skin bared just above. She didn’t react, didn’t move, didn’t make a noise. He pushed beneath her pants, just a little. He felt the smooth skin of her pelvis as he watched her face. Her eyes didn’t flutter open and she didn’t stir to stop him. He tickled the trimmed hair further down and he let out a long shaky breath.

He traced the line of her cunt and carefully dipped his finger between her folds. She was wet despite her unconsciousness. His fingertip slid over her clit and she let out a moan that ended in a nasally snore. He watched her cheek twitch but she still didn’t wake. He pressed another finger down and flicked down and back up. He dragged his fingers along until she began to slicken.

He withdrew his hand and kept his eyes on her. She pushed her arm down over her face and arched her back as she stretched, a sleep grumble as she wiggled beside him. He brushed his fingers along his lips and tasted her. He looked her over and felt the deep pain of his arousal. It was more than that, it was an insatiable and overwhelming need.

He sat up, careful no to jostle her. His hand crawled down her thigh and he sidled over as he inched her legs apart. He lifted himself onto his knees and turned to climb between hers. He stopped as he knelt above her and she still was completely unaware.

He waited a moment before he grasped the waist of her sweats. His hands slipped around and he eased them past her ass as he lifted her. She was putty in his hands. Dead weight as her chest rose and fell without disturbance.

He rolled her pants down a little more. And more. And more. He stared at the soft outlines of her nudity as he bared her and drew her pants down her legs. He backed off the mattress and untangled her feet. He got back between her knees and ran his palms along her naked legs. Goosebumps rose at his touch and she moaned but her arm remained over her eyes and she only muttered between snores.

He paused and leaned over his side of the mattress. He grabbed his phone from under his pillow and quickly swiped it open. He clicked on the camera and turned the flash on. He grasped the top of the tank top and pulled until the straps slid down her arms and her chest came free. He snapped a picture, then another with his hand on her tit. Then he bent to take her nipple in his mouth and suckled until his cock was sore.

He pulled back and looked over her as he set his phone aside. His little doll.

Steve slid his hands down onto the mattress and bent over her. His nose grazed her tuft of hair and he inhaled her scent. He hummed in delight. He nuzzled her closer and poked his tongue out along her folds. He delved deeper and teased her clit and a sharp breath had him frozen. He glanced up but she was still asleep.

He flicked his tongue and she squeaked again. He loved that sound. He remembered that sound, dreamt of it since he’d first heard. Her and Sam never seemed to have much shame or perhaps it was a lack of awareness. That day in the training room when they thought they were alone; when they didn’t know he was just outside the door, kept from his own workout as they wrestled on the mats.

He brought his hand up to feel along her entrance. He poked a finger inside her and felt how tight she was. He added another finger and imagined her around his cock as he had a hundred times before. He lapped at her hungrily and curled his fingers inside her. Her walls constricted as her orgasm built and he guided her through it. He felt it and heard the stifled pattern of her breath as she crested the peak.

He slowed and peeked up at her. He withdrew his hand and reluctantly parted as he sat up. Her arm had slipped from her face and bent around her pillow. He could hear her heartbeat as it raced and yet she was asleep still. How could she not have woken?

Steve gripped the top of his pants. He looked down at his hands as if they weren't his own. He rose and stepped out of his track pants and swiped his shirt over his head. His hands glossed over his hot torso and his chest threatened to burst as every sense was magnified. He needed her. He could have her. Like this.

He bent and took his phone again. He switched to record and the flash bloomed to life. He angled the lens over every inch of her as he watched the screen. He backed up and went to the counter. He propped his phone up against the side of the bag, adjusting it until it focused on the mattress. He wanted to remember it even if she didn’t.

His fingers wrapped around his cock and he stroked himself and neared the bed. He groaned and lowered himself before her. He bent her legs around him as he bent over her. He slid his arm beneath her head and it lolled into the crook of his elbow. He pressed his tip to her folds and slickened himself with her arousal.

He prodded at her entrance and held his breath. He watched her face in the dark as he pushed into her. She stretched around his tip and her breath rushed along his thick bicep. He went deeper, unable to stop as her warmth beckoned to him. He was halfway in and felt as if he couldn’t go any further. She was so tight and yet he had too. He wanted all of her.

He held his breath and thrust to his limit. She gasped and her head turned suddenly as her eyes snapped open. The shock in her face was startling and somehow intoxicating. She blinked as she mumbled in confusion and she brought her hands up against his chest as she tried to shove him off. He jerked his hips and she cried out.

“S-Steve…” She gulped as she felt his thick muscles helplessly. “What are you--”

He pulled back and thrust into her again. Her legs tensed against him and her body arched beneath him. He hushed her and smothered her lips with his. She tried to pull away but she was trapped under his weight; in his strength. He liked the way she writhed, the way her tongue tried to force his out, the way her nails dug into the skin of his chest, the frantic noises that he swallowed up.

💤

You were so full it hurt. Your heart beat faster than ever as your eyes searched the dark. All you could see was the shadow of the man atop you, feel his sheer strength as he cradled your head with his thick arm and moved his body atop yours. You clawed at his chest as you squeezed him with your thighs, trying to get him off of you but only seeming to draw him deeper.

You pushed your head to the side as you finally tore your lips from his and gulped at the air. His motion built steadily as his groans seeped into you and made your stomach turn.

At first, you hadn’t known where you were. It took a moment to recall the safe house and the mission that had led you there. Another to remember Steve’s unexpected arrival and your hasty texts before you resigned to sleep. And another to realise what he was doing to you. To realise that while you were terrified, it felt good. To battle with yourself and your weak body.

“Steve…” You rasped as his wet lips crushed against your cheek and his hips moved steadily against you. “Stop. What are you-- Sam…” You could barely form a thought, let alone speak. “Please--”

“I couldn’t wait any longer.” He growled as he sped up. “You’re so good. So tight.”

“Steve--”

“Mmm, say it again.” His other hand gripped your hip as he tilted into you. “I love my name in your mouth.”

“No, no, no,” You murmured. “Why--”

He impaled you sharply and your voice fizzled in your throat. He rested his weight on you as he sank into you completely and held himself there. Carefully he rolled onto his side and took you with him. He hooked your leg around his side as your other was trapped under him. His arms wrapped around you as he rocked into you.

He grabbed your leg and bent it even higher, straining your muscles as he crashed into you harder and deeper. You beat on his shoulder and threw your head back as you tried to resist the swelling in your core.

“It’s okay,” He purred. “You can cum for me.”

“St-e-ve,” You stuttered and grasped his shoulder. “Why--”

“Can I cum in you?” He asked as he grabbed your head and made you look at him. A light shone from behind him. You hadn’t noticed that before. “I gotta-- I’m gonna fill you up.”

“No, no…” You pushed helplessly. He wasn’t wearing a condom, you could tell. The thought made you sick. “You can’t--”

“I can’t--” He rolled you onto your back once more.

He pinned your hips down with his large hands as he raised himself on his needs and rutted into you without restraint. You felt as if your pelvis would snap as his grunts filled the small house. You clung to the pillows around your head and your body constricted in an unexpected and unwanted climax.

“That-- It--” He snarled as his motion turned relentless. “I’m-- gonna-- ugh…”

His voice trailed off and his hips snapped harshly against you as he came. You felt his heat as it coated your walls and he eased himself still as he lowered his body back down to yours. He pecked your lips and you turned your head away.

“Why…” Your voice crackled.

He hummed and nuzzled your cheek. “That was good, wasn’t it?”

“Get off of me,” You sneered. “Steve,” You slapped him and he recoiled. “Off!”

He grunted and pulled out of you as he pushed himself onto his knees. His cum leaked from your cunt as you sat up and he got to his feet. Your entire body tingled and you were shaking. You stood, your legs wobbly, and Steve’s shadow blotted out the bright light the beamed across the space.

“What is that?” You asked as you reached between your legs to wipe the cum smeared on your thighs.

“A keepsake.” The flash on his phone suddenly went out as he tapped the screen. “To look back on.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You stomped towards him and reached for his phone. “How could you--”

“Don’t worry,” He held the phone above him. “Sam will never know… unless I want him too.”

“No…” You stared up at his face shrouded in darkness. “How…”

You blinked as tears rose and a hollow chill swept through you. You spun away from him and stumbled to the bathroom. You slammed the door as a sob caught in your throat. The damn thing would stay shut. You punched it as you swallowed back your tears.

You flipped on the light and pushed yourself away from the door and it creaked. You turned the sink on, the cold water numbing as you tried to wash away his cum from your cunt. When you finished, you let the tap run and looked into the mirror. You didn’t look like yourself. You didn’t feel like yourself.

And Steve, he couldn’t have been himself.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader smut #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #somniphilia #one shot #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #mcu #marvel #captain america

2K notes · View notes

superfanficnatural · 4 years

Text

Out in the Open

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Male!Reader

Summary: You always loved to tease Steve Rogers, always messing around with him and just having fun. Little did you know, he was going to pay you back for all of the embarrassment in full.

A/N: Ok so I haven’t written in a little over two months so I am soooo nervous to be posting this. This is also my first fic for the Marvel fandom and for Steve Rogers, I really hope you guys don’t think I’ve gotten senile haha. This was written for @anaelsbrunette “YAS’S 20TH BIRTHDAY BASH.” As always, I hope you enjoy!

This story was beta’d by the lovely @crashdevlin huge shoutout to her for her help. You guys should really go check out her amazing works!! ❤️

Warnings: Smut, NSFW 18+, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Spanking, Fingering, Rimming, Oral Receiving (Male), Rough Sex, Anal, Exhibitionism, Degradation? Praise? um... fluff? Once again, probably a few others that I’m missing.

Word Count: 4,692

If someone had told you that you were going to be working with the Avengers to fight evil a month ago, you would have laughed in their face.

Now, as you quite literally stand next to your fellow Avengers fighting one of the last remaining Hydra bases, you can’t help but smile at how you could think about that at this moment.

“Y/N! Get your head in the game! Hawkeye needs backup!” a voice rang out in your earpiece.

“I’m all in, Cap, maybe if you would stop staring at my ass you would have realized that you’re the distracted one here,” you responded with wit.

An eruption of laughter was echoing in your comm link, a disgruntled groan coming from Steve.

“On my way to you, Eagle,” you spoke up, wanting to get back on track for the mission.

After the breakout of the terrigen crystals, you were one of the first Inhumans to come into contact with it. You remember how you were taking something as innocent as fish oil when you started to feel like your skin was shedding. It was like a drug, booming throughout your system, making your internal compass go haywire as a black substance swirled around your body. Next thing you saw was darkness, a cocoon of it. You tried to move but you were incapable of such an action, frozen in place as you feared the worst. Eventually, you could feel your body begin to revive, as if new blood was coursing through your system, making you stronger. By the time the strange substance had broken into pieces off of your body, you didn’t know how long you were in there for, but it felt... right. It was as if a forgotten piece of yourself was finally found, you felt whole. Little did you know that your Inhuman DNA was then unlocked.

“I wasn’t looking at your... behind,” you heard Steve say, raising another laugh from both you and the others.

“Whatever makes you feel more like a gentleman,” you quipped.

Ever since you had joined the Avengers, hell, even before then, you always had the biggest crush on Steve. Seeing him on TV saving the world with that million dollar smile, you were swooning every time. Now that you’ve had the chance to fight alongside him, your attraction ran even deeper. Getting to know him, seeing him fight to protect humanity, who wouldn’t find that ridiculously attractive?

You glanced over at him on the battlefield, seeing him expertly take out four Hydra soldiers in six seconds flat. He was a bit ahead of you so you only managed to see his backside... no wonder they call that ‘America’s Ass’.

You decided that was enough looking and got back to the fight, giving Hawkeye an assist as you took out three of the soldiers that were attempting to flank him. Suddenly, Thor flashed past you at light speed and sent tingling electricity throughout your body, crashing straight into a pillbox and taking out a gunner.

“Damn it, Thor. Keep your electricity away from me!” you shouted into the earpiece, your legs feeling weak.

You could hear him chuckle even though he tried to hide it, “My apologies, Sir Y/N.”

You could have sworn he did it on purpose.

After going through terrigenesis, you had no idea what had happened to you. You knew you felt different, but other than that, you were mostly spooked. Instead of trying to find answers to what had happened to you, you had ignored it, not wanting to become a guinea pig at some military black site. But eventually, you couldn’t run from it any further. Whenever you had gotten anxious, or when any of your emotions were heightened, everything around you began to shake and vibrate. It was like you could hear everything around you, and when you focused on one sound, it would become elevated, so high that it began to violently shake. After you nearly caused an earthquake in your hometown, you knew you wouldn’t be safe any longer, you knew someone was going to come for you. So you went on the run, never staying in one place for too long, always on the move. You tried to learn how to control your powers over the few weeks that you were running, actually managing to damn near master it. You knew that you had the ability to tab into the vibrations of the objects around you. After some Google searches, you found out that everything vibrates on its own unique frequency, the plants, the trees, even your cell phone. And once you focused and tapped into those frequencies, you realized that you could control the amount of vibrational frequency coming off of it. It was like a cooler version of telekinesis, you practiced and practiced, being able to move objects around without even touching them. Then after about two weeks, you knew that you had more potential than you realized.

“Stark, get that shield down, now!” Steve belted into your comm, the sound of blasters firing and fighting all around him.

“Relax Cap, just keep staring at Y/N’s ass, I’ll take care of it,” Tony responded.

You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips, “Oh god, what did I start?”

“Something you’re going to regret,” Steve chimed in.

You heard a huge blast and looked up to see the shield surrounding the building had been disabled, or more... destroyed.

“Good work, Tony. Let’s clean it up,” Nat chirped.

Looking ahead, you saw about a dozen or so men with their backs against the trees in front of you. Chuckling to yourself, you thrusted out your arms and focused your power into them, building it up into a large shockwave that rippled throughout the forest in front of you, ripping the trees in half with the force behind them and taking out the remaining men.

“Damn, Y/N! You’ve been holding out on us, boy!” Tony remarked as he flew overhead.

You smirked, satisfied with your work as you turned towards Steve’s direction to see his reaction. The second your eyes found his, they were staring right at you, his body still and his breathing heavy, most likely exhaustion from the fight. Instead of finding shock on his face, it was more of pride, and something... darker.

Once you found out that you were able to tap into frequencies and vibrations, you realized that it could be applied to more than just other objects. Your body was also giving off vibrations, and if you focused on it, you could increase it and send it out in a form of a shockwave. And after finally learning that skill, the government had finally caught up to you. You had mastered your ability so you had no trouble fighting them off, being careful to not severely harm anyone in the process since you didn’t want to be a murderous criminal either. Once you dispatched them, your name was finally known by anyone with power, and eventually, Nick Fury had found you. He said that you had power that you could use for good, to help people. And once he offered you a spot on the Avengers, you were too starstruck to say no.

You couldn’t quite guess what was running through his mind for you had to help rush the base with the others.

“Smash!” you heard Hulk belt out as he jumped hundreds of feet into the air and crashed right into the side of the base.

“So much for finesse,” Hawkeye grumbled.

“It’s the Hulk, what else do you expect?” you smiled, running into the building yourself.

After about another twenty minutes, the entire building was cleared out and your mission was deemed a success.

“Alright, good work everyone, let’s get back to the quinjet,” Cap announced, everyone making their way back to the plane.

On the way there, you were ahead of Tony and Steve and you could hear Tony through your earpiece, “Is there any particular reason that we’re walking behind Y/N, Cap?”

Everyone once again broke out into a fit of laughter, Steve’s face turning bright red, “I’m not looking at Y/N’s ass alright?!”

His sudden outburst shocked us a bit but Tony was waiting for that, “Did-did you just... curse?” he feigned being shocked, his mouth agape with a hand over his heart.

“I never would have thought such profanities would ever come out of the Captain’s mouth,” Thor chuckled as he slapped Steve’s shoulder while walking by.

The god then walked up to you and threw his arm around your shoulder, “Although Y/N does have a mighty fine physique, I have to commend him on his power. Your performance was divine enough to be sung about in the taverns of Asgard.”

You blushed immensely, let alone his thick and huge arm was resting around your shoulders, he even complimented you, twice. Thor was always attractive to you, he’s a damn god for crying out loud! Although, as much as you wanted to see him naked and even go further than that, Steve had stolen your heart... along with another thing of yours. By now, both Steve and Tony caught up to you, Nat and Hawkeye walking with Bruce up ahead. The second you turned your head to look at them, they could see the bright red color on your face, and while Tony was trying to hide a grin, Steve looked absolutely infuriated. You were struck by the anger simmering in his eyes that you looked away, a little bit too fast, for you could still catch the hint of the smirk Thor had on his face.

“Yeah, what the hell was that, kid? I’ve never seen you do anything like that,” Tony questioned.

You blushed a bit more and chuckled nervously, “Just another trick up my sleeve, didn’t really have to use it before now.”

Steve still looked a bit pissed, but a bit of admiration was also found in his expression, warming your heart. To be able to receive praise from the man or woman of your dreams is something that everyone wants, and even though he never really verbally told you, you could tell he was proud. With a bit more banter and laughter from everyone, you got on the quinjet and headed back to the Avengers compound.

The flight wasn’t too long, maybe about an hour or so. The entire time, everyone couldn’t get enough of both Steve cursing and the joke that he was looking at your ass. You swore, he looked like he was about to throw everyone out of the airlock, his face red with embarrassment. Once you had gotten off of the quinjet, everyone headed back to their rooms to take their showers, everyone caked with either blood or mud. You glanced over at Steve before he turned the corner to his room, his handsome face bloodied and dirty, and couldn’t help the tightening in your pants. How the hell was he always so goddamn pretty?!

When you got to your room, you tossed your bag into the corner and began to undress. Your clothes were sticking to your body with all the sweat and grime and you felt incredibly uncomfortable. Turning on the water, you took a moment to let it get warm, looking at yourself in the mirror. You traced every bruise and scar that you had, counting all of them like the stars at night. You couldn’t help the grimace on your face as you looked at yourself. Compared to the other guys on the team, you were probably the least physically defined. Sure, you had muscle, but it wasn’t anything special, not watermelons for biceps like the others. It made you a bit self-conscious; would Steve really get with someone like me when there are so many better options? You shook those thoughts from your mind, getting into the warm shower with the steam rising around you. It felt amazing, the warm water was relaxing the tense muscles you had and was washing away the evidence of your previous battle. You sat under the spray for a while, letting yourself relax and just letting the warm water cascade over you.

Eventually, you decided that it was enough, pushing the electronic button in the shower, it turned off and you opened the door, drying yourself off and wrapping the towel around your waist. You turned on the blowdryer and dried your hair, styling it in the way you always do then walking out of the bathroom, the steam crawling across the floor into the bedroom. Walking over to your closet, you picked out your clothes, underwear, socks, a pair of comfortable joggers, and a loose short sleeve shirt. After getting dressed and applying your cologne, you opened the door to your room, planning to go to the kitchen to find something to eat, only to be met with Steve’s chest.

You staggered backwards a bit and looked up at him, “S-sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

He looked incredible, smelled amazing too. He was clean from his shower and his scent was intoxicating, making your muscles relax and your mind to go a bit hazy. He had no answer to your apology, simply looking into your eyes with a strained look on his face. You were about to ask what was wrong before his lip curled and he reached out and grabbed you with both of his hands, digging into your shirt.

“Steve, wha-” you were cut off by his lightning fast motion of turning around and thrusting you into the glass pane in the hallway.

“You think it’s funny to embarrass and tease me in front of everyone, hm?” he asked angrily, his face inches away from yours, his warm breath spreading across your cheeks.

Your heart was racing and your mind was moving a million miles an hour, “T-tease you? Steve w-what are you talking about?”

“You know damn well!” he shouted, thrusting you back against the wall again, this time his leg slipping in between your thighs.

Shit.

A small whine came from your lips.

He looked down to see your erection poking against him, his knee rubbing it frivolously when he had thrusted you against the wall.

He smirked, “Well look what we have here.”

He moved his leg dangerously slow, just barely so you would whine and break apart.

“Steve, p-please,” you whined.

“You want to embarrass me in front of everyone? How about I do the same to you?” he suddenly turned you around and pressed you into the wall.

You could now have a perfect view of the outside, people walking about a hundred feet below you, the sun in the sky, the clouds flying by.

“I wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it,” he growled into your ear, biting it. “Maybe then you’ll feel as embarrassed as I was.”

Liquid heat flooded your body, your cock pulsing heavily in your pants. His strong grip was keeping your hands locked together behind your back, his broad chest laying against your back as he spoke. Luckily for you, this was going to be far from embarrassing.

“Maybe I will be, guess we won’t know until you fuck me,” you retorted, a smirk forming on your lips.

He sneered, “I’m gonna wipe that smile right off your face.”

Since your clothing was so loose, he had no problem ripping your pants down your legs, the cool wind of the AC hitting your legs as your joggers were bunched around your feet.

“Look at this ass,” he groaned, slapping it through the fabric of your underwear.

You jerked a bit at the contact and bit your lip, “Shit.”

He pressed you against the wall again, “Shut up, you’re only gonna make noise when I say so. For now, shut your mouth and take Daddy’s punishment.”

