#it could actually also loosely fit about around their late teens years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

2000scnt · 1 year

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You can love me…but you will hate me too.

•Miles Fairchild mini series.

Never actually posted on here before but this will be my first time and with that I will be posting a short story based on Miles Fairchild, the love of my life<3 loosely going along with the plot of ‘the turning’ Kind of forgot the movie BUT LETS GOOO. Also, I RARELY find good stories of this beloved Finn character, but I digress. Moving along!

//warning/ nsfw// violence, profanity, sexual situations// please be respectful.

•Chapter 1•

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It was a cold foggy Friday morning. The air was crisp and unforgiving as Madeline breathed out warm puffs, it made her look like a dragon as she smiled to herself in amazement. She wasn’t used to the cold, she was from the sunny state of California. She did have a childlike peculiarity only when she was alone or comfortable enough with another person. The smallest thing as seeing her exhales make small clouds was most intriguing.

Madeline inhaled deeply letting the cold sting her lungs. She coughed out quickly. “Jesus.” She swallowed hard and turned to walk towards her first class. The grounds of her private school here in Rochester, New Hampshire was grand and impressive, but still your typical rich kid palace. The brick, the beautiful archways, and dazzling open grounds that was more lively during the spring. Bountiful flowers and greenery. But during the fall and winter, it was just grey and wet from the rain. Yes, the grass was more green and vibrant in color from the rain, but as you know, Madeline missed home and the spring was what most brought her closer to it.

To explain a little more, the teen was sent away by her parents for not being able to fit in regular public school. Madeline’s parents were beyond loaded. Her father was a huge deal in New York and Los Angeles as a big time attorney. Her mother was a screen writer for movies and such, mostly films about women empowerment and positions of dominance and privilege of men in the world. The year was 1994 and times were changing just as her mom was. Which seemed ironic seeing as her husband was held at the upmost position just for being an executive asshole. But that’s not what this is about.

Madeline was getting badly bullied in her old school in California for being a rich kid and which brought on a bad attitude. She hated being called rich kid but she also understood why others hated her for it. Everything was handed to her in a silver platter but it’s not like she asked to be born into it. She caused fights unintentionally as she would say. Her parents felt she was disconnecting from the world and becoming an unsociable outcast and ruining their reputation by constantly rebelling, they couldn’t have that. So, with their big dollars they sent her across the country to feel even more disconnected. There was the comfort of her father being close enough in New York for visits and such but her dad had no idea how to talk to his own daughter, so how much comfort could he bring.

Madeline’s slick black shoes clicked against the stone floors as she continued towards a large double door entrance leading into the grand foyer of the building. There was only around 500 students in their school, the outside looked like a castle but the inside was definitely more cozy but still classy. She struggled to pull the heavy oak door open but eventually was able to slither in. The door thumbed closed behind her as she quickly scurried across the parquet flooring. Her shoes now making a squeaking sound with her fast pace.

Her first class was Physics and she was running late, had she been paying attention to her watch she would’ve realized her break was over 7 minutes before. This is how she was, always late and always careless, sometimes thoughtless. Her parents always scolded her for having her head in the clouds but sometimes she had a lot on her mind, so when it finally went silent she would just go on autopilot.

The day was finally friday, she had no assignments due but to study and then she would have the weekend off. Her father was planning to pick her up and take her up to New York to ‘hang out’ as he’d say, but that was just her in his penthouse on the 56th floor waiting for him to get home and only being allowed to take the car to SAKS FIFTH, get takeout or take a walk in the park with security supervision. Didn’t seem all that fun but being able to leave this dreadful place was good enough for her.

Unfortunately for Madeline, school here in the east coast was no different. She still barely had any friends and was still getting bullied for being ‘weird’. She tried to be friendly and nice but with these bratty kids it didn’t last long. What was she doing wrong? It’s not like she was amazingly beautiful where they could be jealous? Or that she was more loaded than they were? Or that she was being rude or mean? Cause that was definitely not the truth unless they had it coming. No, she was just quiet and tried to keep to herself. Although it was no different here, she was still excelling in the curriculum and just wanted to stay out of trouble this time. Not let her anger get the best of her, again… and maybe just make her parents proud. Even if this felt like a prison.

Madeline’s watch beeped again as she was now 13 minutes late for class. She groaned and smacked her head against her palm and began to sprint down the hallway. The paintings on the walls of men and woman looking at her in disappointment to her tardiness. Her slightly short plaid skirt of maroon and navy flapped against her tan legs. Thankfully, Madeline was able to keep her tan even though she’s been here for a full year. It contrasted well with her light caramel hair. Her dark features coming from her mothers side, natives of Arizona who migrated from the reserves. Sometimes her mother would take her to visit her cousins and aunts who still lived on the reservations, but as she got older the less her mother felt the need to try and stay close to her roots. Although, it was like the more successful she got she didn’t want to associate with them anymore, it angered Madeline but her mother forbid her from visiting with the excuse that she was too young to go alone. Besides her uncanny resemblance to her mother, one thing she got from her father was her dark blue eyes. They were cold and deep and seemed odd against her Sunkist skin tone.

Madeline huffed and puffed as she ran down the hallway. Passing multiple open doors. Catching students attention. She quickly looked back down at her watch to see two minutes had passed. “Why do these hallways have to be so damn long!” She heaved as she looked back up again only to come to a screeching holt. Although, it didn’t help her much because she still collided with a standing figure who had stopped to pick up a pencil from the floor.

Madeline felt as though she had fallen onto a wooden plank as they both fell onto the cold hard floor. The person groaned in pain as he had taken most of the fall with his back. She barely had time to recover when a booming voice yelled out. “What the fuck! Watch where you’re going you cow!” Madeline gasped in surprise when she realized it was miles, Miles Fairchild. The miles Fairchild. The kids parents who’d recently died in a crash. The kid who’s been causing trouble and being the tortured loner. Wait- forget that, did he just call me a cow?

Madeline quickly climbed off him and sat down on the floor to shake off the dizziness. Miles stood up slowly and dusted his uniform off. His vest was spotless and his navy jacket was not even creased. He always kept himself at his best. His dark alluring curls were perfectly untouched and his pale skin was flawless like a vampire. His dark stoic eyes stared down at Madeline like she was a piece of trash. His bright red lips pursed in disgust. His freckled nose wiggled slightly as though he smelled something rancid in the air.

Madeline anticipated his response in slight fear. Miles was definitely a golden boy, handsome, popular, and cleverly smart. But he was definitely an ass. He intimidated everyone and was a bully when he was bored. He frightened everyone, especially lately, after his parents. He was mean for sport now.

Madeline expected him to stomp on her or spit and curse her name. What he did next was definitely unexpected. He leaned down slowly holding eye contact with her. His dark eyes held something in them that Madeline couldn’t read. Suddenly he reached his hand out to her. He wanted to help her up. Madeline smiled slightly. Miles stilled as he stared back at her eyes. They were like the deep blue sea, mysterious and it seemed to almost swallow him up. She was entrancing with her long dark lashes, but he was quick to snap out of it. Who was this nobody? He thought. Madeline softly grabbed his awaiting hand and he slowly pulled her up. He brought her close to his chest which made her cautiously bring a hand up to his chest to bring some kind of space between them. She gulped, she’d never been this close to a boy. Besides that, what the hell was he doing?

Miles stood like that for a minute with his eyes closed before slightly moving his head into the crook of her neck. He rubbed his nose up slowly and breathed her in. Madeline was frozen. This is beyond my comprehension? How do I even handle this? She questioned. He then moved up and that’s when Madeline felt his oddly cold lips rub against the rim of her ear. He sucked in a breath and sighed. “You smell like a cheap whore.” He whispered with a chuckle.

Madeline fell back onto the ground as he had pushed her back down. She hissed in pain from the brute force he had used. This is what you get for falling for it. All boys are the same. He walked past her swiftly with a couple more chuckles under his breath. She whipped her head around to say something but he was already too far down the hallway looking at her with cold disgust and then quickly turning the corner. “Fucking asshole!” Madeline seethed as she slammed her palm against the floor. Her wrist folded weirdly and she quickly pulled it against her chest in pain. She rolled her eyes, nice move idiot..

*Hope you enjoyed! Keep going!*

#miles fairchild #the turning #enemies to lovers #smut #miniseries #miles x reader #scary #finn wolfhard #fanfic #readthis #fypシ #romance #dark aesthetic #fanfiction #love me #love #the turning x reader

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meatbricks · 6 months

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I’d love to hear some general hc’s about the killers. Sfw, nsft, whatever.

FUCK YES LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOO—

seriously though i'm so glad you asked for this because i've been looking for an excuse to actually sit down and add on to my hc list so i could post it here!!

(hcs are under the cut LOL)

BOTH OF THE KILLERS:

they're romantically involved to some extent (although the term "romantically" is used loosely; whatever they have going on is. very thoroughly fucked up LOL)

sometimes they fuck in front of victims that they plan to sexually abuse as a way to taunt/threaten them (i.e., "this is what's gonna happen to you in a little bit")

while both have separate motives (more about that later), they have sort of a symbiotic relationship in terms of their crimes (i.e., one of them picks victims/murder methods, one of them stalks victims, etc)

both of them kill people, but only one of them paints; this doesn't necessarily mean that he's more into painting than killing, though, as he values both of them equally as "art forms"

they live in an "abandoned" house that's basically located in the middle of nowhere (henceforth referred to as the Spook Zone™); "abandoned" i.e., no one officially owns or is aware of the property anymore

they officially, formally "met" at a bar, but have technically known each other since childhood via repeated incidental meetings (eg. at the local playground, went to the same daycare program, etc)

they don't actually know each other's real names and only know each other by the nicknames they introduced themselves as, respectively (long hair guy is Painter, masked guy is Bruteforce)

PAINTER:

very thin with long, stringy black hair; about 5'10" (177.8 cm) and severely underweight

ridiculously pale due to almost no exposure to the sun

male, 27 years old (at the time of active crimes), pansexual

rarely ever sleeps or eats, is usually awake and busy working on his art

most of the paintings are made before the actual murders are committed

half Japanese; Japanese biological dad left at some point and his white mom ended up remarrying, thus he mostly grew up with white parents

is autistic and has depression to some extent, but was never actually diagnosed with either because his parents didn't want to acknowledge it

has had very low testosterone levels since birth (or at least extremely early childhood), thus never grew any body hair and never had his voice drop at puberty

was very isolated for most of his childhood; lived in a rural, secluded area and didn't have any friends at school due to his appearance

had a younger sister, whom he sexually assaulted and eventually murdered when he was in his late teens and she was in her very early childhood (i.e., 3-6 age range)

this led to his parents disowning and institutionalizing him, which resulted in him developing strange views on sexuality, morality, and the human condition due to being around other unstable people

ended up escaping the mental hospital at some point; romanticizes the time he spent there, thus occasionally wearing his hospital gown

entirely self-taught as far as his art goes, could be considered a savant of sorts

occasionally writes in addition to painting; most of what he writes is poetry that relates in some way to his crimes

used to be homeless, currently lives in the Spook Zone™ rent-free

is a sexual sadist, which effectively serves as a motive for his crimes; most of the paintings and methods in which victims are killed come from his sexual fantasies

also has necrophiliac tendencies and preserves some of the physically smaller corpses (eg. cory, fiona, etc) for sexual use

interestingly, has no sexual attraction towards children specifically; generally only preserves them due to the fact that they're easier to transport than adults

sees his victims as "beautiful" & generally finds beauty in human imperfection, pain, and suffering; tortures/kills people to enhance their "beauty" by his standards and make them fit his "artistic vision"

specifically fond of twisting sibling relationships to fit this "artistic vision", typically in sexual or violent ways (or via both means, if the victims are really unlucky)

fascinated by human anatomy and sees the imperfect, "beautiful" human body as a canvas of sorts, views his crimes as art in the same way he views his paintings as art

also views his own pain and suffering "beautiful" and intentionally hurts himself/gets hurt frequently; is technically a sexual masochist (most of his self injury is done during masturbation)

hypersexual & willing to engage in sexual activity 99.9% of the time, is also very open and unabashed about his sexual habits & desires

has a habit of referring to certain things by weird euphemisms (eg., calls his dick his "paintbrush")

is usually the one to go out and stalk victims before killing them, enjoys doing so thoroughly as it gives him both jerk-off material (he likes to watch his victims sleep) and a reference for his artwork

really, really doesn't like wearing clothes (especially shoes for whatever reason)

incredibly narcissistic and delusional, believes that everyone should (and will) appreciate him & his artwork; has a very fragile ego as a result and is sometimes prone to emotional breakdowns

despite mainly being motivated by sexual sadism and Artistic Drive™, he'll sometimes kill out of Narcissistic Rage™, frustration, or because of artblock

hides his emotions exceptionally well despite experiencing most of them in extremes & generally appears calm & sophisticated (unless he's Obscenely Horny™ or Fucking Pissed™)

surprisingly intelligent & soft-spoken, speaks very eloquently and politely; also has a slight stutter and uses such to manipulate victims by deliberately appearing pitiful and "charmingly awkward"

has an unhealthy obsession with Bruteforce; views him as the epitome of human imperfection (basically a being made of pure hatred) and wants to see how far that imperfection can be expanded

also likes him because he's Big and Strong™ and can hurt him really good, but can also take a beating himself and puts up with Painter's breakdowns; basically also sees him as a punching bag

gets a huge ego boost out of the fact that Bruteforce goes out of his way to suit his needs 24/7 (i.e., does what he asks in terms of murder-related activities, financial & emotional support, etc)

is fairly codependent as well, not only relying on Bruteforce for security but also wishing to be his "ideal lover" and/or more like him in terms of his whole "imperfection = perfect" thing

BRUTEFORCE:

"strongfat", big and bulky with short, unkempt hair; 6'5" (195.58 cm) and overweight

usually wears masks fashioned out of victims' faces during murders for anonymity purposes

male, 20 years old (at the time of active crimes), bisexual

half Italian; has some Eastern-European heritage as well but not nearly as much as his Italian heritage

has adhd and generalized anxiety disorder; most of his anxieties center around losing painter somehow (i.e., painter leaving/betraying him, him willingly leaving for some reason, painter dying, etc)

looks a little like he has radiation poisoning underneath his mask/clothes in general; may actually have some form of it as a result of frequent exposure to x-rays due to repeated injuries over the years

also developed a benign stomach tumor that was misdiagnosed as malignant & fatal by his former doctor, who later became the mask that he wears

first victim was his girlfriend of 9 months at 17 years old, whom he ended up killing and later eating to dispose of the body; killed her because he believed she was pregnant with his child

eats a lot for Energy Reasons™ & is a bit of a caffeine junkie (only really consumes energy drinks and soda); very rarely sleeps due to these dietary choices

is also a little bit of an alcoholic, steals liquor from victims sometimes

is usually the one to go out and buy things (both for mundane and homicidal uses), has a much more "human-like" complexion as a result of more exposure to the sun

also does most of the housework and groundskeeping, basically just owns the Spook Zone™ now considering its status as technically abandoned

sometimes does freelance stand-up comedy at local bars on open-mic nights; is considerably successful in this endeavor and has become a bit of a town celebrity (no one knows he's a serial killer, of course)

owns several properties and makes money as a landlord, courtesy of his late parents; also steals money from victims every so often

had parents who encouraged his violent tendencies and ended up bullying other kids at school as a result, but never really got in trouble for it because his parents were of relatively high status

not only is this where his homicidal/sadistic tendencies really started to develop, but it also gave him a habit of stealing things (eg. he'd steal girls' dolls and do interesting things with them)

father was a police officer who wanted his son to go into the same field of work; was trained in such work but ultimately didn't pursue a profession in it

has a particular disdain for most police officers as a result of the behavior he observed from his dad's coworkers

ironically refers to himself as "officer brad bagels" every so often as a reference to such

has very anti-natalist views and primarily targets children and families because of it, believes that doing so will help combat overpopulation

is also very disdainful of the way society places emphasis on getting married/entering a romantic relationship, generally dislikes the idea of depending on others' validation that society tries to sell

despite this being his main motivation, he still enjoys & revels in the brutality of his crimes (hence his self-appointed nickname)

is typically the one to choose victims and is often the catalyst for Painter's fantasies that generate the murder method, usually as a result of suggesting methods or making some comment about such things

surprisingly good at coming up with creative torture/murder methods, but more often than not they're very physically disfiguring to the victim and leave them looking like a pile of meat

closeted necrophile and acrotomophile (i.e., amputation fetishist); likes to use severed limbs and other body parts for sexual gratification

also a sexual sadist, but is shyer about and more embarrassed by these desires than Painter is and tries to keep them as secret as possible

psychological/emotional masochist, enjoys being berated/being made to berate himself during sex

agalmatophile (likes dolls), would cut holes in the dolls he'd steal from his classmates when he was younger and use them as sex toys; sometimes even removing limbs as well

usually the one who rapes victims while they're still alive despite the fact that Painter is more into the sexual sadism thing, both because he's bigger & stronger and because Painter likes to watch

has a tendency to get hard during murders due to this, but never really does anything about it if he isn't told to and generally prefers to not do anything about it

oddly charming and charismatic when in public, but is very jittery, loud, and aggressive under pretty much any other circumstance; has a much more volatile temper than Painter and is more physically violent

also a complete and total dumbass; only really knowledgeable on the subject of murder, how to get away with murder, and other murder-related subjects

has a very casual and almost vulgar manner of speaking & is fairly talkative, really is Just Some Guy From Louisiana™

incredibly petty, sometimes chooses victims based on personal grievances (eg. tom harris was killed because he stole this guy's juice box in 3rd grade)

adores Painter and has no idea how to deal with it, as he's never fallen for anyone that intensely before

puts up with Painter's shenanigans & generally does what he wants so that he'll stay (both for practical reasons and because Painter is his emotional support sillyman)

is incredibly grateful for Painter's masochism & the fact that he basically gets to use Painter as a stress ball when he's exceptionally pissed; they have a mutual punching bag thing going on

is aware that his relationship with Painter is unhealthy and abusive (and, ultimately, that he's being manipulated and preyed on to some extent), but doesn't really care and chooses to stay anyways

#this is the answer (ooc)#these are the headcanons #this is the writing #🖌#🪓#🖌🪓#this is the NSFT #this is the answer #urbanspook #the painter urbanspook #urbanspook analog horror #sorry painter is so cringe i just thought it would be funny—

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oviids · 3 years

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pls share some of your spn fic recs 🥺🥺

ok, a few things first:

followers and mutuals who do not have supernatural brainworms, kindly avert your eyes

i don’t normally rec or even read much fanfic any more but this is a CRISIS ok (cont.)

there is so. much. content for deancas out there and i have incredibly high standards, several ancient ao3 bookmarks, can speedread, and want to spare you guys the experience of wading through it all.

i also have a section for spn femslash since I was pretty into that back in the day (sadly a lot less fan content for this :/)

I don’t really like au’s or pure smut (I honestly usually just skim or skip those scenes) so if you’re mainly looking for that kind of thing this probably won’t be very helpful to you. jsyk.

i’m not great at describing stuff but i’ll do my best, i’ll also try and add tw’s when neccesary.

i wil try and keep updating this with any other decent fics i find, feel free to rec stuff too since i’m like 7 years behind.(edit 1/25/21) this is getting looooong so i’m going to start making another list on my spn blog rather than update this one

(edit 1/3/21) since this has gotten pretty long i’ve added rating/approximate word counts and marked my particular favorites with an asterisk.

Dean/Cas fic:

So Says The Sword*** - explicit/85k. FUCK its good...au/time travel where dean is not pulled out of hell by cas and says yes to becoming the michael sword. honestly could serve as an alternative to actually watching the show, if you want to get into dean/cas without actually doing that to yourself.

Fata morgana.* - teen/6k, pst s9 finale. very bela centric and i love it, she finds cas looking for dean in hell.

Redemption Road -misc/600+k. an incredibly long fic from a collaborative writing group back in the day. canon divergent from the end of s6 on, has a cool take on godstiel and the leviathans, as well as the lovecratian mythos connection. ngl when i reread it i only made it about 28% in but imo the casual reader can actually stop around there, the rest concerns a lovecraftian apocalypse that is still good (i think i don’t remember it very well) but not required to enjoy the first half. if you prefer i have an ebook version i can send you on gdrive.