When he pushed you once more, his cock that was way too big to be considered a cock, pressed against your ass. You felt faint, your legs would have given out by now if he wasn’t holding you against the wall like he was. You didn’t even want to think about what he had called himself or else you would have came right there on the spot, and you were just getting started.

He spanked you a few more times, your lip hurting from how hard you were biting down on it to keep from making noise.

“You know, I actually was staring at your ass on that mission,” he admitted, “how could I not with how nice and perfect it looks?” he let out a groan. “Now, let’s see your pretty little pussy,” he teased, slowly inching down your underwear.

You never thought that someone referring to that area of your body like that would have been so hot but the idea that he was straight and was still going to fuck you had you leaking precum. Once he caught a glimpse, he got impatient and ripped off your underwear... literally. He pulled with so much force that a gasp left you, your eyes following a few pieces of ripped fabric float to the ground.

“This hole is mine, boy. You understand?” he claimed, grabbing your hole and the area underneath your balls with his fingers to pick you up just a tad bit further.

You whined in the mixture of pleasure and pain, “Yes, Steve.”

He didn’t let up, in fact, he gripped you a bit harder, “What was that?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you admitted, sagging in relief when he let you go but also missing the feeling his thick and warm fingers brought you.

“Daddy is right, boy,” he smirked against your throat, nibbling on the flesh there, sending shivers down your spine.

You had no idea how your day ended up like this but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, only being able to focus on the feeling of his thick finger pressing against your rim.

“Let’s see how tight you are baby,” he grumbled, shoving his finger into your mouth to suck on before returning it to your eager hole.

The second you felt his finger begin to push in a bit, your entire body tensed up, “Shhh, relax, let Daddy take care of you.”

You went lax at his comforting words, your hole opening up for him.

“Fuuuck,” you let out in a low moan, his finger stretching you perfectly.

He chuckled behind you, “Damn boy, this is a tight hole.”

He pushed in further, slowly, getting you used to it. You were a writhing mess, not sure if you wanted more or for him to stop altogether.

“Daddy, please,” you begged.

“Please, what?” he smiled, sucking a deep bruise into your neck.

“Please, fuck me,” all your reservations were thrown out of the window, nothing on your mind but this man and how badly you wanted his cock.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he teased.

Suddenly, you were left feeling empty, Steve pulling his finger out of you. However, you weren’t stuck feeling that way for long, Captain dropping to his knees behind you and spreading your cheeks with his hands. You knew what was coming and you couldn’t help the satisfaction from spreading across your face, your ass wiggling back into him before he even started.

“Someone’s eager,” he remarked.

You didn’t bother with a response, simply waiting for him to finally reach you. And when he did, it felt nothing short of incredible. His hot tongue pressed against the outer part of your hole, making your body relax more than it already was, your body nearly slinking to the ground. He spent his sweet time tasting you, teasing you, waiting until the last possible moment to enter you.

“God, you taste amazing,” he moaned, returning to his ministrations, pulling a moan to come spilling from your lips.

He was tongue fucking you with such skill you wondered if he had done this before. He was switching between entering and exiting you at a fast pace and keeping his tongue inside of you while wiggling it around, pressing dangerously close to your prostate.

“Ngh, St-Daddy please, just give me your cock. Make your boy scream on it for everyone to see,” you were begging and panting like a bitch in heat.

The added thrill of being caught if only one person below you glanced upwards for even a fraction of a second had you teetering on the edge.

“Such a good boy for me, taking his punishment so well,” he praised, getting back up. “But before I fill you up, you need to get my cock nice and wet.”

He pulled you back around to face him, placing a searing kiss on your lips that had caught you off guard. He filled it with so much passion and drive that your cock jerked, the sensitive head leaking constant precum. Right after he ended the kiss, you were left breathless and he had pushed you down to your knees. You barely had any time to catch your breath before he forced his cock into your mouth, the taste of his precum instantly hitting your tastebuds. God, he tasted incredible. Since his advances were so quick, you barely even had time to comprehend how huge he truly was. Now, with his ridiculously huge member in your mouth, feeling how it stretched your lips out, how heavy it felt on your tongue, you knew you had never had nor seen a cock as thick or long as his.

“Fuuuuck baby, just like that,” he moaned out, his chest vibrating.

The vibration gave you an idea you wanted to try so you focused your power as you were desperately attempting to keep from choking on his length. Once you felt you were ready, you used your power, vibrating his cock as you moved back and forth over it.

He instantly pulled away with an abhorrently loud groan, “What in the hell was that?” he asked, breathless.

You were a bit shocked, “I just used my power and vibrated you while I sucked you off?”

His eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly agape.

“Did I do something... wrong? Did it hurt?” you had gotten up and began to get concerned.

“No, no, nothing like that,” he let out a heavy breath, “it just felt so damn good.”

You smirked at that, proud of the effect that you had on him. Though, you wouldn’t lie and say the mood hadn’t been killed just a bit. To keep from the silence, you surged forward and claimed his lips as your own. Your mouths moving together, tongues entering each other's mouths, moving in a dance. The passion of the kiss reignited the fire in your stomach, pouring out to reach every part of your body, your slightly softened cock revitalizing. The both of you pulled away from the kiss and he looked sexier than you had ever seen him before, his pink lips swollen, his cheeks flushed, hair tousled, and his eyes dark from the expanding of his pupils.

“Enough, it’s time for me to fill that ass up.”

You turned to walk into the bedroom, thinking that you would have sex on the bed, but Steve had other plans. He grabbed your arm and turned you around, pushing you back up against the wall, your face digging into the glass.

“I told you, I’m gonna fuck you against the glass for everyone to see,” he smirked.

With haste, the thick head of his cock pushed against your hole, sliding in relatively easy from all of the preparation he made. Still, the feeling of his tongue and fingers didn’t come even close to the sheer girth of his size, it felt like you were being split in half. Though, you still couldn’t get enough, pushing your ass back into him, feeling the warmth and the pubic hairs at the base of his cock.

“Goddamn, this ass is squeezing my dick so good baby boy,” he growled, jutting his hips sharply, forcing an involuntary moan to rip from your throat.

He grabbed your traps as a way to stabilize both you and himself as he picked up his pace, the sound of his thunderous thighs slapping against the globe of your ass echoing throughout the room. Grunts and groans were filling the space around you two, animalistic groans that made your cock ache against the window pane. Being spread out, submitting to such an authoritative man, it was better than any dream.

“Fuck, Daddy, you’re so big,” you moaned, your hair flying over your face from the speed of his thrusting.

“Yeah? You like my big cock?” he wrapped his arm around your chest and brought you up to his, turning your face to kiss you as he continued thrusting.

Let alone everything that has happened and is currently happening, his dirty talk managed to ramp you up like no other. The way he makes you feel so insignificant yet so special, the way he pleasured you, it was driving you insane. It sounded like a clique, but he truly ruined you for any other man.

His thrusting kept picking up more and more speed and you began to wonder if he could possibly get any faster than he already was. It probably had to do with the super soldier serum... how else was his cock so huge? The window was rocking with the force of his thrusts and your moans were unabashedly resonating in the hallway, any care for someone hearing obliterated. Hell, everyone under you was probably watching as well but you didn’t care, it spurred you on. He was mashing your prostate deliciously, his pin-point accuracy both appreciated and feared.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you whined.

He went from rapid thrusting to a somewhat slower pace but with more force behind each thrust, making you cry out in ecstasy each time he reached that sweet spot.

“Cum, cum on my cock,” he commanded, his deep and gravelly voice sounding like music to your ears.

At his command, you let go, you cock spasming and shooting your load all over the window, coating it in white. The sudden increase in tightness from your walls had Steve releasing a choked moan, his hips staggering in their pace... he was close.

“Fuck yeah Daddy, fill my ass up with your cum, breed me,” you moaned seductively, trying to milk him of his orgasm.

“Oh yeah, Daddy’s gonna fill up this tight hole, get ready,” he warned, getting louder and louder until eventually he reached his climax.

You could feel his warm seed coat the insides of your walls, his member throbbing inside of you, threatening to send you right into another orgasm. He let out a guttural growl and kept pumping through his euphoria, shooting load after load into you, so much that when he had pulled out, a steady stream had followed closely behind. You sagged against the wall, utterly spent and satiated while he had leaned back on the other side of the hallway against the door of your room. There was comfortable silence for a few minutes, the both of you breathing heavily and coming down from your respective highs. Your back was still arched, showing off your abused hole that Steve couldn’t get his eyes off of.

Suddenly, the door had chimed and someone had walked into the hallway.

“Well by the gods!”

You recognized that voice.

You turned your bright red face slowly towards his direction, the rest of your body still. You could see Thor in shorts and a tight t-shirt, hugging his muscles in all of the right places. You then looked down to see the outline of what seemed like a cock about the same size as Steve’s bulging out of his shorts.

He reached down and stroked himself through his pants, “Do you have enough energy for another cock, Y/N?”

You knew you said that Steve had ruined you for any other man, but... Thor wasn’t a man.

You smirked, “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Forevers Tag List: @magssteenkamp @shadowsinger11 @donnaintx @flamencodiva @impala-1979 @talesmaniac89 @malfoysqueen14

Male Reader Tag List: @brymalibu @myybebe @winchesterzforever @spnfanboy777

907 notes · View notes

folkloreguk · 4 years

Text

Daylight (m)

A/N: SOFTNESS WARNING!!! Also idk if anyone does this but in case you want to listen to music whilst reading, I named this after Taylor Swift’s Daylight because it’s one of my favorite songs in the whole world!

words: ~ 3.1 k

genre: smut, optional bias (male) x reader (female), just some wholesome love-making

[H/N means ‘his name’]

You had always liked driving at nighttime. Especially, when you weren’t the one behind the steering wheel. You could look out the window, watching the lit houses, admiring the decorations and searching for the moon in the sky. That night, though, heavy clouds were hovering above the whole city, so you diverted your attention to the young man driving the car, sitting next to you.

The two of you had been together for long enough, so even sitting and driving in silence had become completely comfortable to you. Soft music was playing from the speakers as you wondered how you had gotten so lucky.

“Why are you staring at me?” he asked, smirking, but keeping his eyes on the road.

“Just because I can,” you said, lost in thoughts. His smile was so handsome as he chuckled at your answer.

“If you keep being this cute, I might have to take the long way home,” he said. “Because I don’t want to let you go yet.”

“We can go on another date tomorrow. I wouldn’t mind,” you spoke. He grinned.

“I’d make fun of you for being obsessed with me,” he said, “But then I’d have to make fun of myself too.”

When you looked at him it really hit you. You were completely and utterly in love with him. His eyes sparkled in the dark as if they held the entire galaxy in them. Countless times you felt yourself getting lost in them while you watched him speak. His entire being had become a second home to you, and whenever you saw his arms and shoulders you wanted nothing more than to be close to him and have him hold you. You adored listening to him talk. He often argued as though his stories weren’t that exciting, but you would always fight that. The sound of his voice when he told you about his day had easily become your favorite song in the world. Everything he did only made you more attracted to him, so much it sometimes overwhelmed you. It made your chest feel so full and warm, knocked the breath out of your lungs and made you smile until your cheeks hurt. And even now, you were grinning to yourself.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you realized the raindrops on the car’s window. It might have been winter, but there was no snow in sight. Instead, with time the rain only seemed to become heavier. Within the next minute even the windscreen wipers were struggling to get rid of all the water.

As you were caught up in watching the raindrops run down the window glass, you barely noticed him pulling up in the street in front of your home. You gazed at him after he had turned off the engine.

“Don’t even think about going out in the rain now,” he warned you. “You’ll be drenched within seconds and I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“Yes sir,” you joked. “What if it doesn’t stop for an hour?”

“I guess our date will be an hour longer then. Have you never had a date in a car?”

“I guess it’s kinda romantic,” you said. “With the rain.”

He smiled at your words and your heart fluttered because he was finally looking you in the eyes after driving for so long. First, you stared into his dark eyes, then your attention slowly diverted to his lips. His perfect lips. He must had noticed, because he leaned across to your seat a little. You met him halfway there, closing your eyes.

You had kissed before, of course. But he never failed to make your head spin with a few simple touches. His tongue, that softly swiped over your bottom lip and his hands, only luring you closer by touching your neck and cheeks, were your absolute weakness.

Not one cell in your body wanted him to leave yet. You suddenly felt very thankful towards the dark clouds that had covered the moon. Instead, they had brought you more time with your lover. The kiss had started out innocently, but soon both of you were breathing heavily against each other’s lips, and your hands became touchier with every moment. Strong rain was still falling, knocking onto the roof of the car in the darkness.

“Sit in my lap,” he suddenly said. As much as you had wanted to do just that, you pulled away and looked at him.

“H/N, there’s houses all around us,” you said, worried some of your neighbors would see. “But…we could run into my house.”

He seemed to rethink his previous words, when he had told you that you would catch a cold if you ran inside.

“We could do that,” he smirked. You returned his smile, gripping the door handle from inside. Slowly, you counted from one to three as he did the same as you. Then, you opened the door.

The suddenly loud noise of the downpour startled you, but you only grabbed your bag and then quickly started running. Behind you, he was laughing, catching up to you when you had reached your front door. He was hugging you from behind, trying to shelter your head from the rain by holding up a side of his jacket.

But it was no use. Both of you were soaked when you finally had opened the door. Hastily, you shed off your shoes and ran to get towels from the bathroom.

“I might as well take off all my clothes now,” he said, walking after you into the living room. You turned your head, rising your eyebrows at him. By his expression, you could tell he had waited for your reaction already. Although the short break from kissing had distracted you, the moment you thought about his lips on yours, your hunger had returned.

Without a word, you took his hand and dragged him after you. He was grinning sheepishly when you entered your bedroom but gained his confidence back quickly.

“How would you feel if I took off your clothes instead?” you asked, your lips inches from his. There were raindrops on the tip of his nose and on his cheeks.

“It would be an honor,” he joked, touching your sides. His lips were still cold from the rain when you kissed him, and his hair was drenched when you ran your hands through it. He pulled you closer, your bodies touching, making you feel as though he might have been able to feel your heart beat as fast as it did. When you touched his hips, lifting the material of his shirt, he let out a small groan. For a moment he pulled away and let you pull it over his head.

You had seen him shirtless before, but never in this kind of situation. The farthest you had gone was making out. Neither of you was new to sex, but still, you had never gone there with him. And knowing you were probably about to, made your stomach flip in excitement.

“How did I get this lucky?” you asked, not thinking about your words. You knew you could be honest and yourself with him.

“I should be the one asking this question,” he asked, before kissing you passionately. The butterflies in your belly mixed with neediness when he slipped his hands under your shirt. You let him take it off. His hands were all over you as he reconnected your lips, the kiss now messier. He was holding your sides as he softly nudged you towards your bed. You took a few steps and he followed you, his body pressed against yours.

“Let’s get rid of these first,” you said, your hands going to the front of your pants and unzipping them. “I don’t want to get the rainwater all over my bed.”

He chuckled and followed your example. When you sat down on the edge of your bed, you felt weirdly insecure being in your underwear in front of him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, as if he could read your mind. Then he bent down to your level, kissing you deeply. At the same time, you leaned back, so he hovered over you and you lay down against your pillows. His lips brushed over your jaw, before gently kissing your neck. A small moan slipped over your lips at the sensation. He was touching your hips so delicately, as if he was handling the most precious thing in the world.

Then, his hands wandered higher, making you lift your upper body, so he could open the back of your bra and take it off. His lips, which had been kissing past your collar bones, now went lower, while his hands toyed with your breasts, thumbs running over your nipples. You whimpered, your hands grabbing his hair.

“I love the way you sound,” he spoke, his breath hot against your skin, only adding to the pleasure you were feeling. At that, you only let out a dragged-out moan, because one of his hands had slipped between your legs. You spread them further, while his finger ghosted over your underwear, barely touching you. He seemed to like seeing your reaction, even to his small actions. His lips felt like flower petals touching you on your belly, down to your hips. When they were hovering just above where your underwear started, your hips bucked up slightly.

Softly, he chuckled and pushed your hips down with his hands. Slowly, his fingers ran down your sides and linked into the material of your underwear. But just as you thought he was going to pull it down he took some more time to kiss the insides of your thighs.

“How can you be so perfect?” he asked. You were about to answer, but he softly placed a kiss on your center. Your underwear separated his lips from your skin, and yet you sucked in a breath.

“I’m not perfect,” you said. He pulled aside your underwear.

“I think you are. So, so perfect,” he said, and then his tongue licked a thin stripe up your folds. He hummed at the taste and you pushed your head back into the sheets, moaning in pleasure. He teased your entrance with his digits, but then he had other plans. As he detached his face from your center you lifted your hips, helping him to take off your underwear completely.

With almost pleading eyes you looked at him so he would keep doing what he was doing. His expression told you, there was no reason for you to beg for anything. He would do whatever you needed him to do. Just for another few seconds he kissed the insides of your thighs, making you squeal a little whenever he came close to your center. He chuckled lightly, probably finding your reaction adorable. But he preferred your moans over your squeals.

So, he finally reconnected his lips with your center. This time, he didn’t take his time as much as before. His tongue pressed against your clit before sucking gently. Right away, he drew out another moan from you.

“Right there,” you let him know, sighing.

Sure, one-night stands were fun. But in that moment, you realized they were nothing in comparison to this. Having the person you loved most in the world laying between your legs, butterflies raging in your belly while your eyes rolled to the back of your head from how good he made you feel – nothing would ever get close to this sort of serenity. You softly ran your hand through his hair, before letting them rest on your sides.

He intertwined one of his hands with yours, the gesture only making you feel luckier. In that moment, time could have stopped – or maybe it did – you only had attention for him either way. It was just the two of you in your bedroom, no sign of anyone else or any other places you ever wanted to go.

You had never been able to let go of everything else on your mind like you were able to in that moment. Slowly, your hips moved against his mouth, while your eyes shut to focus even more. His tongue hit just the right spots after you had let him know what you liked through your moans.

But you wanted even more of him. You wanted to feel his skin against yours and his heartbeat right above your heart. You wanted to kiss him again and again and have him inside of you.

“H/N”, you said. “Come here, I want you.”

You beckoned him with your eyes and he smiled, his lips glossy and dark pink. He kissed his way up your stomach and chest, and when you felt as if you should have become impatient, you experienced the complete opposite. You loved how he took his time. If it had been up to you, this moment would have lasted for an eternity longer.

His nose touched yours just for a second, before he kissed your lips again. His tongue touched yours, not eagerly and yet leaving you breathless and hungry for more.

“In the bedside table,” you whispered against his lips and they curled into a smile. You waited patiently as he retrieved the condom and shed off his underwear to roll it on. His member stood against his abs and your stomach twisted in excitement and anticipation. When he bent down to your level again, you spread your legs so he could lay between them.

“Are you okay?” he asked, making sure you were comfortable. The question left your chest feeling warm and your head feeling fuzzy. You nodded, reaching down between the two of you and wrapping your hand around his shaft. He hissed when you moved your hand up and down a few times. Gently, you guided him to your core. He was holding himself up on his elbows on each side of your head when he pushed his hips into yours. You whimpered at how good he felt inside of you. Although your body wanted nothing more than for him to pick up the pace, push your body into the pillows and make you see stars, in that moment your pleasure didn’t even feel so important.

As he slowly thrusted into you, his brows furrowed in concentration. Delicately, you touched the side of his face, watching the stars in his eyes sparkle just for you. He looked at you like he could barely believe that you were his.

“I love you,” he said. It took a few seconds for your reaction to set in, because your mouth opened while you blinked at him without words. Of course, you were utterly in love with him, but you had never said it to each other up to this point.

“I love you too,” you said. Your smile lasted a second before he kissed you again. A small moan slipped past your lips when he hit the sweet spot inside of you, but it was muffled against his mouth. He tasted like home to you. Neither of you fought for dominance, your tongues dancing around each other. You loved the way your moans sounded when they mixed with his, and the way his hot breath fanned against your skin.

“You feel so good,” you said, to which he only deepened the kiss. Lazily, you closed your legs around his waist, wanting him as close as you possibly could, even though there was no way he could have been any closer than he was at that moment. The skin of his chest was hot on yours and you noticed every time he breathed in and out.

Instinctively, he was moving a little faster now, hands softly stroking your breasts and sides. With his forehead leaned against yours, you gazed into his eyes, barely able to keep them open for longer than a few seconds.

“Are you close?” he asked. You hummed and nodded, which was all you could do due to the way you were biting your lip. You whimpered when you felt his fingers on your clit. He rubbed quick circles onto the sensitive nub, causing your mouth to fall open, your head pushed into the pillow.

He sucked on the sensitive spot on your neck, only adding to how amazing you felt. Usually, you weren’t one to show off your hickeys, but with him you didn’t mind at all. You used to think love was a secret between two people. Now, all you wanted to do was to show the whole world how lucky you had become. You tugged on his hair softly, knowing from previous make-out-sessions how much he liked it. In response, he moaned your name quietly, and you felt the knot in the pit of your stomach tightening at the simple sound of his voice.

His thrusts were becoming sloppier and his hand drawing figure eights on your center was now making you breathless. As much as you wanted him to see in your eyes how you felt – how good he was making you feel – there was no way you could force your eyelids to stay open anymore.

“I’m gonna cum,” he moaned. You nodded, silently telling him ‘me too’.

His last thrusts were quick and messy, but they pushed you over the edge too. He reached his high a little before you did, but he never stopped moving his fingers, even when his sensitivity set in and his hips slowed down. He had almost stopped thrusting when you clenched your legs around him. A high whimper fell off your lips and your back arched off the mattress, pressing your chest against his even tighter. After another few seconds, you grabbed his wrist, signaling him he could slow down now. After he had pulled out, he hovered above you for a while, catching his breath. You grabbed the back of his neck to pull him down, his lips soft on yours. Where before there had been fiery passion, a composed tranquility came over you.

Probably physically tired, he rolled over to lay next to you and you turned to him. When you rested your head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, he moved your hair out of your eyes. There were a million things you could tell him, and simultaneously nothing you needed to say in that moment. Gently, you turned your head to place a kiss on his skin. Before you would have to go back to reality, you felt it was best to simply lay in comfortable silence. With every rise and fall of his chest your eyelids grew heavier. Eventually, you gave in to the urge, drifting off to a peaceful slumber.

777 notes · View notes

whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

Text

Hexbolt

Inspired by my own prompts? Maybe a little bit.

Summary: The former villain Hex makes a desperate choice to escape captivity-- only to realize just what they have gotten into.

CW//Solitary confinement, extreme isolation, attempted self harm, screaming, sensory deprivation, desperation, captivity, crying, syringes, trackers

The cell had been designed for them.

Hex had realized that the moment they’d been thrown in, though the implications hadn’t struck them all at once. The cage was six foot by six foot-- at least, that was how they’d approximated it, considering that when they stretched out, their head touched one wall and their feet brushed the other. It was the same in the vertical direction, giving them enough room to stand, but nothing else.

They weren’t claustrophobic. At the very least, they had been trying to convince themself that they weren’t for the last...

The last...

How long had they been in here?

There was no indication of night or day-- the walls, floor, and ceiling alike were all coated in a thick black rubber, devoid of windows of any sort. Even the single vent had been covered with a thin layer of black, allowing in only the smallest breaths of stale air. The door was the same. They knew there was a door, but it was only visible when open.

Hex had no idea how long their world had been consumed by black. Long enough that whenever the slot on the cell door was opened, it hurt their eyes, making them flinch back.

There were scared of the light, even as it sounded stupid to think about. Well, they weren’t scared of the light. Not exactly. Moreso, they were frightened by its implication.

Light meant attention. It meant that someone had remembered them, here in this hole.

Usually, it only meant this in a minor way: One of the guards had remembered to bring them food, or water. That might have happened on a regular basis, or it might have not. Without light, without human contact, they had no way of knowing. Sometimes, food came. That was all.

Sometimes they would catch a glimpse of a hand, or, even better, a face. Something, anything, to remind them that other humans existed.

They cried, those days. Even as they tried not to think about life before, about life before this little black box, they could not. They only knew the cage.

In a way, they hated just how simple it had been to contain them. With the ability to take hold of technology, escape should have been simple-- a matter of tripping a fire alarm, or, if their captors had been particularly careless, simply opening their own cell door remotely.

But they could not grasp anything beyond a rubber wall, blocking their signals. Their powers had a range, at the moment, of six feet by six feet. There was not so much as a light they could play with.

Only silence and black.

They screamed sometimes. No one heard. Slamming against the walls of their cell did equally little-- the rubber was too flexible to provide any sort of sound or injury.

A stupid little box. That was all it took to contain Hex. They had always thought the League of Heroes to be far too stupid to come up with something restrictive enough, strong enough to keep them contained. But they had. And it was a box.

Did their former foes even remember them? Timeline? Mantas? The Sentinel? Anyone?

Maybe they were dead. Maybe everyone they had known was, passed of old age while they were in this six by six by six foot cube. Perhaps, something in this cell was simply keeping them alive. Prolonging their loneliness.

And no one would ever remember them, ever again.

Hex shifted to a sitting position, back pressed against one of the rubber walls. Which one was lost to them-- they could not see in the dark, and there was no difference between the walls anyways.

They hugged their legs to their chest. When had they become so... thin? Was that it? Or had they simply forgotten what they used to look like? They knew they were getting lost in their own thoughts again, but they couldn’t help it. There was nothing else in here, nothing else to engage with.

If their foes had forgotten them, had their friends? All the other villains? Had their inside jokes turned into wistful memories? Their face a fixture in the background of ancient photographs?

They were crying. Maybe if they shed enough tears, dehydration would take them.

The very thought of it brought a warmth of hope to their chest. It was for the sake of that warmth that they allowed their tears to consume them, running down their face, their neck, their dusty grey prison uniform, until, at long last, their own sobs lulled them to a deeper, unconscious darkness.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hex awoke to light. Hex never awoke to light.

So much light, it burned them, even as they scrambled to cover their eyes. They sputtered, trying to speak, but their attempts were of no use. Instead, they could only wait as their eyes adjusted to the new, blazing inferno before them.

It took far too long, but when they could at last see, their field of vision was filled by a figure, taking up the doorway.

“I asked, are you alive in there?” The idea of a human voice was so horribly unfamiliar, it took Hex a moment to remember what exactly speech was.

“I- I” Their throat was so dry, their words came out as a croak. “What’s going on?”

It was the figure’s next words that made Hex recognize them.

“Guess that’s as good of an answer as any. Long time no see, V-23.”

Why was the Chief here? They were always so busy, so secretive, so...

Why would they care about a forgotten, caged animal?

Their next words were stupid, they knew that, but they needed to know.

“A- Are there any others? Is anyone else still around?”

Uproarious laughter.

“You thought that your friends are anywhere near strong enough to take us out?”

No. They thought age would have taken them.

“I don’t know.” Hex whimpered. Even with the insulting, mocking tone with which they were addressed, they could feel tears beading at the corners of their eyes. Tears of joy, accompanied by a blazing warmth in their chest. “I don’t know.”

“Well, 23, have you enjoyed your stay?”

They were still in the box. They were still- and the door was open. The door was open! They could leave, go, and-

Hex could hardly believe that their legs could still carry their weight. They scrambled to their feet, surging forth, only to be struck.

A hand about their neck, a hand large enough to practically wrap all the way around. It pushed them back, making them fall to their back.

“What?” More laughter. “You thought your sentence was over? You thought you were leaving? Give me a break.”

The tears spilling down their face turned cold. Was their any purpose to this visit besides gloating?

“But, I suppose it’s good to see that you can still walk. Now, you know I’m busy, and I know that I couldn’t care less about you. Trust me, I wouldn’t be looking at your face if I had a choice in the matter. You see, I have an offer for you.”

“An offer?”

“Not that I enjoy dealing with villains, but yes. A deal.”

“A deal.” They repeated.

“Great job, you remember English. Crazy how that works.”

“Shut up.” No. Keep talking, please keep talking.

“Well, you do have that option, believe it or not. Let’s make this very, very simple. You have two choices. First option, I leave you alone. I close this door, and you go back to your little dog crate.”

No. Please no.

“Second option.” There was a horrid, wicked grin to the Chief’s face. “Second option, you switch sides. To put it simply for your little brain, we need a spy. A mole. And you’re just harmless enough to fit that role. You will return to your little friends, and report back.”

Hex felt their heart skip a beat, before beginning to race.

Back home. Back to their friends. More importantly, out of this box. Eating food that could be described as edible, instead of moist blocks of something grey. They could go home, again.

But...

It would mean going against everything. Everyone.

But if they were out of this box, they could do anything. They were sure of that. They could fly, breathe fire, pick up a car, anything, just as soon as they were out of this box. They could escape. Then everything could be like it was before!

And they would never again be placed in a box.

“Yes.” They gasped, exasperated.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’ll work for you.”

“Good.” The Chief smiled. “Come on, then. We will discuss this further somewhere else. But first, doctor?”

The first figure moved aside, making way for a second, less imposing one, draped in a lab coat. Hex skittered backwards, noting the item in the doctor’s hand-- a sort of broad- tipped syringe. They reached the back of the cell far too quickly.

The doctor stepped forth, and Hex felt their heart lurch to their throat. What did they want? In a moment of unprecedented agility, they darted around them, aiming for the door-- only to be caught in a strangling headlock.

Hex struggled, straining against the Chief’s arm with their hands, but their strength was minuscule compared to that of their captor.

“Where does it go?” The Chief asked gruffly.

“In the neck.” The doctor replied.

They nodded, and Hex felt a second arm wrap about their midsection, holding them still. They could not see the needle being inserted, but they could feel its pinch.

When the Chief finally allowed them to move, they skittered backwards, scratching at the skin that had been pierced. The pinch was only evidenced, now, by the tiniest puncture.

“W-What did you-?” Hex stammered, scratching more forcibly, as though it would remove whatever had been forced beneath their skin. “What did you do?”

The Chief smirked, letting loose a small chuckle.

“Well, we wouldn’t want our little doggy running away, would we? It’s only a tracker. Now, come on. We have a lot to discuss.”

#villain whumpee #trackers #whump #whump community #hero villain whump

60 notes · View notes

darkeninganon · 3 years

Text

Heyo! Back at it again with Ghost Dream (Gream). He has a little weirdness happen in this chapter, mostly because my brain just yeeted off to Pluto. I don’t think I need any Trigger warnings, I mean... Tommy gets a little shaken up emotionally, but beyond that, this is a pretty safe chapter.

Gream smiled, setting up the final blocks to complete the diorama on the table. It had taken many days, but finally Gream had completed it, with the help of Tubbo, Ranboo, and Tommy. It was an exact replica of the server. Well, with a few changes. Some places had no walls, and the building in place of the prison was nothing more than an obsidian box surrounded by red and orange string. There were also the dolls, almost exact replicas of the people of the SMP.

Almost.

Tomothy had a blue sweater on, instead of whatever the real Tommy was wearing. William was grey-skinned, had no white streak, and was wearing a yellow sweater. Prezbo was wearing a classy suit, reflecting his position of power. Lethe was wearing a cloak and bandages over his eyes. Gream even made one like himself, naming it "Nightmare", it lacked a mask though. He was not about to try and figure out how to make a doll-sized mask. There were so many more as well: A centaur-like creature named "The Warden" sat on top of the prison box, a tall cloaked figure standing in a sandy area along with many other smaller ones, including a fox man; most notably was a figure in a bloody suit with crooked eyes, a pink scar slashing vertically through one, a beanie, a gold tooth, and a square smile. "Fangs", "Raev", "Sir"....

Gream shook his head, fear and dread creeping up his spine and making his stomach roll. He sighed, setting the dolls down after inspecting them. Raev was his favorite in the group; Gream had given him bright orange hair and a smile, plus a cute green-black suit. It clashed with the hair and fur, but Gream didn't mind, it was kind of cute in a way.

Gream continued to just stare at the little scene, sitting cross-legged as he took it all in. All of these characters were related, their stories tied together in some way. Gream reached over, pulling Nightmare from the little brick house he stood on and placing the doll in the cell The Warden stood on. That was where Nightmare belonged.

Gream spun to look at the door as the floor creaked, Tommy looming in the doorway, staring at the ghost.

"Hey there. Your table is finally done?" The teen asked, stepping into the room and over to the table. He wouldn't deny, it made him nervous; it was a replica of the SMP with New L'Manburg, the oldest version of the Community House, and the maximum security cell of the prison, plus Snowchester and Las Nevadas. It was like the server had been spliced between several time periods. "Looks good."

Gream looked back at the table, nodding. "Thanks. I also made the dolls." Gream motioned to them. He noticed Tommy tense, specifically when looking at the one in the prison. "That's Nightmare. He belongs in jail."

Tommy knew Dream was... quiet, to put it lightly, but he had never seen Gream do the same. "Yeah, and why's that?" he asked, sitting next to the ghost.

"He did a lot of bad things." Gream grabbed the doll, pulling it from the "jail" to look at it more.

"Well... sometimes people do bad things for a good reason-"

"That doesn't make it okay. Nightmare did a lot of bad things. He wanted to have a family... He wanted Tomothy to be his little brother, but Tomothy chose William, and William was a megalomaniacle dick to everyone, even Nightmare. But then William died and things got better." Gream placed Nightmare back in the cell. "But... William managed to convince Tomothy that Nightmare was evil, and Nightmare saw people drifting apart because he gave Prezbo a test, and Prezbo failed it." He grabbed the two dolls, holding them close. He then placed Prezbo back in the town he had built, placing Tomothy in a bare plains-like area with wooden fort-like walls around him. "Prezbo kicked Tomothy out of their home because Nightmare got mad and threatened the town. Then, Nightmare tried to... twist? Corrupt? No, neither of those words work..."

Tommy's breath hitched, and it took a moment for him to speak; "Manipulate?" His voice pitched up. Fuck, he really had to get that under control. It was such a tell.

Gream looked to Tommy, nodding solemnly. "Yeah. Nightmare tried to manipulate Tomothy into liking him. Like William had done when alive. Instead, Tomothy just hated him more." Gream picked up another doll, rolling it around. "Then, Nightmare asked for Lethe's help. A favor. Lethe needed to protect the server, but he had to forget everything unless there was actual danger. A True threat. They cast some... spell or something, and Lethe forgot." Gream placed the doll in the area that looked like Snowchester, and now Tommy could see who it looked like: Ranboo. "there is a way to reverse it, but... I don't know if Lethe knows it."

Tommy watched, listened. It was so obvious who was meant to be who. It was like Gream... Wait... "Hey, so... you said Nightmare wanted a family, right?"

"Yeah."

"So... he made everyone think he was evil... and now he's in jail, yeah?"

"That's right. Mostly. He is in jail."

"Well... did... I mean, how did he get in there?"

Tommy watched as Gream seemed to think, staying silent and still before grabbing "Nightmare" from his cell. "Well... everyone teamed up against him. But... even though he'd never see anyone again, he was happy."

"Why?"

"Because, they were finally a family." Gream placed the little doll back in the cell. His voice was soft, wistful.

Tommy nodded. "Pardon me." He stood and left, Gream nodding to show he had heard. Tommy barely made it to the stairs, clinging to the railing as he finally broke. Gream was... He wasn't just playing out his memories, he was sharing what he felt and his thoughts at the time. Dream was... Jealous? No, that didn't excuse his actions, at all! He was still worse than... But... No, he wasn't. Dream was just more physical, less mental.

Tommy took out his communicator, sending a message to Tubbo and Ranboo: We need to talk. Meet me at Snowchester. Bring the others Ranboo. Tommy grit his teeth. He couldn't let Wilbur near Gream. Wilbur would see Gream as an easy mark, and likely a way into Las Nevadas. Sure, seeing Dream's version of everyone on the SMP was unnerving, but it was even more unnerving that he has so perfectly replicated Quackity and Las Nevadas. Quackity who was likely the reason Gream even existed in the first place, and also someplace Dream had never seen. Gream probably didn't even know he had done that.

Tommy swung open the front door, hoping to meet the others right at the tunnel; nearly smacking right into Wilbur. Fuck.

"Tommy! There you are! Now, look, I know me and Quackity were a bit intense-"

"Not now Wilbur."

"Okay, but hear me out! We need so much more stone, and more importantly, we need to team up with-"

"I have more important things to worry about here."

"It'll just take a moment! We team up with Tubbo and Ranboo and let them expand into our land right by Las Nevadas, and-"

"I'll talk to you about it later, alright?"

"Alright, but real quick, We also need to come up with a plan to get Dream out of Prison-" Tommy tensed, unseen by Wilbur; "Because, you know, he has that book that brought me back. God, imagine how useful that'll be! No more death ever! We can fight for eternity and no one can stop-"

Wilbur's head was snapped to the side. Tommy had punched him. "He's not a fucking tool you can just lock up once you're done using him! What the fuck man?!" Wilbur groaned, rubbing his jaw as he slowly turned to look at Tommy, clearly wanting to say something, but too shocked to do so. "You will... never get the revive book, or the power it holds... Dream is... I hope Sam kills you again." Tommy turned away from Wilbur, storming over to the tunnel. He knew Wilbur was following silently behind, confused and desperate to say something, to get to the bottom of why Tommy just punched him.

Tommy stood by the tunnel, furious. Sure, Dream was a dick, and everything would have been solved if Dream had just talked to Tommy, but at the same time... Asking Gream more about Nightmare would shed some light. But he needed everyone else to show up first, to see what Gream was doing. Tommy tapped his foot, staring at the sky as they waited for everyone else.

Ranboo burst from the tunnel, trident in hand, panicked expression, netherite on. "What's going on?!" Someone crashed into the poor half enderman, causing him to make that distinct noise of an enderman in pain as they crashed to the ground.

"Shit! Sorry-" Phil couldn't complete his apology as the rest on the Syndicate tumbled out of the hyper tunnel, crashing into each other.

Tommy snorted, trying his hardest not to laugh as the four people untangled themselves. Ah yes, the most fearsome group on the server, couldn't navigate a hyper tunnel. Tommy lost it as Tubbo came speeding out of the tunnel with a scream, crashing into his platonic husband and causing Ranboo to let out another pained enderman noise. Something about Ranboo yelling like an enderman was just so funny to Tommy, surely he was cursing in the language of the End.

"What did you want to talk to us about, Tommy?" Niki cut in, her usually calm voice cold, snapping Tommy out of his laughing fit.

"Right, uh... Let’s walk and talk, yeah? It's a little tough to explain." Tommy lead the group to the mansion, casting a quick glare at Wilbur. "So, you all know about Gream, yeah? Of course you do, anyways, he was building and working on a table to play games with when it comes to spending time with Big Mike, since neither are really allowed to leave due to safety." Tommy glanced back, making sure everyone was following along; Techno and Wilbur looked completely lost, while Niki looked confused but was clearly listening. "So, the thing about this table, more importantly the dolls he made for the table, is that they're... well... This is going to sound really weird, but it’s everyone and everywhere on the server. You’ll see." Tommy pointed to the door, and everyone crowded around to peer into the room.

Gream sat by the table, looming over it. Even with the cursed mask on, it was clear he was concentrating hard on something. The table and dolls had his full attention. Tommy motioned for everyone to linger back, hiding just outside the door-frame; before he walked in, he let out a quiet cough to not startle Gream. The ghost looked up at the noise, spotting Tommy and nodding at the teen.

"Hey Gream. I... actually had a question for you about that uh... Nightmare character." Tommy carefully walked up to the table, pulling the doll from the cell.

"Well, ask then."

Tommy smiled nervously, fidgeting with the toy. "Well... You said he did bad things because he was angry... jealous, actually. Um, why didn't he just talk it out?" It was such a huge risk, and for all Tommy knew, this could make Gream angry and have the ghost snap like he did back at his house.

Gream was silent, perking up as if thinking about something. Finally, he sighed. "Nightmare... Nightmare can't figure out his emotions... and he doesn't like talking about them... Someone... Hurt him once, someone he loved. It’s something I understand, but... you prefer talking about things, right?"

Tommy was quiet, frozen. "What?"

"I..." Gream pulled on the edges of his mask, a puddle of acid began to form under him. "Ever since the incident with Jack and Puffy I... Tommy, you're not telling me the truth, are you? No one is!"

Tommy flinched. He could hear netherite armor being thrown on behind him, but he took a breath, relaxing as he placed the doll back in the cell. "You're right. I haven't been honest. But-" Tommy held his hand up as Gream glared at him; "But I have my reasons. Nightmare... He did bad things for a good reason... He knew he'd go into jail for it, didn't he?"

Gream was silent, thinking again before nodding.

"That's why he asked Lethe for a favor. Well... People do bad things for good reasons all the time. I'm... withholding information from you for some very good reasons. It's not just for your safety, it's also for me. The things I'm keeping from you... they're things I don't like talking about, ever." Tommy sighed, running a hand through his hair. It sucked having to try to explain it, but now... Now they'll get to see things from Dream's view... something that no one was interested in before-

"Dream died?!"

Tommy cringed as he was reminded that Wilbur was there. "Yes, Dream died. Congradu-"

Wilbur shoved Tommy out of the way, grabbing Gream's hand and shaking it vigorously. "It's amazing to meet you! You and I were such- Oh man, we had so much fun together! I was... What was the word again? Oh yeah! I was your vassal! You helped me blow-"

Tommy shoved Wilbur away. "Alright, enough! Leave the poor guy alone!" Tommy stood between Wilbur and the ghost, Gream didn't need to know that he helped destroy L’Manburg or was a traitor or anything like that. Wait... Tommy shook his head. Dream was never really on their side.

"You... I don't like you."

"I'm.... What? What do you-"

"You're a megalomaniac aren't you?" Gream crossed his arms, glaring at Wilbur from behind his mask. "You... You were... Why do I hate you?" Gream turned away, pacing around until he looked to the table. He grabbed Nightmare and William, setting them up along with Tomothy on a hill. He stared at them, gently fiddling with Nightmare as he stayed quiet.

Wilbur went to go say something, but Tommy stopped him, staring intently at the ghost.