Someone Who's Feeling For Me* - mature/45k, s12. they run into lisa braeden and dean thinks cas is into her while cas thinks dean still likes her. treats lisa way better than the show ever did and the miscommunication is pretty funny rather than annoying.

a turn of the earth - mature/95k. time travel fic where cas from s10 keeps showing up in deans life from a few years before s1 to right before the hellhounds take his soul. slow burn, good character study, and at one point cas punches the dad in the face and it rules.

On the Wings of War - teen/85k, canon divergent s5. dean accidentally becomes the Horseman of War. plays fun, fast and loose with biblical lore, michael has some rights.

Named - mature/95k, alternate s5. EXTREMELY blasphemous in a fun sexy way. manages to predict metatron almost to a T. there’s one major character death and its literally jesus christ, everyone is very sad about it and it sets the rest of the story rolling. an alternate interpretation of cas’ mission to raise dean from hell which had me on the floor. ngl its kind of misogynistic at points, but its from 2010 and tracks with late oughts-2010 spn (sorry anna the author did you dirty here:/).

The Girlfriend Experience - explicit/15k. uhhh i don’t normally rec or even read smutty stuff unless someone i know is specifically asking for it but this has stuff like sam trying to be a good ally and dean thinking holding hands with cas is ‘kinda gay :/’ minutes after having gay sex with him.

i crippled your heart a hundred times - explicit/19k, s8. cas confesses his feelings and dean spends a long time getting his head out of his ass about it. truly hits different after the actual confession, despite being written six years early it feels like its actually what could have gone down more or less if the writers weren’t talentless demons who hate us.

My Roots Take Flight** - mature/125k. reverse au where cas is a hunter and dean’s an angel...OR IS IT???? an alternate retelling of s4. tw for briefly being set in a psychiatric hospital/the hospital being mentioned somewhat frequently throughout the fic, plus more references to torture in hell and heaven than usual.

The One Thing You Can't Lose* - teen/4k.you know those posts about how cas is a super-strong super-tough ancient warrior but he just lets dean tug him around because he likes it? thats it thats the fic.

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built - teen/14k, post s8′s ‘goodbye stranger.’ cas is on the run with the angel tablet but keeps in touch with sam and dean by text, he and dean still manage to be terrible at Actual communication.

Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day - mature/30k, post s11. a monster that takes the appearance of your soulmate leads to some wild miscommunications and dealing with years of repression, also dean gets to see cas’ true form which is always cool. tw for non-graphic mentions of underage sexual assault/sex work.

Down to Agincourt - mature/explicit/900++++k, endverse continuation. endverse!cas survives his encounter with lucifer and discovers another time-displaced dean from s7. i’ve only read the two of four parts but its really good, veeeeery slow burn, has a lot of fun oc’s and takes a rather surprising but (imo) entertaining and intriguing turn into Hellenic history and mythology. usual tw’s for endverse/endverse!cas but nothing graphic, it’s actually pretty light-hearted (relatively speaking of course).

Nothing Equals the Splendor** - explicit/8k, THEE finale fix it fic you’ve been waiting for! posits that the entire final episode was just a (very bad and lame) djinn’s vision.

like moses and batman and james dean - explicit/31k, post s8. explores dean’s trauma and internalized homophoba from his technically canon experience with sex work and its impact on his relationship with cas. the sex work itself isn’t really shown in any detail but it’s still a relatively heavy fic.

Crazy Diamonds - explicit/25k, s4/alternate s14. fresh-out-of-hell dean and dean from 10 years in the future are displaced from time and sent to each other’s present.

where the weeds take root - explicit/30k. au where the men of letters kick them out of the bunker and they accidentally move out into the country, get over their codependence and semi retire. featuring chicken coop building, sam volunteering at a dog shelter, gardening, and blissfully mundane domesticity.

No Resting Place - teen/6k. djinn dream fic, switches back and forth between cas’ dream of being married to dean and retired from hunting to the aftermath when he wakes up. tw for brief mention of suicide since, y’know, djinn dream.

any port in a storm - mature/52k. post s8 finale. cas and dean have to pose as a couple going through a rough patch for a case and actually deal with their emotional baggage, cas struggles with being human and metatron is up to stuff.

all this and heaven too* - explicit/7k. in the author’s own words ‘...a love letter to every trans person who ever projected onto Dean Winchester.’ absolutely unzipped me emotionally and theologically, its just. so good. tw for very brief mentions of internalized transphobia/dysphoria.

Because it is* - mature/6k, finale fix it. killing chuck does not bring back anyone back and the winchesters spend a very long time dealing with what they’ve lost, cas and dean SOMEHOW still manage to have signifigant communication issues even after the confession. tw for suicidal thoughts/brief attempt.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit* - teen/4k, s6. when cas fell for dean it automatically soulbonded/angel married them, shenanigans ensue when dean finds out during the angel’s civil war. funny and actually written back when s6 was airing so cas is still (or at least pretending to be) kind of an OP asshole which is fun.

Rinse, Repeat - teen/3k, s8. angsty character study of cas as he’s reprogrammed and trained to kill dean. not really dean/cas since its just cas’ pov of canon events but its beautifully written and ends with him snapping out of it through the power of love (also now a canon event!).

Emergence - explicit/59k, canon divergent after s11. dean meets a hunter he only recognizes as their friend claire novak’s missing father, but soon realizes he might be the answer behind the mysterious void in his memories and feelings (aka everyone’s memories of cas are completely wiped away for three years).

Cuckoo And Nest - explicit/10k, early established relationship/character study, cas tries to figure out how he fits into dean’s life and space in the bunker.

Build a Home* - teen/20k, canon divergent s12. sam and eileen are cute and turn the bunker into men of letters/hunters hq and everyone but cas moves in, mutual miscommunication issues and pining ensues.

Down in the River - teen/5k, early s8, cas prays to dean in purgatory while sam and dean try to figure out a way to get him out.

Teaching Poetry to Fish* - mature/52k, ?? BC through the entire series/canon divergent s14 and 15. retelling of crucial scenes throughout the shows timeline from cas’ pov, feat. actual fish and poetry.

the minor fall, the major lift - gen/4k, post confession/finale fixit. dean goes into the empty to save cas and runs into several old friends (and enemies).

With the Kisses of His Mouth* - teen/3k, gen later seasons. dean and cas keep kissing by accident.

Remaining Grace - explicit/109k, alternate s6. au where cas asks dean for help with raphael and dean, of course, does. tw for temporary major character death/semi-graphic depictions of alcohol withdrawal.

The face of heaven.* - teen/10k, au, dean is a regular guy and cas is a fallen star (think ‘stardust’, kinda).

Stories Are Made of Mistakes* - teen/5k. newly human cas has trouble getting used to a human body and humanity in general, but still figures out that he and dean are A Thing before dean does.

Hurry Up And Wait - mature/21k, canon divergent s12. a fairyland and quite possibly LOTR related case comes up and dean goes full fanboy, mary is introduced to the wonders of the peter jackson adaptions, many references and comparisons (including between cas and dean’s ‘friendship’ and arwen/aragon). also charle is still alive and has just been doing fairy stuff this whole time.

There Are Many Things - explicit/28k, s9. cas is extremely lonely/touch-starved and trying to figure out this whole human thing, as well as where he and dean stand after being kicked out of the bunker.

It's A Long Life to Always Be Longing - teen/40k, post s11 finale. amara helps dean by putting him in a magical coma so he can finally get some much needed rest and show him possible futures for him, sam and cas. meanwhile sam and cas go on a roadtrip (or several) to find componets for a spell to wake dean up. really good sam and cas friendship, they actually talk about their shared lucifer trauma and stuff.

Non-Photo Blue - gen/2k, s4/5/alternate s5. fifty moments from cas’ memories of dean.

Tall Grass - explicit/57k, canon divergent post series. cas becomes the ultimate plant dad. feat the wayward sisters gang, cathartic character growth, fun oc’s, domesticity, and lots of actual botanical info-dumping.

on vessels - no rating/gen/2k. established dean/cas, cas tells dean about how he used to imagine what it would be like to have him as his vessel.

search for tomorrow on every shore* - teen/11k, post-finale (extremely derogatory). some angels in jack’s new heaven act out and dean gets temporarily resurrected in 2003 and runs into his younger self.

Architecture of the Minotaur’s Heart - explicit/45k, very canon divergent post s1. dean’s new house seems to have a life and mind of its own, while in his dreams he sees glimpses of a world and apocalypse that never came to be and an angel that looks strangely like his mysterious neighbor, cas. loosely inspired by the book house of leaves (which i highly recommend for fans of weird horror).

The Distance Of The Setting Sun - explicit/17k, post s5. established dean/cas relationship, team free will finally takes advantage of cas’ abilities to go on vacation around the world.

diamond star halo - teen/5k, s11. dean lets cas use him as a temporary vessel while he recovers from rowena’s spell, sam is a long-suffering third-wheel.

Make Known** - teen/16k, s6/7. dean struggles to understand how cas could have become his enemy and whether he ever truly knew him in the first place.

blunt little instrument* - mature/1.4k, post finale. dean finally confronts his father in heaven, very cathartic.

my heart a compass*** - teen/10k, post confession. the empty forces cas to re-experience his most regretted moments while dean tries to snap him out of it and bring him home.

A Crash Course in Someone Else's History - teen/11k, s6. cas from the very start of s4 is brought forward in time by s6!cas to distract the brothers from his and crowley’s plans.

The Cuckoo Father - mature/8k, s7 au. the woman who found cas in the river post-leviathans does not marry him bc he was sent to her by god or whatever, but actually identifies him as jimmy novak and sends him back to claire and amelia.

The Dead Dean Clause* - teen/5k, post alt s5 ending. team free will celebrates surviving taking down lucifer by getting blitzed, cas lies to a cop and gets an impromptu driving lesson. title/description sound dark i know but it’s actually very funny and light.

Suck It, Judy Garland - mature/20k, s12 (after the ‘i love you...i love all of you’ episode). cas and sam have to pretend to be a couple for a case and dean is NOT happy about it.

By Daylight and In Dream - teen/16k, s5. pre-dean/cas, dean invites cas to use his dreams to hide from the other angels. tw for very brief mention of a memory/dream of alastair sexually assaulting dean.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven - mature/22k, post-canon. an actually happy (if sometimes bittersweet) heaven endgame written several years ago, though some details are rather eerily similar to the show’s ending.

heaven is a place on earth* - teen/2k. dean’s pov of some of the times cas left him behind throughout the show, and one alternate ending where he finally gets to stay.

I Cleanse The Mirror - teen/20k, alternate s6. dean’s body is stolen by an ancient elemental and his soul has to hitch a ride in cas’ vessel.

an exploration of gender; angelic*** - mature/4k. *oscar isaac voice* lets get into angel gender politics!! aka cas is trans.

Zenith - explicit/33k, s9. after 9x06 an angry witch curses cas with the ability to see supernatural beings and human souls.

La cucina. - gen/3k, alt s9. dean goes wild helping a newly-human cas find out what kinds of food he likes, or the early s9 domesticity we deserved!

Dean Winchester, Cocksucker at Rest***** - teen/7k, post-finale. john and mary finally come over for dinner and john reacts to dean/cas in a rather predictable fashion. SOOOOOOOOO good omg, its so funny and a little sad and very very cathartic. part of a series that has a few other really good short fics.

The Way You Didn't Go - teen/5k, s15. coda to 15.09, dean has nightmares about the moc!cas timeline.

On Drowning - teen/28k. dean saves cas after he nearly drowns, they both try and deal with the physical/mental fallout (aka the fic where thee iconic “you only touch me when you think I’m dead or dying” originates). tw for realistic depictions of drowning/triage/misc medical information.

The Thirty-Six Questions That Lead to Love* - mature/13k. claire has dean and cas pretend to be her gay dads for a case and they play the titular 36 question game, get mistaken for swingers, and birdwatch, among other things.

Assorted F/F stuff:

Deep Breaths* - mary/ellen, au where mary said no to azazel’s deal and let john stay dead, still becomes a milf.

Like Rebel Diamonds - krissy/claire, they become hunter gf’s on the hunt for cas to kick his ass for taking jimmy. not-so-stealth dean/cas as well.

To Ash and Bone - anna/ruby, same author as the previous fic (p much all of her stuff is good from what i recall). au where ruby is a witch and helps anna when she’s cursed.

Holy Clockwork Angels - jo/ruby, STEAMPUNK au with very cool worldbuiilding.

At Day's End - jo/anna (my fucking KINGDOM for more jo/anna content, the dean/cas parallels are allllll there), au where they are both at the camp in the endverse and gfs.

these posts - ok so not actually a fic but i’m now obsessed with this hannah/meg dynamic.

Tagelied - mary/ellen, the true story of how ellen got into hunting before angels interfered.

Hell's Bells** - meg/abaddon, alternate s8/9 where meg survives crowley’s attack with sam’s help and teams up with abaddon (who she has a sk year old crush on) to take back hell.

The Ecstasy of the Rose - anna/ruby, anna travels back in time to escape heaven and becomes a signifigant part of ruby’s old human life.

Angel Underground - anna/jo, kind of an urban fantasy au with a very intriguing premise (sadly its very short, i’d love to see more if this ‘verse).

Clover, Flame - billie/mary, billie was always the reaper that showed up to take mary after her death(s) over the years.

Drag Me To Heaven - anna/ruby, a variant on the ‘last night on earth’ thing with dean.

Come Home* - jo/anna, canon-divergent au where anna is the new waitress at the roadhouse and helps jo set up a (probably not really) haunted house for halloween.

#if you told me i'd be doing this in 2020 three weeks ago i'd have laughed in your face :/#deancas #supernatural #fic recs #spn femslash #destiel #fic #the alie tag #spn posting

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seancekitsch · 3 years

Text

Out of the Rain: a Marko x Reader fic

Warnings: bloodplay goes without saying bc vamp, rough sex, dirty talk, semi public sex, telepathy?? me projecting my music taste on this fic again. drug use, fast and loose use of vampire lore bc when i write i am god and u cannot stop me. also can u tell i have like…. v clear descriptions of the setting like i used to work at the place im describing but its not in california

No one had come in for hours. What's the point of staying open? You dim some of the lights in the store, which is one of three head shops in Santa Carla, but the only one open late. You're not really sure why this is the only store that stays open, why everyone else if worried about the three am walk back to their car on a weekend night. You've never seen anything of suspicion, just sometimes that biker gang watches people shuffle out. That was almost comforting, though. People didn't like those guys, so no one would make you use your switchblade if they were around.

The bright while fluorescent lights of your typical daytime ambiance faded away, and now green light bathes you in the “mood” lighting your boss thought was a good idea. The green lighting reflects off of the glass counters, shining it back at the ceiling and making everything that much more green. It fits, you think with the overall vibe of the store. The stale scent of weed, gently and miserably covered up by some nag champa incense, always burning in at least four different spots within the store. You'd long since gotten used to the smoke in your eyes. The music does everything to add to the ambiance. You always have full control of the music in the shop, usually because no one else is willing to take the night shift in Santa Carla. In fact, most of the boardwalk shops had a revolving door of night shift workers. You never got why, something clearly spooks them that does not spook you. Whether that makes you brave or stupid, you dont know. Jefferson Airplane’s Surrealistic Pillow pumps through the speakers in the store. But I suppose no one knows, you're my plastic fantastic lover.

The rain batters the boardwalk outside, a roar much different than the typical hustle and bustle of drunk teens, of the cliques and crews that come in and out; the few that sit and snicker in the doorway, never entering. Some too afraid to be associated with the implication of being spotted in the shop. We sell jewelry and vinyl too, you always say, when they balk at the idea of being in the same room as a bong or incense.

But then there's the other group that stands and idles in the threshold, also not entering. It's that biker gang. Four guys, a girl, a kid. Maybe he’s the brat of the girl and the one who takes himself too seriously, but maybe not. She looks too young for that. They'd been hovering around quite a bit lately, always after dark. You’d spoken to them, at least the ones that are talkative. The hair metal wannabe and the cute short one. Paul and Marko. You knew the dark haired one was Dwayne, but all he ever offered you was a curt nod and a tight lipped smile, respectful but indifferent. They're nice, not worth the spooky reputation they have. Any time it's not just you at the shop, your boss tries to spook them away. Good thing your boss isn't here tonight, because one of them is prowling around the storefront in the rain. That is, if it's not your spliff induced haze playing tricks on you.

No, one of them is out there. Without his little pack. The cute one. Marko.

You walk over to the door, which you haven't had propped open since the rain trickled in as a drizzle at the beginning of your shift. At least he had enough sense to be huddling under the awning. Fuck, he’s handsome even when he looks like a drowned rat.

“What are you doing out here?” You scrunch up your nose as you ask.

“Y’know, waiting for you to show up.” Wanted a look at that cute ass.

You blink at him. Did he really just say that?

“Okay… well, you know it's raining out there, right?”

“I might,” he offers noncommittally, eyeing the spliff still in the hand that's not holding the door. If it were anyone but him, you'd probably get fired for it.

Why is he just hanging around out here? That's hella weird. His curls are getting matted to his forehead, slick with rain, his jacket starting to look a little sad.

“C’mon in, Marko. It’s too wet out here. You’ll fuck up your jacket.” You nod towards the interior of the shop holding the door open as he passes you.

Wrong move, sweet cheeks.

“What did you say?” What did he mean, wrong move?

“I didn't say anything,” he offers nonchalantly as he thumbs at one of the tapestries on the wall. A garish mess that’s supposed to be the worm from Alice in Wonderland, but it’s distorted by a botched tie dye job of dark muddy colors. Every time you look at it, you assume one of the day workers did it.

“No, you said something.”

“Do you want me to say something?” there's both a threat and an innuendo in his tone. Maybe you do, but you just laugh, a sharp exhale through your nose, and bring the spliff to your lips again as he follows you deeper into the store.

You jump up onto the counter next to the ash tray, easy reach for each time you need to ash.

“So why are you really here?” your eyes narrow at him, kicking your sandal off on the floor where it lands a few inches from his boots. He looks uneasy in the space, like for all the wild shit you assume he’s into, he might not actually belong in it. He sways a little to the music, perfectly in tune with the rhythm. You sway along too, and suddenly he fills the space like he belongs. He just needed someone along for the ride with him.

“Do you ever come around during the day, or just at night because I’m so fun?” You’re teasing him, but it’s a nice easy feeling between you.

“Not really a sun guy,” bullshit, he would look beautiful with a tan, “but I do drag everyone here just to see you.”

“Awww, all for me? Do you have a crush, Marko?”

It’s more than that. You hear the words clearly, but his smile doesn’t move. You kick the other sandal off.

“I can hear you, I don’t know how, but I can. I bet you can hear me too.”

I can. You’re wrong about the tan thing.

You straighten up, mind clearing as you blurt out your next question. Something absolutely stupid.

“So what are you, a vampire or something?” he laughs at you, but his big toothy smile doesn't reach his eyes. No, there's something predatory, extremely dark in his eyes. Otherworldly.

How could you guess?

“Well, that for one big fucking clue.” You ash the spliff for the final time, leaving the roach in the tray. You would think you’d be more surprised, more upset that you just found out vampires were real, and that you were in the same room as one. You have to say, weirder things are probably afoot in Santa Carla. Murder capital of the world can’t all be from some rowdy teens and a ten year old.

“You do those surf nazis?” is all that leaves your mouth. You kind of hope it was. They were the fucking worst. Racist, misogynistic, destructive. You’d had to threaten them a few times to leave your store on your shift.

“The—? Oh! Surf nazis. Yeah that was us. Ate a few of them.”

“Good for you. I mean— murder. bad. But they were nazis, and now they’re dead. so…” you trail off. Not really sure what to say next, but then you keep going. Remember everything you know about Marko.

“No, no I mean, it makes sense. Right? You and the guys only hang around at night. Aren’t vampires solitary hunters though? I don’t remember Dracula being in a frat.”

“They’re my pack. We take care of each other.” He says it with such fondness and devotion.

You feel a pang of jealousy run through you. You work alone for the most part, live alone, you’ve got friends but they’re all over the place. He belongs to something.

“And you're down with this?” he’s legitimately asking. You nod. You don't really have a choice, you're down or you get eaten, but like genuinely you are down with it. If he was going to eat you, he probably would have by now. There's probably a reason they've been hanging around the store, and in your sightline while you close up. You're putting things together.

“Like really?”

“Well, you haven't made me a kebab yet.”

He shrugs, frowns.

“Could still skewer you on something.”

Laughter erupts from your lips while you roll your eyes, music to Marko’s ears. This is why he took a shine to you, it's easy to get along with you, and you're not one of his brothers.

Something heavy falls in the room, and it's not the haze of the incense. He steps towards you, big blue eyes raking over your body, but always coming back to meet your gaze. He closes the space between you, easily fitting between your thighs; the rough patches of his jacket brushing against your bare skin where your shorts ride up. He leans in, like he's about to kiss you, and against all better judgement, you're going to let him.

You're going to let him.

The record skips. He holds out his hand, more like a gentleman than a biker gang killer, and helps you off the counter.

“Hold on, let me pick out a new record,” you turn without waiting for his confirmation, not at all surprised when Marko follows hot on your heels to the back room. Your boss’ office, the record room. Whatever you wanted to call it. His hands ghost over your arms as you push past the wooden bead curtain to enter the room. You can feel his presence close enough to touch. That's it, right where I want you. There’s his voice again.

He lets you actually pick out a new record. You slide it out of the sleeve and walk it over to the player. The static buzzes and pops as the needle finds the groove.

“Ocean Rain, you heard it?” No. He shakes his head, and you can feel it as he leans into your back.

“Echo and the Bunnymen. They've got a new album coming out this year.”

You turn to face him and his fingerless leather glove clad hands cover your cheeks.

He kisses you gently, tenderly. Not at all the way you’d expect. He’s eager, kissing like there’s something to prove. He licks his way into your mouth, tongue pushing your lips apart and you let him. His arms tighten around you as you kiss, tongues now greeting each other playfully. Your tongue explores his mouth, running along each and every tooth in his mouth. Huh, no fangs, you realize, and maybe he isn't actually a vampire. As if he reads your mind (maybe he does), he pulls away.

“They're, uh, hiding,’ he nods, almost to himself more than you. You nod as well, slow and uneasy, not quite believing him, but he pulls you back into a harsh kiss, more of what you expected. His hands roam your body as yours bury themselves in his curls. Still damp, but long and beautiful just as well. He shrugs the jacket off his shoulders, and his hands only briefly leave you to throw it and his gloves somewhere else, leaving him just in a thin white tank top. His mouth leaves yours to trail lower, kissing your neck. Your pulse point. Fucking irresistable. No, that's definitely his voice. Is this the end? Could be.

“I can smell you, hot stuff,” he moans into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You find yourself gripping onto his shoulders a little tighter, but he lets you sink. He guides you, again more gently than you thought he would; bare knees brushing the threadbare carpet floor before you plant yourself. You look up at him through your lashes and he all but bites back a groan.

“You gonna join me down here?” You lick your lips, waiting for something.

“Nah, I’m gonna let you have a head start,” there's a joke in his tone. You're learning that’s normal for him. He’s silent, or playing jester. It’ll be interesting when you let him fuck you. Shit, did he hear that?

“Quit thinkin’ so loud!” he runs an affectionate hand through your hair. “But yes, I heard you. Glad you're as eager as I am.”

That's encouraging. You take your time undoing his belt, connected to faded and soft leather chaps, not bothering to push them down his thighs before you move to the top of his jeans, teasing your fingers at the skin just above the waistline. He shudders under your touch, extremely reactive. Does he get touched like this often? Or is it just quick fucks? You don't want to think about who else he might be doing this with, focusing again on his body, and all of the offending clothing covering it. You unbutton them slowly, teasing. For a member of the undead, he seems to be out of breath under your movements. The zipper is pulled down just as slowly. You run your palms flat along the bottom of his stomach, to his hips before pushing his jeans down to around his ankles, hooking his boxers on your finger along with them. He’s beautiful, and you can help but stare. Hard, eager, and thick, greeting you with a small trimmed patch of golden blonde curls. You wrap your hand around the base.

You never expected a vampire to whimper, but that's exactly what happens when your tongue darts out of your mouth to lick the head of his cock. Quick, tentative little lick, testing the waters. Your tongue swipes across the slit at the tip of his thick member and his hands animate like you flipped a switch, rising up, going to your hair, rising up again, slamming down against the desk. Your boss’ desk. You lick a long stripe to the underside of his cock, paying close attention to the prominent vein there.

“So good, so good, oh you feel so-” he pants out, hands white knuckling the edge of the desk. Heat pools in your core, loving that he’s so vocal. Fuck, if he could just keep speaking. Your other hand moves to your shorts, sloppily and hastily undoing them and wiggling them down to your knees. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock and sink down on it, taking him as far as you can, until you couch when he hits the back of your throat.

“You look fucking beautiful like that. Please move, Please move, you’re so fucking good at this.”

You do, starting to bob your head up and down on the length of him, hollowing out your cheeks and flattening your tongue against him, cupping and massaging his balls in your hand. Your free finds itself between your legs, rubbing gently at your clit, stirred and encouraged by his praise.

“Does sucking me off get you hot and bothered?” Yesitdoes.

You keep bobbing your head, rubbing your clit, eyes trained on his until his eyes squeeze shut. His cock twitches in your mouth.

“Don't wanna- don't wanna finish in your mouth,” he’s urgent, grabbing you by the chin and pulling your mouth off of his cock. He pushes you back by your shoulders, letting you guide yourself back to lay on the rug. He pulls your loose shorts easily off your legs and settles himself between your legs, too eager to bother with removing his boots and everything.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long. Do you know how bad I wanted this?”

“Fuck me, Marko, dont say it. Just do it,” youre breathless under him, wanting nothing more than for him to be fucking you. He pauses.

“I dunno…” his thumb swipes up along your clit, drawing a whine from your throat, “For some reason I think you like it when I say things.”

You nod, knowing words will fail you. And he gives you what you want, lining himself up and sinking into you, groaning as he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

“Oh I knew your pussy would feel like fucking heaven,” he pants against your neck, pressing a harsh kiss to the underside of your jaw. He sets the pace quickly, unmerciful and fast, fucking hard and deep into you. His hands push up your thin tee shirt, and you can feel his sigh of relief when he gets a handful of bare breast. He doesn't have to deal with a bra tonight. You hike your knees up, opening yourself as much as you can to him, wanting him to fill you to the brim. He looks into your eyes while he fucks you, which comes as a surprise to you. Maybe it shouldn't. You wonder what it would be like to be a victim of his. Does he treat them well? Have fun with them like this? Or is he vicious? You don't know if you could picture him like that… vamped out.

“What does it feel like?”

“What?” he thrusts sharply, snapping his hips into you, making you yelp.

“To be fed on, but not to die.”

Are you serious? You hear him in your head.

YesIam. He thrusts like that again, earning an identical yelp, now coupled with your thighs squeezing him around the middle. You're close already, and he can tell.

He nods, a question; You nod, confirmation.

He pulls at the neckline of your shirt, already scooping so it doesn’t ruin, and exposes your shoulder. Somewhere non lethal. His other hand comes up to grip your jaw, covering your neck but being careful not to squeeze it. You hope he bruises your jaw, you realize. A physical way to feel him when dawn comes. He slows his pace to a rocking, grinding into you, staying deep.

Then he bites. Stars erupt behind your eyes, and it feels like your blood has turned to seltzer. Every nerve in your body is in overdrive as you moan and shake and come undone around his cock. You're the kind of girl that comes from the bite of a vampire, apparently. He doesn’t let up. You can faintly hear him moaning against the open wound in your shoulder, and you hope you taste good to him. He licks the wound a few times more, softly, carefully, like he’s trying to soothe you when he finally lets you come down from your high.

When he pulls back to let you see him, his features are gruesome, full vampire with sharp brows and cheekbones, pointed nose even that much more so almost birdlike. Fangs and bottom half of his face covered in blood.Your blood. He’s panting like an animal after the kill. But he doesn't scare you. Maybe he should, but he doesn't. It's just Marko, no matter what, and if he wanted to eat you he would have. Several times now. His hand finally releases your jaw, to wipe the blood from his face. He wipes his hand then on your face, covering you in your own blood, hot on his fingers and palm.

“Fuckin sexy,” he pants, voice deeper and distorted. His thrusts speed up, trying to find his own release as your nails dig into his back, maybe making him bleed as well. You feel the rug burn forming on your back, you feel tears in your eyes. It's never felt this good with other guys.

When he comes, he comes with a howl, buried deep inside you as he shouts and shivers then stills above you. Your chest is heaving, trying to regain yourself as his face slowly fades to normal, and he slumps down on top of you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, near the wound he tore open, now no longer bleeding. He mouths at any bare skin he can find, lazy half kisses as he spreads more mess and blood on you. Your fingers find his curls again, winding them around your digits as you stare up at the sickly green mood lighting bathing the walls of the room.

An hour later, Marko is helping you lock up early.

He makes sure to dump out all of the ashes from spliffs and incense, makes sure the vinyl is all in its right place while you make sure the register and inventory is all in its rightful place and order.

“You’re dangerous, you know.”

“Me?” you scoff, “That rich, coming from you.”

I’d do a lot of things I’m not supposed to for you. You kinda don't want to ask him what he means by that. For some reason that feels like a conversation you shouldn't have tonight.

He leaves the store before you, holding the door open for you and letting you lock the doors. He slings an easy arm over your shoulder, not bothering to shield either of you from the rain as he steers you towards your car. You can feel the rain cleaning your face, the blood flowing away and saving you the shower you were going to take before collapsing into bed tonight.

“Where’s your bike?”

“I flew here,” he says with that devilish smile, and you're really not sure if he's joking or not. Your arm sneaks its way into his jacket and wraps around his waist, holding him close as he makes sure you get home same. Marko makes you feel calm, in a way you didn't feel before you moved to Santa Carla. How long had he been waiting to make his move? And does this mean he and his brothers would be coming around more often? Maybe being more friendly towards you. Each step towards your car feels heavy; You don't want to go home alone without him, but somehow you know he won't come with you.

“Will I see you again?”

He grabs your car keys from your hand, and sticks them in the door handle. Of course you will.

Right. You just have to be near the beach at night. You know, where you work.

He kisses you full on the mouth, holding you close and tight, like you could slip away at any second. When he finally lets you go you pull away to be met with his face, full on grinning, his eyes still closed from the kiss. He doesn't look like a killer.

Marko watches you as you pull open the door to your car and more or less throw your ass into the seat. He holds the door as he gives you one last smile, and says:

“You know, you should never invite a vampire into your life. Renders you powerless.”

And he winks.

#marko lost boys x reader #lost boys x reader #marko lost boys #my work

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bread-writes · 3 years

Note

Hello. May I request a oneshot about Jake Kim celebrate valentine's day with his girlfriend please? Thankyou!

i’m late for valentines rip-- oh well lmao

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this, anon!

Spoilers for Jake if you squint near the end.

Writing under the cut!

Jake Spending Valentine’s with His Girlfriend

Jake is--and probably always will be--a busy man. Whenever he completed a stack of paperwork, three more would suddenly appear before them. But, despite his misgivings and less than favorable life, he had you; the light in his usually dark life.

With Valentine's just around the corner, more and more work was passed on to him so the others could spend time with their lovers. As much as he wanted to just pass all of his work onto Jerry (he knew that the boy would do it if he so much as asked) he felt bad for leaving a kid with so much paperwork.

The door creaked open, revealing Jerry. Jake sent the younger boy a nod of acknowledgment, ushering him closer with a flick of his wrist before turning back to the paperwork with a sigh.

"Was there something you needed, Jerry?" Jake squinted at the small text of the report in his hand, running his free hand through his hair as a means to calm himself down. A soft sniffle came from the seventeen-year-old, causing Jake to raise a brow as he looked up from the document in his hand.

"Jerry, seriously, are you alright--"

"I deeply apologize, Jake." Jerry wiped the lone tear from his cheek, "Please forgive me."

"Wait, what--?"

Two familiar sets of arms wrapped underneath his arms, lifting him off the chair with ease. Jake could only blink as Jason and Brad continued to drag him down the winding path that led to his apartment complex They finally stopped at his doorstep, dropping him unceremoniously onto the ground before knocking on the door.

You emerged from the apartment, tiredly rubbing your eyes as you glanced between the four men. When your gaze landed on your lover, you rose a brow before slapping your forehead with a groan in realization.

"When I told you it would be nice to spend Valentines with Jake, I did not mean abduct him--what if he was busy?"

"I actually was busy. Thanks for asking, by the way," Jake cut in, rolling his now stiff shoulders. Jerry visibly deflated as he fiddled with his fingers while mumbling an apology. You accepted Jerry's apology with a pat on his shoulder before offering Jake your hand. He gratefully took your outstretched hand, pulling himself onto his feet.

"This was a pleasure," he began, "but I really should be getting back." He turned around, only to be stopped by Jason and Brad blocking the exit. Jake rose a brow, glancing between the two, "...What are the two of you doing?"

"We're putting you on temporary leave. Don't worry about the paperwork, we'll handle it." Jason brushed off his unspoken concerns motioning to you with his wrist.

Jake could only sigh, letting out a chuckle as he pushed his hair back, "I suppose a few days off wouldn't hurt." He glanced at you, a minuscule smile making its way onto his lips. You grinned back up at him, leaning in to place a peck on his cheek. The two of you bid goodbye to the three other Big Deal members before making your way into your shared apartment.

"So... Valentine's Day is tomorrow, right?"

"Wow, I'm surprised you actually remembered; being swamped up in your work and all."

"Oh, shut it." He snapped back, letting out a grunt as he flopped onto the worn couch. You snorted, taking your seat by his side as he continued to scroll through the seemingly endless amount of shows the streaming service had to offer. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest. You sighed contentedly at the familiar feel of his body heat, tracing the carefully inked lines of his tattoos.

At the sight of your favorite show, you tugged on his shirt, eyes sparkling as you excitedly pointed at the screen. Following the point of your finger, Jake grimaced, "Seriously, that one again? Haven't we watched that eight times already?" You shrugged, grounding one hand on his chest while the other reached out for the remote. He smirked down at you, outstretching his arm just barely out of your reach.

Curse him and long limbs.

Jake let out a garbled cry as you shoved his face away, lunging and successfully retrieving the remote.

"Ow, what happened to treating your boyfriend with love for Valentine's, huh?"

"What happened to letting your girlfriend watch her favorite show for Valentine's, huh?" You dangled the remote tauntingly in front of his face before resuming your place by his side.

He rolled his eyes, glaring at the show from the corner of his eye, "Fair, but can we at least pick another show?"

"Watcha gonna do if I say no, Mr. Big Boss?"

What you weren't expecting were his nimble fingers to dance along your sides--a dirty tactic that would only work on you, seeing that Jake was, unfortunately, not ticklish in the slightest. You screeched, dropping the remote before succumbing to a fit of laughter. Jake's eyes softened at the sight of you laughing, tears streaming down your face as you begged for mercy.

How he wished these sorts of days would last forever.

As his fingers ceased their movements, you greedily gulped in air, wiping at your tear-stained cheeks. Just as you were about to berate him for using such an underhanded tactic, he slanted his lips against yours in a soft kiss. The kiss was similar to the ones the two of you shared in the mornings before he left, yet far different at the same time. Gentle, yet passionate. Soft and somewhat greedy.

Just like him.

He parted slightly from you, "I love you."

"I love you too, Jake," you mumbled before once more placing your lips against his.

The remote and show remain forgotten as the two of you cuddle on the couch.

---

You were the first to awaken. Your limbs ached from staying in such a position for so long. As you tried to get up, Jake's arms anchored you in place. With a groan, you wiggled your way out of his arms, already missing his warmth as you entered the kitchen. Haphazardly scooping some rice onto a plate, you warmed the rice in the microwave whilst preparing some leftovers in a few separate bowls.

Lost in your thoughts, you missed the drowsy drag of Jake's feet until he once more wrapped his arms around your waist before placing a soft peck to the crown of your head, "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Right back at you, Mr. Big Boss."

The two of you took a seat at the dining table, sharing a few laughs and stories from your respective jobs.

"What're we going to do first?"

Jake hummed, "We can go shopping, I guess."

"You guess?" The teasing lilt in your voice evoked an eye roll from your boyfriend as he scoffed.

"Do you have anything in mind, shortie?"

"Sho--?! You agreed not to call me that!"

"Well, you agreed not to call me Mr. Big Boss, you hypocrite."

You glared at him, "Touche... Shopping does sound good, though. I heard a new bakery opened up nearby if you want to check that out."

"Sounds good to me." He nodded, gathering all of the plates and bowls on his way back to the kitchen, placing them in the sink with the rest of the dishes before making his way to your shared bedroom.

The two of you made your way through the crowded streets that were filled with couples out on dates and friends just goofing off. In one of your hands, ingredients to make chocolate swished around in a plastic bag, while the other was interlaced loosely with Jake's.

So far, the day has gone off without a hitch. Though, you suppose it would be difficult to approach the man (teen) at a terrifying height of 6'5"(195 cm) and the woman (also a teen) smiling so freely with said teen man. The bakery the two of you planned to go to had some of the most delicious chocolate you've had in a while, hence why you bought the ingredients to make your own.

You clapped your hands lightly after laying out all the ingredients, your phone propped up a little ways away, displaying the recipe for some simple chocolate. Jake stood next to you, tying the apron behind his back before sparing you a wary glance from the corner of his eye.

"[Name], are you sure about this? We've never made chocolate and this recipe isn't... exactly "simple"."

You only smiled at him, rolling up your sleeves as you briefly scrolled through the recipe, "We'll be fine, Jake. You trust me, don't you?"

He fought the urge to shake his head, forcing himself to let out a hum of agreement.

By the end of about three trials, the kitchen--along with both you and Jake--was splattered with chocolate. Half-eaten and burnt pieces littered the counters and filled the trash bin.

"I told you it wasn't easy."

"Shush, it looked easy." You puffed your cheeks, grabbing a rag to wipe down the counters, scrunching your nose at the smell of burnt chocolate. Jake chuckled, gently taking the rag from your and leaning down to place a kiss on your cheek.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. Happy Valentine's Day, [Name]."

"Happy Valentine's, Jake."

Jake Kim was a busy man--too busy, some would say. At only nineteen years old he was able to lead one of the Big Four Crews to find his taken friend. But, he'll always find time for you; even if he has to be kidnapped to do so.

I hope you enjoyed this! this was actually so fun to write, but sorry I couldn’t get it out on Valentine’s oof. My fingers hurt ( ಥ_ಥ) oh the price to pay for satisfaction--

#lookism #lookism x reader #jake kim #jake kim x reader

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neocatharsis · 3 years

Text

NCT’s Mark Lee on Dreams, Instagram Poetry, and Growing Up

Mark has a lot going on — but he’s making time for poetry, introspection, and, of course, the members of NCT Dream. - Vivien Wu

“I’ve been thinking about dreams a lot these days!” Mark Lee exclaims over Zoom from SM Entertainment’s Seoul headquarters.

The 21-year-old leader of NCT Dream is enthusiastic as he mulls over the meaning of dreams, his back against a wall of pink and yellow flowers assembled by his fellow NCT members. He’s wearing a simple, white tee, and when he gestures with his hands, you can catch glimpses of the friendship ring that all seven members of NCT Dream wear as a symbol of their bond.

“I actually feel like dreams hold a large portion of a life, and I’m not just talking about the subconscious dreams that we all have when we sleep,” he continues. “If you put it in a way where dreams are actually things that motivate us, and the drive that keeps us going, especially as a strongly driven person myself, I feel like… a guy with no dreams is like…” He looks up, thinking. “…A car with no engine. So, I think it’s as important as yourself. That’s how deep I go with dreams.”

His interest in dreams is fitting, considering that they are also the central, underlying concept to the lore behind NCT Dream’s parent group, NCT. They connect their three subunits, NCT 127, NCT Dream, and WayV, in a complex, Inception-inspired fictional universe where dreams are the only way they can find each other, and where upon uniting they can mix to form new subunits collectively referred to as NCT U. In practical terms, this has resulted in a 23-member mega-group that is multifaceted in every way — from their musical styles and visual aesthetics to their cultural backgrounds and spoken languages.