"You could have been a good leader... But I don't want to be a good leader. I hate you so much, I'm going to be worse than ram man... I will tear this place apart because I hate you... Tomothy gave up everything and you gave up nothing, you are going to get him killed..."

Gream removed Tomothy, setting him up with Prezbo on top of an obsidian wall. "Can't we all just be a family... No, you're the bad guy... but why?" Gream stopped, picking up Nightmare and holding him close. "But why?"

#Gream #Ghost Dream #mcytg/t #mcyt g/t #Gream is trying to remember things #but he doesn't see himself/Dream/Who Dream Became as the same #So if he were to ever make a ''pre-wilbur'' version of himself #he'd call it Dream as opposed to Nightmare #I was super creative with names wasn't I? XD #He also references the incident with George #angst

35 notes · View notes

braiawrites · 3 years

Text

Lost & Found - Chapter 4

Summary: A glimpse into Pellia's story. || Inspired by this prompt by @newblood-freya

Words: 2046

Rating: sfw

Warnings: Minor mention of blood.

Links:

Fic Masterlist

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FIVE

Prompt by newblood-freya

Read it on AO3

Writing Masterlist

Send me an ask!

***

“Alright, fine. I’ll figure it out myself,” the mortal said, her eyes dark under a scowl.

Pellia watched as she turned, Cardan perched on her shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. She hadn’t necessarily meant to harm him when she’d changed him into a cat, but from the way the girl clearly coddled him, she thought perhaps she’d done him a favour.

Cardan twisted to look back at her in the cramped confines of the cell. He gave her a slow, haughty blink��probably because he couldn’t smirk—before settling himself like a scarf over the human’s shoulders.

Pellia did the only thing one could be expected to do in response to such an insult: she flipped him off, and then, for good measure, stuck her tongue out at him too.

He flicked his tail before turning away, and Pellia threw her arms up with an exclamation of defeat.

“That was so unnecessary,” she called after the retreating form of the cat prince and his human. Neither of them turned back.

With a sigh, Pellia retreated to the palette at the back of her cell and sank onto the bed. She felt the prickle of tears at the corners of her eyes, but she tried to push them down, blink them away, something. She couldn't cry, not here, not now.

If any tears were to be shed, they wouldn’t be hers. She’d vowed that to herself six months ago, when she’d crossed the sea from Delaware to Faerieland. She’d come with steel in her hands and poisons at her belt. With fury in her eyes and vengeance on her heart. She had come with one purpose and one purpose alone: to take back what was hers, what he’d stolen.

And until she recovered what she’d come for, she had vowed that she would not weep.

You will not cry, she reminded herself. You will not cry, you will not cry—

“You will not cry.” The words were carried from her mouth on a trembling breath, a mantra and a promise and a plea, torn from so deep in her heart that Pellia was certain her next breath would be crimson with blood.

Her thoughts fell again to Cardan and the girl, her skin burning bright with shame as she realized she had never actually seen them leave. She hoped they hadn’t heard her.

Oh, yes, she thought bitterly, because that would be all she needed: the cruel prince and his nosy human girlfriend, seeing her at her weakest. The cherry on top of her melting sundae.

She laughed at the thought, and then laughed some more, because there was something churning in her gut and clutching at her heart, and if she didn’t laugh at the pain then she’d cry and she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t do that.

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how bitter she felt or how hot her rage burned, she could not cry until she was free and back home in Delaware, until she was safe and her family was whole again.

~ ~ ~

She’d known a storm was brewing from the first time she'd met him. It had been a Wednesday evening and the wind blowing off the coast was warm with the promise of summer. Pellia had been walking home from school, her slender fingers skillfully weaving a crown of wildflowers. Beside her, her younger sister talked animatedly about her day: the presentation she’d given in science class, the book her English class was starting, who she’d talked with at lunch.

Neither of them noticed the figure following twenty or so paces behind them.

Pellia tucked the last stem into the crown and turned it in her hands, admiring her handiwork as Amber changed topics.

“So, in drama we’re doing A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and I’m going to audition for Titania. I think I’d make a good Faerie queen, anyway, but I was thinking maybe you could help me act all magical and Fae-like.”

Pellia looked up from where she was fixing a rip in a flower petal. It was a small magic, but Amber’s eyes sparked as she watched the petal knit itself together.

“I’ll never get tired of seeing you do that,” she sighed. “I wish I had magic.”

Pellia’s brow lifted. “Faerie isn’t as innocent as you think it is, love.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I didn’t say anything about Faerie,” Amber pouted, “just that I wish I had magic. I dunno, I think it would be cool.”

“You have your own kind of magic—the power of being the bane of my existence and also somehow my favourite human.” Pellia’s shoulder bumped Amber’s in a playful jostle.

“You flatter me, oh great pain in my a—”

“Hey! Watch your profanity.”

“My profanity!”

“Mhm.”

“You have the dirtiest mouth I’ve ever heard from anyone. And you’re telling me to watch my language?!”

Pellia let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “Nevermind.” She paused, lifting the flower crown in her hands. “For my Queen Titania. I spelled it so it wouldn’t die.”

Amber took the circlet almost reverently holding it up to see each vibrant petal in the sun’s light.

“It’s shiny,” she pointed out. “Is there a glamour on it?”

Pellia gave her sister a lopsided grin. “A little. I tried to tone it down a bit, but—I couldn’t resist. It’ll glamour you, too, when you wear it.”

Her younger sister said nothing for a moment, just staring at the crown—and then a huge grin broke across her face, brighter than a thousand suns.

“I love it, Pell, thank you.”

She lifted the crown to nestle among chestnut locks, letting the leaves weave into her hair. As soon as they touched her head, she seemed to glow more vividly, her eyes sparkling and her skin smoothing and her cheeks blushing a warm pink. She beamed at her older sister, then shoved her off the sidewalk.

Pellia squeaked as she flailed to catch her balance. Her eyes, glamoured brown, met Amber’s mischievous hazel gaze.

“I just made you a flower crown, bro,” Pellia said, her shock mingling with amusement.

“Yeah, and I love it!”

“Well, you’re a little brat, you know that?”

“Love you, too, Pell!” Amber sang, spinning gracefully to continue the last stretch of their walk home.

Pellia shook her head—and that was when she saw him, out of the corner of her eye.

Wearing a long, dark shirt, tied at the waist with a golden sash, woolen leggings despite the tepid weather, and leather slip shoes that clearly had not come from the human world, he was impossible to mistake.

How long had he been following them? Pellia wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

She turned, casually, and started after Amber’s retreating form at a stroll, before breaking into a jog with a call of, “You’re going to pay for that! And for making me run!”

Ahead, Amber cackled. As Pellia caught up to her, she elbowed her sister in the side, grinning.

“Hey, so guess what?”

“What?”

“Well, act natural, and don’t look, but there’s someone trailing us.”

Before Amber could follow the natural inclination to glance over her shoulder, Pellia slung her arm around her little sister’s neck and leaned in.

“I said don’t look. Now pretend I said something funny.”

Amber laughed. It was actually very convincing—she was a good actress.

“You’re kidding,” the younger girl chuckled, bumping her older sister with her elbow.

“I wish I was. But something about him makes me uneasy. And he’s fey, too, which pretty much automatically means bad news.”

“How would you even know that?”

“I saw it!” Pellia said, pulling out her phone. “Like, I turned around and he was just—right there. I swear!”

Opening her camera, Pellia angled her phone to better see their stalker. She made a show of checking her hair, her makeup, eyes glued to the figure in the background. She zoomed in. The hilt of a sword peeked over his shoulder.

Definitely not peaceable, then, she thought. Pellia made her decision:

“We're not going home.” She pulled her sister by the arm, turning a corner away from their house.

“I think you're being a tiny bit paranoid, Pell,” Amber said, attempting to pull away.

“No,” the pixie shook her head. The buildings on this street were tighter, packed together with cramped alleyways between every couple.

They approached an intersection and Pellia pointed to the building across the way. “Go, inside the gas station. I'll come get you in a sec.”

“Fiiine.” The younger girl pouted, but turned away.

“Hurry!” Pellia hissed, and Amber jogged across the empty street.

Rushed footsteps came from around the corner, and Pellia ducked down one of the alleys, dropping her bag and pressing herself against the brick wall.

She listened, trying to quiet her breathing.

The steps ceased abruptly. Pellia reached for the cord around her neck, pulling it from beneath her shirt.

The dagger she unsheathed was small, but definitely better than nothing. She tucked the sheath on its cord back beneath her shirt and adjusted her grip on the hilt. The leather was smooth beneath her fingers, the blade glinting sharply.

The footsteps resumed, cautiously.

Their owner came into view, looking the wrong direction. Pellia slipped from the alley and slid behind him, the edge of her knife held to his neck as pulled him back into the shade between houses. At his struggle, she pressed the blade against his skin.

“I don't know which part of Faerie you're from,” she purred into his ear, “but in the court where I grew up, it was generally considered rude to follow people like that.”

She shoved him face first into the wall, her hand between his shoulder blades. “So? Who are you and what do you want?”

“I was just sent to gather intel, I’m not here to hurt you,” he said. His voice was higher than she’d expected and his throat bobbed under her blade as he spoke.

“I’m so reassured.” The sarcasm dripping from Pellia’s voice was fatal. “Who sent you?”

“I—I can’t say,” he said.

“You might wanna try.” Her blade pressed in.

“Oath!” he squeaked, flinching away from her. “I took an oath, I cannot speak his name!”

Pellia’s brows went up at this. To hold that kind of power over someone…

“Why does he want to know about me?”

“I don’t know,” the fae whimpered. “He doesn’t tell me these things. I only know what I am to do, never the reason.”

She rocked back on her heels, allowing her grip to loosen on his collar. Her mind was racing, trying to fit together the insubstantial pieces of this puzzle. She hadn’t dealt with anyone from Faerie since they’d fled to the mortal world. She didn’t know how she’d been found, let alone why someone would be tracking her in the first place.

“Please don’t kill me.” The words came out as little more than a breath, but they sent a little thrill through Pellia’s stomach all the same.

She laughed. “Kill you? This is a new shirt, I don’t want your blood all over it. Besides, I need you to take a message back for me.”

Her captive nodded, his cheek scraping against the brick.

She leaned in. “Tell your boss that if he wants to know something, he can come talk to me himself. And in the meantime, he can stay out of my business. Oh, and you might also let him know that I hold grudges; the next person he sends to ‘gather intel’ won’t be coming back.”

At the faerie’s promise to leave immediately, Pellia released him. She watched as he headed back toward the coast, flinching at a passing car. What had been the point in sending someone to trail her, especially someone so obviously out of his depth in the human world?

Pellia shook her head. She hoped this would be the end of it, but something deep down told her that it wouldn’t be over so simply.

Two weeks later, she returned home to a dark haired, silver-eyed prince in her living room. Her family was out.

“My greetings, Pellia Nerium,” Balekin Greenbriar said. “Have a seat. I have a proposition to discuss with you.”

***

A/N: This chapter was so much fun to write and I developed Pellia's backstory so much, which I was kind of not expecting. I feel like I'm discovering what happens next along with all of you haha! I do hope you've been enjoying so far! I promise cat!Cardan and Jude will be back next chapter.

Thank you for sticking around every week to read, it honestly makes me so happy to know that there are people who are enjoying my writing. And if you have the time, I would love if you left a comment to let me know what you think! Also, please let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

Until next week, lovelies!

Tagging: @stardustsroses @nahthanks @jurdanhell @my-one-true-l @thefolkofthefic @greenbriarxrose @bookavert @queen-of-demons-and-hell @theviolettulip @lysandra-ghost-leopard @playlistmusings @localgoof @garnet-babe @iamaprincessallgirlsare

69 notes · View notes

reinerispretty · 4 years

Text

beneath the moon. (sokka x reader) pt15

OH WOW okay so because i felt so bad about not updating this for...two weeks? this chapter is extra long. i’m talkin over 5,000 words long. it is also my apology for not updating in so long teehee!!!

pt1

pt14

pt16

“Friends get excited to see each other,” He said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I don’t know about you, Aang, but my friends don’t normally kiss me on the cheek when they see me.” Aang laughed as he steered Appa, but Sokka’s expression was less than exuberant. (Y/N) knocked her shoulder against his. “I’m just teasing,” She said lowly, so only Sokka would hear. “I think you guys-“

(Y/N) scrunched her nose in distaste. “This is Lake Laogai?” The place that Joo Dee had mentioned numerous times and Jet had said he had been taken to be brainwashed seemed rather…underwhelming. It was just a lake, albeit an expansive one, with blue green water and a beach surrounding it. Sokka nudged her side with his elbow. Although she knew he was standing right beside her, the feeling of his touch startled her. She could feel her heartbeat thundering against her chest.

“Come on, Princess. Not everywhere can be a brilliant ice palace.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“I get that, but if they’re going to say that a bunch of people go here for vacation all the time, the least they can do is make it look nice. Did they just think no one would come out here to visit?”

“I think it looks just fine,” Toph said as she strolled past the pair. (Y/N) and Sokka gave her a disapproving look that was completely lost on the young girl.

“All I’m saying is having a few beach chairs wouldn’t kill them. I mean, have you seen the Earth King’s palace! He could definitely spare a few coins.”

“I honestly doubt the Earth King knows this place exists,” Katara said.

“What a chump,” Toph said. She walked to the very edge of the lake and knelt down to the ground, her small hand hovering above the sand. “There’s a whole cave underneath the lake.” With one swift earthbending move, she exposed a platform with a large, round entryway at the end. She moved its cover to the side, and their large group hovered over it and stared into the dark cavern below. Jet went first, since he was leading the group, and Aang followed closely behind. The rest of the group followed one by one until eventually, they were all in the underground cave.

“There should be a cell large enough for Appa up ahead,” Jet whispered. “Follow me!” He led them down the hallway, but (Y/N) found herself breaking away from the group. She stopped in front of a room, peering inside to see countless women being brainwashed. It broke (Y/N’s) heart that she could not help them right now. To rescue those women would be to jeopardize their entire mission and risk captivity.

Katara appeared at her side then, grabbing her by the hand and squeezing her fingers. “We’ll help them,” She whispered, a reassuring Katara smile on her lips, and (Y/N) nodded in agreement. She just wished they didn’t have to pick and choose who they could save.

They reached the room where Appa would have been. (Y/N) could see large shackles on the ground in the dim light, where he probably once was, but then she heard the door being earthbended behind her. Instantly, she and her friends realized they were being surrounded. Dozens of Dai Lee agents dangled from the ceiling, and Long Feng stood at the center of the room with a look of harsh disapproval on his face. (Y/N) knew that the entire time she and her friends had been in Ba Sing Se, he had been trying to intimidate and manipulate them, but she still found herself unafraid of his presence. The agents hanging down from above certainly unsettled her, but Long Feng was like every other tribe elder that had told her what she had done throughout her entire life was wrong. If she had an opportunity, she’d like to toss an ice ball at his face.

“You’ve made yourselves enemies of the state,” Long Feng said, and just as (Y/N) slowly inched her fingers toward the cap of her water satchel on her hip, she was forced back, her wrists clamped against the wall by a Dai Lee agent’s rock glove. She cried out in pain, feeling an uncomfortable sensation in one of her wrists.

“(Y/N)!” She heard Sokka shout, just as Toph released her with one movement and knocked a Dai Lee agent into the wall with another. (Y/N) felt the anger rise within her and with a swift flick of her wrist she started to waterbend, but the crippling pain in her wrist nearly caused her to scream. “Are you okay?” Sokka asked, suddenly at her side. His boomerang was poised in his hands. He took her wrist in his hands, his long fingers wrapping around the already bruising skin. (Y/N) couldn’t find the words to answer him. He stared at her with furrowed brows and bounced on anxious feet, eager to join the fight but remaining with her for a reason (Y/N) couldn’t piece together.

She started to panic. She needed to help her friends, but fighting with waterbending was the sort of thing she had to do with two hands, and Katara didn’t have time to quickly heal her wrist. When she finally pulled her eyes away from Sokka’s, she caught a dark green figure running toward them. She pushed Sokka behind her with her good hand and swiftly lifted her leg up high into the air, her water following its direction, and kicked forward. The stream of water followed exactly what she had intended for it to do, hitting the Dai Lee agent harshly and sending him flying backward into the rock wall.

When (Y/N) turned back to Sokka, his eyes were wide. “That was amazing!” (Y/N) grinned at him. Sokka threw his boomerang at an agent coming from her blind spot and the two spent the remainder of the fight watching each other’s backs.

The fight against the Dai Lee agents continued, but (Y/N) was quickly getting better at waterbending with her legs. It felt a bit unnatural. Waterbending was about moving the energy through your body, and this transference of energy usually took place within your arms and hands. Very little of the whole body was used in waterbending, but she was still able to help her friends with what she could do, and that was all that mattered to her.

Aang and Jet had followed Long Feng as he fled into another room. It took a while for the remainder of the group to subdue the Dai Lee agents, but by the time they had and reunited, they came upon a grave situation. Jet lay on the floor with Aang by his side. Katara rushed to him and immediately started the healing process, but (Y/N) recognized the scared look on her friend’s face that told her it wasn’t working. (Y/N) looked down at Jet, whose face was soft with acceptance, and felt a tug at her heart. This wasn’t fair. Nothing about this war was fair. Innocent people shouldn’t have to die simply because they want to make the world a better place.

She clenched her hands at her sides, feeling the pain in her wrist but ignoring it. Much to her surprise, Sokka placed his own hand over her fist. (Y/N) refused to look up at him, but she refused to pull away.

They resurfaced as their original group. Jet’s friends, Longshot and Smellerbee, had chosen to stay with him. Although she hadn’t known him long, (Y/N) still shed tears over the loss of Jet’s life. She and her friends had felt too much sorrow for a group of kids. It seemed like it would never end. And the Dai Lee agents standing on the beach nearly confirmed this fact.

“Do you think we can outrun them?” Sokka asked Aang as the agents surrounded them on all sides. There was nowhere for them to run to.

“I don’t think it’ll matter,” Aang said. As he finished his statement, Momo landed on his shoulder, chittering loudly in Aang’s ear. “What is it, Momo?” The lemur monkey soared back into the sky, where a large shadow blocked the light of the sun. Appa dropped to the beach, a hefty groan coming from his chest, as he began blowing the agents away with his own airbending. Toph and Aang used earthbending to send the other Dai Lee agents soaring through the air and into the lake.

“I’ll handle you myself,” Long Feng growled, but Appa was too quick for him. He took Long Feng in his mouth by the leg and flung him into Lake Laogai. (Y/N) and her friends cheered and rushed forward to hug the sky bison.

---

Their group had flown to a small piece of land within the lake to rest. (Y/N) sat on the ground with Katara kneeling beside her as she healed her wrist. Toph laid on the ground beside them, her arms tucked behind her head and her eyes closed, face tilted toward the warmth of the sun. Aang had stuck by Appa the entire time they had been there. (Y/N) figured she wouldn’t have wanted to let Appa out of her sight either, if she were in her shoes.

Katara smiled at (Y/N) as she finished healing her. “Should be good as new in an hour or so.” (Y/N) thanked her friend and rotated her wrist. It was sore more than anything now, but the pain had completely disappeared.

“Listen, Katara, I’m sorry about-“ The pained expression on Katara’s face cut her off. (Y/N) bit her bottom lip so hard until it bled. She was still learning how to comfort people who weren’t Yue.

“It’s okay,” Katara said quietly. “I’ll be okay.” (Y/N) smiled, because Katara was right, as she often tended to be. If there was anyone who could handle any challenge thrown at her, it was Katara.

A shadow stood in front of them, blocking the warmth of the sun from the girls. Toph groaned from her position on the ground. “You’re blocking my light!”

“Look, I think we need to head to the Earth King right away and tell him about our plan. We’re on a roll!” Sokka said.

“I hardly think one good hour is a roll,” Katara said.

“I’d say it was a good forty-five minutes,” (Y/N) added. Sokka rolled his eyes at that.

“Whatever it is, we can build on it. We need the Earth King’s support if we want to invade the Fire Nation in time for the eclipse.” Katara shook her head.

“Sokka, Long Feng controls the city. His conspiracy with the Dai Lee is too powerful. I say we fly away and never turn back.”

“I’m with Sweetness,” Toph said. “I’ve been wanting to get out of here as soon as we step foot in this place.”

(Y/N) frowned. As much as it pained her to agree with Sokka, she said, “But we can’t just let those people suffer at the hands of Long Feng. The quicker we expose him, the quicker this whole Dai Lee business can be over. Those women down there can go back to their normal lives.”

“And since we have Appa back,” Aang said, “There’s nothing holding us back from telling the Earth King about everything. The conspiracy and the war.”

“See!” Sokka said, a bright smile on his face. “Aang and (Y/N) are on my side!”

“I guess if the Earth King knew the truth, things would change…” Katara muttered.

“I don’t like new positive Sokka,” Toph grumbled. As they decided what steps to take next, Sokka noticed ships floating across the lake.

“That’s probably the Dai Lee searching for us.” He turned to Katara. “So?” She narrowed her eyes in determination.

“Let’s fly.”