NCT Dream’s original teenage concept meant that members were supposed to “graduate” when they came of age, and as the oldest, Mark was the first to leave the group at the end of 2018. Having grown attached, however, fans were devastated at his departure; after a year of separation, SM announced that the graduation system would be scrapped and that he would rejoin the group. Their new album, Hot Sauce, is the first with Mark in over two years. As fellow member Haechan declared in an interview with Teen Vogue earlier this week, “Mark [is] very special. NCT Dream means Mark.”

But before the rapper led NCT Dream, and before he joined NCT U and NCT 127 and SuperM — the man is in high demand — Mark’s childhood dream was writing. He grew up in Toronto, and through doing school projects and essays quickly discovered that he had a natural way with words. Inspired by Percy Jackson author Rick Riordan, Harry Potter, and James Patterson, Mark dreamt of becoming an author, long before he was recruited by SM at a global audition in Canada in 2012. “When I was in school, I was always the kind of guy who would write more than expected, and that became a thing that clicked for me,” he says. “I was like, ‘Maybe it’s something that I naturally do?’ But then that kind of turned into rap writing too, so I guess they kind of clicked together.” It explains his prolific career as a lyricist; since debuting, he’s amassed over 30 songwriting credits across his various groups, contributing to songs as iconic as NCT U’s “Boss,” NCT 127’s “Cherry Bomb,” and NCT Dream’s “Chewing Gum.”

Even with such an extensive body of work, however, penning lyrics hasn’t satiated his appetite for literary expression. In an interview with Japanese magazine Men’s Non-No, he revealed that he still hopes one day to write a book, whether that be a novel, autobiography, or something more philosophical.

In the meantime, he’s taken to writing what are basically short poems on his Instagram, which he created just a few months ago. He’s gathered over 4.5 million followers since then, but having such a large audience hasn’t deterred him from being endearingly vulnerable with the way he writes. When I refer to them as poems, he laughs and looks embarrassed, but when I ask him to tell me the stories behind them, he’s enthusiastic again. They’re short, but offer brief glimpses into Mark the writer — sharp, inquisitive, and thoughtful. As pieces of literature, they’re a little rough around the edges, but the sincerity he’s known for shines through, illuminating the introspective, philosophical side that may not be so obvious in person.

His first poem, loosely titled “Late Night Scribbling,” put into words his musings about sleep, thoughts, feelings, and writing. It meanders from topic to topic, hovering between feelings of hope and hopelessness, before ending with a comically awkward “haha.”

“I actually wrote that by imagining how I wanted to organize my Instagram page,” he explains. “I was thinking of creating an Instagram, then I realized that, well, I’m not really a picture kind of guy, I’m not really a travelling kind of guy… I kind of studied who I am first, and I [asked myself], ‘What’s something that I can really portray in an intimate way?’ and it turned out to be writing.”

“I started to brainstorm what kind of topics I could write about, and then from there on, I started to write a little each and every night, and that turned into Late Night Scribbling,” he continues. “That kind of gave me courage to start Instagram in the first place, that piece of writing.”

Two weeks later, he followed it up with “Black Socks,” a whimsical ode to, well, black socks — complete with accompanying photos of him wearing said socks. Immediately, it feels more confident and cohesive than its predecessor. Using the neat and tidy look of black socks as a metaphor, he describes his own mindset for living life: “Pleasure from perfect alignment; That also goes for my ability to be parallel with my thoughts and actions; I try to live out what’s in my mind, and keep it consistent even when forgotten like a working habit.”

Comments on the posts praise his writing and encourage him to continue sharing these small pieces of himself. On the stage, Mark takes on a confident, larger-than-life persona, while in vlogs and spoken interviews, he’s a bubbly character full of laughter and boyish charm. What the poems show is that, beneath these outer appearances, there’s another layer of complexity that is yet to be fully explored, and it’s not surprising that fans want to know more.

His day job as a K-pop idol doesn’t allow a lot of time for hobbies, though, and he confesses to not having written much lately. Despite that, he’s determined to stay in the industry for as long as possible. “Longevity is something that I’ve always been aiming for,” he says. “I’m willing to do this for a long time, and that requires a lot of work. I’m willing to take that as a challenge and I’m trying to stay as long as I can, but with quality.”

That focus on quality informs his preparations for the upcoming promotions with NCT Dream. In both their fictional world and ours, NCT Dream are a central component of NCT by virtue of their unique focus on growth — the seven members were aged between 14 and 17 when the group first debuted in 2016. Fast-forward five years, and the members are now 19 to 21, having reached a milestone in January when the youngest, Jisung, finally became a legal adult in Korea. When asked if he feels like an adult yet, though, Mark gives an extremely relatable answer with zero hesitation.

“I still feel like I’m in middle school, I’m gonna be totally honest. I swear to God, I feel like I’m… All right, I’ll put it up — I feel like I’m in high school!” He laughs. “I even had this talk with Jisung, ‘cos he’s the latest that turned into an adult. He said that he still feels like he’s a student, he doesn’t feel like he’s 20 [19 in international age] right now.”

It’s been a long time since all seven Dream members — Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin, Chenle, and Jisung — have released an album together, and as the first full-length album since their debut, the fan anticipation is palpably intense. Mark himself has mentioned in various vlogs how important he believes this comeback to be, and that conviction becomes obvious whenever he talks about it.

“We had a talk all together, the seven of us, without any cameras or anything. I brought all the guys together and we talked before the whole momentum started, and I said that I’m willing to put my everything on this one. Like, I always had, but I feel like… the whole universe, or like— ” He pauses, trying to figure out how to articulate himself, and his next line is the most emphatic of our whole conversation. “There are things that are out of our control, but we can see and feel when the pieces match together sometimes, and I feel like this specific moment, this particular album, kind of had those essential parts.”

He’s thinking about all of the context surrounding this comeback: the group’s coming of age, the reunion of all seven members, the scale of the album, the fact that Jisung has only just recovered from a leg injury that meant he couldn’t dance for months — even the fact that 2020 was, against all odds, the best year yet for NCT, with release after release bringing them unprecedented success and momentum.

“I felt that coming and I explained all of that [to the group],” he continues. “This whole period of time has a lot of meaning to it, and we’re not taking that for granted, we’re working hard.” With everything that’s happened, Hot Sauce is a historic moment for NCT Dream, and that’s been reflected in their numbers — the album clocked over 1.7 million pre-orders, obliterating their previous record of 500,000 for last year’s EP, Reload.

Their familial bond and the success that has come with it is the culmination of years spent living, working, and growing up together. The members have collectively missed out on key experiences that most teenagers might take for granted, distanced as they are from normal life, and the group also benefits from an unusually loose adherence to traditional Korean age hierarchy. The result is a brotherhood that goes beyond just being colleagues. “What we have is pretty intimate, and it’s also genuine,” Mark says.

About his role, he is matter of fact. “I’m by far the most easily approachable punching bag for the team. I am not… complaining…” He laughs. “But all jokes aside, I feel like my role for this team… Yes, I am the oldest and I am the leader but I’m also… In Korea, in the culture, age is very important, but we’ve come so far that all those borders kind of just vanished and we’re all pretty much friends, and I guess I’m just a friend of theirs too.”

It’s true that, despite being the leader, his friendly personality and endearingly awkward mannerisms mean that he commands about as much authority as a small puppy. Instead, much like a puppy, he is showered with love and affection (fellow member Chenle refers to Mark as his son and his actual puppy Daegal as Mark’s little sister), but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a dependable leader figure. The opposite is true — in Renjun’s words, Mark’s presence unites the group in a way that makes him irreplaceable.

And while this may be the fifth year since their debut, in the grand scheme of things, the members of NCT Dream are still very, very young — by most standards, they would still be considered to have their entire careers ahead of them. Growth has brought them here, but where does Mark think it will take them in the future?

“Growing just never stops for us, I can see us growing continuously, endlessly,” he replies. “What the future holds is something that we will never know, but we always do try to prepare during the present, and so with whatever time we have currently and with whatever album, or whatever stage, or whatever piece of music it may be, we’re willing to make sure that we have the next one coming too.”

A final thought. “I’m glad that we’re striving for that, ‘cos we started off as…” Mark shakes his head, “…as babies.”

#nct #nct dream #Mark #nct 127

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “What Happened.”

Sorry for any issues this one might have, but I am trying to write it between flights and and scrambling to find a plug that will work, so I hope you like it anyway, and I hope it answers some questions you have

Three months leave

IT was going to take an extra three months before the ship would be ready for launch. Even as they spoke, it was docked at the Europa station as they put on the final finishing touches. Until then, it had been Commander Vir’s job to go through files on the personnel he wanted aboard his new crew.

He had suggested some alien additions to make the crew more diverse, which the GA had loved considering that the ship was an amalgamation of both human and alien technology. It had Rundi communications systems, Celzex weaponry, Vrul shields, and a Tesraki warp core. The design otherwise was completely human. But for those reasons, the project was obviously very time consuming, and they were lucky that it was going to be finished in as little a time as it was.

Sunny hadn’t seen Adam very much in the last month or so considering that he had been working hard to find an extra five hundred members for his crew, and speak with the brass about what he had seen on the other side of the wormhole.

Sunny knew that it was important that Adam do his job, but a part of her was annoyed they hadn’t been able to speak properly since getting back.

Instead, she was stuck in base housing on the cost, alone and with nothing to do aside from long walks on the beach. She had never been the the beach beforehand as anin didn’t have any substantial bodies of water like that, at least near her, and there was something about the endless water that unsettled her. Even Krill and Conn were off doing important things. Krill was giving his services to a level one trauma center in New York, and Conn was helping the base MPs conduct polygraph tests, though he had sort of replaced the polygraph.

That left Sunny alone most days to think.

She hadn’t gotten over Adam’s disappearance, and not how he had tricked her, pushing her from the bridge before turning around and preparing himself for death. She felt a bit cheated, and like a decision had been made for her. She wasn’t stupid, logically she knew that is what she would have done if she were in his place, so she couldnt fault him for that, though she still coudln’t help feeling hurt over it.

And these thoughts she was left to stew on, tossing and turning in the quiet of the night while everyone else was out and busy.

Needless to say she didn’t expect the little bell on her front door to ring late one evening, and when she opened the door she certainly didn’t expect to see Adam waiting on her front porch.

HE was smiling, though the skin around his face and neck were already flushed a light pink with embarrassment.

In his arms, he held a large collection of flowers.

“May I come in?”

“Adam!” Her surprise was a bit delayed

He shuffled his feet, “I uh, I got the go ahead to take the day off so I…. thought I would see you.”

He shifted again.

He looked better now than he had on returning from his ordeal, face clean-shaven and in clean clothes that actually fit, though she had to admit his cave-man look hadn’t been so bad.

She stepped aside, and he tentatively followed.

She closed the door and he turned to face her, “I uh…. um … well I…. flower…. Or I mean, I got you, flowers I…… Bought some, but also picked…. some ….. I not that that really matters I just.”He sighed took a deep breath and cleared his throat, “I got you flowers.” he held them out, and she took them in half amusement, picking one from the top and popping it into her mouth before setting them down on the little side table.

“Look, I’m sorry we haven't been able to talk since I got back… and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a little bit of me avoiding having a tough conversation.”

“I like that you are at least being honest with me.” She said quietly., “Do you want to sit down?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Actually, I was going to ask you if you wanted to go on a walk…. I.. I think better when I walk.”

She shrugged and agreed, following him outside to where a thin layer of clouds had veiled the sun which was slowly inching towards the horizon. The clouds muted the colors and the sea was grey in the distance.

Together they walked a little ways along the sand, him shifting nervously, and her walking to the side, relaxed though she didn’t feel like it

The silence stretched on for nearly a mile before Sunny -- growing frustrated -- was forced to break it.

“You tricked me.”

He looked down at his feet, “I did.”

“You tricked me, and because of that I have had some of the worst few months of my life.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I understand you did what you thought you had to, and I get it that if I was in your place, I would have done the same without hesitation, but…. I I feel cheated, and I feel used, and for some reason I can’t stop it.”

He looked away, “I’m not sure what to say.”

“At least say SOMETHING.”

HE turned to face her single green eye wide. Looking down she could sense that his hands were shaking. A part of her felt bad about that, but they needed to have this conversation, and she wasn’t going to let him out of it.

“I… would do it again to save your life, and I won’t apologize for that, but I’m sorry that that’s how you feel.”

“I thought we were a team.”

“And we are.”

She paused, her feet digging hard into the sand, and he drew to a halt beside her, “I need you to understand Adam, when Drev say a team, they mean a battle pair and that means….”

“I know, I know……. I know what it means, and I am agreeing with you.”

“Will, you try, for me.”

“Yes, but sunny, I I don’t know how well it will work out, I…. well I’m broken when it comes to this sort of thing I don’t even know if I can.”

They went silent again and she could see the veins pulsing in the side of his neck. Beads of sweat collected on his brown and face. He looked almost nauseous, like he was scared or something, that too made her feel bad, but she didn’t really know how to help.

On instinct, she reached out a hand, inches from his before pausing, “I…. Can I?”

He paused look down at her hand.

His clenched into a fist.

He was pale whit like snow now.

“I…. I don’t think I can right now but…. Thanks for asking.”

She watched the expression on his face closely, and on his face she saw him proceed through a rapid series of emotions starting with fear, working over to shame, sadness and finally ending on guilt.

He turned away.

She walked up next to him, head tilted, “You don’t have to, Adam, but maybe if you told me why I could better understand. Of course you don’t have to.”

He took a deep shaky breath, “You deserve to know. But just don’t… I don’t know laugh or something. I know logically it wasn’t a big deal but….”

“Adam, I promise I won't laugh, you have my word.”

He nodded his head slowly and sighed, “I can trace it all back to one event I think. It was MY freshman year of high school…. Maybe and I was the awkward, nerdy sci-fi weirdo who believed in UFOs and Aliens.

***

Adam Sat Under a tree outside the school arms wrapped around his knees back tucked against the bowl of a tree which cast the shadow of its leaves down over the ground to wave and rustle in a light breeze.

It was lunch break, and he was watching the other teens standing around in their cliches. The football jocks were playing a game to one side, the cheerleaders were clustered around a bench, and all the rednecks were sitting in the back of their trucks in the parking lot laughing loudly and occasionally turning on their trucks just to rev the engines as loud as possible.

His hair was long-ish, kind of scruffy and hanging down around his ears. The clothes he wore were baggy hand me downs from his older brother Jeremy (a senior) and shoes with holes in them from his older brother Thomas.

He didn’t mention the holes to his mom, dad was in between jobs right now, not that it was a big deal, he would find work, it was just paperwork in the way, but he didn’t want to worry her with something extra that didn’t matter right now.

He looked down at the ground where he had a stack of books waiting in the grass for him, The Martian, War of the Worlds, and an old tatty compendium of start wars stuff with pictures and diagrams.

The T-shirt he was wearing was one he had purchased online, and had a diagram of the star-trek enterprise on it.

He shuffled his feet in the grass waiting for his brothers to show up and feeling sort of lonely as he waited.

Since he was a little younger, he got out a half an hour before they did, and only got to spend thirty minutes of his half hour lunch break with them, otherwise he tried to avoid people as much as possible. It wasn’t that he was bullied per-se, because he wasn’t really, neglected by his peers was probably a better term for it.

They were nice to him in the way you are nice to small children or crazy people, keeping up polite conversation just long enough to leave as soon as possible. He was used to the treatment, and didn’t bother subjecting people to his presence more than he had to. He knew he was weird.

He was sure he would have a harder time if it were not for his older brothers. Jeremy, who was a popular football player, David because he was student body president, and arguably the best looking guy in school, though he never seemed to be dating anyone, and Thomas, who was a bit of a loose cannon and didn’t mind getting in fights to protect his family members when he wasn’t hanging out with the other weird and unpredictable kids.

He was sitting there thinking about his brothers and staring down at the grass, when he saw a pair of shoes appear in his vision. They were white vans, or something similar with bright green laces, and when he looked up he saw a girl standing over him. The school was small enough that he recognized her immediately. Her name was Amanda and she jumped between the Drill team and the Basketball Girls click.

She was smiling, and he watched her as she turned her head back to her group of friends who were giggling and trying not to look like they were looking over in their direction.

Adam sat up a little straighter, “Can I help you.”

She smiled at him, her cheeks slightly pink, “HI…. Adam.”

He frowned, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

She shuffled her feet, and off in the distance, her friends giggled and looked away.

“Can I help you with something?’ He wondered, waiting for the punchline somewhere. Something about the weird UFO kid, or maybe they were going to ask him to help them do something against school rules, so when they got caught they could all blame it on him. Or maybe they were going to ask him to be the designated Sherpa for their bags or something.

He had been tricked into most of those things before, though by now the teachers and the principal knew that he was just socially stupid and not a troublemaker.

“Relax ok, I’ve just come to say sorry?”

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for treating you like you were weird.” When she smiled it seemed genuine, “You see its…. One of my friends.” More giggling I the background, “She thinks you’re cute, but she didn’t know how to act before.”

He glanced past her to where the group of girls had burst in to excessive giggling.

He frowned again, “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

She crossed her arms, “Serious, Adam.”

“Who is this friend of your.” His eyes narrowed, but past that he was looking towards one of the girls in the group. She was pretty with honey blonde hair and an infectious smile. She played the violin, and he knew for a fact that she was a comic book nerd. He had seen her carrying them around, and she was a petty good artist too. He felt his face flush a bit but tried to fight it back.”

“She smiled, “Avery.”

His eyes shot wide, and he felt his face turn scarlet. The part of his brain that had been skeptical immediately shut off as the human brain is prone to do when they think something good might be about to happen.

“I… really.”

She grinned, “Really.” She reached into her pocket and passed him a note, “She wants you to meet her by the stadium.”

His hands were shaking a bit as he took the note, but he felt his heart hammering in excitement.

Was this his way out of exile?

He had always been extroverted, starved for all the friends he wanted and all the people he wanted to talk to. Avery had the life that he wished he did, a large circle of friends, and fun things to do every weekend.

Maybe with her around, he would finally have that.

All the better if they were dating, but he was getting ahead of himself.

He watched as the group of girls dispersed and Avery moved towards the back of the building over towards the stadium, her beautiful, honey-blond hair blowing in the wind.

He stood awkwardly gathering up his things and shoving them in his bag without zipping the zipper all the way before turning and cutting around the other side of the school. His heart hammered in his chest and his hands were cold and sweaty as he made his way around the other side of the building and towards the stadium.

His heart only began to race faster when he saw her standing alone under the stadium between the cross-bars and in the shade of the metal benches above.

He approached nervously, his hands shaking in excitement.

She turned her head, bright blue eyes catching his.

He stopped in place at the edge of the shadow. But she smiled and waved him in, “Adam over here.”

He followed nervously his feet trailing in the dirt. As she approached she nervously rocked back and fourth on her heels hands in her pockets. He paused a few feet away. She looked up at him through her lashes, and he noted she was wearing little Iron Man earrings.

“Hi.” She said nervously

“Hi.” He replied back

She shuffled her feet, “Look I…. I’m sorry about laughing at you earlier today In class I…. well I think your funny, not, like in a bad way or anything.”

HE knew he was bright red at this moment, probably brighter red than any tomato, “Really?”

“Yeah, so I wanted to say sorry, and…. And maybe make it up to you.”

His heart was in his throat, “Oh, you, you don’t have to.”

“But I want to.”

It went quiet as she stepped forward, and he was frozen in place. She was right in front of him now. She leaned forward a little, and he was frozen in place. Her eyes closed, and then so did his, he waited for the moment, and waited, and waited, but nothing came.

Someone snickered, and he cracked an eye to see Avery’s once pretty face twisted up into a sneer of contempt and malicious amusement.

“April fools.” She jumped at him, and in surprise he tripped backwards over one of the metal bars landing hard. The zipper of his backpack, not all the way done up, erupted outward spilling all his books out onto the dirt.

Laughter.

He turned his head looking around to the cracks in the stadium seats where dozens of eyes stared at him laughing.

Avery stood over him as others began flooding down from their spots laughing.

He crawled back, his head down, “But it’s not even April.” He whispered

“Its not even April.” Someone mimicked from behind, and he ran into soemthing hard looking up to see one of Avery’s friends standing over him. She was state shotput champion last years, and her arms were as big as his head, “What is this.” She reached down and picked his book off the ground.

“Please, give it back.” He said crawling to his knees and reaching up for it.

“The Martian.”

“please.”

She flipped open a few of the pages. He stood up trying to reach for his book but he was blocked by another two of her friends.

The laughter continued, the mocking voices over and over and over again.

He tried to push forward reaching for his books which had been picked up off the ground.

“Gross, Its all sticky!” the friend yelled.

“No it isn’t.” He protested, it was true, he took very good care of his books. But of course no one listened. A chorus of disgust rose up around him. His books were dropped, one clattering to the rocks its pages bending, the other one landing halfway in a puddle of stagnant water.

He cried out and dove forward pulling it out of the water even as mud dripped form the hardback.

He cradled it in his arms, feeling hot tears of anger and humiliation begin to prickle at the corners of his eyes.

Laughter continued.

“Look.”

Fingers pointed.

HE stood fists clenched ready to hurt someone, but when he turned the same girl from before hand his book in either hand and when he moved she pulled.

There was a sharp ripping noise as the spine of the book tore a quarter, and as he cried out she laughed and dropped it into the puddle.

As a paperback, the book didn’t stand a chance.

Mud and water caked his hands as he reached in to pull it out on his hands and knees. Something hit him hard in the back and he pitched forward into the puddle getting the book wet a second time as the kids laughed.

He scrambled sitting up coughing and spluttering feeling the slimy grittiness of the water on his lips.

Someone knelt down next to him. A voice in his ear, “If you tell anyone. I’ll tell the teacher you tried to touch me.”

Tears dripped down his cheeks as he tried wiping mud from his face. The laughter receded and he was left along kneeling on the gravel.

His face grew hot and read as he stared down at the ruined cover of his book. Hot tears dripped onto the mud coating his hands.

His breathing started up in great gasps his heart hammered so fast he thought it was going to burst out of his chest. His head was going to explode either from anger or frustration he didn’t know. Choked sobs broke from his mouth as he knelt over the books ruined in his hands. He couldn’t breathe. He stood vision clouded face hot wet and muggy from the heat.

And then he ran.

He had no idea where he was going or what he was doing.

His paperback held muddy and dripping in one hand he pelted into the woods and didn’t stop running until his foot caught on a branch and he went rolling into the leaves.

He lay there on his stomach heart still hammering breath still coming in ragged gasps. He just couldn’t calm his breathing down.

He didn’t know where he was.

He felt like he was having a heart attack, or dying, or something. He lay there gasping on the forest floor for hours.

It grew dark. The mud dried on the back of his book and against his chest and hands.

It was only when he heard the voices did he finally sit up, mud caked and bleary eyed.

“Adam!”

There were no other sounds for a long moment before the call started up again.

He stumbled over, it was dark so his feet kept coughing on branches and twigs.

“Adam, ADAM! I swear ADAM.”

“Thomas?” He said his voice so raw it was barely above a whisper.

“ADAM!” Footsteps rushed towards him through the trees, and Thomas burst from the foliage his scruffy blind hair run wild, his jeans covered in dirt, “Adam there you are where have you-“

He didn’t have time to say much else as he was hugged tight around the middle.

“Adam I…. what’s wrong. What happened! Who did this to you!”

Thomas looked ready to rip someone apart, but Adam didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t say anything about the event for the next two years.

***

Sunny stared wide eyed as Adam turned away again.

“Look, I know its stupid, it happens to plenty of kids and they don’t take it the way I did, but. I mean, with the panic attack on top of it, and then a few years later the same thing happened on my first date, so now I just… I can’t…”

Sunny was quiet for a moment while he looked away.

“Who the FUCK do they think they are.” She snarled.

He looked up in surprise, “I what.”

She marched around in a circle, “What the hell kind of person does that to someone. That’s just sick and wrong. That is just… horrible.” She pulled out her spear, “I swear If i ever meet someone like that if i ever meet THEM, I am going to-”

He caught her arm, “Sunny stop, it was a long time ago.”

“It doesnt matter!”

A small smile cut across his face, “IT doesn't matter sunny, you want to know why.”

“Why.”

“Because I saw their pictures.” he grinned, “Avery got really fat and her friend got hit by a car, not fatally but I consider it Karma doing me a solid.” He paused, “It’ll be ok…. I just need some time. Think you can do that for me?”

She paused and nodded her head, “Yes, I think I can.”

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prfctparis · 3 years

Text

Red Jell-O and A Trip to the Healers

AO3 Link

summary: in which mace windu spends part of night with two of the most stubborn kids in the jedi order. if he had any hair, they might make him go gray within the hour.

a/n: ok so basically, lately my mind has been super duper focused on my star wars au (which exists solely in my head right now) where anakin doesn’t turn to the dark side mostly bc he has a little sister (aka my oc zariza) and other factors, and instead of rambling about that for paragraphs on end i’ll just say: this is a drabble/one shot thing that takes place in that au, but years before the clone wars begins. if you’re curious, and if i did my math right, anakin is 14 here and zariza is 10. but yeah, hope u enjoy reading this!

Master Jedi Mace Windu stares at the young girl with a carefully blank expression. The youngling – an initiate, no older than ten, if he remembers correctly – stares back, almost as if she is daring him to say something, which… Doesn’t surprise him. Not in the slightest. This is Skywalker Number Two, after all, and even though she is much quieter than her older brother, she no doubt causes as much mayhem as he does.

He just wants a snack. He ran out of them in his own quarters. Looking at the young girl, something tells him he won’t be getting the snack.

Mace refrains from sighing.

This is not how he thought his night was going to go.

“Initiate Skywalker,” he begins, hoping it comes off as a greeting than a silent reprimand. “What a coincidence it is seeing you here.”

Her dark eyes narrow the slightest bit. The expression simultaneously looks like Anakin yet nothing like him at all.

Honestly, though he is loath to admit it, sometimes he forgets the two are brother and sister. After all, they hardly look anything alike – different fathers, he remembers Master Healer Che explain to him and the Council members when they were wondering if they were actually related. Anakin has blond hair that is bleached light from his years on Tatooine yet now is slowly darkening with age, and bright blue eyes and tanned, fair skin, whereas his sister has wild and wavy dark brown hair that almost looks black with eyes to match, and light brown skin. She also has abnormally sharp canines for a human – no doubt a hint at whatever type of alien race that is in her blood; they have yet been able to figure it out.

They both do that damn stubborn chin tilt thing, though.

It can be…aggravating, to say the least, when someone is trying to get them to do something and they don’t want to.

Mace gives into sighing when she doesn’t budge. “Zariza,” he tries again, “what are you doing? It is midnight.”

The stubborn chin tilt stays. Kriff. “I could ask you the same thing,” she says.

“You should be sleeping.”

“…So should you.”

“Skywalker.”

“Window.”

Mace’s brow twitches. Okay. Okay, he can deal with a ten year old. He successfully taught Depa, didn’t he?

(Then again, Depa hadn’t been a child who was hell bent on infuriating him on purpose; she had also been thirteen, and the only chaos she brought and still brings are the occasional pranks on him and the jokes about his bald head; luckily the padawan drama ended with the beginning of her Knighthood.)

If only Master Rheba Toome was available – or Kenobi. They both have somehow managed to become the designated Skywalker Wranglers, as Master Koon had once said after an incident when a slightly murderous droid with a flesh eating plant attached to it got loose in the Temple last year.

An idea comes to him suddenly. “You tell me why you are in the Temple’s kitchens so late, and I will say nothing to your crèche master. I might even let you leave with what you came for–,” he doesn’t miss the subtle yet sudden jolt of suspicious relief, “–but if you don’t, I will take you out of here myself and speak to Crèche Master Aryn the moment we get back to your clan.”

There’s a long, tense silence where Zariza debates with herself in her head. So long that Mace wonders if he will have to repeat himself. Then, “Ani’s sick.”

That…is not what Mace had been expecting. He raises a brow. “He is?”

She nods, and points to the fridge a few feet away. “And he likes the red jell-o.”

“Is he in the Halls?” Mace asks, growing slightly concerned because Obi-Wan got sent out to a solo mission just the day before and Padawan Skywalker hadn’t been allowed to go. He didn’t put up much of a fight, which shocked yet pleased everyone. Now, he knows possibly why he didn’t, and that makes the situation slightly worrying.

Zariza opens her mouth, pauses, closes it with pursed lips, and shakes her head no.

“And why isn’t he?”

She shrugs, a bit defensively. “I dunno. Probably thinks he’s fine. He went to his lessons all day – Aayla tried talking him into going to Healer Bant but it didn’t work.”

Mace frowns with furrowed brows, but quickly smooths his expression when gets a sense of guilt and shame and a vague impression of an apology, though he doesn’t know what for. He kneels down without a second thought, and hates (that’s not the Jedi way–) how her chin is tilted down, eyes casted to the side, as if expecting some harsh punishment for…what? Caring for her brother? Telling Mace that he’s sick? If he was any less of a Jedi, the ones who enslaved the Skywalkers would be six feet under.

He makes sure to release the anger into the Force before speaking again; he will need to meditate later. “I am not upset with you, little one. Not anymore, at least. I’m simply concerned about your brother’s health right now,” he assures her.

Zariza huffs, still looking away, but she’s no longer tucking her chin into her chest. “So am I,” she mumbles petulantly. “S’why I want the red jell-o. He likes it.”

“So you have said. Can you tell me how he was feeling last time you saw him? Or in your Force bond, right now?”

“Uh… Sick.” A beat; Mace refrains from spouting a heavily sarcastic remark to a ten year old. “Um. He threw up once he got back to his and Obi-Wan’s rooms. Said something ‘bout being really, really tired earlier. He’s sleeping now.”

Mace hums, and stands up. “All right. Well then, let’s go. I want to check on him, and if needed I will be taking him to the Halls of Healing.”

Zariza frowns as she finally looks at him, but then her eyes travel to the fridge. There’s a silent question there. She goes to ask it but stops herself, and nods. “Okay,” she says instead, almost a mumble, and turns to leave.

He watches her for a second, glances at the fridge that holds the red jell-o, and then moves to walk beside her. “If I was sure it would not upset his stomach, I would let you take some jell-o to him now. But… Maybe tomorrow, if he is feeling better, you can.”

As she tilts her head to look up at Mace in surprise, he makes sure to stare straight ahead. “…Really?”

Mace nods. Then, looks down at her and gives her the barest of smiles. “Really.”

Zariza’s eyes narrow once again. “You promise?”

“I promise– but only if he feels better,” he emphasizes when she starts to grin. “No other time than that.”

“What if he asks for some and he doesn’t feel better?”

Patience, he reminds himself as they walk through the sun halls of the Temple. “Then ask Master Healer Che, or one of the other Healers.”

He gets silence as a response and he glances down to make sure she hasn’t suddenly run off. It’s happened before with her crèche master and Master Rheba Toome and Knight Kenobi – one could say she has a knack for simply sneaking off at the most random times – and he would very much dislike if she snuck away from him in the dark hallways. But, she’s still at his side, clearly thinking about something. Hopefully about what Mace just said and not about putting another flesh eating plant on a half working droid of Anakin’s.

“…What if there aren’t any Healers around?”

“There will be.”

“But what if there aren’t?” she presses.

Mace sighs quietly, hopefully enough to where Zariza doesn’t notice. “Then wait for one.”

More silence. Another glance. She’s still there.

“…I guess I can do that,” she says.

That is, well, kind of concerning. But better than the girl outright disagreeing with him, that’s for sure.

The rest of the walk to Knight Kenobi’s and Padawan Skywalker’s room is done in silence. Mace acknowledges the nocturnal Jedi with a nod, and Zariza shyly waves at the ones who notice her. When they get there Zariza let’s herself in, unlocking the quarters with zero problem, and hurries inside. Mace follows at more relaxed pace. He notices as she takes one look at the living area’s couch, frowns, and makes her way to the little hallway. Mace looks as well, and notices the padawan’s abandoned holopads for a few of his lessons, as well as just a general mess of the area that one would expect from a 14 year old when left alone.

Zariza speaking tears Mace’s attention away from the mess.

“Why the kark are you lying on the bathroom floor? ”

“E chu ta, Zari! None of your business.”

Ah. Huttese cuss words. Nothing unusual, but still.

“Watch your language, young ones,” Mace reprimands lightly, and makes his way to the bathroom where Anakin, indeed, lying on the bathroom floor.

Anakin groans. “Ah, chuba, why’d you bring him?” He sounds pitiful, so much so that it comes out as a whine more than anything. He’s sweating, too, and sickly pale, with visible bags under his eyes from where Mace and Zariza stand at the bathroom entrance. By the smell, Mace and tell that he’s thrown up again. None of is visible, so he’s sincerely hoping Anakin made it to the toilet in time and flushed.

“Because you’re a sick koochoo,” Zariza says.

“Language,” Mace says almost absentmindedly.

She huffs and crosses her arms. “I only called him an idiot.”

“I’m not sick,” the teen denies. It’s a weak argument. Mace can only raise an eyebrow. “And I’m not an idiot, either!” Raising his voice defensively sends Anakin into a coughing fit that ends rather quickly. He groans and curls into a ball, all the while keeping his face on the tile flooring.

Zariza rolls her eyes. “And I’m Jabba.”

Mace sighs and enters the bathroom. He crouches down to Anakin, and places the back of his hand on the boy’s forehead. He jerks away just as quickly, though that doesn’t keep Anakin from making a pitiful sound at the loss of contact. Mace’s lips form a thin line. “I think it’s best if I take you to the Healers, Padawan Skywalker,” he says.

“Nooo, I’m not sick!”

Mace shakes his head. “You are – you have a fever, Skywalker, and it’s best we take you to the Halls of Healing since Knight Kenobi is off planet.”

He mumbles and groans something indiscernible.

Zariza walks over and nudges Anakin’s side with her foot. “Do you want some red jell-o?”

“Kriff no.”

Mace almost tells them to watch their language again, but decides that is a fight he will have with them another day. Preferably during daylight hours and not at midnight when they were all supposed to be healthy and sleeping. Preferably, it won’t be him having such conversations with them.

(Truthfully, he loves the children in the Order, the Skywalker siblings included – but right now in his exhausted, slightly hangry state, he can only spend so much time with them.)

She hums. “What about tomorrow?”

Anakin stills. “…Maybe.”

The initiate grins and looks at Mace, clearly pleased with the answer.

He nods and gives her a smile of acknowledgment, then refocuses on the task at hand. “Can you get up and walk? Or will I be carrying you?”

Anakin gives another response that might as well be in another language, and Mace closes his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose. He breathes in slowly a few times, centers himself, and opens his eyes again a few moments later.

“Okay. Carrying, it is.”

Anakin hardly protests – well, he tries, at least, but it can hardly be counted as anything – and Mace picks up him with not too much difficulty; one arm around the boy’s shoulders, the other under his knees. As Mace leaves the rooms, Zariza follows and turns off the lights along the way, and even locks the door once they are out into the hallway.

And then she starts talking. Continuously.

It’s a vast difference from earlier, and it catches Mace by surprise. Quickly, though, it dawns on him that she’s talking for her brother’s benefit. From droids to podraces to Master Yoda’s swamp stew to the names of new plants she has learned about, and so and so forth. Something about the rambling must help, because Anakin relaxes more as the walk to the Halls of Healing goes by. So much so that he gives up on holding his head up and rests it on Mace’s shoulder, almost passing out completely by the time they make it to the Halls, Zariza tapering off about a holoshow she heard one of the older initiates talk about the other day.

“Master Windu,” one of the Master Healers, a nocturnal species, greets with a bow. Dark, large eyes focus on the brother and sister once they stand straight. “Ah, and the Skywalkers,” they say, playfully flicking their tail in Zariza’s direction to get a giggle out of her.

“Hullo,” she says, smiling up at the Healer.

“Healer Rou,” Mace returns the greeting. “I’m afraid we have a sick padawan on our hands.”

“Hm, yes I see,” Healer Rou says, and moves closer to rest a hand on Anakin’s forehead just like Mace had done before. They remove it quickly, though not as fast Mace did. “He definitely has a fever. How long has he been feeling badly?”

The question is aimed to Mace, but he looks down at Zariza for the answer.

Her eyebrows raise at the realization. “What? Oh, uh… Last night, maybe?” She shrugs, shuffling awkwardly. “I dunno, really, I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, little one,” Healer Rou assures her. They pat her head with a kind smile. “It is okay if you don’t know.”

Zariza nods, relaxing a little. “He, uh, he’s puked a couple of times.”

Healer Rou hums, and motions for them to follow them. They do. “It is most likely a stomach virus of sorts, nothing too serious and nothing we can’t handle. It has been going around this month, I’m afraid. Padawan Skywalker will be the fifth one to have gotten it. I am assuming the plan is to have him spend the time here while he gets better? Until Knight Kenobi returns, that is.”

Mace nods while they enter a medical room, and carefully sets Anakin on the bed after Zariza dashes forward to pull the covers back. “Yes, it is. And Initiate Skywalker wants to give him his favorite red jell-o tomorrow if able.”

Healer Rou smiles, amused. “Of course. Come by at lunch and if he can stomach it, whoever’s rotation it is should allow it. Now; I have got everything under control from here, Master Windu – I will be sure to keep you updated, and will send a message out to Knight Kenobi letting him now as well.”

“Thank you, Healer Rou,” Mace tells them.

“Yeah, thanks Healer Rou!” Zariza exclaims, and rushes to hug the Jedi.

Healer Rou chuckles, hugging the young girl back. “Of course. Head on off to bed, now; we don’t need two sick Skywalkers,” they tease.

“Fine, I guess,” she sighs, far too dramatically for a ten year old that has both adults stifling their laughs.

But unfortunately, it actually takes ten more minutes to leave. Master Vokara Che appears, and speaks to Mace about how long Anakin might have to stay while Healer Rou pulls up Anakin’s medical file. Mace signs what he needs to, double checks with Vokara Che and Rou what he knows about any medicinal allergies he might have, and then leaves. Zariza sticks like glue to him the entire time.

Two steps out of the Halls of Healing, Mace stops in his tracks and picks her up after she yawns three times in less than two minutes.

“Th’nks fo’ helpin’, Window,” she mumbles into his shoulder with muffled, half asleep words.

Mace sighs, but smiles despite himself. He gently pats her back. “Of course, Zariza. Let’s get you back to your clan, hm?”

The answering soft snore he gets in return has him chuckling.

He hadn’t planned on his night to go this way, but he would be lying if he said he regrets it.

#star wars oc #mace windu #anakin skywalker #oc: zariza #take the fear that i don’t need #my writing #star wars #star wars fanfiction

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smokedstorybara · 4 years

Text

So! The promised fanfic ramble!

It’s gonna be an Old Guard Kaysanova fairytale? au inspired loosely by you know i dreamed about you (before i saw you) by BeeLove and Space Angel Hermann and Witch Doctor Newt by WaldosAkimbo on AO3 (links in a reblog so this’ll show up in tags) and several fairytales I grew up on

But, like, without any magic or supernatural elements so far

(Can’t do a readmore cause my laptop broke, sorry)

So it starts with Nicolò in a monastery asking his lover to run away with him to somewhere they can be together openly and his lover basically saying he’s with Nicolò specifically cause he thought he’d be the least likely to catch feelings. Nicolò kinda laughs it off like “yeah it was just a joke, duh” and then after the guy leaves he pulls an already packed bag out from under his cot and just takes off. Just, like, “screw this I’m out.”

Travels around for, like, a year or so before settling in a little one room house on the very outskirts (like, a bit of a walk from the rest of town) of a cute village to the east. Starts a big garden and sells vegetables and stuff in the local market. Befriends inquisitive teens Nile and her brother (don’t know if he’s got a canon name and can’t find anything on it) and local blacksmith Andromache and her wife Quynh. Starts writing a collection of recipes to also sell cause he kinda missed all the writing he did at the monastery. Also, helps out the town doctor whenever they need an extra hand.

Builds a whole reputation as the mysterious, quiet but kind, plant guy who lives at the edge of town (possibly a witch? But definitely a good one).

Then one day he’s out walking along the riverbank during a storm - maybe heading home from somewhere when it hits? - and sees someone in the water, struggling. Gets the guy out, somehow, and carries him to his place cause it’s closest and the man definitely needs to get somewhere warm and dry. He doesn’t recognize him and the guy has a pretty bad fever and a nasty looking cut on his leg, so he decides to give up his bed to this stranger and tend to him until he’s well.