It was a horrifying flight on the way back to Ba Sing Se. With no saddle, everyone had to hold on to Appa’s fur for dear life. (Y/N’s) wrist was still weak, so her grip kept coming loose as she held on. Sokka reached for her, clasping her hand in his so she had an easier time staying on. (Y/N) felt her face grow warm. This was the second time Sokka had held her hand in a day. She hated that she was reading too much into it despite herself. He’s just trying to be a good friend, she thought. “A good friend,” She repeated quietly, because sometimes hearing the words out loud made them seem more real.

“There it is!” Sokka shouted as they flew over the Inner Ring of Ba Sing Se. “That whole thing’s the palace! The Earth King’s chambers must be in the center!”

“We have to be careful,” Katara said. “Long Feng’s probably already warned the Earth King that we’re coming.”

“What makes you say that?” Sokka asked. “I bet from now on it’s gonna be smooth-“ His sentence was interrupted with a shout as a giant boulder flew past them, narrowly missing him.

“What was that?” Toph asked.

“Rocks!” (Y/N) shouted back.

“More incoming!” Sokka called. A boulder came directly at Aang, but he broke it with one swift move of his hand. He rushed forward and sliced through another boulder with his staff, landing on the ground and creating a harsh seismic wave to knock the rest of the soldiers off of their feet. Appa landed behind him and the rest of their team immediately jumped to the ground.

(Y/N’s) wrist was still sore, but she felt reinvigorated from the break she had with her friends and the success of getting Appa back. She and Katara both formed waterwhips with their hands to knock soldiers out of their way. “Sorry!” Katara called to the guards. “We just need to get through to see the Earth King!”

“Katara!” (Y/N) groaned. “They’re attacking us! You don’t have to apologize to them!”

“I just want them to know I’m not trying to hurt them!” As she said this, (Y/N’s) waterwhip wrapped itself around a soldier, lifting him into the air and slamming him down into the ground. The other guards that had surrounded him scattered in fear. “(Y/N)! They’re on the same side as us!”

“If they’re not holding back, why should I?”

They ran to the stairs of the palace, which Toph and Aang turned into a ramp, causing the remainder of the Earth Kingdom guards to slide down the steps. Aang and Toph then earthbended their group up the ramp to the main entryway of the palace. After a few mishaps, they finally found where they were supposed to go. “Through there!” Sokka shouted, and their group ran through the large, ornately decorated double doors that led into the Earth King’s throne room.

Convincing the Earth King that there was a war happening outside of the walls of his city was no easy task. The Dai Lee had destroyed their cave under Lake Laogai, disrupting their plan of showing King Kuei that evidence. It was only when they finally showed him the Fire Nation drill, still sticking halfway through the outermost wall, that he had started to believe they were telling the truth. He had Long Feng arrested for conspiracy and his office searched and agreed to give his troops to help fight the Fire Nation.

As their group was celebrating this massive victory for their cause, one of the generals entered the king’s quarters. “Your majesty,” said General How. “We searched Long Feng’s office and found something that would be of interest to everybody.” He set a box down on the king’s desk, opening it to reveal dozens of scrolls. “Secret records about everyone in the city, including you kids.” He handed Toph her scroll first, who passed it to Katara to read.

“It’s a letter from your mom! She’s in the city and wants to see you!” And Toph smiled the brightest smile that (Y/N) had ever seen.

“Long Feng intercepted letters from home? That’s just sad.” The General then passed Aang a letter that had been tied to Appa’s horn when he first came to the city. It was from a guru at the Eastern Air Temple who offered help on learning how to control the Avatar State.

“Is there anything for me?” (Y/N) asked, peering into the box. General How pulled out a thinly rolled scroll with her name written on it in small letters. She unrolled it, with all of her friends except Toph looking over her shoulder to see what it said. (Y/N) rolled her eyes as she finished reading it, tearing the letter to shreds.

“What was it?” Toph asked.

“A marriage proposal,” (Y/N) grumbled, crossing her arms. It was another proposal from Hahn, the very same person that had been engaged to her sister and who (Y/N) had punched in the face. It seemed he was bent on gaining access to the throne of the Northern Water Tribe and would do whatever was necessary to obtain it. Even if it was pestering her with another lousy proposal.

“Are you…Are you gonna accept it?” Aang asked, and (Y/N) scoffed.

“Of course not!”

“Is there anything for us?” Katara asked the General, who solemnly shook his head.

“But there is an intelligence report.” He passed it to Katara, who unrolled the scroll and read it with her head pressed against Sokka’s.

“A small fleet of Water Tribe ships,” Katara read aloud, “Protecting the mouth of Chameleon Bay…Led by Hakoda—It is dad!” The siblings hugged each other in their excitement.

It was decided then, after finding out about the different paths they could each go on, that it would be best if the group split up. Toph would reunite with her mother, Aang would travel to the Eastern Air Temple, Sokka and Katara could go see their dad, and (Y/N) supposed she would remain with the Earth King. Someone had to, after all, and it wasn’t like she had received any urgent letters from her own family. The rumors about the state of her tribe that Jet had told her settled in an uncomfortable pit in her stomach, but she didn’t want to ruin the chance of Sokka and Katara reuniting with their father.

“If I’m going to the Eastern Air Temple,” Aang said, “I can drop you off at Chameleon Bay to see your dad.”

“Someone has to stay here and help the Earth King plan the invasion,” Sokka said with a sigh. “I guess that’s me.”

“No, Sokka, I know how much you wanna see Dad. I’ll stay,” Katara offered.

“I could stay,” (Y/N) countered. “I didn’t get any urgent messages or have any family members to see.”

“But didn’t you say things weren’t going well back in your tribe?” Toph asked.

“Well, yes, but-“

“We could use the military help from the Northern Tribe,” Sokka said, stroking his chin. “And if the Princess goes back there, we could convince them to help!”

“Then it’s settled!” Katara clasped her hands together. “Aang will drop off Sokka and (Y/N) at Chameleon Bay. There, they can take a ship back to the North and work on gathering more volunteers!”

“Katara, I can really stay, I don’t mind!” Part of (Y/N) was eager to go back home and deal with these throne challengers, but another part of her dreaded the idea of going back. It had been so long, and she had wanted to escape from the Northern Water Tribe for so long.

“No, it’s a great plan!” Katara smiled at her friend, who sighed and glanced at Sokka. His own eyes were cast her way and a soft smile rested on his lips.

A few hours later, they were preparing to say their goodbyes to one another. (Y/N) gripped onto Katara tightly as she hugged her, feeling stupid tears welling at the backs of her eyes. The trip to the Northern Water Tribe would take weeks, so it would probably be months before they saw each other again. Katara pulled away from the hug, her own eyes shiny. “Take good care of my idiot brother, okay?” (Y/N) laughed as she wiped away a stray tear with the heel of her hand.

“Your majesty!” An Earth Kingdom soldier approached their group. “A group of female warriors are here to see you. They’re from Kyoshi.”

(Y/N) heard a thud and then Sokka was on the ground, when just a moment ago he had been on top of Appa’s back. “That’s Suki!”

“You know these warriors?” The king asked.

“Oh yeah. The Kyoshi Warriors are a skilled group of fighters. Trustworthy, too. They’re good friends of ours.” As Sokka finished his sentence, (Y/N) couldn’t help but remember just how good of friends he had been with Suki, that night on the Serpent’s Pass. She inhaled a deep breath and forced a smile to her face. Despite her jealousy, she really liked Suki, and was disappointed that they wouldn’t get to see each other.

“Then we will treat them as honored guests.” The Earth King gave a final bow before marching back into the palace.

“I’m really gonna miss you guys,” Toph said, rubbing the bottoms of her feet against the bare rock. (Y/N) wrapped her in a hug.

“It’s not going to be for long!” She reassured her, and before she knew it, Katara had joined their hug, then Aang, until finally Sokka wrapped his arms around all of them. Then (Y/N), Aang, and Sokka climbed into Appa’s saddle and took off into the sky. Their journey to Chameleon Bay wouldn’t be that long; less than a day at most.

“It’s a bummer we couldn’t see Suki,” Aang said. “You’re probably super disappointed, huh Sokka?” Aang smiled up at Sokka innocently, but both he and (Y/N) knew exactly what he was insinuating. (Y/N) looked at Sokka, curious to see what his answer would be.

“Yeah, you guys were pretty close when we were on the Serpent’s Pass.” She knew she was pressing his buttons, but annoying Sokka distracted her from the annoying jealousy she felt. He rolled his eyes.

“Friends get excited to see each other,” He said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Speaking of excited!” Aang cut her off, having not heard that she was talking. “You haven’t seen your dad in two years! You must be so excited!”

“I know I should be, but I just feel sick to my stomach,” Sokka said, pressing a hand to his stomach.

“I’m sure your dad will be excited enough for the both of you. What’s he like?” (Y/N) rested her chin on her kneecaps to listen to Sokka’s description of his father.

“Well he’s just like me, super intelligent and smart with ruggedly good looks-“

“Intelligent and smart are the same thing.”

“Stop interrupting! Anyway, he was chief back in the Southern Water Tribe, but he kind of passed that role onto Gran Gran when he had to fight the Fire Nation. The last time I saw him he could only stay home for a day, but he spent the whole day playing with Katara and I. He’s a great dad.”

“He sounds really nice.” Sokka smiled at her, resulting in her own smile.

They landed at Chameleon Bay under an hour later. Sokka and (Y/N) said their goodbyes to Aang before walking along the beach to where the men of the Southern Water Tribe were camped. (Y/N) couldn’t help her own nerves. Besides Sokka and Katara, she had never met anyone else from the Southern Water Tribe before. She worried that they would think less of her because she was from the North, where their practices were very backwards.

“Do you think they’ll help me?” She asked suddenly. Sokka raised an eyebrow. “Our two tribes haven’t exactly had the best communication over the years. Why should they help me if my tribe hasn’t helped you all? I mean, we’ve been completely complacent in this war besides what happened a few months ago.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Sokka said. “To convince your tribe that this is a cause worth fighting for! And by doing that, you’d singlehandedly be helping my tribe and the rest of the world.” (Y/N) gulped, not only from the circumstances but from the fact that Sokka had just laced his fingers through hers. “If you’re scared about them not liking you, that’s all you have to say.”

“I’m not scared of that!” (Y/N) snapped. “I don’t care what people think of me.” Sokka snorted.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He tugged on her hand to lead her forward to camp, but was still holding it as they stepped foot inside.

“Sokka, good to see you,” one of the warriors said, and Sokka gave him a pleasant nod before heading to the war tent. (Y/N) pulled her hand from his as they approached the entrance.

“I’ll wait outside so you guys can have a proper reunion,” She stretched out her hand. Was it possible to still feel someone’s touch after they were done touching you? Sokka hesitated in front of the door flap and (Y/N) rolled her eyes, giving him a hard shove forward. “Go!”

She waited outside the tent for a few minutes, wringing her hands out of nervousness. So maybe Sokka had been just a bit right: she was scared of the people of this tribe not liking her. She was royalty of the Northern Water Tribe, after all. As far as (Y/N) knew, when Sokka and Katara’s tribe had been raided over the years, her tribe hadn’t offered any help. They had locked themselves behind their high ice walls and refused to come out. If (Y/N) ever returned to her tribe to lead it, she wouldn’t be that kind of chief. She had seen how much pain there was in the world and she wanted to do everything in her power to alleviate it.

Sokka left the tent first, with a tall, tanned man following closely behind him. (Y/N) could see the resemblance almost instantly. The man held the same striking blue eyes that Sokka and Katara had and his build was nearly identical to Sokka’s. He looked at her with a soft smile that reached his eyes. “You must be the friend Sokka was telling me about. I’m Hakoda.” (Y/N) bowed.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sokka and Katara have told me so much about you.”

“(Y/N’s) from the Northern Water Tribe,” Sokka said, and she glared at him because she hadn’t exactly been ready to delve into that information just yet. He gave her a bright grin in return.

“Really! That must be a popular name up there, last I heard there was a princess in the North with the same name.”

“That, um, would be me.” (Y/N) smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. Hakoda’s eyes widened.

“Apologies, Princess (Y/N), my son neglected to tell me that you were royalty!” He let out a hefty laugh that all dads had in common.

“It’s really alright, I’m not much of a princess anymore.”

“Are you both hungry? Our camp was just about to eat lunch.” Sokka’s stomach grumbled, answering his father’s question. Hakoda led the both of them to the center of the camp, where logs surrounded the campfire. A pot of stew bubbled atop it as men stood in line to gather their bowls.

“I can get your stew for you,” Sokka said, taking (Y/N’s) bowl from her hands. “Can you find us a seat?” She took a seat at a log to the right of the campfire and placed her bag in the spot beside her to signify that someone would be sitting there. Sokka rejoined her just a few minutes later, speed-walking over to her as he wore a pained expression on his face. “These bowls get really hot!” He said with a hissing voice as he handed her one of the bowls. (Y/N) giggled.

Hakoda stood at the front of the beach, where all eyes could see him. “As many of you know, my son Sokka arrived at our camp today.” The men whooped and hollered for him and (Y/N) smiled at the light blush that dusted Sokka’s cheeks. “He brought along his friend and our sister from the Northern Water Tribe, Princess (Y/N).” There were more cheers, but also whispers and murmurs passing through the camp. Suddenly it felt like every eye was on her as Hakoda took his seat beside on the other side of Sokka. Was she supposed to say something? Yue was always the one that addressed the crowds at any gathering, since she was the oldest.

(Y/N) gave a panicked look to Sokka. He placed his hand on her shoulder and stood, his fingertips just barely grazing her and he spoke to the men of his tribe. “(Y/N) and I came here to not only reunite with you all, but to ask for your help. If we sail a few of your ships to the North, we think that (Y/N) can convince them to contribute members of their own military to the war effort.”

“Sokka,” Hakoda said, his voice low in warning. “The Northern tribe hasn’t fought in the war for almost as long as it’s been happening. Do you really think you kids can do this?”

(Y/N) took a deep breath and stood. As she stared at the crowd of men, she thought of how Yue would act in situations like these. “A few months ago, the Fire Nation attacked the Northern Water Tribe. We were able to fight them off, but only because my older sister sacrificed her life to save all of us. I didn’t have much of a say in anything before I left home. I’m sure you’ve heard of some of our more backwards traditions. But I’ve seen what the war is like, what it has done to people and to our world. It is mine and Sokka’s belief that if we go back and tell them, whether it be through your stories or through mine, we can get my father and his troops to back us in this war.” She paused for a moment, her hands tightening in the fabric of her dress. “My people haven’t been good to yours, but I’m devoted to changing that. If you’ll let me.” She sat back down and took her bowl into her hands only to realize that they were shaking. Sokka took his seat once more.

“You did great!” He cheered. “You sounded so…so…princess-y! How did you do that?”

“Well I’m kind of a princess, if you haven’t noticed.” Sokka rolled his eyes.

“You sounded like a leader.” Hakoda leaned behind his son to smile at (Y/N).

A warrior approached them just a few moments later. “Hakoda, our scouts have spotted Fire Nation ships nearby!” All three of them stood as Hakoda began calling out orders.

“Bato! Get those mines loaded up! The rest of you men, prepare for battle!”

“What should I do, Dad?” Hakoda smiled down at his son.

“Aren’t you listening? I said, ‘The rest of you men, prepare for battle.’” He ran off to gather his armor and weapons. Sokka turned back to (Y/N).

“If I asked you to stay here, would you?”

“Absolutely not! There’s got to be some armor around here that will fit me.” He guided her through the camp to where the men were gathering their armor and weapons. (Y/N) had no training in anything other than waterbending, so she avoided the sharp objects and settled for pulling on the pieces of armor that looked like they would fit. Sokka helped her tie the straps and adjust her waterbending pouch on her hip. The armor was heavier than she expected, but (Y/N) hopefully wouldn’t be doing any physical fighting.

Once everything had been properly placed, she turned to look at Sokka. “Do I look ridiculous?” She asked, a light laugh following her question. Sokka looked her up and down, another blush rising to his cheeks as he shook his head and put on his wolf helmet. He and (Y/N) walked side-by-side onto the war ship where his father was waiting.

“I’m fighting too,” Was all (Y/N) said to Hakoda. He smiled.

“Happy to have you.” As they prepared to cast off from shore, (Y/N) filled her waterbending pouch with seawater as Sokka talked to his father. Then she heard a familiar groan coming from the skies and looked up to see Appa close to landing on the beach.

“Sokka…” (Y/N) said. He looked back and gripped his boomerang tightly.

“That can’t be good.”

---

Tag List! If you’d like to be added pls send me an ask :)

PERM TAGLIST:

@beifongsss , @aroyaldarknessblr , @musicalkeys , @thefandomimagines , @blondie0458 , @kairiririri , @awesomelupe , @zukosvice , @tomshollandz , @lavendercrystals , @astralsaf , @realimbo , @mycollectionofnuts , @wingeddemonclub , @gingersnap126126 , @aangsupremacy , @marvel-ing-at-it-all , @davnwillcome , @someoneovertherainboww , @bigbuckyenergy , @breadqueen95 , @buttholland , @noodlesfluffy , @busyforkuvira , @error-loading-sorry , @bombardia , @la3divine , @just-a-teal-android , @theeavtrkyoshi , @brokennerdalert , @sukifans

FIC TAGLIST:

@aangsupremacy , @treestarrrrrrrr , @beifongsss , @mdgrdians , @aroyaldarknessblr , @musicalkeys , @aimee1602 , @plxstic-rose , @davnwillcome @squeamishdionysus , @clowninfortodoroki @thia-aep , @jinxed-tea @sara5208 @valiantprincessthea @alrightazula , @awesomelupe , @itsivyberry , @thebluelcdy , @samsmultifandomblogs , @loganrwebb , @minifruity , @cuddlykoala101 , @dionnaea , @alive-ahahah-fuck , @pipsqeak1326 , @krxliesdexd , @wastelandbbyg , @milk-n-cheese , @the-firebender-girl , @zukosvice , @justab-eautifulmess , @awkwardnesshabitat , @tomshollandz , @mmmidek-blog , @lavendercrystals , @dailytrashypanda , @bigbuckyenergy , @honey-ruel , @jackbamexpress , @astralsaf , @thebluelcdy , @solarsuki , @sometimeseverythingsucks , @nataliahaslosthershit , @teenbiology , @eridanuswave , @izzieserra , @astroninaaa , @jaylarkson , @realimbo , @chilifrylizard2 , @barnesdameron , @spacelesbianfanclub , @loser-keiji , @atlafanforlife , @mycollectionofnuts , @sokka-simp-420 , @thefandomimagines , @11mb0 , @wingeddemondclub , @waves-and-sunflowers , @none-of-ur-frackin-business , @alive-ahah-fuk , @hola-ninos , @maruchan77 , @killjoyybsinner , @jasminecalia , @moon-spirit-yue , @buttholland ,

#atla #sokka x reader #aang x reader #zuko x reader #katara #toph #sokka #aang #zuko #azula #momo #appa #writing #fanfiction #avatar #the last airbender

180 notes · View notes

lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

Text

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.23}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 3.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

This one hour turned out to be way longer than the previous ones together. Admittedly, Robin did enjoy the youthful silliness of her friends, but for the most part she could only listen and offer her ever-too-grown-up take on matters on the few occasions when she was asked for her opinion. It was fun though, a bit like spending time with younger siblings. Not that Robin knew much about that, and when she dared to voice the thought, Simon and Michael –who had grown up with two and three little siblings respectively– only laughed in her face. Oh well, just fun it was then, but perhaps not like siblings after all. Just a group of unlikely friends.

At the end of the given hour, Robin wished her little group a good rest of the night and told them to meet her in the entrance hall half an hour past midnight. Before either of the confused people could ask about her enigmatic and sudden statement, Snape came to her rescue just as planned. He didn't say a word when he held his hand out to her, and she didn't say a word in return when she took it and let him pull her up to her feet. It was all in the eyes, in the words that didn't need to be spoken to be understood. The last Robin heard of her friends while Snape led her off towards the dancefloor was Cas saying something along the lines of 'and that's how you ask a girl to dance!' to the rest of the group. She couldn't help but silently smirk to herself in agreement.

The dance that followed was as much a delight as the previous one had been, as every single one of their dances had been, and once it ended all too soon as ever, neither of them could bear to stop just yet. So they did what most couples did, they stayed, and they danced to the next three pieces of song the musicians gifted them with as well. It left Robin quite breathless, but smiling more widely than she probably ever had in public. Who cares… she was just 'that insane girl', after all. This was the last ball she would be here for, and perhaps also the last time she got to dance with Snape. Even though she very much hoped that the latter wasn't truly the case.

When they finally decided that it had been quite enough exercise for the moment, a decision majorly influenced by the change in musical tone from sophisticated to what Robin graciously called 'jolly', they made their way off the dancefloor with slightly heaving chests and in purest contentment. That was, until no other than Damion Morgan stepped into their way, as if he had sensed that Robin's night was going too well. And he obviously had every intention to change that now. Not only did his eyes rake up and down Robin's form with an almost hungry look, but with an equal amount of scarily sweet smiles plastered onto his lips as well.

"Go on now, don't be shy, darling. Just ask me out." He finally spoke up with one of his flashiest grins, and his eyes locked with Robin's as he got way too close to her for anyone's comfort.