Crown Prince Yusuf wakes up a couple days after falling into the river while traveling to find himself in this tiny one room house filled with plants and books and loose paper and is immediately enamored with the place - and it’s owner, his hero, the beautiful and shy Nicolò.

(He’s told, by Nicolò and the good-humored boy who’s running his market stall for him while he tends to Yusuf, that this isn’t the first time he’s woken since Nicolò fished him out of the river, but it is the first time he’s been lucid - apparently he called Nicolò an angel at one point, and the village boy finds it very amusing)

After his fever breaks a couple days later, when it’s just his leg keeping him there (and his huge crush on Nicolò), he convinces Nicolò that there’s enough room on the bed for both of them and really there’s no good to him sleeping in his creaky little wooden chair. Mostly by pulling Nicolò down next to him when he helps Yusuf back to bed after testing his leg by walking around the room. And then refusing to let go.

They both quickly grow accustomed to sleeping with Nicolò wrapped in Yusuf’s arms.

Of course neither of them say anything about their growing feelings cause Yusuf is Nicolò’s patient and Nicolò mentioned early on that he used to live in a monastery and left cause he fell in love with one of the other priests, who didn’t return his feelings, and Yusuf doesn’t know how fresh that heartbreak is for him.

After he gets well enough, Yusuf starts going to market with Nicolò and hanging around his stall, gossiping with the townspeople and making friends. He starts to wonder if maybe he could just... stay, even after he finishes healing. This life is just so peaceful and happy and he wants it, wants to be able to keep it.

But then some soldiers come through town searching for the missing crown prince and he realizes he can’t stay.

He tells Nicolò that he has to leave, that he has responsibilities he has to get back to. Nicolò says he understands (he does). They kinda skirt around acknowledging their feelings for each other, and in the process realize the other definitely feels the same, and Yusuf promises to return. At some point.

Yusuf returns home and there’s a big celebration. The crown prince has returned alive and safe! After, he tells his family everything that happened. His little sister laughs at him - as is her job as little sister - but his parents are pretty understanding and do their best to comfort him.

The next summer, the royal family goes to their summer house out in the countryside, and Yusuf realizes it’s only, like, a couple days’ walk from Nicolò’s town. He spends the next couple days staring out into the distance and yearning so visibly that eventually his mother tells him to go, spend the rest of summer with his man. So he packs a bag and goes.

Nicolò’s gardening when Yusuf arrives and they have a really nice, heartfelt reunion with a big hug and tears and stuff. Yusuf explains to Nicolò that he can only stay for the summer, that as soon as autumn starts he has to leave again. Nicolò again says he understands, because he does. And they fall back into the comfortable routine from before Yusuf left - sharing the bed, walking to market together, Yusuf sketching or writing poetry while Nicolò works in the garden (Nicolò secretly collecting all the poems and sketches Yusuf discards and carefully copying them with the fancy script and steady hand he learned in the monastery and binding them together with twine), cooking together, and basically just behaving like they’re married.

Then autumn comes and Yusuf leaves, promising to return the next summer. And he does. And the summer after.

For several years they build a relationship in summers. In gardening and cooking and laughing with the neighbors at market. Never saying anything about what they mean to each other (beyond, like, light flirting) but never needing to, always simply understanding. But also never acting on that feeling - beyond the cuddling at night and spending all day together, but the blacksmith’s wife doesn’t count that and her opinion is important.

(Not too important, she’s just a little protective of her friend and his feelings and suspicious of this man who’s only there in the summer and only gives vague excuses of ‘responsibilities’ for why he has to leave for the rest of the year - “what if he’s got a wife?” “Trust me Quynh, he’s not that kind of man.” “But are you sure?”)

Then one year Yusuf looks around the little house and looks at his sketches and has a thought. A thought that sticks with him all the way home (‘home’ meaning ‘where he and his family live 3/4 of the year’, though he’s not entirely sure the word still fits and wouldn’t be better suited attached to somewhere a little more green and peaceful). And he brings it up to his mother, who encourages him to follow through.

So the next summer, when he returns to the village and to Nicolò, he brings canvas and paints and other supplies and explains to Nicolò that he wants to be able to keep pieces of this place with him the rest of the year, to look at when he misses it all too much or when things get overwhelming and he needs some of the peace and comfort of the place and it’s people.

Nicolò kisses him. (Finally).

He kisses back.

They talk. Finally acknowledging how they feel, but also that it’s not something that can actually go anywhere - though not going into why - and agree it’s probably best to just continue as they have been. (If Quynh were party to this conversation she would likely be very upset).

So that summer things stay mostly the same, except Yusuf paints. Everything.

At one point he makes a flower crown and plops it on Nicolò’s head while he gardens and then instantly goes to paint that because it’s just too soft. He writes “A King Tending to His Subjects” on the back.

He shows all the paintings to his parents after summer has ended and they decide they all need to be framed and hung up around the palace. Yusuf is very on board with this plan since it makes looking at them whenever he needs to easier.

Until he realizes it means his sister can also look at them whenever she wants to, and tease him.

She doesn’t tease him. Instead she reminds him he will have to get married at some point, and marrying some nobody former priest would make some of the wealthy and powerful suitors he’s turned down very upset. He tells her he knows, but wants to have as much of Nicolò as he can, while he can. Would rather spend these summers with him before having to marry someone else than deprive himself of that specific happiness he’s found altogether.

She drops the topic.

Summer begins again and Yusuf doesn’t arrive. Nicolò waits out in front of his house every day, late into the evening. But no Yusuf.

Quynh starts to throw theories of why and threats of what she’ll do to him if he ever shows his face there again. Nicolò assures her that it’s not necessary and that he’s certain there’s a good reason.

Then about a month into the summer a young woman rides into town in a desperate frenzy, asking where Nicolò lives. Nile leads her to Nicolò’s little house.

She jumps off her horse as soon as she sees Nicolò and tells him in a rush that Yusuf had been kidnapped - by Keane, a dangerous outlaw - just before summer. That none of the warriors their parents sent had been able to get him back and that one of their advisors, a man named James Copley, had suggested they promise his hand in marriage to whoever rescues him in order to better motivate some of their less motivated allies.

Their father had gone through with it in desperation, before the family realized the whole thing was likely a ploy by King Stephen - a rumored associate of Keane’s - to get Yusuf to be his husband after being turned down by him just weeks before the kidnapping.

But Yusuf’s father can’t go back on his decree, so they need Nicolò to get to Yusuf before Stephen (in part because they really don’t want Yusuf to be forced to marry someone he doesn’t love just because he got kidnapped because Stephen can’t handle rejection, and in part because the decree does mean if Nicolò rescues Yusuf they can marry without causing problems with any allies - aside from Stephen, but really do they want to stay allies with him after this?).

Nicolò snaps into action, asking Nile’s brother - who had been helping him with his work - to run his market stall and tend his garden while he’s gone. And then Nile insists on going with him, informing him that Andromache has been altering her father’s old armor to fit her, and should be finished by now, and reminding him that he himself taught her and her brother how to wield a sword (her brother had seen Nicolò’s while visiting once when they were still teens and insisted on learning, Nile had joined as soon as she found out. Nicolò had never been good at telling them no). Nicolò tells her to meet him in the town square at sunrise and then turns into his house to prepare.

Nile offers Yusuf’s sister a place to spend the night and leads her back into town. They stop by the blacksmith, to tell her what’s happening and that Nile will need the armor by sunrise, on their way to Nile’s home. Where they explain everything again to Nile’s mother.

At sunrise, when they bring Nile’s armor to her in the square, Andromache and Quynh insist on coming as well. The five of them set off, Yusuf’s sister leading.

Along the way, royal guard Sébastien LeLivre intercepts them, confessing to being involved in the kidnapping - not that he knew that’s what was happening, just that a friend of his convinced him to skip part of his rounds that night - and wanting to help make it right. They welcome him into the group, not having time to really get into whether they should and not wanting to waste time convincing him to go home either.

They arrive at Keane’s stronghold to find it swarming with outlaws. The group fights their way to the door and Nicolò goes in while the others stay to continue fighting the horde.

When he gets to the room Yusuf is held in, King Stephen is already there. Shouting at Keane that he explicitly said to cause no physical damage to the prince.

Nicolò takes advantage of Keane’s distraction to take him out. And then it’s just him, his love, and Stephen. Who he suddenly realizes he knows, and who recognizes him at the same time.

They fight - with swords and words. (Though first Nicolò asks when Stephen became a king and is told the man’s brother died not long after Nicolò left the monastery and as he had no heir, Stephen was excused from the priesthood to take the throne).

Eventually, (Inevitably), Nicolò wins. Unfortunately, not without great injury.

Nicolò helps Yusuf to stand and they support each other out of there. As they walk, Yusuf asks questions, and makes comments, about things said during the fight. Mostly just disparaging Nicolò’s old taste in men (Nicolò responds that his taste has definitely improved since he left the monastery) and coming to the discovery that Nicolò is the runaway prince of Genoa. Fourth son of the king and queen, who was sent into the priesthood young and then disappeared.

When they exit the building, the group clears them a path to the horse and they all ride off as fast and as far as they can. And then they stop to tend Yusuf and Nicolò’s wounds. Despite the men’s protests that they need to keep moving. They take a lesser-known path when they resume their journey, with the hope that Stephen’s men won’t find them on it, so that they need not push their horse - and themselves - too hard.

They arrive at the palace to find Stephen has again beaten them, and is spinning lies to Yusuf’s parents. Telling them that Nicolò orchestrated the kidnapping in order to manipulate his way into becoming consort to a crown prince.

Of course, the king and queen take the word of both their children and one of their guards (Sebastien) over the king known to have dealings with Keane, who Yusuf turned down just weeks before his kidnapping.

(“Besides,” Yusuf’s father points out diplomatically, “I can’t go back on my decree. So whether you’re right or not, Yusuf is marrying this Nicolò. Ah well. Nothing to be done.”)

They have two wedding ceremonies: the big, grand, official one at the palace with hundreds of guests (at which Nicolò is reunited with his family - happily in some cases, less so in others), and the small, peaceful one in Nicolò’s garden. They wear flower crowns in the second and they both cry (as does Quynh, but she will never admit it).

#the old guard #kaysanova #joe x nicky #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #stream of consciousness

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filthfichunter · 3 years

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Might i request underage, incredibly tight someone being trained to fuck by Vesemir/Eskel/Geralt. Maybe Vesemir training every boy in "fencing". Or Geralt and Eskel training Lambert or Jaskier. Belly bulge, cum inflation, overstim and any others you'd like. Breeding bench is hot af.

Dub-con into fuck yes more - con is good. No fully non-con tho please.

Okay okay, so we've established that I wouldn't know a short fill if it fell into my lap and introduced itself right??

CW for: I think I only managed to fit underage (Jaskier the year before he heads off the Oxenfurt, so however young you'd like, musical savant? Rebellious barely legal teen? Up to you), and training an incredibly tight hole, inflation, distended belly, punishment inflation, anal beads, coercion, dub-con and spanking... But everything else is totally in whatever imaginary coda I hope this inspires for you of what happens next!

Geralt wakes the bard by sliding his cock into Jaskier's mouth, pushing his hips forward until his white wiry pubic hair hides that cute nose. The kid is practically choking on it before he even fully wakes up and realizes what's happening. Startled sleepy cornflower blue eyes meet slitted cat eyed pupils.

There is a brief pause. Geralt hilted waiting to see if he'll need to reinforce the lessons he's been teaching the bardling the last two weeks. For Jaskier that brief moment slams forward with a burst of adrenaline as he finally wakes all the way up. A gurggle, gasping in air through his nose, as he desperately tries to get a deep enough breath, spots starting to form at the edge of his vision.

He's woken up this was every morning since the first.

The now familiar taste and smell and discomfort calms him, and he forcefully reminds himself that it's all part of the deal he struck even if he didn't know all that he had apparently agreed to.

Geralt's hips forcefully rock, disrupting his airflow, triggering the gag reflex that hasn't quite been trained out of him yet.

The young man's eyes start to tear up even as he relaxes his throat and begins sucking.

"Good, work. Your throat is golden, the perfect little fuck sleeve." Geralt chuckles at his own joke and begins fucking his bard's face, enjoying the way the kid's throat flutters, spasming around his girth. It doesn't take him long to come, it wasn't an over exaggeration, Jaskier's throat is tight and wet, tongue flicking over his length. He hauls Jaskier up out of his bed role when he's finished, kissing him filthily, licking his own cum out from between slick friction swollen lips.

Agreeing to let the bard follow him along the Path has been one of his smarter decisions of late. When the gangly youth, cocksure and so very pretty, had approached his table Geralt had decided to ruin him.

"I speak Elder, can juggle, play any instrument given to me, crowds have wept to hear a song from my golden throat, and I am willing to both sing your praises and provide entertainment on our journey, should you allow me to but follow you on your nobel path this season!"

Jaskier had taken a bit of an unauthorized gap year.

"You decide to run away from home then? Someone looking for you no doubt" the Witcher had asked for forms sake, assuaging what little moral reluctance he still held, having already decided that he'd be taking the lithe twink up in what he'd offered and also what he hadn't.

"Hmmmm"

It had been easy to see that Jaskier wasn't an actual bard or performer, not dressed in the expensive but sedate clothing, only a small rucksack and case holding his belongings, and presumably his lute.

"I didn't run away from home sir Witcher! I am merely gathering inspiration and experience before I start my formal bardic training in the Fall!"

"Which isn't to say that I am untrained now, merely in search of material to fule my enterance audition, you are the inspiration I seek!!"

Jaskier had thought it was a grand plan.

Now he found himself naked gummy eyed from a fitful uncomfortable rest, breath stale from sleep and cum, reluctant to acknowledge that this hadn't been the plan.

His cock was half hard from morning wood, jaw sore, belly still uncomfortably full from the previous evenings training, starting another morning with his Witcher.

Less time limping along after Roach was always welcome.

"Give me a show bard!" Geralt smirked, "You still haven't held up your end of the bargain and we can both agree that I have been attentive in your training, let's see if you'll disappoint again this morning"

"Thank you Geralt, for being so patient." Jaskier always tried to apologize early on, it saved him from dealing with a red bruised ass all day if he could keep from having to be corrected until at least after their lunch time stop.

Geralt smirked enjoying the insincerity. Jaskier had started out so reluctant, and confused about his role, but after that first two hard days acclimating had learned to at least give the appearance of acceptance.

He's been working on Jaskier, getting him ready to service all of the appetites of a Witcher."Hands and knees, spread your legs wide, hump the ground, let's get you spent and loose"

Already used to such instructions Jaskier dropped getting into position. Geralt enjoyed seeing that ass jiggle infront of him as the boy dropped down into position for their morning lesson.

"I've been patient, little buttercup, but maybe what you need is a push." A solid clap, more noise than real violence echoed the clearing, Jaskier's hips rolling more fluidly, the fingers of his hands dug into the sod above his head beyond the bedding as Geralt's hand fell down twice emphasizing his threat.

The lightly furred cheeks of the boys ass looked like a perfect peach, round, lightly furred with a hint of dewy sweat as Jaskier chased the coarse friction of the bedroll beneath him. His cock hung vulnerable between his thighs thrusting hard down drawing frustrated grunts.

His belly was taut and swollen beneath him, sloshing from last night's lesson training him to take more volume into his guys.

It was just plump enough that Jaskier couldn't get enough stimulation on his straining erection.

It was never enough alone to get him off. "Hm. Your little hole is winking at me again!" The pads of Geralt's finger ran over the dry dusky starburst, "feeling shy this morning?" The rim clenched tightly around the thick rope that disappeared into a swollen hole. The friction and lack of moisture after having worm the training device all night causing the whimpers and thrusting to gain a bit more desperation.

The rope ran deep into the boy's asshole, connected to a series of graduated beads. The last bead large enough to retain the heavy expanding potion Geralt had funneled into Jaskier to aid in his training the night before.

Jaskier wasn't allowed to remove them, or empty his straining belly for the day until he'd come first.

It was his own fault.

His virgin hole had been so tight that Geralt had to punish it for refusing to cooperate.

That first lesson, dispensed only an hour after they first met had done double duty.

Geralt forcing three of his fingers into Jaskier's mouth finger banging the back of his throat to help him get used to satisfying the Witcher with his mouth, and then those slopping spit slick fingers had reached back and smacked down on his hole, three quick spanks, then back into his mouth.

They had repeated the activity until Jaskier stopped thrashing and had eventually cum frosting against Geralt, held prone over the Witchers lap for the first time.

His hole had been too tight, from fear and anxiety the first time Geralt tried to fit the head of his cock inside. No amount of pressure was going to work, so instead of casting him aside Geralt let him know they'd work up to him fulfilling this role in their party through regular training.

There were only two anal beads that first night, liberally greased up with some salve from Geralt's pack. The beads had been small, easily thrust in and out of his asshole.

He had cum so hard that first night he had blacked out, waking up warm, and sated Geralt's spend coating the inside of his thighs where he'd taken his own pleasure from Jaskier's unresponsive body, pinked up thighs splashed with white seed.

Every couple of days Geralt would add more beads, bigger beads getting Jaskier ready to take his cock, making do with the boy's mouth, hands, and his thighs as they worked to stretch his hole large enough to be able to take Geralt.

Attitude just brought more discomfort so it hadn't taken long for Jaskier to give in. Geralt was very handsome, and his cock was intimidating enough that he'd been grateful not to have had to take it without all of the prep work they had done together

There are a dozen heavy carved stone beads up Jaskier's ass. They bump against each other clacking and vibrating, a property of the mineral they are made from.

With little tugs to the rope Geralt is able to peek the surface of the largest bead out of the younger man's hole. "Looks like a hungry mouth Jaskier, gobbling up almost everything, who knew my boy had TWO such hungry mouths, bear down, gape that tight little pucker"

The bead pushes further out of his hole, stretching the rim as it starts to push out. Jaskier rim looses color under the strain a white band of stretched muscle straining.

When Jaskier isn't able to push it any further himself he earns a quick series of slaps to the meat of his ass, cheeks bouncing hard and going even pinker.

They've been working at stretching Jaskier out every evening. First on Geralt's tongue, then moving on to any number of other tools that the Witcher happened to have on hand.

The night before Jaskier had been placed on his back, nearly folded in half with his knees near his ears arms wrapped around each ofnhis own thighs holding himself open and exposed. Geralt used a funnel and inflatable tubing to deposit a potion into Jaskier.

The tubbing had been made from pig bladder, and while it had only started out as thin as one of his own fingers it had expanded, filling him so deeply and fully that his own belly had soon blocked his view from his awkward position.

He'd been so relieved to have the tubing pulled free that he hadn't known to brace for the potion itself expanding. An intimidating amount of slimy lubricant had filled him.

Jaskier had passed out last night with his distended belly rocking back and forth jostled by Geralt thrusting to completion once again between his thighs.

Today's position was equally uncomfortable but at least once Jaskier came he'd be able to rest his sore belly.

Geralt rearranged the prone figure infront of him. Pushing Jaskier's legs even further apart tilting his pelvis back, putting a deep curve into the bards lower spine, everything is on display.

It only takes a little pressure before Jaskier's hole opens up and he can push his middle finger in deep, pushing the anal beads deeper. He gently pets around Jaskier's rim, barely pressing the tip of another finger in, stroking the skin around it with his other ones.

Geralt moves up to a second and third finger quickly. Picking up speed, jostling the anal beads, setting them to click against each other and vibrate up against the boy's prostate. Agitating the liquid locked behind.

As soon as it feels like Jaskier is close, walls fluttering erratically, Geralt yanks his fingers and then the beads out.

The rim of Jaskier's ass blooms and clentches rapidly as each bead is wrenched free, the thick lubricant sealed behind them exploding out.

Jaskier tripped over into a punishing climax, overwhelmed, spent and lax after all of the stimulation.

Jaskier's unconscious body twitched and his hole spasmed.

Geralt fed three of his fingers back into the unconscious body.

Even as the sound of rhythmic squelching filled the clearing the Witcher was applying the slick dripping from Jaskier to his reawakened erection.

There's enough slimy lube that the bardling feels wet inside, like a pussy but, even after their first grueling session of the day, so much tighter.

But finally not too tight.

He'll wake Jaskier up already impaled on the thick girth of his cock. Geralt can't wait to fuck the hole he's had so much fun training. He could have had the kid bouncing on his cock the first day, but after having lived as long as he has he knows the value of drawing pleasure out.

He can't wait to further bruise that peach ass by slamming into it with his hip bones, finally hilted deep all the way into the space he'd painstakingly carved out for himself.

Jaskier doesn't know that he won't be starting at Oxenfurt in the fall.

Geralt is extending his boys gap year and taking him with him back to Kaer Morhen for the winter.

He did after all promise to bring that years entertainment for his fellow Witchers.

#cw fh writing #cw fh object insertion #cw fh inflation #cw fh belly bulge #cw fh dub con #dead dove do not eat

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ninvic-rbs · 4 years

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Uhh okay so I know I haven’t really been active in the grillster community for a while (I do not control the hyperfixation) but looking through some old stuff I found something I wrote that I never posted, and in honor of grillstertember I thought I’d share it, better late than never :)

I didn’t see anything on @aeris-blue‘s prompt list (sorry for the tag ^^’) that fit this so I’m just posting it now and. That’s it. Godspeed yall ✌️

Grillby bolted upright the moment he woke up, soul beating faster than he ever remembered it doing. But, given the circumstances, maybe he shouldn't rely on his memory just now.

He was so used to weird dreams that, when he first regained consciousness, he thought that's what it was. An odd dream. But it didn't take him long to realize that it wasn't. To feel the presence that had been missing for so long, without him even noticing. And when that thought hit him, the wave of emotions that crashed in his mind was so intense it almost made him choke.

Gaster was back. His Gaster was back.

Grillby had so many questions; he almost couldn't function. Where had he been? Why had he left? How long had he been gone? Why was he back? Where was he? Would he remember everyone? Would he remember him? Would he remember them?

Quicker than he thought he could manage so early, he got up and changed clothes. He attempted to put on his shoes at the same time he went down the stairs of his little apartment, and that almost ended up with him falling face first on the floor.

Without stopping to have breakfast and with his tie still hanging loose, he left the house and took off running down the street, headed for the skeleton household.

When he arrived, he slammed the door opened unceremoniously. He knew he would apologize later, but right now the feeling of urgency was much bigger than a crack on the wall.

The brothers were sitting down at the table, looking worried, like they were discussing something. Well, like they had been discussing something. Right now they were both looking at Grillby with a shock that quickly turned into confusion, which then also faded into understanding. It was kind of creepy how coordinated they were.

After a few seconds of silence, Papyrus spoke up.

"DID... DID YOU REMEMBER HIM TOO?"

The elemental nodded, breathing heavily. The brothers glanced at each other uneasily before looking up again. Grillby wondered if he was missing something or if they were just worried about their older brother.

"Do you know where he is? Have you seen him?" he anxiously asked.

"NO, WE HAVEN'T, BUT... SOME TEENAGERS IN WATERFALL TOLD US THEY SAW HIM LAST NIGHT. SIT DOWN IF YOU'D LIKE, WE'LL TELL YOU WHAT WE KNOW" he said offering the elemental the third chair around the table, which he politely declined. He was sure if he sat down now he would set the furniture on fire.

And so Papyrus, because Sans didn't open his mouth once, narrated to him how a group of teens that were up way past their bed time had seen a figure that after a second they could recognize as the previous Royal Scientist stumble a couple of steps out of a corridor that wasn't supposed to be there, only to immediately take off running towards Hotland. The first people to be notified had been Sans and Papyrus, who woke up suddenly remembering their lost brother. They had checked the labs, but he hadn't gone there; so they could only guess he was in the castle.

"WE DON'T KNOW WHY HE'S THERE. NOR DO WE KNOW HOW... BEING GONE FOR SO LONG COULD HAVE AFFECTED HIM. WE HAVE DECIDED TO WAIT FOR HIM HERE. HE WILL HAVE TO COME AROUND, EVENTUALLY" he looked over at Grillby, who at some point during the explanation had started pacing around the room.

"Okay" he said after a pause. "...could you let me know when he shows up? Please."

"OF COURSE."

"Thank you" he knew the wait was gonna be unbearable, but there wasn't much he could do about it. "Well, I'm... I'm gonna open up the bar, I guess. I'll see you two later. thank you again for telling me."

He left after the pair waved their goodbyes. After walking the short distance to his bar, he sighed, creating a thick cloud of steam.

It was going to be a long day.

He took out his keys and opened the door, stepping inside. As he glanced around, he thought, like every morning, that his bar looked a lot different without all the light and the people in it. And he was the only person that had ever seen it like that.

...no. No he wasn't. Not anymore.

He remembered how, years ago, Gaster had helped him close down the establishment after a long day. He would even sometimes walk him to work in the morning, whenever he stayed the night in Snowdin.

The elemental sighed again. He hadn't been able to realize just how much he missed those nights. Grillby would wait for him while he got out of work and to his house, and then they would watch a movie or just talk about whatever came to mind. He would normally leave after a couple hours, since he would have to get up early the next morning. But... sometimes he would be able to actually stay the night.

The elemental shook his head. He shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

He got to work opening up; turning the lights on and putting the chairs back on the ground.

He was getting the dishes ready for the day and warming up the ovens when he heard a muffled scream. He froze for a second, before dropping everything and bolting for the door. That voice had sounded like Papyrus' and every bit of his being was telling him that he had to go outside.

His excitement and anxiety growing with each step, he finally crossed the door. It took him a moment to locate the skeleton, but when he did he stopped running abruptly.

There he was. There he is.

That was all the elemental could think as he watched the scene that was unfolding in front of him.

The skeleton brothers had left the house seemingly in a rush, but where only a few meters away from it, hugging... hugging Gaster. They were hugging Gaster, his Gaster, he was there, he was right there.

Grillby choked on a sob. He didn't know what to do with himself as he watched. His memory of the skeleton had been so distant that the sigh of him now almost made his knees weak. He had even forgotten how short he was when compared to the other.

At some point, Grillby couldn't tell exactly when, Gaster looked up from his brothers and his gaze found its way up to the elemental's, who, in spite of himself laughed, molten tears running down his face. He couldn't bring himself to do anything besides hold their eye contact as the skeleton started running towards him. He wanted nothing more than to close the distance, but he was sure if he tried to walk his legs wouldn't support him.

And he probably had been right, seeing how, when Gaster finally tackled him they both fell to the ground. They rolled around a couple of times before they stopped, the elemental lying on the floor and Gaster settled on top of him. When the skeleton noticed, thought, he pushed them again so that he was the one lying down. Despite the huge storm of emotions coursing through him, Grillby gave him a questioning look. The skeleton chuckled.

"Oh, you know. I don't want you to hurt your back, with the snow and all that."

Grillby laughed again. He didn't think he'd ever cared less about the snow.

#its old #its unedited #and its probably not as good as i would've liked it to #but it's also better than nothing i guess #fr tho even though i'm not active in this community anymore #it has a special place in my heart #yall are so nice and welcoming #and it was the first time i ever actively contributed content to a fandom #i learned a lot during my stay #so here's to the best crack ship out there :')#also if you follow me bc of hk #dont worry we'll be back with regular scheduling shortly #grillster #grillstertember

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Top 10 Sealab 2021 Episodes (Comission)

Happy 2021 Everyone! After an utterly AWFUL fucking year, it’s nice to be in a brand new year with brand new possiblities, new projects you’ll see soon, finsihing the old.. and all that good stuff. And good friend of the blog and only patron and contributer kev had a great suggestion to comission to kick off the year. Since it’s 2021 it’s only fair ot honor one of the very first adult swim shows, one taking place in the same year and still one of it’s funniest and fucking weirdest, and as we’ve seen that threshold is vast: Sealab 2021 Sealab was created by the wonder twins of Adam Reed and Matt Thomspon, and if those names sound familiar.. that’s because their the guys who created Frisky Dingo, a cult classic i’ll defintely have to write about someday soon, and more famously and in Matt’s case still to this day, Archer. Yup, after adult swim jerking them around lead to the closing of their initial studio, the two moved to FX and here they are. So yeah this is where the roots of a lot of archers workplace shenanigans and petty dickery come from. But even ignoring what it’d lead to, Sealab on it’s own is pretty damn good and holds up pretty well. Some jokes.. have not aged well, especially the treatment of Debbie as the villiage bicycle, but on the whole most of the humor is just really funny, really weird and really insane and I still love it after this revisit even if some episodes didn’t hold up so good, most of them held up good or even better than I remembered. The show was THE first abriged series, taking bits of old forgotten and seemingl really damn boring hannah barbara show sealab 2021, and using the footage to tell the tale of a bunch of assholes, weirdos and what have you running an underwater research station.. and being so bad at it or getting into such other insane bollocks it often blew up. Continuity was loose, jokes were the priority, and dialouge was key since the animation was not great in any way shape or form, but the cheapness was enough of a charm and improved enough with time that it didn’t really matter. The show was good and set the bar for adult swim shows for better or worse alongside other greats like Home Movies, Aqua Teen Hunger Force and others. It also had a unique cast of mostly small time actors, and bafflingly one respected news pundit as local asshole idiot head Stormy, and broadway legend Henry Goz as series MVP Captain Murphy. It was good, it was part of my childhood and teen years, and I love it so. I bought the dvds, quoted it decently and will again now Kev’s brought my fire for the series back. So naturally for a series like this since regular reviews just don’t.. work on something this insane sometimes, i’m instead counting down my top. 10 . episodes. Yes top 10 lists are comissionable, 5 bucks a pop. As long as I know the series well enough i’d be glad to and here I ws more than honored to. I also uped my game this time and rewatched every cantidate and thus I feel this may be one of my best lists yet. So without further adeu... grab your grizzlbees oninon burst , your bebop cola and your pitcher of whale cancer. this is the top 10 episodes of sealab 2021!

10. Tinfins This one’s a classsic just for it’s uniquness, taking the piss out of glitzy and vapid hollywood insider shows and their annoying hosts, while also being delightfully weird, from mocking the show’s own animation by having detailed cgi used to map the limited animation, to Erik Estrada’s interview where his fictional self is clearly having none of toni and is also clearly getting wasted, to the utter bizzarity of Kid N Play being the films directors.. it’s just a good time.

But what REALLY makes the episode are two things: The first is a series of increasingly bizzare commericals for Grizzlebees, a fictional restraunt that would become a staple of the show: From a simple commerical showing off their onion bursts, to their kids meals with tonic water, to Henry Goz’s utterly bizzare farm based commerical for it, to finally a commerical about depression being okay because grizzlebee delivers that’s pitch black as it is utterly hilarious, it’s just one hit after the other. The crown jewel of the episode of course is the trailer ofr tinfins itself, which is insane and includes great bit after great bit, the best being the titular mecha shark cutting the power “How the hell can it cut the power? It’s a shark. “ Holy Crap indeed.

9. In the Closet A bottle episode, which Sealab really excelled at and not the last on this list by a mile, as the show’s key was it’s dialouge the episode had a simple premise it quickly managed to have make some pretty insane turns. Marco, played by the glorious Eric Estrada and Muprhy, played by the late and very game Harry Goz, have been trapped in the suply closet for a few days, with Muprhy, being muprhy, having already married a bucket who has a history as a “Hookermop” named wendy. Soon other sealabians get caught inside too, and it results in plenty of hilarious gags, From muprhy sucker punching the hell out of everyone, to Sparks panicking under claustrophiba, to the repair guy getting sucker punched and no one caring much about his well being. This one lives off of Muprhy as while the others are good, Goz as he usually did during his time on this earh and on this series before his untimely passing, steals the whole damn show, and the ending, where it turns out Muprhy adopted and starved a bunch of fighting dogs, is a nice twist on everything. And the punchilne to it is utterly fantastic “It could be worse” “How in the hell could it possibly worse?!” “We could be out there.. with Stormy”.

8. The Legend of Baggy Pants Speaking of Bottle Episodes and Captain Murphy being awesome.... this one narrowly beat out the episode it’s a spirtual sequel too, the classsic all that jazz, but this one is easily better. Like that one it’s a bottle episode that’s almost entirely just Captain Muprhy on some sort of shenanigan, with only abit of other cast, in this case Hesh, Eggers, and an unfortunate phone operator. In this case the premise is simple, kind of nuts, and utterly hilarious and utterly captian murphy: Captain Muprhy is having a round of Golf in Sealab, which is weird but fits the character but what ratchets it up to funny is apparently this underwater research station, for no reason, has a pro shop. So after loosing his last ball in a reactor, and sending poor hesh in to get it leading to the advent of the glorious Monster Hesh, Muprhy spends the entire episode tooling around in his “Muprh Mobile” trying to find the pro shop. As a result it’s basically 11 glorious minutes of Harry Goz going absolutely mental as muprhy, and it is as great as that sounds. From Muprhy’s sudden hatred of pod 6, to his bullying of Eggers, a hapless sealabian he runs into and then tries to run over, his bullying of dolphin boy and then trying to run him over, to his compuance as eggers steals his stuff and then his muprh mobile, it’s just glorious riffing from one of the best in the buisness and Harry is still deeply fucking missed by yours truly. RIP you magificent stalion.

7. Cavemen One of the series final episodes, and easily one of it’s best. While the later Seasons get some flack. While season 3 is a bit weak,a s Goz’ tragic passing left them stumbling, Season 4/5... it’s complicated, is REALLY damn good and has some of the series finest episodes which many probably never saw. Case in point, Cavemen. Cavemen is another spirtual sequel this time to lost in time, which also didn’t make the list, but this one is also better. Like LIT, it focuses on one of the series best dynamics: Brainy super scientest and often only sane man Dr. Quinn and all around idiot, moron and bane of everyone’s existance, Stormy, played by Brett Butler and Ellis Henican, both of who nail the two and this episode. The two are trapped in a cave after Stormy’s stupidity blew up sealab, and his trail of dead rabbits lead a shark to him and quinn. The result is a TON of great back and forth as Stormy tries to make Quinn see him as his best friend, Quinn rightfully shouts at Stormy for... everything, and Stormy tries to show off some ancient cave painting she himself made, that quinn quickly figures out because he left his paint around, and shows that off in a very clever gag I can’t convey correctly here. We also get knife fights and Quinn beating stormy over the head with a dead rabbit, an da surprisingly solem ending where the two hold hands as they die before heading up to heaven for a happy and weird ending. Overall an episode that’s really hard to dive into as it’s just relaly damn good and all in the performances, gags and pacing, as it’s done entirely in real time. Easily worth a watch.

6. Shrabster Another great late season episode and another really experimental one. This one’s told from back to front, then we’re given the ending. It ends up working really well as it not only jacks up interest but the story itself is great. Asj it ends up turning out over the episode Dr. Quinn’s created the solution to world hunger: The shrabster, a hybrid of crab, shrimp and lobster. Grizzlebees, naturally wants it and after finding out Sparks didn’t actually own the rights, have Shanks, muprhy’s replacement, try and steal it, only for him to fall in love with the creature and spirit it away to give it a better life.. before shooting it in the end and eating it himself. We also get some good runners as Sparks starts speaking in slang and gets his neck rightfully snapped for it by Quinn, Stormy keeps eating shellfish despite being allergic, and we get the glory that is dan and don, two grizzlebees reperceives played by reed and thompson who are just an utter delight. I also ALMOST forgot the fucking announcer whose just fucking hilaroius the whole damn time with his various segways.

5. HappyCake An early classic and damn worthy with a simple, batshit premise, which as should be clear by now was Sealab’s Bread and Butter. Muprhy’s happycake oven has been stolen, so he sends Stormy (who knows about the captain’s bedwetting and thus must be silenced) Quinn and a fishman out to find it in the ocean. Turns out it’s Sparks, in a character defining episode, fault as he’s working on world domination, and thus is working on driving murphy insane and thus stole it. He and marco discuss Marco becoming his henchman and getting metal teeth, Muprhy goes nuts, it’s a damn good time. Also a lot of talk of Michael Cain so that’s always a plus now I know who he is. And of course it has one of the series best lines period “Pudding can’t help the void inside” but it’ll help. Only this low because i’ts a bit structually messy compared to what’s to come and given it beat out two really damn good structurally episodes for this slot, that should say something.

4. Hail Squishface! No best of list would be complete without this one. Once again the show banks itself on a simple premise: Captain Muprhy buys a white blob, a gloop, from a vendor and gives it liquor and gremlins style his little buddy multiplies and he soon gives them out to the crew. Everyon’es on board except Quinn.. whos naturally proven right ot be suspicious as the gloops methane output will doom them all and only muprhy, whose gone insane and is wearing squishface like a fez as you’d expect, wants them alive leading to what you’d expect: a flamethrower battle between muprhy and the crew with murphy decked out like a transformer. This one’s just endlessly creative, from the various glooptransformations to the finale to the gags, i’ts just great. The fart gags are also.. actually pretty funny, which given i’m not a fart gag guy most of the ttime, speaks to how well executed they are and use the gags of htem being fart machines. Also we get muprhy in a fez and that alone cements it as top 5 matieral.. but as for the top 3.

3. Moby Sick

Our last late season entry and the third to last episode of the show ever, this is top 3 for a reason, even above a classic like Hail Squishface. This one just has so many insane jokes packed in I forget quite a few despite them all being pretty damn great. The premise is dour: A whale named Avalard shows up in Sealab wanting to die, as he has whale cancer. Stormy recognizes him as the star of the show “Gotta Have that Dick”, even saying “I gotta have that dick!”.. which of course they have a loop of ellis saying in the credits he correctly assumes will haunt him for the rest of his days. And if a whale starring in a cheesy 90′s tgif sitcom wasn’t enough we get the best gag of the episode as Marco eats some of avalard’s whale cancer leading to an insnae kool aid style add

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And of course Marco later puts on a Mayor F Whale outfit and eats the cancer.. and his way out of avalard. But before that we get fights over wether the whale should die or not, including the guy on the pro whale side stabbing him, Debby’s rambling nosense and Shanks, who first builds a wooden whale to put his brain in .. that promptly sinks “and all my puppies were in there!” and then goes on a far right pundit show and gets into a giant robot phsyical challenge.. which frankly we need more of. Tucker Carlson would be .0001 percent more tolerbale if he were getting his ass kicked in a gundam is what i’m saying.

2. Feast of Alvis I’ll be brief here, which in an article where i’m already trying to be brief says a lot but since I JUST covered this one a few weeks ago for my best holiday special lists: Feast of Alvis is, like most of sealab, deeply creative, deeply batshit and deply fun as Muprhy pushes his violent frontier version of jesus on everyone, with predicably great results. I watch it every year for damn good reason, it has some of the series best gags, including “Cram a penny o nthere” And great satire about the supposed “War on christmas”. I’m only being so breif as I said pretty much all I had to say last time. Exxcept this: Adam Reed is a DAMN talented voice actor both as virjay (though in hindishgt he REALLY shoudln’t of been playing a hindu man, especially since otherwise the series actually cast poc), and in various rolls and kills it as alvis here. So what could top one of my faviorites? Wellll.

1. Chickmate Another early one and as should be clear the best. It incapsulates the series the best, has the funniest jokes packed into it’s 11 minutes and in general is just an outstanding episode that throughly defined the cast and their rolls and chemistry. Debbie’s biological clock is ticking and she wants to have a baby, and after mothering a dolphin dosen’t help decides one of the sealab men will be the father and auditions them. It goes as well as you’d expect: Muprhy thought she’d become his mommy, and not in a kinky way, Sparks provides one of the series best gags by giving her a modest proposal by jonathan twist and giving us the utter black comedy joy of him describing “ribs dripping off the bone”, Stormy’s tape gets interrupted by Hesh who clasically screams “Hesh wants some sex”, Marco freaks her out with his muscles and quinn seems sucessful before ultimately botching it and Debbie decides none of htem are worth it. We also get stormy’s untieontally racist and throughly stupid use of the term “Black debbie” to describe the other debbie, which he gets rightfully called out on. We also get this exchange as a result Quinn: What if everyone started calling you white stormy? Stormy: You mean there’s a .. black stormy Quinn: (Beat to take in the stupidity) no.

It’s funny, it’s clever, and it’s just damn fun. Easily the series best outing and the reason it became what it became. And overall.. the series is just really good. it’s on HBO Max if your curious, and if you haven’t vistied that lab underneath the sea. maybe i’ts time to. Goodbye, Goodbye, goodbye for now, until then.. play us out marco and debbie.