"Alright. Would you be so kind to get out of my sight?" Robin returned an exaggeratedly sweet smile that was dripping with sarcasm, and she was only glad that, hidden away under the billowing sleeves or her dress, Snape was still holding onto her hand.

"Ah, always sporting such a sharp tongue and an even sharper mind... that's how you seduce me, dear." Morgan chuckled, a brightly ringing sound that gave Robin chills of the uncomfortable kind. How could the man be so ridiculously positive, clear as crystal and bright as the sun, while yet he was the scariest person she had ever known to exist?

"Your advances are shameful at best, Damion, if not outright pathetic." Snape replied in a condescending and cold drawl, and his words were more in line with Robin's thoughts than anything she could have worded herself.

Morgan's head snapped around, and he glared at Snape with sharp shards of ice in his eyes. "Oh, and you think you are doing so much better than that? Is that why she hasn't even noticed how badly you are pining for her?"

Now Snape's eyes narrowed at the man in front of them in an unspoken threat as well. "You haven't the slightest idea what you are speaking of."

"Actually I know very well what I'm speaking of, Severus." Morgan quipped in radiant imagined superiority. "As it is, I also happen to know that you are absolutely right in your assessment of the circumstances; you really are entirely out of your league."

Robin didn't waste time thinking about the lunatic's words of hostility and instead caught his attention by speaking up calmly and with the subtlest touch of mocking sweetness. "If we are so far below you, then perhaps we shouldn't bother you any longer with our lowliness. It must be quite painful for you to dwell in such poor company, and we wouldn't want to hurt you now, would we?"

With that, Robin simply turned to leave without waiting for an answer, and she didn't even have to pull Snape along with her, for he mirrored her movement precisely in an instant. They got exactly two steps further down the hall before Morgan caught Robin by her free arm once again. His grip, as ever, more demand than inquiry.

"Dance with me." He said, without smiles, without brightness, and certainly without room for refusal.

"No." Was what Robin replied nonetheless, and this finally brought a new smile to Morgan's lips, a different one. A smile that made Robin's blood freeze over.

"That wasn't a question, darling. Dance with me, or I will see to it that you won't live to deny me again."

Robin's guarded expression kept her jaw from dropping and her eyes from growing wide, but the sheer panic that spread inside her mind and body still must've found a way to the surface. Her eyes moved from Morgan to Snape, in a silent plea for him to do something, anything, but going by his own expression, it was either killing Morgan right on the spot or letting things unfold. Robin couldn't blame him for having a similar reaction as she had herself, there was little else to do about such a display of dramaticism and insanity.

Gulping down the lump in her throat, Robin let go of Snape's hand and took the one Morgan was offering instead, even though every single cell in her body screamed in protest. As ridiculous as the threat was, she didn't doubt Morgan anymore. The lengths to which he would go to see her suffer still lay in darkness ahead of her, and she was more than reasonably reluctant to shed any light onto them now. So she let the man lead her back to the dancefloor, much like last year, while she was still aware of and very much thankful for Snape's eyes lingering on her. He wouldn't let Morgan harm her if he could prevent it, she knew that. And Snape's serious concern worried her quite a bit more than the actual prospect of getting injured. But no time to think about it now. The music started, and Morgan swirled her through the room alongside the oblivious students, professors and guests.

"You are hurting me." She finally spoke up in a quiet hiss, when his fingers dug uncomfortably into the skin of her back even through the layers of thick black fabric.

"Did it ever occur to you that you are hurting me, too?" He sighed in return, as if speaking to a child reluctant to understand. "With all those edges and corners of your wild personality… You make it ridiculously hard for me to put my mark on you. Perhaps, a little pain shall be the way to tame you after all."

A mere second later, when he moved his hand across her back oh so subtly, a sharp pain, a stinging and burning followed in the wake of his fingers at once, and Robin gasped before biting her lip to refrain from crying out. How the actual hell had he done that?! The pain dimmed down quickly enough, and nobody was paying them much attention, so it can't have been anything too serious, right? Right?! Robin released a shivering breath, then glared up at her dance partner in utmost hostility.

"If you think you can break me like some fragile plaything, you are utterly mistaken." She hissed, but it only served to make the man above her smirk. Robin wanted to slap that expression off his face, but all she could do was glare at him even more threateningly. "I can see way beneath those smiles and charming words. When I look at you, I see nothing but a monster."

"When I look at you, I see a beautiful masquerade covering the hollow darkness of inevitable death. Because that's ultimately what you are, and what you are ever going to be. A broken creature of ash and dust, and a mirror of shattered vanity." His reply came quickly and in a striking factuality, a seriousness that was unlikely for him. It left Robin short of an adequate answer for a moment, while his words cut a little deeper than she would've liked. And yet, when he spoke on, his tone was filled with bitter amusement. "It's rather ironic, isn't it? To see you clinging so desperately onto the one man who is the very essence of brokenness. Tell me, are you trying to heal him or do you merely reap what is left in the ashes? I cannot tell from what I see. But I shouldn't be the one to judge... I too desire you despite your darkness."

"You are wrong. Again, as always." She huffed in spite. "I don't like him despite the way he is, but for that very reason. He might have been broken once, but he put his pieces back together in his own way, and that makes him more appealing than anyone who has never known the courage it takes to go on after you shatter. Or the strength it takes to be better than before."

"You really are quite pathetically in love, aren't you?" Morgan sighed, sounding condescending and indifferent in a way that made Robin wish she hadn't said anything at all. But this damned man just had a way of getting to her and making her speak against her better judgement. "Ironic that it had to be Severus you are so willing to suffer for. Say, would you die for him, little songbird? I bet you would, wouldn't you? As I said; Ironic."

"If I'm pathetic for loving, you are just loving to be pathetic. Ironic indeed." She scoffed, and he squeezed the hurting spot on her back in return, making her yelp under her breath. The sound made him smirk. Bloody bastard…

When the music came to an end and the people to a halt, Robin feared that Morgan would keep her right where she was for another dance. It was a bit after eleven at this point, and even if there was still some time until midnight, she was both exhausted and desperate to get away from the man who was keeping a strong hold of her even now that the dance had ended. But to her surprise, he started leading her off the dancefloor before she even had to voice a protest or question.

"I better return you to poor Severus before he gives in to the urge to murder me, huh? Merlin's beard, that man loves you more than is good for him." Morgan chuckled quietly, but Robin honestly didn't care for his words now as long as he left her alone as soon as possible. It didn't even matter that he had fallen victim to the same delusions as everyone else. So when Morgan finally released Robin from his grasp and even had the audacity to give her a little push towards Snape, there was no time for her wounded pride when she was just lucky to be escaping his presence in the first place. Only once Robin was safely tucked into Snape's side two seconds later, she finally felt like she could breathe again.

"Thank you for the dance, my dear. Your divine company is always my highest pleasure." Morgan gave Robin another of his signature smiles. "I'm looking forward to all that is yet to come." His words couldn't have been more enigmatic and unsettling, but at least he bowed slightly and then disappeared into the crowd. Just like last year.

Robin let out a long breath to regain her composure, then looked up at Snape right at her side. He was undoubtedly angry and concerned in equal measure, as always when it came to her interactions with Morgan, and thus she offered him a small smile of reassurance.

"I'm alright, don't worry. The idiot hurt my back, but it's less painful than any of the times he slammed me into a wall in class, so it's nothing new really. It's okay."

"I let him hurt you, it is not okay."

"Do we need to be having this conversation again?" Robin gave him a look that was both pleading and defeated. "There is nothing you could've done and we both know that. All we can do is to start looking more thoroughly into what his problem with me is after the break is over."

"You are most likely right about that. Obviously." Snape sighed, then placed a gentle hand on the small of her back with a questioning gaze down at her. "May I?"

"Certainly." The smile that came to her lips now was genuine, affectionate almost, and she didn't bother hiding it from him. They both could use some calm and comfort now. "Perhaps… we could get away from the crowds for a bit?"

"Certainly." He mirrored with a not-smirk, and Robin shook her head with a chuckle. He really had a way of cheering her up even in the worst of situations, and that was something nobody else had ever been able to do.

Without waiting for a better opportunity that wouldn't come anyway, they soon made their way through the hall while pushing through various groups of people who weren't accustomed to the unspoken rule that it was better to stay out of their way. Robin had never taken much notice of it before just now, actually, but she usually never had to squeeze through somewhere. People usually stepped out of her way quite willingly and let her pass without effort. The same way they did with Snape. In a way, now that people did stay standing in her path, she found herself equally amused and irritated by that fact. Perhaps being the insane girl everyone feared based on a reputation alone really wasn't all that bad after all.

They reached the entrance hall soon enough, and in an unspoken question and likewise answer, they decided against winter robes and for a heating charm instead. It wouldn't be toasty, that was for sure, but it could keep the cold away at least, even if that left the wind to live with. Now that the snow had been replaced by rain for the majority of the previous week, it wasn't as harsh outside as it had been half a month ago, and this they could very well feel when they stepped outside into the nightly courtyard side by side. With the charm wrapping around them, the temperature was almost truly comfortable here, but then again, there was no wind inside these walls, so that wasn't too much of a surprise.

It again went wordlessly that they sauntered through the arcades and to the other end of the open space, out into the night and away from the busyness of the castle at long last. Away from the people, away from Morgan. His words still sounded as a dull echo in Robin's mind, now that everything else was silent. Not all of his nonsense had lingered of course, just… that one thing he had said wouldn't stop nagging at her. What he saw when he looked at her. The hollow darkness of inevitable death. It probably was just his overly dramatic way of being hostile and threatening, but then again, perhaps what he saw was the same thing that made everyone else scared of her as well. And as all things inevitable, it drew closer and closer to the surface, where everyone could see. Maybe that's why her reputation had grown exponentially more sinister over the years… Maybe that's why Morgan's words threatened to suffocate her now. Because she really was just a hollow darkness to the people around her.

"Talk to me, Robin…" Snape's voice drew her out of her mind as it did so often these days. They were sauntering down the hill now, almost having reached the shore of the lake… and she hadn't even noticed. "You are getting lost again, and by the look on your face I can tell that it isn't a nice place you are vanishing into. Will you just tell me what is bothering you for once, or do I have to ask on?"

"It's… just something Morgan said." She sighed deeply, and tried for a half smile when she looked up at Snape. "I really should know better by now than to let him get to me like that every single time, huh?"

"He has a way of getting under people's skin regardless of how hard they try to resist. It happens to the best."

"To you?"

"Obviously."

Robin let out a small amused huff in reply, but then stopped in her saunter and turned to face Snape when he did the same. "Can I ask you something odd?"

"Don't you always?" The returned question was more encouragement than tease for once, and Robin honestly felt glad for that.

She knew she had to ask, but in the end she would also need the courage to bear the answer as well. Taking a deep breath, she kept her eyes fixed on his and finally brought up the courage to speak the words that had been threatening to break past her lips anyway. "When you look at me... what do you see?"

"Everything." His reply came in such a calm sincerity, such genuine and complete certainty that Robin forgot how to breathe for a moment. She even forgot why she had asked in the first place, with an answer that told her so much more than the question demanded. A shiver of sheer and utter delight ran over her skin; she couldn't remember how to speak with words. So all the questions and answers of the world lay in her gaze alone. She wanted to be everything to him more than she had ever wanted anything else.

"Why do you ask?" Snape finally inquired, just as calmly as before, and the fact that his previous answer obviously was just another given to him almost made Robin laugh despite the newly arising hope. Perhaps she wasn't a token of death to everyone… to the one person that mattered she obviously was quite a bit more than that. And wasn't that by far enough?

"Morgan said that all he sees in me is a beautiful masquerade that covers the hollow darkness of inevitable death." She finally sighed with a shrug, then sauntered on towards the shore with Snape following right by her side. "But then again he also said that the sharp edges of my personality make it difficult for him to put his mark on me, so I guess I shouldn't try to find truth where there is only insanity."

"A wise decision I wholeheartedly support." He replied, just when they left the muddy path behind and crossed over onto the pebbled edge of the lake that lay in front of them as a black mirror now, reflecting only the blanket of stars above their heads. A beautiful sight that made Robin sigh as much as Snape's question that came a mere second later. "Was there anything else he said that might be disconcerting?"

"Just the usual things he keeps saying to me from time to time… How much he hates that I 'desperately cling onto you', for example. Or that you love me too much." She said before her brain had the time to fully process how stupid of a move that was. Maybe it was the hope gaining the upper hand again… but the idea that perhaps she could be everything to him indeed was burning her up from the inside now. Her hope had turned into a wildfire.

"Dumbledore really should have Morgan gagged, if he already refuses to dispose of him entirely." Snape grumbled under his breath, and Robin's heart fell a little. That wasn't the reaction she hadn't technically allowed herself to hope for but had hoped for nonetheless. Of course it would upset him to hear these accusations… what had she been expecting? Ridiculous.

"Oh, you'd have to gag quite a few more people than him if it's just about these remarks." She finally replied with a sad chuckle, then with a silent sigh. "Too many people have been insinuating things like that recently. You know… about you and me. Us."

"Ah." His voice dropped down an octave, and the deep frown on his falling features was suddenly accompanied by a tinge of rising bitterness in his tone, a shadow of sincere sadness in his eyes. Then it was all apathy again before the fleeting emotions could be grasped. "I can see why that thought would be repelling to you."

And for once, encouraged by the shadowy ghosts of expressions she had seen on his face, Robin let her heart speak instead of her mind. "Actually, it just makes me wish quite desperately that it was true."

______________________________

Tags:

@ayamenimthiriel @chibi-lioness @t-sunnyside @alex4555 @purpledragonturtles @istrugglewithphilosophy @meghan-maria @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @darkestacademiaaa @nizem8 @girilimoni

General Tags:

@wegingerangelica @dreary-skies-stuff @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @theweirdlunatic @caretheunicorn @kthemarsian @lady-of-lies @strawberrysandcream @noplacelikehome77 @theoneanna @mishaandthebrits @i-am-a-mes @nonsensicalobsessions @exygon @hiddles-lobotomy @rjohnson1280 @annwhojumps @spookycatqueen @salempoe @headoverhiddleston @fanfiction-and-stress @createdfromblue @thecreatiivecorner @themusingsofmany @kinghiddlestonanddixon @scorpionchild81 @crystal-28 @adefectivedetective @lokis-girl-in-mischief @booklover2929 @iamverity @lovesmesomehiddles @akk4rin @whitewolfandthefox @stuckupstucky @kassablanca13 @delightfulheartdream @hayalee8 @lemonmochitea

79 notes · View notes

hellowkatey · 3 years

Text

Febuwhump Day 19

Prompt: sleep deprivation

Warnings: graphic descriptions of torture, hallucinations

Read on AO3

Eyes Wide Shut

Panic rises in his throat as he stares at the shadows that creep up the wall. Obi-Wan flinches at flashes of light and dark, secretly hoping that they are some sort of hallucination.

Hallucinations would mean he would have an excuse to feel like the world is unraveling. Maybe the lack of sleep is finally clouding his mind enough for him to see what isn't there, or worse, a glimpse into what is beyond. He feels close enough to death to touch it, so why shouldn't he see it too?

He needs to rest. Shut his eyes and let his jail cell fade into darkness. But the analog clock hasn't moved in what feels like hours, but he knows it's only been seconds. In the rare moments when his captors aren't blaring horrible sounds that blew out his eardrums days ago, he still seems to be able to hear the damned clock. Tick, tick, ticking continuously until it makes him forget how many tick tick's he's counted and the tick tick tick longer hand is pointing at a new number. He doesn't remember that much time passing (tick tick tick tick), but such is life in captivity. Periods that feel long are actually a blink or two, and moments that he thinks he's finally found control again turn out to only be an illusion.

He lies on his side, knees tucked into his chest. Wiping away tears he doesn't remember shedding, he pretends he isn't alone. He has never told anyone, but some nights, he finds no sleep unless he imagines imaginary arms encompassing his body. A certain someone that makes his chest ache when he thinks about them too much tucked against his side and acting as his valiant protector from the horrors of the night. It's been a long time since he last shared a bed. As much as he knows he doesn't need it, he wants it because for once it would be nice to feel an ounce of comfort.

Because laying on the freezing, hard ground for any longer than a few minutes makes his body go numb. And even if he manages to muster enough strength to manifest the ghost of warm arms wrapping around his torso and a chin nestling into the crook of his neck, it fades before he has a chance to pretend he's anywhere else but locked in this prison.

He thinks he sees a flash of bright blue, or maybe green, and for a moment he thinks he's saved. But no, his mind has seemingly decided that his current torturers aren't doing a well enough job, so it dangled hope in front of his face for good measure. It's a trick of the mind. Another convincing piece of evidence that his heart pounding against his chest cavity and the pressure building in his veins aren't the only things manifesting in his sleeplessness.

Hallucinations would mean maybe he's finally cracking. Finally breaking under the pressure as many before have hoped to do to him. Obi-Wan has been through worse feats-- more pain, more bodily harm, but somehow this is a new circle of hell. Worse than a couple of days with no shut-eye. At least then he has battles or missions or other people to distract him from the exhaustion in his bones. But this... this is like a piece of Zigoola resurfacing from its hiding space in the depths of his mind.

(Sometimes if he's quiet enough he can hear the prayerful chant die Jedi, die Jedi die. Interestingly enough, he can't hear it now. Only the tick of the clock.)

Hallucinations would mean the lines between reality and whatever the hell else there is would blur completely.

Strangely, the prospect of such an existence is becoming more and more appealing.

Maybe in this augmented reality, he could finally find peace. For himself. For the galaxy. Never in his life has he wished so earnestly for a moment of quiet and stillness. Everything seems to be going wrong. The tides are turning and as much as the Republic likes to spout off about how they're the ones to come out on top, Obi-Wan has a feeling they're going to be the ones swept under the tidal wave.

(He has no evidence for this except for a lifetime of being told to trust his feelings.)

So how do you tell that to millions of soldiers created for the sole purpose of war? Or to the Jedi he fights alongside? The padawans who had to grow up too fast, and the Masters who have lost everyone in their lineage? Perhaps they're thinking it too-- he isn't so vain to assume he is the only one who cannot stand the sight of the Holonet anymore because none of it lines up with what actually happens on those battlefields. Or that he sees the way the civilians cower from both the Separatists and the Republic. Likewise, how they air their disdain with equal prejudice. They have to see it, right? The foundation crumbling beneath their feet? The chasm they walk a very thin tightrope across?

If he's lucky, all of this has been one big dream. One big escape from reality and he will wake up in the Jedi Temple with the smell of Qui-Gon's favorite tea brewing and a padawan braid hanging from behind his ear. Because Obi-Wan is pretty sure the last time the galaxy had some semblance of normalcy was before he was forced to cut Maul in half.

He stares at the shadows that claw across the ceiling, menacing and vile as they draw in the last drops of light. If the faces he sees staring back at him are only a hallucination, he will be satisfied. Because facing them for real is a feat he isn't ready for, so he closes his eyes as though that will keep the ghosts from following him.

And that's the problem with dreams, he thinks, I yield control to the wills of my mind, and I have no confidence it will be any less horrifying than the reality I currently live.

But the moment ends with what sounds like the scream of a dying krayt dragon being blasted into the room from all directions, and Obi-Wan jumps to his knees in surprise before toppling over once again. He covers his ears as though that will keep out the noise or the vibrations that shake every cell of his existence, curling back into the ball he just had himself in. If he separates from himself enough, goes to another place where the gray walls become mere blurs and the Force acts as static, the screaming of the krayt dragon becomes nothing but background noise. Enough to ignore the pain as the scars in his ears tear open and blood drips down his collar. Enough to hope that the next noise they play might be slightly more pleasant.

Maybe if they play one loud enough, he will go deaf completely, and then Obi-Wan will find some peace.

The cell is fourteen of his foot length across, and fourteen wide. He hasn't yet measured, but he suspects they're fourteen tall as well. Made entirely of reinforced durasteel with no clear door, he suspects they built the prison around him.

For the thousandth time since he awoke here, he screams into the Force: why?

On the third day, he received an answer: why not?

For some reason, this doesn't surprise him.

He sees the face of Qui-Gon, stoic yet kind-eyed. For a moment at least, and then his expression changes to wide eyes and deathly pale complexion.

"Promise me," he says. Obi-Wan doesn't need to hear the rest to know what he's promising. It's been a staple of his nightmares for years.

"Promise me," Satine says as he leaves his master lying on the ground. He looks up in horror.

"Promise what?"

"Promise me you will move on."

He swallows hard, reaching out for her slender face and bright eyes. "Move on from what, my darling?" But as he tries to cradle her cheek and feel her soft skin against his hand, she vanishes into thin air. "Move on from what?" he whispers.

And he is alone again.

If he really is seeing lightsabers floating through space and ghosts of people that he held in his arms as they passed and hearing the voices of the dark side lingering somewhere in the nearby shadows, then maybe this is his final spiral. He isn't even sure if anyone has noticed he's even gone yet. The worst part is he has no idea what the purpose of all of this.

Why?

They haven't asked him any questions, haven't tried to take anything from him. Just put him in this cell and decided to keep him awake.

Why not?

Sleep was never a natural state for Obi-Wan, but five days without a moment of unconsciousness is enough to drive anyone mad.

There is no end, there is only the Force. He reminds himself of this as he presses his fingers against the quickened pulse against his neck at the tempo of an upbeat cantina band. He's past the point of caring about the cold water they spray on him or the racket they blast through the speakers or the things that may or may not be real. Let them. I welcome it, now.

But a part of him still screams at him to fight. Oh, how he wants to silence the bugger, but it only makes another part of him speak up to remember his training and what he stands for. I've withstood worse, his mind reminds him. And yes, he has. But his life has been a continuous pursuit of one-upping his last mission injury or torture regiment and stars Obi-Wan is so tired.

What about Anakin?

Obi-Wan lets out a shaky breath.

Promise me, Obi-Wan...

Not even the voice of Qui-Gon comforts him anymore, and he buries his face in his hands.

It isn't even the hallucinations or the torture anymore. What is really wrong is that the galaxy is crumbling and the Force is on fire and he's choking on the smoke. Limbs pinned down by the screaming that's he's okay. I don't need help. Which is such a fucking lie because he can feel the life draining as quickly as time feels like it's passing. He can feel that darkness is coming and coming quickly. There is no way to stop it. No way to slow it. Like waiting for the whistle tone to drone out his next attempt to nap, all he can do is watch it as it arrives.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

But when he looks, the clock hand hasn't moved yet, and a part of him is happy another hour hasn't passed. And a part of him dreads the idea that maybe he'll be stuck in this moment forever.

__________

Anakin stands among a room full of dismembered bodies, his chest heaving with residual adrenaline from the fight. He wields not only his own weapon but his former Master's. All that was left behind when he disappeared. The clone troopers pour in moments later, unsurprised by the carnage. Anakin wastes no time in taking the two weapons and plunging them into the durasteel wall of the suspended prison.

He forms a circle large enough for two people to fit through, and he jumps into the tiny cell. The first thing that hits him is the smell. It's not of death, but of the moments before. They've arrived just in time it seems.

"Obi-Wan?" he says gently as his gaze falls on a crumbled figure tucked in the corner. His former master looks horrendous, dirty and bloody and deathly pale. When Anakin says his name his eyes raise slowly, and he is shocked to see the wild look in them.

"Anakin?" he rasps, his voice sounding raw. From the red rims around his eyes and the puffiness of his cheeks, it's obvious he's been crying. "No... it can't be." he whispers, and rolls into himself, turning toward the wall. Anakin is stunned. What the hell did they do to you, Master?

"No, Obi-Wan, it's really me," he says, kneeling down next to him and placing a hand on his wrist. When he touches his skin, Obi-Wan jumps as though he's seen a ghost. He looks at Anakin with wide eyes and mouth agape.

"Anakin?" he repeats, grabbing his hand and then his wrist and feeling the material of his tunic. "Anakin!" Before he can react, Obi-Wan has thrown himself into his arms. Anakin ignores the stench and hugs him tightly, relief washing through him to be near his former master again.

"I've got you, Master. I've got you."

Obi-Wan's head rests on his shoulder, holding the embrace long enough Anakin's body starts to cramp. When he pulls back, the Jedi Master's head bobs back, lightly snoring.

"Obi-Wan did you... did you fall asleep?"

"Sir," Rex's voice rings out as Anakin gently lays his master on his back until they can get a stretcher in here.

"What is it?"

Rex's helmet is off, and he looks at him with serious eyes. "They've been keeping him awake."

"The whole time?"

"I only skimmed through the footage but..."

Anakin looks back at him, sleeping soundly-- probably for the first time in 120 hours. His knuckles go white as he grips the hilt of his lightsaber.

"Have medical take him in. And by no means wake him up."

Rex nods and walks out of the doorway Anakin cut to call for Kix. Anakin stands from the ground, looking around the tiny cell. The only thing that stands out is a clock hanging on the wall, the old kind that they don't really make anymore. The kind with the hands. The ticking is obnoxiously loud, echoing off the unpadded walls of the cell.

He takes Obi-Wan's saber, ignites it, and swiftly slices the clock in half. It falls, but he catches it with the Force before it hits the ground.

The cell goes quiet, except for the quiet snores of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday19 #sleep deprivation #obi-wan kenobi #hallucinations #torture #anakin skywalker #this one got angsty #i actually started writing it at 3am #and decided to keep the ramblings #welcome to the inner workings of my insomnia mind

51 notes · View notes

maladaptive-ninja-returns · 3 years

Text

Something more than Dreaming (One Shot)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Warnings: weird dreams. Panic blushing

Word Count: It feels so weird to work in an office which has one-fourth of the workload of your previous office (though this one has ten times the responsibility, coz I am the head here). Anywhooo, I am in a place where there is no booze, no bars, no friends. :/

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The lights are a mixture of all the flavours the Gods can taste on their tongue. The seventy-five coloured rainbow seems like the perfect vibe for the buzz that is setting in on the nerves currently. Bass-boosted music and the cool air running through the building filled with heated, sweat-ridden bodies is driving everyone up on a new high. Wait. Is everyone feeling the same high? Or is it just me? Before that sharp brain of his can evaluate the situation, a new beat is hitting him hard along with the scene he witnesses unfolding in front of him. There in the unruly crowd of drunk and horny strangers, seven hottest aliens dance along with the one person his eyes seem to be searching for. You.

It's not good enough for me, since I been with you It's not gonna work for you, nobody can equal me

Everything else fades away in the background- and he is convincing himself that it is because his senses are heightened in a dark place filled with lunatics- and the only focus is you. That is what he repeats to himself when his eyes land on the movement of your fingers in your hair; that is what he is singing internally when watching you pout and bite your lip makes him gulp.

I'm gonna sip on this drink when I'm fucked up I should know how to pick up

That is what he wants to smack into his head when he feels his body gravitate in your direction while you are swinging your hips in a way he feels should be considered a sin; a sweet seductive sin.

I'm gonna catch the rhythm while she push up against me Ooh, and she tipsy

He keeps denying the internal dialogue of feeling jealous with all these strangers around you all this time, and still cannot get his icy glare off anyone who gets even an inch closer to you. At one point he is happy to see the boys be distracted by the light show that begins at the bar. That is until he sees something he does not like. He does not even realise the eyes he turns with those veins popping out of his arms and neck, neither does he acknowledge the dangerous vibe he gives off that automatically clears his path to you to remove that excuse of a lizard trying to prey on you from your back. With one tight hold on his neck, he is making that pervy lizard writhe and struggle where he stands, making him shed his skin with just the poisonous look in those green eyes. That devilish glare is enough to send that creature running. Once he is convinced there is no sign of any more ill intentions, he turns back to the most unaware person in the world- you, of course- and watches you struggling to twerk.

I had enough convo for 24 I peep'd you from across the room Pretty little body, dancing like GoGo, aye

There is a minute pause when he tries to absorb what exactly it is that you are trying to do and has to question how you are the same person he saw dancing so effortlessly a few seconds ago. Just when his patience runs out, he grabs your hand and takes you away, walking through the dispersing crowd without looking back till he finds the darkest corner in this excuse of a building and pushes you towards it. He can easily assess that with the amount of bao-bao in your system, you won't struggle. And you don't. Your back is against the wall and by the time you can ask him- in between the giggles- what was going on, you find those familiar arms caging you from either side.

But you are unforgettable I need to get you alone Why not?

The bubbles of fun are suddenly popping from the heat your whole body feels at once with Loki's body so close to yours. That perfect mess that is his hair is covering his face while eyes are stuck on you. His brows are struggling to loosen themselves up and his breaths are shallow.

A fucking good time, never hurt nobody I got a little drink but it's not Bacardi

You can tell he has been sweating, for you can smell his very intense natural odour- something you have become quite familiar with on this space trip; the trip that continues to make you conscious about your own body's smell now that you do not have any deodorants to cover it up. You can also tell there is something wrong with the way his veins are popping in his neck- though you do not refrain from admitting to yourself that it kinda makes him look hot. Very hot.

If you loved the girl then I'm so, so sorry I got to give it to her like we in a marriage

You know it is that bao-bao making you so bold but you could swear to all the powers in the universe you want to take a chance. The thought is tempting and fun to fantasise about till you realise that his hands have come close enough to brush against your arms and the mere touch is sending an unfathomable buzz up and down your body. "Loki-" is all you struggle to get out of your dry throat that is thirsting for things it should not be. And to add to these strange waves crashing inside your limbs, he brings his face closer to yours. You know your heart has taken a dive and your lungs are fluttering with that sweet scent of alcohol that brushes on your lips with his sigh. So close is his face that you can spot every single cell of flawlessness on his skin. Is this really happening?

Oh, like we in a hurry No, no I won't tell nobody

It feels like he can hear your thoughts for his hand comes to pick those sweaty stray strands of your hair away from your face and behind your ear. This is really happening. The world is swirling all around you. So are your breaths when they see those wanting lips come closer. Not able to take this twist along with the stuff you are high on, you close your eyes and wait with parted lips.

You're on your level too Tryna do what lovers do

The fire inside his gut is driving him closer to you even though his sanity is questioning every logical reason behind this. But that sweet scent coming off you is clouding every possible sane answer there could be. That's the thing. He does not want to be sane anymore. What is the advantage in that anyway? His hand is moving on its own, catching his breath when he feels your heated skin on the back of his fingers while brushing away those hair strands that are driving him mad for making you look so...he dare not say such things even to himself- that make him feel things. And boy, does he not like feeling things, especially such things. Oh, lords be praised! He loves the way your gaze is struggling to rest at one place, walking all over his eyes to his jaw before settling on his lips. And then closing themselves shut. He does not know whether that is an invitation or not. But looks like this sweet alcohol is making him bold. So, this is what alcohol really does to you, huh, he wonders, thanking the maker for this ale that was able to make a God feel the buzz. ... Wait. I am feeling the buzz. His own statement makes him blink out of the drunken trance for a second. "Why did the beer taste sweet?" his suspicion speaks. That suspicion is quickly turned right when he sees your meek smile and feels the floor beneath his feet sweep him face down into the ground. "Oh f-"

The boy band patiently sits in the lounge in their own particular ways. While one is sipping on their drink, the other has got their face in their palms. One has that mischievous smirk on his face and the one sitting next to him is gazing with a look of pure confusion. One has got his brow up while tapping his lips with his index and the other one is pushing two glasses of- what looks like- water towards the one particular side. And their captain is just plain tired at this point, looking at the ones who are their centre of attention. You and Loki.

You sway to and fro on the couch while Loki sits next to you with his head in his palms, his eyes lost in a void, given up on this world. You are pouting by this point, looking at the empty table in the middle of the crowd of you nine. "So...are we going to order food soon?" You had to ask. You feel a movement from your left and are nervous to look in that direction, whining internally when Loki drowns you in his judgmental gaze. "I'm hungry," you mutter as you look down. "I don't think you're getting any food today, Princess," Violet mentions, turning all the heads to him. "What, I was just translating what Loki's eyes are saying." "But I'm hungryyy," you cry. Loki closes his eyes and sighs. "Serves you right to starve." Violet carries on with his translation. "Stop it," Loki commands with his eyes still shut. "Okay." "Why did you spike his drink though?" Green asks put loud, making it hard for you to get away from all those curious eyes. You shrug. "I just thought it'd be fun. Loki will let his hair down and, I don't know, dance." "From the looks of it, it was gonna be more than a dance." "What?" "I said from the looks of it Loki can't dance." Loki pretends to have not heard White's word but narrows his eyes at him when he gets the chance. "Relax-" White gestures you two to drink the water-like liquid- "both of you are on the fourth stage. One more and it'll wear off like it was never there." "What's the fifth stage?" you tilt your head while your hands are squeezing your abdomen. "And how do you know about these stages?" "The Bao-Baos are our people's speciality," all seven of them say in sync, leaving you a little speechless. "So what's the fif-" You pause and never come back to the sentence. Your eyes are looking at infinity, seemingly lost in a trance, your body has let go of all the tightness, easing into the couch. Loki turns to watch the slow transformation. Anyone can tell from the look on his face that the word 'worried' right now begins and ends on you. He also knows that with that metabolism of his, he is going to hit that stage you are in, in no time. And so he goes, letting his trance begin while his gaze is still settled on you. There is a pause around the table as seven pairs of eyes observe the both of you. "Alright boys-" White slaps his thighs- "you know what to do." All of them get up with different tasks in mind. Violet takes two fuzzy blankets out of nowhere to put them around you and Loki. Green lights a candle and puts it a little close to the side where his tranced bunnies sit. Orange takes the charge to put headphones on and takes a few seconds to decide whether to put on his romance playlist or horror playlist. Red and Yellow draw the curtains to the private lounge while Sky puts shades on you and Loki before tucking a plushy under your arm, Loki's arm and handing one to Lulu as well. "Perfect," White announces, "now let's have some fun till they sober up." He calls for Lulu- who readily jumps and settles on his shoulder- and goes out into the crowd with his brothers, leaving the two of you to go through the final stage of your colourful high.

You The music is a soft melody with a depth given to the bass, and you can automatically tell there is a touch of Galimatias in there somewhere. Blinking and feeling the environment around you, you find yourself out in the open, an unlit paper lamp in your hand surrounded by the building and creatures you were just dancing around. This cannot be real, is just a passing thought in your mind, never given the weight it deserves. Why? Because you are already distracted by the pairs sitting on the grass under the shimmering night sky and oil lamps either hung on the trees, rested on rock piles or kept safely on the grass. The scenic beauty is too romantic and the smell of vanilla burning somewhere is bringing up emotions you wanted to keep hidden from the world for some time more. If it isn't for the voice that calls out for you from behind, you are quite sure another minute would have ended in tears. "Is this the spot?" You know the voice all too well to turn around voluntarily but a part of your subconscious itches at this new wavelength you feel in that very sound. That silken voice that has a veil over it suddenly seems...free. And to add to your surprise, the God of Mischief who adores the shades of gold, green and black is out of the blue walking towards you in a white shirt and blue jeans. Are those ripped jeans? And did he just tie his hair back? You are in the middle of thinking about this new persona when you are pushed into the river of questions with that slight tilt of his head and a huge smile. If only you could see the look on your face like Loki 2.0 was seeing right now. Your frown; your wrinkled nose and those lips turned as if they have tasted something sour. "What?" He laughs. "You're laughing?" Your gasp of unbelief is not making it easy for the God. "I just asked you if we're sitting here and you looked at me as if I was some strange alien." He shakes his head. So do you- at the fact that you could see his teeth throughout that sentence. "It's just-" you lick your lips and try to move a liiiittle back, away from him- "I've never seen you smile this much, let alone laugh." He breaks in a giggle, making you pause your breath. "Staahhp," he nearly sings and pokes you on your collar, trying to act all shy, forcing you to wonder if he is an imposter. "Okay, something is definitely of-faa-" The distraction in front of you makes you miss the end of the stone beneath your step, almost sending you down seven feet but Loki is quick to catch you by your hand and pulling in towards him by your waist. Ah. Now, this chest to chest nearness is quite familiar. So is that scent that naturally lingers on him. It is him. More or less.

Loki The illuminated aquatic ball gets a red and yellow micro planet down the hole. The tentacled pink alien grumbles something at his opponent, breaks his cue stick and stomps out of the bar. A nonchalant chuckle comes of that very opponent as he straightens himself after those smooth three shots. "Come back when you are old enough to stop whining." "One Midgardian Sex on the Beach for Loki," the waitress sings before setting the twirling glass down beside his cue stick and walking away- but not before she has felt that ass on her fingers. There is not much colour on his face except for a tired look in his eyes when he feels those intruding hands on his jeans. "Get those hands away be-" "Before he cuts them off clean." Loki has to turn to find the source of the voice that is somewhat quite usual to his ears. And when he does, the waitress is forgotten right at that moment, for all his senses are on you. You stand at the entrance facing Loki, who has to take a lungful of this musty bar air to come to terms that the person wearing a generous amount of kajal and smokey eyes is you. That smile on your lips assures him that. But the outfit brings back some more questions. All black. Those jeans- black. That tank top- black. That leather jacket- black. Those high boots- black. Those belt accessories hanging off those thighs- wait, they actually look good on her. And is that a nose ring? Your steps come to a halt right in front of the God; the very God who stands there nearly toppling over his cue stick. Your fingers take the liberty to tap him under the chin and draw yourself close enough. "Better keep that butt safe from unwanted hands before I claw someone for even looking at them," you whisper before pretending to bite him and walking away with his drink. The chill around his neck does not subside even after you're gone. And he is still wondering just one thing. "What kind of bao-bao did she eat now?"

You "What?" "...Nothing." Loki smiles and tries to hide his face in his hair. "Why are you looking at me like that?" It's no lie. You have been staring at Loki for the past twenty minutes with a smile on your face. You are sitting the same way you were sitting when he longingly looked at a couple making out, or when he moaned while eating a burger, or when he said you looked pretty in the moonlight. "I am wondering," you hum, letting your arm cradle your head, your gaze still stuck on him. "Wondering what." Loki mirrors you. "How amazing you are," you sigh, closing your eyes, "and yet I miss my Loki."

Loki "Are you comfortable in those?" He is still getting used to your eyes following every single hot body that passes by the room, checking them out without any restraints. Your eyes finally come back to him and find him pointing at your outfit. "Why? You wanna borrow them for the night?" Your suggestive voice raises the God's brows and forces him to inhale through his mouth before blowing all that air out. "I will just borrow my own drink for now," he acknowledges while taking his cocktail and downing it in huge gulps, all the while you sit there with your legs apart, resting quite casually with your arms on the bar table. Breathing in through your teeth you lick your lips. "You are looking quite yummy today, Loki-" you tilt your head and smirk with your eyes- "wonder how you'll look on that pool table there." "Quite heavy on top of you," he quips, feeling a burp come up. His arms go past you to keep the glass over the tabletop when he feels your legs wind themselves around his to pull him closer. "What makes you think you'll get to the top?" you point out while playing with his belt loops. Loki looks at you for one long minute. Eventually, he lets his hand set those two hair strands in their place, every from those side braids that add something to your look which clearly does something to Loki. "As painfully lovely as that offer is," Loki hums and looks right into your eyes, "I feel I should rather bear with the Y/N I know."

You wake up with a jolt to the bass-boosted music thumping outside. Removing the shades and rubbing your eyes you nearly slip your lenses out. "Fuck," you mumble under your breath before realising you had been drooling. On Loki's shirt. Your fingers work discreetly to wipe that drool off his black shirt. "You are buying me a new one." His voice reverberates in your ear that is closer to his chest, sending goosebumps down your body. Slowly moving away from his chest to sit straight, you wipe the marks of your saliva away from your lips and clear your throat. Loki clears his throat and snaps the knots in his neck and then removes his shades. "I didn't realise when I fell asleep," you mumble as your fingers move through your hair to straighten them out. "Probably went through the last stage," Loki insists, removing any wrinkles from his shirt and finding something resembling a plushy under his arm. "Which was one bizarre dream," he mutters. "Felt like a weird dream," you utter. Both of you freeze for a short second at the synchronisation of your thoughts, turning to face each other for one fleeting moment. As if looking into each other's eyes opens certain doors that did not seem to be there before, both of you turn away to hide your heated faces- questioning whether the other one knows something. You busy your hands to move your hair behind your ears. Loki pulls at his cuffs before trying to scratch an itch in the back of his head. You move the blanket over you closer to your chest before wanting to bury your face in it. Loki tries to play with the plushy's head, trying his best to check if he could see you from the corner of his eyes. "Do you wear white?" You blurt out without a warning and it is only later that your eyes are popping out as words register in your mind. "What?" Loki is confused. He blinks and tilts his head a bit. "Uhh, no. I...don't." He does not know why he is answering that question. "Do you have a naval piercing?" He asks, genuinely curious; more like cautious. "God no," you gasp, feeling your hand go over your naval to check. You blow out some of that hot air burning inside you. Loki inhales, trying to look at anything but you. "Have you ever tried braiding your hair?" Even though it is an interesting question, it is a bit strange coming from Loki. "Like, like those side braids?" You ask softly, showing him a rough example on your hair. Loki nods. "No-" you shake your head- "but it'll look good on you." Loki nods. "You too. It will look great on you as well." "And a bun at back will look good on you as well." A minute or two passes as you two sit there awkwardly, trying to find something to talk about. You look at your wrist to watch the time before realising you are not wearing a watch. Loki is scratching an itch on his palm as he tries to come up with a strategy. "Oh!" you jolt up in your seat at a sudden realisation. "the kids!" "Hmm?" "We should find Lulu and Javier." "Oh! Yes!" Loki nods and gathers the blankets and the headphones, keeping them at one side before getting up with you. "We should find them and get back home." "I hope they are okay." "They better be okay or I will kill those colourful bastards for neglecting the kids in their care." And off you two go into the alien rave, thinking the new door has been shut for good, never anticipating the events that are about to come that would change the whole dynamic of many relationships.