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#adam reed #sealab 2021 #archer #cartoon network #adult swim #captain murphy #harry goz #tornado shanks #debbie #stormy waters #sparks #marco #dr quinn #new years

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jay-and-dean · 4 years

Text

I don’t need you Chapter 6 : Wild cat

Dean x reader

Summary : She’s a warrior, she’s a loner. Nothing can stop her, nothing ever had. She doesn’t need Dean, does she ?

This is a request by @magssteenkamp that I decided to turn to a serie, see the original request on the serie Masterlist.

Serie Warnings : Swearing (duh). Mention of death. Smut, probably all kind from rough to fluffy, I’ll precise in the chapters if there are specific warnings. Fluff. Angst of course.

Chapter warnings : Swearing. SMUT, a hint of Dom!Dean, kinda Brat/brat tamer vibe. Unprotected sex (You’re smarter than this). Horny Dean. Violence with a hint of cruelty. Mention of past murder and abuse.

Words : 3.2 k

Note : I’ll try to stick to the 3k rule, like for Rescue You

If everything goes as planned, you’ll get one chapter every wednesday (Thanks to @magssteenkamp, I call it WednesJay, lol. Sorry okay, I shut up).

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

*** I don’t need you MASTERLIST***

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6. WILD CAT

Dean’s Pov

Living with a woman…

Living with Y/n.

No one warned me. Living with a girl, and a girl you want. I never knew that.

In my life, I lived with Sam, with my dad, I “lived” in Hell and Purgatory. And in my car for months. I have shared rooms with Cas, and occasionally with other hunter friends during hunts before Sam came back. And for one year, I lived with Lisa, but it was different. It was her house, she was my girlfriend and I was… depressed. And Lisa, she… She was not Y/n, she didn’t have that effect on me.

Now is very different. The bunker is my home for real, and Y/n… I have no idea why this woman makes me loose my mind like that. I want her. I crave her. And since I had her, it’s way worse, it’s unbearable... And now she’ everywhere.

She’s not invasive, not at all, she’s even discreet, and like I expected, very independent. Like a cat you only see when she needs to eat or walks in the same room as you… A cat you can’t touch because you can feel she’s still totally wild and has claws.

But she’s here. And every little thing brings me to the memory of her strong thighs crushing my hips in ecstasy.

The bedroom we gave her smells like her, and when I walk to mine, I hear her music on the way, muffled behind her door. That third toothbrush in the bathroom, and the smell of wax. The books she reads all day, eager to devour all bunker’s knowledge, and she forgets everywhere she goes.

Maybe the worst is hearing her sorry voice saying she will hurry when I find the bathroom door closed ; imagining her behind the door, maybe naked, maybe brushing her wet hair or whatever…

I really should focus on our researches to find a way to get rid of that vampire mafia, but I can’t really focus on anything lately. The contacts we have, the leads… It goes nowhere for now and I should work harder.

I walk to the kitchen and find her there, she’s wearing that sweatpants she took off to straddle me. Her back is on me, her head is low, she’s reading something, and my eyes fall on the curve between her lower back and her butt.

Was it bad ? Sex with me ? Was it disappointing ?

Don’t be so ridiculous Dean. Overthinking everything like a stupid teen. Do you think because a woman had sex with you, she would want more ? Why would she ? Not because you are obsessed with her, she would want anything to do with you…

Look at her. She doesn’t need a man, she doesn’t need anyone.

I haven’t had my first coffee yet, and I’m already losing my freaking mind. She’s there, she’s right there, and I know how she feels around me now...

“Hey” I greet her, trying to sound casual.

“Hi Dean” she turns around, a book in one hand as usual, a cup of coffee in the other. “I made coffee.”

I take a mug and pour some of that extremely strong coffee she makes every morning. Strong like her, black like that leather corset she wears in the battle field. That freaking corset that was drying on the bathroom the other day, that tight… Black… piece of clothing..

“I may have found a job, lame job but still. At the gas station” she says putting the book about demonic possession on the table.

“A job ?”

Why would she want a job ?

“Yeah, so I can pay my… you know my stuff, food and all” she shrugs. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t mean I’m settling in.”

I wouldn’t mind.

“I told you we had fake credit cards. If you need anything, just take the one I gave you.”

“Dean…” she smiles kindly, taking a sip of her coffee and I realize I just love my name on her lips. “Fake credit cards are a privilege for hunters, because you can’t risk your life at the other end of the country and have a job, you protect civilians… I’m not even a hunter. I’m a freaking vampire slayer.”

“Well, Buffy, Sam found a case, would you come with us ? Or do you really want to work at that gas station ?” I smile wide, showing teeth, trying to stop looking at her naked thigh sticking out of the table.

“What kind of case ?” she asks nonchalantly.

Looking at her innocent expression, I can’t help but think of what happened. She… She freaking straddled me and took me right there… Since then… Nothing.

It’s like nothing ever happened between us, like I never came deep inside of her, like I didn’t want her. She knows I wanted her, she felt it, and I felt her need, I heard her pleas on the phone and I saw her beautiful orgasm on her face... Now nothing. Except I’m going crazy.

She seems to think hard, and finally answers.

“Okay. Let’s hunt with the legendary Winchesters” she chuckles. “When do we leave ?”

“As soon as you’re ready, Sweetheart” I state, using that nickname on purpose.

Reader’s Pov

Eyeliner.

Those dark eyes look back at me in the mirror, their black line making them harder, colder, and those stern pupils I was so used to. I tighten the cords of my corset, strangely loving the strong feeling of being held so strong, and the pressure on my spine.

I remember the first time I dressed like this. I was way too young, sixteen maybe or even less, and I needed to infiltrate that club. A really shady club...

I couldn’t afford clothes, I could barely afford food ; so I borrowed a corset from that prostitute that gave me food once or twice, Silvia. She hid me from her pimp several times, and told me to never take free drugs and to stay away from men in general… She was nice with me, and she’s probably one of the reasons (with the Supernatural books) I never gave up to selling myself when fear and hunger were unbearable.

I had never worn anything else than that dirty hoodie I slept and lived in for years, and it was the first time I could actually dress up and look in a mirror, hurrying in her bathroom while Silvia wasn’t home. I used her makeup too…

I felt so strong when I left her shitty apartment, for once I had made a choice, for once I was in charge… I killed two vampires that night.

And Silvia was found dead before I gave her the corset back, one of her “client” decided rough wasn’t enough, he decided the bruises and the humiliations would be more pleasant if those fucking rapes ended up in murder…

I found him. I killed that son of a bitch.

But the time after she died was the worst of my life. Not just because no one gave food to me through the window, because after discovering monsters are real the hard way… I was discovering the worst monsters are human. And those monsters, there was no Winchesters to burn them. I was too young and I lost all hope…

But I had that corset and a sharp knife. So I decided, as long as I had that, I will make their blood flow… And I did.

A wave of sadness goes through me thinking that corset burned in my apartment, the original one, Silvia’s memory.

That is what Dean doesn’t know about me. That is the reason I can’t let go to that desire I feel for him. Not only I have to stay away from this naivety that made the child inside me crush on him, because naivety is weakness and weakness is death…

But also, he wants to see me as a hunter… And what I am is a killer.

I get out of the bathroom and walk to the war room with the bag they gave me to pack my things. I don’t have much, but I really don’t need a lot, the only thing is…

“Could one of you lend me a jacket ?” I say, putting my bag on the table. “My coat burnt and...”

Dean jumps from his sit, nodding, and walks pass me.

“Won’t be as fitted as your clothes though” he states, eyeing my cleavage for a second.

“That really doesn’t matter” I assure him.

When he comes back, he hands me that beautiful dark blue jacket he wears a lot. And I feel like a freaking cliché when our fingers touch, and even more when I wrap myself in that jacket of his. The little scared teen in me screaming in my head.

But that teen is dead a long time ago, and I intend that she stays dead.

Dean’s Pov

Y/n is fierce against vampires, but she’s just as much against any other monster.

Since we left home, we have solved one case after another, without any break like Sam and I did some times, mostly when one of us needed to unwind for some reason.

This time, all of us do need relief, for different reasons. And we make the best team… ever.

Everything is perfect, her sharp mind completes Sam’s brain, and her formidable fighting skills make our trio almost invulnerable.

And after the job is done, drinking a glass of whiskey with her really feels like hanging out with my best friends.

Y/n fights like this ghost, like this ghoul, like this shapeshifter was precisely the one who killed her parents. She is an efficient killer, if she decides that you’re dead, your head hits the floor before you realize it. It’s a freaking execution.

And watching her using those moves, both smooth and sharp to end the worst creatures of the universe makes me all dizzy every time.

She’s graceful in her ferocity and hunting with her adds something Sam and I never had, not even with Cas or Jack or anyone : an action movie vibe or something like that ; I think I never enjoyed hunting that much.

And I have to admit none of it helps with my obsession. I didn’t know I could be hard as steel while burning a corpse…

But as efficient as she is, able to kill without more than one stroke, she can also enjoy it… cruelly.

She’s like a cat that could end that mouse with a single bite, but plays with it a little.

She’s fucking scary.

Right now, the mouse is a 240lbs werewolf with a special taste for captivity and young hearts. He and his friend made their own little reserve in his basement, but it took us less than six hours to find who they were.

She broke his knee, stabbed him in the back, and watches him try to crawl to the forest now. She’s smiling wide, her face covered in red dots from the throat she cut just before.

“Crawl, crawl little bad wolf” she hums, turning around him like a shark.

“Dean” Sam tries to get me out of fascination, I know he things we should end the beast but I’m not giving her orders… It’s her pray.

My eyes are on her and I can’t really move, fascinated by her every move.

This woman is not like anybody else, and that monster massacre we’re on for a few weeks, it got me high on blood and on her. My body is filled with adrenaline, I’m horny and hungry constantly, my few hours of sleep are so deep I feel like dying every night…

“Y/n !” Sam calls her and she turns toward us.

I know my pupils dilate when her burning eyes find mine.

“Kill him” my brother almost whines.

She sighs, walking toward the car behind us, she hands me the gun when she walks pass me. It doesn’t entertain her anymore.

I take three quick steps to him and put a bullet in the werewolf’s head. Sam puts three little drops of that magic oil she taught him to do, says the incantation, and the body catches fire. That fire that wont spread, but that won’t stop until nothing is left of his target. This thing changed our life…

Tonight, Y/n has a room of her own.

When we can, we try to give her some privacy, and I have to sleep in a room so boring… a room that doesn’t have her in it.

“Y/n is really good” my brother says, putting his bag on his bed, but I know something bothers him. “And… I mean, with her we save twice more people.”

“But ?” I ask sternly, grabbing a beer in the fridge.

“She really likes to kill, Dean.”

“I do to, Sammy” I state honesty, able to admit it without a flinch now.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong” Sam ignores me. “I know she’s a good person and she proved a thousand times already that saving people was the real goal for her too. But she’s… I don’t know, wild ?”

When he says that, my heart misses a beat. She’s wild, yes, and she awakens something in me that I didn’t know.

“I feel like hunting with a time bomb sometimes” he sighs.

“I’ll talk to her” I say, ignoring the confused look on his face.

Of course, that was not what he was expecting, like you could just tell someone they’re a time bomb… But Y/n and I, we have a special relationship, and I really feel like I can tell her anything.

I knock and she opens with her gun in her hand, smiling when she comes face to face with me.

“You need something ?” she asks, letting me in.

“Just talking” I state.

“Okay” she frowns. “I’ll take my shower, after. Whiskey ?”

I nod and she takes a big sip directly the bottle, handing it to me.

“Sam thinks you’re a time bomb” I declare with no introduction, drinking way too much from that bottle.

She freezes, chuckling a little with her eyebrows raised.

“Sammy’s afraid of me now ?”

“He’s not afraid” I grunt, feeling the alcohol increase my desire for her. “He thinks you’re wild.”

“Wild, huh ?” she laughs, a mocking expression in her voice and on the corner of her lips.

I want to make it disappear from her pretty face, I need to see this grin turn into that ecstasy face that looks like a slight pain. I lick my lips.

“Well Sweetheart, you are” my voice is suddenly lower and she starts searching my face.

“And is that a bad thing ?” she shrugs.

I get up, and come near her, feeling my blood boil in a feeling between an inexplicable anger and a raging desire.

“Are you untamable, tigress ?” I groan, my eyes going from her bloody cleavage to her amused face. “Do you think it’s funny ?”

“A little, yes” she chuckles when I make her walk back. “What do you think you’re doing, Caveman ?”

I lose control of my hands and grip her waist, my nails digging in the black leather of that damn corset, crushing her body with mine against the wall.

When I try to kiss her lips, she turns her head slightly, offering me her jaw to bite instead, and I do. She doesn’t want kisses, she doesn’t want anything tender. I would love to give her more than sex, but so be it…

My hand finds her neck, taking it to keep her still and she groans.

Her hands fly to the thigh holster she’s still wearing and grab her gun. In a split second, the barrel is pressed against my temple, but I don’t flinch.

“I could kill you just like that, Winchester” she groans and I still don’t move.

“Go ahead, tigress. Kill me.”

She smiles hand I start nibbling at her naked shoulders with that gun still on my head, rubbing myself on her like a freaking dog in heat, groaning in her ear, my thumb spreading the mix of blood and sweat on the side of her burning neck.

When I let go of her neck to start undoing her pants, she bends and bites my shoulder, hard enough to make me scream in pain and wrap my hands around her throat again.

“Freaking cat” I grunt, struggling with her belt with only one hand.

When I finally manage to open it, I slip my finger in it and she lets the gun fall loudly on the floor. My hand finds her folds, and a grin appears on my face.

“You’re soaked, how surprising is that ?” I let out in a growl, slipping my middle finger through her folds, teasing her clit and entrance.

“Fuck you, hunter” she groans, but a desperate moan escapes her lips and my cock twitches so hard it hurts. So I let go of her delicious pussy, the smell of her arousal coming out of her panties along with my fingers.

With my shaking free hand, I almost rip my pants open and push it down, not realizing I’m squeezing her neck a little harder in my eagerness.

Her face is red and her mouth agape, she licks her lips and another insolent smile appears on her beautiful face. I know I can’t let go of her or she will attack me or run away.

“Take your pants off” I command unable to do it myself, and she lets her head go back. “DO IT WILD CAT !”

She pushes her jeans and panties down enough so I can take it off with my foot. And without losing another minute, I grab her thighs, spreading them for me, and carrying her.

“GRAH” she cries out when I enter her without any foreplay, burying myself between her throbbing walls in a sharp thrust.

I could come right now, the tension accumulated in me for weeks making me as feral as she is in battle.

“Yes, fuck yes !” I moan is her neck, as I start to thrust toughly, banging her hips on the wall each time.

She grabs my hair and tug at it hard, but I ignore the pain and keep chasing that ecstasy only her can give me so good.

“D-Dean…” she suddenly almost pleads, vulnerable.

I look up and notice she is struggling to breath.

“C-Corset” she whines.

Without withdrawing, I grab the knife on the table and brutally cut the lace caging her. The second I free her, she gasps and grabs my belt on the middle of my ass, encouraging me to take her harder.

And I do.

She can’t open her eyes now, her head back on the wall, her mouth open, and it’s too much for me to finally win that from her.

I reach my high so violently that I almost make the two of us fall, her hungry walls milking me strongly right away, her thighs shaking around me while her hands desperately try to push me.

“Y/N FUCK !” I yell, lost in both our orgasms mixing together.

Panting in her neck, I dread the moment she will push me away. So I enjoy every single second against her skin like it was the last… It probably is anyway.

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cyclopstm · 3 years

Text

On today’s episode of Scotty talks XMCU.

The disaster train that is Dark Phoenix and things I actually do like about it versus things that absolutely STINK about it. And because I like to end with the good things, I’ll just kick off with the bad things.

*cracks knuckles* I don’t like Raven being team leader, if anything that one should be on Hank aka the only one who’s been 100% X-Man since day one (aka First Class). To me it just feels like there’s no one at that house Charles maybe trusts more than Hank. Speaking of Charles. I don’t like him all that much in this one. On another note concerning Raven, what was the make up department thinking? And while we’re on bad character designs: Hank’s Beast look, and Scott’s visor both don’t do it for me. Snorry-borry. *coughs* All of them are too young to be going on that space mission, but can we honestly talk shit about this because the O5 were basically kids too when the X-Men were created. This just felt way over their heads and I’m forever angry that Charles actually sent them into space, and Hank agreed ??? As someone who writes Hank on another blog, that’s always been an annoyance for me.

SPEAKING OF HANK, PLEASE STOP PARKING THE X-JET IN DOMESTIC LITTLE NEIGHBORHOODS OR BUMFUCK CENTRE OF NEW YORK ???

Did I mention white hair doesn’t work on Jessica Chastain and that I don’t vibe with her in this one? And that it’s weird that Vux gets to knock out Scott with his own optic blast? Like ??? :) Anyway, not really a fan of kids teaching kids at the end of the movie. Like, it’s obvious Storm and the others on the current team are somewhere in their twenties, which is weirdly young to be teaching people who could be in their late teens.

Oh...yeah, I’m supposed to end with the good stuff so...

Scott gets to show off his powers more creatively, like using reflection to direct his blast rather than always having it go straight ahead. I love that they actually went with the idea to adapt the X-Jet to the team’s abilities, leaving Scott the opportunity to use his blasts while on board through a built in gun/blaster modified to fit his optic blasts. Hank’s reluctance at the start of the movie to head into space is just chef’s kiss. It’s proof that he’s one of the few people inside that house who still got his shit straight since the 60s (he aged very well too in those 30 years). RAVEN ROASTING CHARLES IN THE X-WOMEN SCENE. The tiny Dazzler cameo, pleeeeeaaaase!

Sophie Turner SERVES as Jean and so many of the jeanscott scenes just make me feel some type of way. The way she and Tye deliver that scene where she leaves the mansion? Good food. It took me forever to get used to Tye as Scott, but the more I rewatch his material and pay closer attention to him, the more I can see there’s this fine build up from a young Scott, towards one who knows his responsibilities and knows how to be mature at the right time. He’s a really fine step towards James Marsden (and they also look freakishly alike in a way). SCOTT SUMMERS SUCKS WITH HIS FEELINGS.

The kitchen scene between Hank and Charles is my personal highlight out of the entire movie. It just tears out my heart. Erik’s first appearance is so good, too. He’s actually amazing throughout the whole movie and I like him better than Charles. His reunion with Hank to go after Jean together is such a solid point in Hank’s character development, as is the moment where Scott talks over Charles when they decide who gets to go after Jean in New York. Scott’s friendship with Ororo is so nice to see, and really resonates with how it showed pre-established in the 00s trilogy. It also resonates with the comics, and I just LOVE IT.

IF YOU TOUCH HER I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU.

Hank vs. Scott always gets me because it’s just... :’) they know each other. Hank knows Scott’s weaknesses, he’s been his mentor within the X-Men and his teacher around the school. Erik being so extra, he pulls a metro out of the street really resonates with how extra he always was in those really old comics and it amuses me somehow.

We didn’t get Scott yelling JEEAAAN once, but twice. I’d let him yeet me the same way he did to Vux, and probably thank him for it too. Anyway, let’s keep it PG-rated and mention the classic: the train scene is a whole feast. Hank letting loose the Beast, his fighting style with the acrobatics and pure Beastly force, the powerful grace of Storm using her powers on the roof of the train...

Kurt Wagner’s screen time and character development is the attention he deserves and I’m glad it didn’t go to Quicksilver again. I’m tired of him anyway.

Scott sticking by Charles’ side all the time just has me emotional. It’s definitely not a relationship as strong as the one they have in the comics (where I’m reading right now), but it reminds me of it and it may also be a build-up to how close they were in the 00s movies. And I dig all these little pieces of continuity despite the timeline already being a big enough mess as it is.

Jean being a total badass until the bitter end? Sign me up.

And finally, let me be soft about my boy Hank being head of the school. It fits his character and the future he has ahead of himself. Even if he doesn’t stick there, it’s a good build-up towards that politics career we know him for.

#ooc . SALT KING #( idk dark phoenix isn't my favourite #and i haven't rewatched it until now #and i just felt like maybe if i list all the things #that i like and all the ones i don't like #maybe it'll surprise me in the end #and it did lol one section is clearly longer than the other )

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