#loki #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki fanfic #loki series #mcu loki #loki fluff #loki feels #loki smut #loki fanfiction #fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff #marvel smut #It's The Avengers #fluff #smut #loki smile

64 notes · View notes

nazyalenskyism · 3 years

Text

Shadows in My Mind

Summary: It wasn't supposed to happen like this, not yet. A/N: I really don't know how to tag this fic but it's been sitting in my drafts for a few months and I hope you like it! As always feedback appreciated, and thanks for taking the time to read! <3 The rest of the fic is under the cut!

Ao3: Shadows in My Mind

“No,” she hissed, pressing all of her weight into her hands but the pallor of his skin kept worsening despite her efforts. “No. Hey. Stay awake!” Zoya snapped, tapping his cheek with her blood stained fingers. She fought back a wince as she left scarlet prints on his face, his unfocused eyes fluttering open at the sharp pain she’d dealt him. “I won’t let you leave me, you idiot. You’re not allowed to leave.” Zoya couldn’t even summon the horror that would usually wash over her when tears rose in her eyes. She rarely let them fall, but now, they streamed down her face as her best efforts yielded no results. She continued pushing down on the wound, feeling Nikolai’s weary gaze on her when she paused for a moment, using her Squallers’ abilities to throw her voice, calling for someone, anyone, even though she knew there would be no answer. ‘This can’t be how this ends,’ Zoya let herself despair for a moment before turning back to Nikolai, ‘he was supposed to have more time.’ She steeled herself, ripping off a sleeve of her bloodied and torn shirt, pressing it into the wound. Her bones were tired, her powers screaming, she wanted nothing more than to curl up on the ground and close her eyes, but she couldn’t afford that-- not until she’d saved Nikolai. ‘If I save him, then everything will be fine.’

“Okay,” she whispered, “okay, we can do this. I just have to reapply pressure before I get you onto your feet.” She reached out, faltering when warm fingers wrapped around her wrist. Nikolai looked up at her, pale, bloodied and beaten, but his eyes were still bright. “Nikolai you need to stand up, if you can walk, we’ll do that, or I’ll carry you.” ‘Whatever it takes,’ she thought, trying to pull herself from his grip, but he was surprisingly strong.

“Zoya,” he said hoarsely, “it’s no use, dear.”

“No,” she snapped, looking at him incredulously, “you’re always the one babbling on about hope and optimism, you do not get to tell me it’s futile. Not now,” but in her heart, she realized that she was at yet another funeral, being left behind again. He was going to leave her. He had promised that he would come back. He was leaving her.

“Nazyalensky,” Nikolai muttered, fingers brushing away the tears that had spilled from her eyes. “Don’t shed tears for me, I don’t like seeing you cry.”

“Well I don’t like seeing you--” she broke off, she couldn’t do this.

“Hey,” he said softly, “I need you to go back to the others, there’s a document with the finance minister, and another with Tolya. I need you to put them into action immediately, don’t give anyone a chance to hurt our country.”

‘Our country’. “You’re not thinking about Ravka, not right now.”

“I’m running low on moments,” he replied, and to her horror his eyes were shining too.

“We can try,” she insisted, “we can’t be too far from the others.”

“No,” he said firmly, “I’m fine where I am. I need you to do something for me.” She nodded without hesitation and he continued, “let’s pretend we’re an old married couple.”

“What?” Zoya croaked.

“Tell me a lie. Tell me it will be alright,” his eyes were wide, imploring.

She pulled on her best guise, what he’d taught her, how to play the part. “Don’t be daft, of course you’ll be fine. You think that your best general would let you d--” she choked back a sob. “That she would let you die? No, you’re going to make it back to the camp, and the healers will patch you up perfectly, or else they’ll have me to deal with. You’ll ride back to a capital on your favourite horse in your best coat, the victorious king of a resilient country.”

“Will there be a ball in my honour?” the corners of his lips pulled up, “I would’ve loved to dance with every lady in the country.”

“Of course,” she replied, clinging on to the moment, this moment that was just them as if nothing was wrong, as if this was not their last moment like this. “They’ll write ballads in your honour, and perform hours into the night, the festivities will last for weeks, until you can’t stomach any more parties. All the ladies will be fawning over a chance to dance with their handsome king”

“Handsome?” he let out a laugh, wincing immediately, clutching at the wound in his side. Zoya carefully peeled his hand back, replacing it with her own over the injury. She tried not to think about how feverish his skin was under her hand, how his blood had soaked through the fabric of her balled shirt sleeve. ‘I need to remember everything about this moment.’

“Yes. Handsome.”

His eyes found hers, a steadfast sincerity behind them. “You’re forgetting how the king may dance with every woman in the country, but the entire evening, his eyes will only be on one.”

“You will meet a nice girl, fall hopelessly in love, have too many children to inherit your throne, and you will grow old with a family and country that love you as you deserve, ” Zoya continued, attempting to ignore his words, the look in his eyes.

“The woman whose name the wind whispers in his dreams.”

She pushed on, “you will be a fantastic king, you will--”

“And if he never summoned the courage to follow his heart, he would spend every day of the rest of his life wondering what could have been if he had been able to make a queen out of his ruthless general.”

“Nikolai--”

“Zoya,” he whispered, “I fear that I don’t have much time left. Can I ask of one more favour from you?”

“I thought kings never begged.” She bit out as Nikolai pushed aside new tears, his hand warm against her cheek.

He gave her a sad smile, “is it truly begging when asking something of a queen? If not, then it will be our secret.” His voice was growing fainter with each word and Zoya felt her heart lurching. She was not ready. ‘Help me’ she implored to the dragon inside her, but the Saints were quiet, like they always were. No one would be coming to save her, they never did.

She nodded resolutely, “what do you need?”

“Will you kiss me sweetly? In my dreams you always do, and this seems like nothing if not a dream of mine.”

“Nikolai you--”

“Nazyalensky, humour me please. I know you don’t share my sentiments but--”

He was cut off as Zoya dipped down, pressing her lips against his fiercely with years worth of longing, hope, desperation combined with her heart’s mournful goodbye to a future they would never see. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, kissing her harder until she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

She pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against his. “That was sweeter than I ever dreamed,” he said quietly.

Zoya took his hand in hers, “don’t go.”

“I have to,” his voice was barely there now. She drew back, his fluttering eyelids racking another sob from her chest. “I’ll see you again one day, I hope.” He pushed open his eyes, gazing at her intently, as if struggling to commit each detail to memory, to hold onto the picture for a moment longer. “Don’t forget me.” Nikolai drew their intertwined hands towards him, pressing a brief kiss against her knuckles.

“I won’t.”

“I know,” he smiled up at her, before closing his eyes. “I’m only going to take a short nap, Zoya dear. Wake me up when our friends are here.”

She was fully weeping now, “I will, Nikolai. I will.”

The world was quiet for a few moments, Nikolai’s slowing breaths the only sound.

Then, as quick as sleep, he was gone.

For a shining moment, she didn’t believe it, but it shattered all too quickly when she pressed her fingers to his neck. Nothing. He was truly gone.

“No, no, no,” she murmured, throwing herself over his warm body, crying out as she felt the wind knock out of her chest, her lungs aching from impact. A searing bright light and stars engulfed her vision and she fell back, breathless, cold, smooth tile delivering another blow to her battered body.

She blinked rapidly, attempting to right herself, her surroundings only just beginning to register in her mind. She was in a secret cell hidden behind the Darkling’s, now Nikolai’s war room in the Little Palace. It was the place that they were keeping the Darkling— or at least had been— until he had escaped, wreaking havoc and delivering the fatal blow to Nikolai.

‘Nikolai,’ Zoya thought, scrambling to her feet despite the pain. How had she gotten here? She had been in the middle of a barren battlefield, her body thrown over her king’s lifeless one… had she been captured? Where was his body? Zoya glanced down at the broken skin on her hands that had braced her fall backwards. They were clean, no trace blood. She frowned, her shirt was whole, her kefta clasped overtop of it. Last she’d remembered, it had been torn off her back as she fought in battle. Looking up, Zoya found a chair that had toppled over laying at her feet, and a metal table before her, and behind it, was the Darkling, a predatory smile playing at his lips.

“Did you like that little dream?” his voice was as smooth as glass, his hands bound together before him. “All those tears for your little boy king, did you cry like that for me, Zoya?”

She said nothing, her head still fuzzy. ‘What was happening?’

“No,” he continued, his eyes fixed on her, trying to gauge her emotions. She knew this game, he found the gaps in your armor and twisted the knife until you were writhing on the floor and he was satisfied with his work. “I don’t suppose you did, you were pretending to hate me at the time, what with the way that you turned against me,” he sneered, raising an eyebrow at her unflinching demeanor. So it had all been fake? Then why did it feel so real? She could feel Nikolai’s lifeless presence over her like an enormous weight, even now.

“What was that?” Zoya asked, pushing to make her tone as even as possible. Her fingers dug into her crossed arms, forcing herself to stay in place. She needed answers, she couldn’t afford to run out of the room and make sure that Nikolai was actually okay. As her head cleared, she began to remember what had happened. She’d volunteered to try to get the Darkling to talk, she hadn’t wanted anyone else to have to deal with him. It was her fault that he was back and she refused to let him hurt her friends again. Nikolai had been hesitant, and the look he’d given her at the meeting was puzzling. She had assumed it was because of the story she’d told him that night in the Fold, about what the Darkling had said to her. But now, after whatever she had just experienced, she wasn’t so sure.

“That,” the Darkling began, pulling Zoya’s attention back to him. “That was a little glimpse into your future.”

Zoya rolled her eyes, unable to help herself, “let me guess, that’s what’ll happen if I don’t let you go?”

“No,” he leaned back in his chair, “it’s inevitable now, that’s the only outcome left after what you and your prince did in the fold.”

“King,” she replied absently. She didn’t believe him for a second, but the vision had been so real-- she could still feel Nikolai’s blood on her hands, his lips pressing against hers, his lack of a pulse under her frantic fingers. It wasn’t real, and it wasn’t her future. The Saints hadn’t been able to determine this for her and she sure as hell wasn’t going to let the man in front of her try to.

“So it can’t be stopped then?”

He looked up at her, “oh noble Zoya, so desperate to save everyone. First it was those cubs, then your aunt, Juris, and now the Lantsov pup. As much as you try, they all die in the end. The sooner you learn that, the easier it will be.”

‘No. No. You don’t let him play these games.’ Her inner thoughts were echoed by the dragon inside of her, and it took everything to stop herself from slamming the Darkling’s face into the table. As she took a step towards him, planning her next move with blood roaring in her ears, the door behind her flung open.

“Zoya, we need you.”

She frowned, she needed answers. “ Give me a minute,” she called.

“Now, Commander.”

“Ask your little king how he felt about that vision.”

Zoya spun around on him, unable to hide her shock. “You showed it to him?

“Why don’t you ask him what it felt like to die? He should remember that feeling, it’s going to happen again sooner than later.”

Zoya forced her feet out the door, slamming it behind her as she followed Tolya into the viewing room, where a mirror looked out at their prisoner.

“What is it?”

“What happened in there? You froze, and the next thing I knew you were crashing to the ground.”

She waved him off impatiently, her heart still racing from the Darkling’s parting words, “where’s Nikolai?”

“He’s with Ehri in the gardens, why?”

“Go check,” she said, her chest tightening, “go check on them now.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, briefly touching her arm. His face was full of concern and Zoya couldn’t take anymore heartbreak now. She couldn’t imagine the possibility that anything might take her friends from her.

“I’m fine,” she snapped. “Go now, and check on David and Genya and Tamar too, that’s an order.”

He shot her another puzzled look before leaving her alone in the observation room, while the quiet slowly began to consume her. She didn’t order her friends around, not like that, but with every passing second she felt more of her control slip away. Her heart was full of pain, she couldn’t see anything but red.

He’s fine, it’s alright. They’re all unharmed. But it wasn’t enough. She sank to the floor, knees drawn to her chest, numb as the dream repeated itself again and again in her mind. All the while her king strolled through the gardens, entertaining his future queen at his side, unaware that all she could feel was his lifeless body under her, as she watched him die over and over again.

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoyalai fic #tgt #the grishaverse #king of scars #king of scars fic #rule of wolves #row fic #kos #row

34 notes · View notes

maulusque · 3 years

Text

guess who just learned a whole lot about burns for a smut fic

it me.

so anyway now i have Ideas about how clone medics would treat blaster burns and they Definitely aren’t all going to make it into the fic because the blaster burn is honestly supposed to be an excuse for one character to undress the other

TW: burns, description of how severe burns affect the body (clinical, not graphic) and burn treatment

So, let’s assume that damage from a blaster bolt is basically a burn that is very small in terms of surface area, and whose depth depends on whether or not it was a direct hit, any armor you were wearing, the power of the blaster, etc. So you get 3rd and 4th degree burns that are like an inch square, which you don’t really see in the real world that often. I think any blaster bolt that comes into contact with a person is going to inflict AT LEAST a third degree burn (which means the epidermis and dermis are destroyed, basically the whole thickness of the skin), but usually would be deeper (4th degree), destroying muscle and bone and whatever else is in there. You’d only get away with a second degree burn if the blaster bolt just skimmed you and didn’t actually hit. Skin around the blaster wound would be white or black.

A skimming shot (2nd degree burn) would actually be the most painful, because once you get to 3rd and 4th degree burns, the nerve endings are destroyed so you don’t feel any pain. Which means that when you get shot with a full-power blaster bolt, you might feel a momentary flash of pain, but then nothing, and if the shot doesn’t immediately down you, you’d probably just keep going, and you might not even notice. Which. Imagine the angst potential of a clone trooper being shot 3 or 4 times and just. not knowing. Clone troopers who keep fighting despite being riddled with blaster bolts, right up until they collapse dead, never even knowing they were shot. Oof.

On the other hand, a weaker shot, say, one that hit a weak point in your armor or came from an underpowered blaster, might dissipate slightly on contact, meaning you’d still get the deep wound that wouldn’t hurt, but there’d be a small area of 3rd and 2nd degree burn around the opening, which would hurt like hell. A painful blaster wound would be a good sign, since it means it isn’t as deep.

Treating blaster burns wouldn’t be quite like real-world burn treatment, because real-world burns, especially severe 3rd and 4th degree burns, tend to cover a lot more surface area of the body than a blaster bolt would, because the things that tend to burn you that badly are not tiny and focused like a blaster bolt. Which means a blaster wound is probably less lethal than severe 4th degree burns, so yay for that i guess. Bacta patches, as well as the ability to cover the entire wound site easily without risking damage to delicate tissue, would greatly reduce the risk of infection.

Treatment involves excision (removal) of dead tissue, and usually for 3rd degree burns, skin grafts. 4th degree burns tend to need amputation- but I’m not sure if that would apply in a situation where the burn is deep but very small- instead of burning your fingers down to the bones (don’t go look at the wikipedia article for burns unless you want to see that), it’s just one small area of your body, with living tissue all around it. And since Star Wars has Magic Healing Juice, clone medics probably don’t need to go around performing amputations on everyone who gets shot in a limb.

I think that burn treatment in the Clone Wars would be somewhat like this:

-in the field, slap a big ol’ bacta patch on it, to protect the wound and help stabilize the patient until further treatment can be performed (bacta would help the body handle the sudden physical trauma, as well as actively fight off any infectious microorganisms). Most blaster burns would probably heal okay with just a bacta patch (see: Rex on Saleucami), but really won’t heal properly without actual treatment. (Although Rex seemed to be just fine the next day, despite the nerve damage that immobilized his arm. My personal theory is that Kix used some sort of mega bacta patch, a step up from the standard. The little blinky lights on it indicate that it has electric components for some reason, so my interpretation is that somehow that bacta patch has Extra Features (tm) that allow it to regenerate nerves)

-once there is more time, the patient can be treated for reals. Removal of dead tissue could be accomplished by a medic with a scalpel, but it would also be interesting if there was a patch or ointment of some kind which was applied to a wound which would just, dissolve the dead tissue without damaging the surrounding tissue. Perhaps it involves some sort of microbe. Sort of like those tanks of tiny fish you stick your feet in and they nibble all the dead skin off your toes? Like that, but microscopic and for wound care.

-the medic would then apply a burn patch, which is essentially a specialized bacta patch. The patch not only applies bacta to the wound, but also contains a pre-generated skin graft, so that as the wound heals, it incorporates the skin tissue from the patch into the healing wound site. The patch is not meant to be removed or replaced. Eventually, once the wound is healed, the top layer of the bacta patch is shed like dead skin flaking off a sunburn. These patches were developed specifically for the GAR, and can only be used on clones, since the skin tissue is generated from clone stem cells. The burn patches greatly speed up and improve burn treatment, since clone medics don’t have to go back in later and perform a skin graft, and subsequently monitor the healing of two wound sites, which would greatly increase the chance of infection.

-Nerve regeneration does not always occur with the standard burn patches, and if it does, is not always complete or perfect. Many clones, therefore, have small numb patches at the sites of old blaster wounds. They may also suffer chronic cutaneous pain at those sites. Unlike in the real world, treatment for this would exist, but would not be available to clone troopers since clone trooper healthcare sucks.

-Nerve-regenerating treatments, like Rex received on Saleucami, are expensive, and are only used when the nerve damage is severe enough to be disabling (e.g. Rex’s arm). The special patches are particularly costly, and normally Kix would have waited until Rex was back in the medbay in order to apply a slightly less costly treatment for his nerve damage, but since they weren’t able to transport Rex and had to treat him in the field, and the nerve-regeneration treatments become less effective the longer treatment is delayed, Kix used the Mega-Healing Patch right away.

-so post-engagement med-bays would have the following procedure: blaster wound patients who are well enough to move on their own (which is more of them than you might expect, since they’re not bleeding out or immobilized by pain), would line up in the med-bay, probably along a wall or in a designated area. Medical techs would go around, removing armor and blacks around wound sites and cleaning the area with water. They would then apply debriding ointment (the dead-tissue-eating stuff), and move on to the next patient while the microscopic pedicure fishes do their jobs. The patient would be checked every ten minutes or so to see if the ointment has finished removing all of the dead tissue. I think it would be cool if the ointment fizzed as it worked, due to the microorganisms releasing gasses as they metabolize dead tissue, and once the ointment stops fizzing, you know it’s done.

Once that is done, the ointment is gently removed, and a burn patch is applied. The patient is assessed for further treatment, paperwork is filled out, painkillers given if the wound is less severe (and therefore painful), and the trooper is free to go. Troopers would probably be talking to each other and cracking jokes, singing songs, or complaining about being bored. Most of them aren’t even in pain. Medics aren’t at all reluctant to physically hogtie a trooper to prevent them from moving since it’s easy to forget that you’re wounded and start roughhousing with your brothers.

-improperly treated blaster wounds, i.e. ones that only received a bacta patch instead of a burn patch, would take much longer to heal, would leave a more noticeable scar, and would cause the skin and muscle of the healing wound to contract, which could be painful and limit mobility, depending on the location of the wound.

-which is why it is common practice to check your squad-mates for blaster wounds they may have missed after engagements, and it’s not uncommon for a medic to menacingly track you down like “I know you got shot, i saw it happen, now get your ass into my med bay before i write you up for clinical stupidity”

so ANYWAY there’s my Clone Wars Medical Headcanon of the day, happy new year. I’m going to go back to writing my smut and if anyone can guess the pairing i will be VERY impressed

MORE under the cut because i fell down a bit of a rabbit hole lol

OKAY so dehydration is a big concern with burns because the skin is what retains fluid and severe burns obviously damage your skin. Fluid leaks from the burn area, since the skin is no longer present to contain it, and this leads to loss of electrolytes and dehydration, and can be lethal. From my brief google foray, it seems that it wouldn’t be a huge concern for blaster wounds, since the surface area that is burned is very small. However, multiple blaster wounds would probably be dangerously dehydrating. Clone troopers in standard blaster wound treatment (i.e. the guys sitting around bored while the debriding ointment fizzes) are probably fine with oral rehydration, meaning that someone shoves a bottle of rehydration formula at them and makes them drink it while they wait.

Patients with more severe blaster wounds are probably kept hydrated intravenously.

There are also potential complications during or after wound healing that are very interesting! Fluids continue to leak from damaged tissue while the wound is healing, and if the surface heals before the deep tissue, can lead to edema (basically, accumulation of fluid in body tissue) can occur. Edemas get worse with rehydration. If the wound doesn’t heal quite right, it can form a compartment, which is a closed space of muscle tissue, nerves, and blood vessels, surrounded by a fascia, which doesn’t stretch. If fluid is leaking into the compartment, the pressure can compress capillaries and nerves, which is called compartment syndrome. Troopers would be told to look out for the symptoms after they are released from medbay. Symptoms include:

-severe pain, out of proportion to the wound, which does not respond to pain medication

-paleness of skin

-weakness or, in severe cases, paralysis of limb

-prolonged capillary refill time (takes a long time for capillaries to refill with blood)

This would have to be surgically treated.

3rd degree burns in real life can take months or years to heal. Due to Star Wars Advanced Healing Juice, and clone trooper genetic enhancements allowing them to heal faster than standard humans, this time is reduced to weeks or even days (again, see Rex on Saleucami).

#tw: burns #clone trooper healthcare #hc #maulusque's stuff

46 notes · View notes